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She was about to do something reckless, something dangerous, something that could get her killed. But she needed to get off base fast, and without any risk of discovery.

Cora bent down and crawled under the truck. She took a look at the chassis. Nice and high. The engine was protected by steel bars that were far enough away from the hot engine block for her to get a grip on them. So that was all good.

She tested the possibility of hanging on. It was tough, but the bar was the right size for her to be able to hook her arms around, and there was another place where she could brace her feet.

Having tested that, she waited, quietly, forcing herself to be patient, glad of the double layer of clothing she was wearing, which was warding off the increasing cold.

It felt like ages before she heard footsteps.

The reinforcements were coming back. They were leaving, and so was she. She wondered if they had captured any civilians at all after their search, or whether Garrett had managed to hide his girl. Not that she cared one way or the other.

Time to find out if she could hang on for long enough.

The truck started up with a rattle, and a belch of exhaust fumes that swirled around her, almost choking her. Running footsteps and shouts told her there was still one more person to come. They approached, and she hauled herself into place, grasping the bar.

Cora took a deep breath, bracing herself as the truck began to move. She clung tightly to the steel bars, feeling the wind rush past her. It was exhilarating and terrifying all at once.

Hanging on even harder as the speed increased, she then gritted her teeth as the truck hit a bump in the road, almost dislodging her. She clawed herself back, bracing herself in such a way she was ready for further bumps ahead.

Now, she was starting to get the hang of it, adjusting her grip and her balance as the truck continued on its way. She could feel the heat from the engine, the vibration of the chassis, the tugging of the wind as it sluiced icily past.

She couldn't hang on for long, though. It was going to take all her strength to make it as far as the stop sign. It was a longer ride than she'd expected, and she prayed that there would be nobody behind her.

But then, disaster struck.

As they approached the stop sign, headlights flashed behind her. Another car was racing up, fast. It looked low-slung and it looked to be in a hurry.

If she dropped down at the stop sign, this was going to present a real danger. The car's driver might see her in the road. He might not, of course, and just plow into her. But if he did, he'd swerve. He'd stop. It would cause a commotion either way, and the Army truck driver would realize that he'd picked up a stowaway that had landed on the road. With so many people on board that truck, the chances of escaping them were small if they saw her.

Would the car overtake the truck before the stop sign?

Please do, please do, Cora willed it, but the headlights stayed bright and glaring in her vision.

In just a few seconds, the car and the truck would stop.

And then, her options were going to look grim. Or even deadly.

CHAPTER ELEVEN

Cora's mind raced, considering every possible course of action as the truck slowed. She watched the gears shift above her, watched the truck's mechanism move in the dim light that was only provided by the headlights behind her. She needed a workable plan, and fast.

Her arms were burning from the jolting ride. Her muscles were reaching a stage of exhaustion. But now, the gears were coming together in her brain. An idea occurred to her. Risky and sketchy, but a possible workable way out, as she stared at the truck’s undercarriage.

That cable there was for the gearshift. She could see it moving. That next one? Was that the parking brake?

Hours spent under trucks, assisting more than anything else, came back to her. Every SEAL had some mechanical knowledge.

She thought it was the parking brake. And if she tightened it, if she yanked down on it with all her force, then she might be able to get herself out of the situation.

The truck slowed. It decelerated, jolting hard, sending a bolt of pain through her muscles, and reminding her why she couldn’t hang on much longer. It was now or never.

What if the truck didn’t stop completely? What if it ignored the stop sign and just powered through? That nasty thought made her stomach tighten. But then, it jerked to a complete stop. Luck was on her side and there was clearly traffic on the crossroad.

Now!

She grabbed the parking brake cable and she vigorously jerked it down, needing to let go of the chassis completely, with both hands, to do it. This had better work, she thought, because otherwise she might not be able to regain her grip if the truck moved off.

The whoosh and swish of the passing traffic eased. She felt a rumble as the driver hit the gas.

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