Behind the Lies (Montgomery Justice #2)(19)

She couldn’t let anything happen to Sam. She wouldn’t.

Praying, and with strength she didn’t know she possessed, Jenna shifted the vehicle’s direction. After miles of no protection, a guardrail appeared at the side of the road. If she could just reach it.

She pumped the brakes. The truck lurched forward. Sam cried out in fear.

Sheer momentum shoved them toward the pine trees and barricade. Her stomach twisted, and with one last desperate plea, she skidded into the barrier.

Metal creaked and tore at the side of the truck. The scraping clawed at her ears. The tires squealed. The edge loomed closer and closer.

She held her breath, her knuckles went white, her nails bit into her hand.

The guardrail ended and the car hood shoved into the top of a huge pine tree.

The air bag blew out.

Her head whirled. Spots darkened in her eyes.

Then she knew no more.




Zach watched in horror as the small boy in the backseat stared at him, his eyes wide with fright. The truck rocked toward the edge, the front left wheel hanging off the mountain, the other tires precariously balanced on the edge.

With a quick maneuver he’d learned while doing stunts on an Indy racing television film, his Range Rover skidded to a halt and he jumped out. The little boy twisted in the backseat. The truck teetered.

“Be still, kid!” Zach yelled as he raced to the truck. “Don’t move. Can you do that for me?”

The child bit his lip, but he didn’t panic. He froze.

Brave little guy—or in shock—not that Zach cared, as long as the boy didn’t move. Zach ran to the side of the vehicle. Jenna Walters didn’t stir. Blood dripped from her head onto the deflated air bag.

He had to be careful. Any movement could send the vehicle plummeting hood first down a hundred-foot incline, with only pi?on trees and a grove of thin-trunked aspens to stop its descent before it dove into a thousand-foot chasm.

Zach knew these mountains well. They didn’t let a man get away with a mistake.

Jenna had made a big mistake running from him when all he’d wanted to do was help.

He moved to the driver’s-side door. Carefully, he squeezed the handle. Locked. He tugged the keys from his pocket and pressed the button. The locks clicked free. He moved his hand to the metal and pressed. No luck, it didn’t budge. The door had jammed. Zach rounded behind the vehicle. He tried the passenger door and let out a small breath as the latch clicked. The door unhitched. He eased it open. With caution, he flicked the lever. The seat back shifted forward.

The boy remained frozen in the seat behind his mother.

“What’s your name, kid?” he said softly.

“S…Sam.” The boy’s eyes went wide. “You’re the Dark Avenger.”

Zach sighed. Another fan, but perhaps he could use the kid’s belief to his advantage. “I need your help.”

“I can’t. I’m not big enough. Please help my mommy. She’s hurt.”

“I’m gonna get your mom, but I need you to do what I tell you. Unbuckle your seat belt and crawl toward me real careful. Can you do that?”

The boy nodded. He looked at his mother and bit his lip.

“I’ll get her. I promise.” Zach prayed he could keep that vow. The truck could plummet any minute.

“You’re the Dark Avenger. You don’t lie, do you?”

Not about anything except my entire life. Zach steeled a confident glance at the boy. “I don’t lie to little boys.”

Until today, that is. Sometimes it paid to be an actor.

Sam clicked open his seat belt, took one last glance at his mom, and scooted toward Zach.

The truck inched forward.

“Stop, Sam,” Zach said, his voice hushed.

The boy’s eyes widened, but he froze.

The truck steadied. He was less than a foot away from Zach’s reach.

“OK, start scooting again. Slow and easy.”

Time seemed to stand still. Zach held his breath as Sam crawled toward him. Zach leaned in and plucked Sam off the seat.

The truck teetered. The rear wheels no longer hugged the road at all.

Zach hugged Sam to him and backed away several feet.

“Mommy!” Sam leaned away from Zach and reached out toward the truck, his small fists opening and closing as if willing his mother to come with him.

The truck didn’t obey. It started the evitable slide and shoved into the trees.

No time to lose. “Heads up, Sam.” Zach tossed the boy toward the safety of the cliff face, hearing him grunt has he hit the road. The bruises would heal, but if Zach didn’t get to the woman, that boy would be motherless. Within seconds he’d scrambled down the incline. Pi?on trunks had bent in a U-shape over the roof, keeping the vehicle from going headfirst down a thousand feet.

No telling how long they’d hold. And snagging an active five-year-old’s fifty-pound body out of a seat was different than an unconscious woman’s hundred-and-twenty-pound deadweight.

The loud crack of a breaking trunk echoed through the forest. The truck groaned. No time to think. He had to move fast, but easy. Any transfer of weight could break the last of the trees that cushioned the truck. He leaned in as far as he could without touching anything and snapped the seat belt free from its latch.

Jenna shifted. The truck shuddered. Zach had to pull back.