Broken Bonds

Beckett jerked the wheel when something cracked into the windshield, then slammed on the brakes when he saw the bullet hole in the center of it.

“Jesus,” Mac bit out.

“What the fuck,” Beckett snarled, immediately going into defensive mode.

He couldn’t see around the curve in the road ahead, had no idea what was up there. Was the shooter still there? Was there more than one?

The crawling traffic in front of them made it impossible to speed up and blast through the danger zone. They were in the outside lane and the shoulder narrowed too much to get past the other traffic. Beside it, only an aluminum guardrail stood between them and a hundred-food drop into the ocean.

Going forward was too risky. Stopping here was safest. It would put more cars between them and the shooter, and allow them to grab the weapons stored in the back of his truck to defend themselves if necessary.

Beckett pulled to the shoulder and cut the engine to avoid driving closer to the shooter.

He and Mac jumped out, leaving the doors open for cover as they hunkered down and assessed the situation. He’d been rounding a curve when the shot had struck, and given the angle it must have come from somewhere on the right, near the shoulder at the edge of the cliff.

“See anything?” he called out to Mac over the sound of the rain driving against the pavement, anger pumping through him. It seemed unbelievable that this might be connected to last night’s events, but there was just no other explanation.

“No, but that was way too bloody close.”

The back of Beckett’s neck was prickling like crazy, his hand itching to reach for the weapon holstered at the small of his back. Except the shot had been from a great enough distance that it had to have come from a rifle, and that meant the shooter was likely too far away for Beckett to hit with a pistol.

Traffic continued to crawl past them in the outside lane. He couldn’t see anything ahead through the rain and gloom except for the glare of oncoming headlights coming toward them. Yet his spine tingled with the certainty that someone out there had a bead on them. “You armed?”

“No.”

“Follow me.” Careful to stay behind his open door, he backed away toward the rear of the pickup as Mac did the same. Undoing the tailgate as Mac kept watch, Beckett reached in for another pistol he kept secured to the inside of the bed. Handing it to Mac, he dialed Noah.

Noah answered on the first ring. “You guys get to the detour yet?”

“No, and some asshole just took a shot at us. Put a round right through my windshield about six inches from my face.” There was a gap in the guardrail next to him. On the other side of it, the cliff dropped sharply away, straight down to the jumble of rocks at the bottom. From there the ground sloped away into the ocean, where huge waves exploded in an angry clash of spray and foam.

“What?”

He walked around the back of the bed toward Mac, the cold rain soaking his head, shoulders and chest. “We’re staying put until—” He jumped as something exploded to their right just out of view down the cliff.

Both he and Mac whirled toward it just as an ominous rumble sounded below the road. The ground trembled. Beckett glanced around, his heart sinking. Shit…

“What the hell was that?” Mac blurted, glancing around in alarm. “Beck?”

“I don’t—” The ground beneath his feet began to shift, then suddenly gave way. “Oh, shit!”

“Beck!”

His feet swept out from under him. He lunged to the side, rolling as he fell, and made a desperate grab for the edge of the guardrail as he flew past it. His palm slapped against metal, but it was too late because the force of the slide washed him over the edge of the cliff.