When they hit a fork in the road, Rex and two of the other guys shot left, the other three right. Diaz signaled to Spence, and Spence and Crush went to the right, while Diaz and Jessie followed Rex and the other two.

The road Rex had taken was going to dead-end up ahead at the river. Despite the falling rain, Diaz spotted a wide sandbar and an upward slope peppered with grass and scrub. Nothing else. Rex took his bike up and over the edge, down the grassy hill and then started paralleling the river.

Where the hell did he think he was going? Rex’s friends followed, and so did Diaz and Jess.

Diaz spotted the bridge up ahead, knew that’s where Rex was headed. He throttled up and pushed past the two bikers, intending to cut them off before they hit the bridge. Jessie moved quickly, too, using her bike to wedge between the other two and Rex.

Rex made it to the bridge, but Jessie had managed to veer off the other two. Diaz had no choice but to follow Rex over the wooden planked bridge. He couldn’t let him get away, but he didn’t like leaving Jessie alone to deal with the other two bikers.

He had to think of the mission first. Jessie was armed. She could handle it, right?

Bullshit. He’d get to Rex later. He wasn’t leaving Jessie to deal with two bikers.

A shot rang out and he skidded in the middle of the bridge as he applied the brakes, turning his bike a hundred and eighty degrees. One bike was down on the sandbar, and in the falling rain he couldn’t make out who it was. Was it Jessie or one of the other bikers? He shot a glance to the end of the bridge, saw Rex’s tail-lights disappearing in the rain and darkness.

Shit.

You didn’t leave a team member in danger. Cardinal rule of the Wild Riders, especially when the big deal went down, and this was definitely the big deal. He was responsible for Jessie, a junior member of the team. He wasn’t going to leave her, no matter how much he wanted to drag Rex in.

He hit the throttle, heading back toward the fallen bike. It seemed to take forever to get there, like time had slowed to a crawl. He squinted through the rain, which now came down in sheets, trying to make out the bike and the fallen rider lying beside it. The closer he got, the harder his heart pounded.

What if it was Jessie? What if she was shot, bleeding, hurt bad? Or worse?

Adrenaline pumping, he flew off his bike as soon as he was close enough and ran to the fallen biker. It was one of Rex’s guys, shot in the shoulder and out cold. Relief flooded him, followed immediately by confusion and renewed fear.

Where was the other biker? Where was Jessie? He scanned the area, but didn’t see a damn thing. After determining the biker’s injuries weren’t life threatening, he grabbed a set of handcuffs out of his bag, cuffed the biker’s hands behind his back, alerted the Feds to his location, the fallen biker’s status, and what was going on, then climbed back on his bike, raking his fingers through his hair.

He breathed in, out, trying to settle the panic jumbling in his gut.

Then he heard it, whipped his head around at the rumbling sound of motorcycle engines.

He grabbed his GPS and followed the signals, figuring if she was tailing one of Rex’s buddies then the signal would lead to her, and it had to be the closest one since he’d heard the bike. He maneuvered out of the sand and up the grassy embankment, locating a road in the rain-filled darkness, following that and his tracking unit. The sound of his own bike’s engine drowned out the possibility of hearing their bikes, but he concentrated on his GPS unit, determined it was going to lead him to Jess. He refused to consider any other possibility. He had to find her.

The signal pinpointed him moving in on one of the units, then showed that the bike had stopped. Diaz slowed, not wanting to tip his hand. Whoever he was tracking wasn’t moving any longer. That was either good or really bad.

He spotted a gravel pit up ahead, and that’s where the signal ended.

Shit. Definitely not good. Piles of crushed rock made great camouflage. Who knew where they could be hiding? He slowed the bike to a crawl as he rode around each hill-sized pile of gravel, searching for a bike or people. There were lights on at the crushing center, but it was closed, locks firmly attached to the steel entrance doors. He continued on, searching for any signs of the bikers or Jess. The only good thing about the rain was it made great bike tracks in the mud. He spotted a line from one of the doors—they’d probably tried to get into the factory and realized they couldn’t, and took off. He followed the bike tracks, leading his bike slowly along, keeping an ever watchful eye out for—

He was rocketed off his bike by something slamming into his left shoulder. White-hot pain knifed into him, sending him sprawling into the thick mud. Momentarily dazed, he blinked to clear the fog of pain and confusion, fighting to breathe, knowing he’d been shot but no idea how bad. He flexed his fingers on that side, relieved to know they worked. He rolled over, using his fallen bike as cover, and with his good arm reached into his pocket for his own gun. A quick scan of the area showed nothing. His arm hurt like a son of a bitch and he felt the trickle of cascading blood, but there wasn’t a damn thing he could do about it at the moment, only hope that he wouldn’t bleed hard enough to pass out.

Then he heard it—a slight scream, a smothered gasp. Instinct told him it was Jessie. It came from the side of the building, about twenty feet away from where he lay. Unfortunately, if he got up and made a run for it and someone happened to be leaning against the corner of the building, he’d make great target practice. Getting shot again wasn’t high on his priority list.

Then he heard a groan, followed by a loud curse, and Jessie shot out from behind the building, running toward him like her hair was on fire. Shots rang out, but she flew behind his bike, landing with a spray of gravel over both of them.

In a panic, afraid she’d been shot, Diaz returned fire, then turned to her. “Are you all right?”

She nodded, her face bruised and dirty. “I’m fine. You?”

“Took a bullet in my arm, but I’m okay.”

Her eyes widened as she reached for him. “Oh God, Diaz. Where? How bad is it?”

He shrugged her off, focusing his attention on the side of the building. “Not now. I can handle it. We need to get out of this crisis first. What’s going on back there? How many guys? Did Rex meet up with the guy you were chasing?” He pulled out his cell phone, punched in the number to send an alert to Walt. Hopefully Walt would pick up on Diaz’s GPS and send a team to their location.

“Just the one guy. Haven’t seen Rex,” she said after Diaz pocketed his cell.

“Do you have your gun?”

She shook her head. “He took it from me.”

“There’s another gun in my saddlebag if you can reach it.”

She dug her hand under his bike to get to his saddlebag. “So this guy . . . I think his name is Dave? Anyway, he ran me down and kicked me off my bike, then grabbed me and hauled me behind the building when he heard your bike coming.”

Diaz’s blood pressure rose at the visual of someone hurting her. He itched to get his hands on Dave.

“I kneed him in the nuts and gave him an elbow to the chin and came running out here.”

Diaz smiled. “Good girl.”

“He’s also contacted Rex, who’s supposed to meet him shortly.”

“Glad to hear that.” Diaz had hated losing Rex. “But first, we’ve got to get out of this open clearing. We’re sitting ducks here.” Plus, Diaz didn’t like hiding behind a tank full of gasoline. That was just asking for a fiery, explosive death. There didn’t seem to be anymore bullets flying in their direction, so Dave was probably lying low, waiting for Diaz to make the next move. He might have run off, too. Or maybe he was out of bullets. They should be so lucky.

Diaz swiveled around, spotted the gravel hills behind them.

“Let’s get away from this bike. We can use those gravel mounds as cover.”

Having taken the gun from his saddlebag, Jessie pocketed the extra ammo and nodded. “I’m ready when you are.”

Using his noninjured arm to push himself into a crouching position, he gave the signal. Jessie sprinted, and Diaz fired in continual bursts at the corner spot on the building while he was on the run. He got in front of Jessie in case any bullets came flying at them. It seemed to take forever, but Diaz knew it was only seconds until they were safely behind a tall gray mound.

They waited. Either Dave had left or wasn’t going to waste anymore ammo shooting at them.

“You need to let me see your arm,” Jessie whispered.

“It’s fine. I don’t think the bullet penetrated.” The pain was down to a dull throb now, and the bleeding seemed to have slowed. “I think the thickness of my jacket probably slowed the bullet.”

Jessie slanted a dubious look in his direction. “If you pass out on me from blood loss I’m going to kick you.”

His lips lifted. “Duly noted.”

She settled against the gravel, gun pointed toward the building. “So now what?”

“We wait.”

They didn’t have to wait long. A bike’s throaty hum echoed through the quiet.

“Rex’s coming in behind the building,” Diaz said. “I’ll bet your Dave has left his post to meet up with him. We’ll take the left side of the building, see if we can sneak up behind them. Let’s move while they’re distracted with meeting up.”

Diaz pushed off and Jessie was right with him as they made a left around the hill, staying low to the ground. Diaz motioned for Jess to stay put while he made a dash to the side of the building. If anyone was going to take a hit, it was going to be him. He made it, then signaled for Jessie, who sped to his side. They flattened themselves against the cold concrete wall of the gravel plant. Diaz listened for sounds, Rex’s or Dave’s bike, anything that would signal their location.

He looked to Jessie, who shook her head.

Dammit, they were going to have to hunt for them, which would put them out in the open and just as vulnerable as the bad guys. But they had no choice. They couldn’t just stand there and wait for Rex and Dave to come to them, as convenient as that would be.

He caught Jessie’s attention and cocked his head to the right, inching his way across the wall toward the other end of the building. Jessie followed, staying close, her gun raised and ready.

The plant was well lit with halogen lights hanging from the roof, shining a beacon over the pits and surrounding area. It was both a good and bad thing, because it would make it harder for Rex and Dave to hide from them, but also make it more difficult for Diaz and Jessie to hide under cover of darkness, too. Which meant he’d have to figure out a way to search for them without illuminating themselves under the lights like rock stars at a concert.

He paused at the corner between the side and back of the plant. Behind them was nothing but gravel. To the west were shrubs and then fence. If they pushed off and circled west, hidden behind the vegetation, they’d be out of the lighted area. They could move in darkness that way, only lit for a few seconds as they dashed off into the night.

Diaz pointed the muzzle of the gun toward the bushes. Jessie nodded and he held up three fingers, counting down to zero. He took off at a run, Jessie right on his heels.

No shots rang out as they made their way behind a thick bush. Good. If they were really lucky they hadn’t been seen. Diaz hoped Dave had told Rex they were hiding out front, and that’s where they were looking. Now they had a chance to take the advantage.

Diaz kept them low and behind the shrubbery, moving beyond it and into the nonlit part of the yard. Though flat and with nothing to hide behind, it was dark. The rain had picked up again, but at least that meant cloud cover and no moonlight.

He wished whatever machinery they used in the plant wasn’t so noisy. Didn’t they ever shut it off? A low humming noise, constant. It meant he couldn’t listen for footsteps, for whispers, for anything that would signal Rex’s whereabouts.

But the sound of a bike? Yeah, that he could hear, and did. Two of them, in fact. He spun around at the sound of one behind them, its headlight on high beam and barreling straight at them.

“Move!” he shouted at Jessie. She skirted out of the way and he pivoted, pointing his gun and firing. It missed, but gravel sprayed up and into the face of the rider, causing him to swerve and lay down the bike. Apparently not hurt, Dave leaped off the bike and took off.

Oh, no. Not this time. Diaz went after him at a dead run, caught up, and made a flying tackle.

Son of a bitch, that made his arm hurt. He pushed the pain inward, rolled Dave over, and landed a hard punch to his jaw.

Huh. Dave’s jaw must be made of glass, because he was out cold. That was easy. Diaz stood, kicked Dave over onto his belly, and cuffed him, conscious of the sound of Rex’s bike in the distance. He rose, turned, and realized Jessie wasn’t nearby.

Shit.

Rain poured down his face, obliterating his ability to see more than an arm’s length in front of him. He slogged through the mud and gravel, following the sound of Rex’s bike, seeing the headlight swerving left and right.

She was running, heading for the bushes.

With Rex barreling after her on his bike, toying with her, revving his engine then cutting it back.

Fuck!

Diaz gave it everything he had, watching in horror as Rex drew closer to a running Jessie. He was almost on top of her, his intent clear.

He was going to hit her.

Fury boiled inside him and Diaz ran harder than he ever had, closing the distance between them, those last few feet sucking up every ounce of oxygen left in his lungs. His boots sank in the mud, his entire body felt like it weighed thousands of pounds as he made his way closer to an advancing Rex.

He wasn’t going to make it in time. He stopped, raised his gun, hoping like hell he could get the shot, that it would slow Rex down before he hit her.