Tilly had no plan save to get beyond his reach. She would walk, barefoot if she must, following the road back and if, as she prayed, they had not yet passed Connor, he would catch up with her at day’s end, which wasn’t so very far off, she now realised. She had hardly noticed the afternoon passing; they had come perhaps thirty kay on the new track. That wasn’t so far, Tilly told herself, quailing at the thought, and walking would warm her. The chill in the air had crept up on her unnoticed, hardly registering until now. Well, better beneath the night sky than a hot sun that would only exacerbate her thirst.

Then the wheel dragged again, the metronomic flap of torn rubber rising above the engine noise, and Matt swore. ‘Jesus! Pull up, you stupid cow. You’ve got a flat.’

Chapter Thirty-four

Before the wheels stopped rolling, Tilly’s right hand flashed down to the door handle but Matt was quicker. His big freckled fist seized her hair, yanking her over the gear lever towards him. ‘Not so bloody fast.’

Tilly shrieked in pain, clawing at the wheel for purchase and inadvertently sounding a long blast on the horn. Instantly she banged her inner forearm down again, repeating the blast until he ripped her hand free of its grip. ‘Let me go!’ Tears stood in her eyes from the pain of it.

‘You’re comin’ out this side,’ he said, ‘nice ’n’ slow. And don’t be thinkin’ of boltin’, neither.’ One-handed, he pulled the belt from around his waist and, releasing the grip on her hair, threaded the loop over her wrist. ‘Right.’ He gave it an experimental tug and showed her the knife. ‘This way with you.’ With a great deal of swearing and hissed breath, he got himself out and, standing on his good leg, hauled her after him. Sweat stood on his forehead and for a wild moment Tilly contemplated shoving him over and running for it, but the vehicle’s frame supported him and she feared his strength. The buckle of the belt was cutting cruelly into her wrist; he had only to yank on it to have her helpless at his feet.

‘Under the seat. Jack ’n’ the tools, and rope. Get ’em.’