A quick glance in the rearview mirror. Beyond her own image, she saw him. Huge. Naked. Covered in blood and dirt. Dark hair plastered to his head.

Hell! She didn’t think twice but pulled the driver’s door closed, slapped on the automatic locks, threw the van into Drive, and hit the gas. Wheels spun, spitting dirt and gravel. The Dodge hurtled forward and crashed into the gate. With a groan the aluminum twisted and bent, but didn’t give. Damn!

Chloe rammed the van into Reverse and, spying the man running forward, didn’t hesitate. “Die, fucker!” she said through gritted teeth, and punched it. The van’s engine roared, the huge vehicle streaking backward.

Thunk!

Oh, God, she actually hit him!

Too bad.

Or not.

Her stomach revolted and she fought the urge to gag. She had to hold it together now. Throwing the gearshift lever into Drive, she punched it, hoping there was enough distance for the acceleration necessary to break through the gate. Tires whirred as the Dodge spurted forward, hitting the gate and stopping so quickly Chloe was thrown against the steering wheel. “Ooof!” She caught her breath. Had to keep moving. “Come on, come on,” she moaned through her pain, and tromped on the accelerator again.

Whining, the tires dug deep into the lane.

Thunk! That same awful sound she’d heard before when she’d run over the bastard. But the van wasn’t moving. No matter how hard she stepped on the gas. Frantic, she rammed the Dodge into Reverse again to take another run at the gate.

Thunk!

What?

Crash!

The passenger door window shattered.

Glass sprayed.

A beefy hand shot through.

Chloe screamed.

The door flew open.

The huge whack job stood in the frail light cast by an interior lamp.

Clutched in one of his massive hands was a heavy stick, most likely the branch he’d used to thump against the van.

“No!” Terrified, she scrabbled for the door lock. She had to get out. To run!

Cowering against the driver’s door, she tried to find the handle, but the evil smile that crawled over his bruised and bloodied face petrified her. He knew she couldn’t escape.

A weak, mewling sound slipped from her throat.

He yanked the key from the ignition and opened the glove box.

Her fingers found the door handle.

She pulled.

Her door gave way, but as she dove to the left to escape the van something closed over her arm. He had grabbed her with one meaty hand.

“Not so fast,” he muttered against her ear as she fought, flailing and clawing at him. She tried to wrench free, but the sound of a metal click matched the manacle he was tightening over her wrist.

Handcuffs. He’d taken them from the glove box.