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stiffened next to him.
    The guy, in a gray sweatshirt and jeans, said something in Spanish. Didn’t sound positive. That it was the guy in the sweatshirt rather than the other one was preferable. The driver, the one in the striped shirt, seemed to be in charge and had apparently garnered that position with an extra measure of ruthlessness.
    The man in the sweatshirt grabbed Casey by the ankles and dragged her forward. She screamed as if she were frightened. Levi was relatively certain she wasn’t quite that scared. She wanted her captor off guard. The man cut the rope around her ankles and yanked her to her feet. She staggered away from him. He waved the pistol in his other hand and told her not to move. That part Levi understood perfectly. Casey froze as ordered.
    Levi was next. When his feet hit the ground, he backed up to stand near Casey. Another string of Spanish accompanied by a magnanimous gesture had Casey moving away from the truck and road. Levi followed. A flashlight clicked on, its beam cutting through the darkness. Cactus scrub and eroded sandy landscape stretched out before them, interrupted occasionally by crumbling stone and brick ruins. A low-slung moon showcased the Sierra Gorda Mountains and the foothills that stretched toward them. They kept walking. The pickup was a couple hundred yards behind them now but still visible.
    Casey suddenly stumbled and fell to her knees on the ground. Levi squeezed his hands into fists to prevent releasing the ropes and reaching for her. The timing had to be right.
    The bastard in the sweatshirt kicked at her. Levi locked his jaw. She wailed as if she were seriously injured and couldn’t get up. Shouting a mixture of Spanish and English profanities, the jerk shoved the flashlight under his arm and grabbed her. He had put his knife into his pocket as soon as he’d freed their feet in the truck, but he still held a gun.
    Levi made his move. He grabbed the guy in a choke hold and snatched at the gun with his free hand. Got it. The man twisted and squirmed and tried to grab at Levi. The flashlight dropped to the ground, its beam bouncing to a stop. Thirty seconds more and the pressure on the man’s throat rendered him unconscious. Levi let go and he crumpled to the ground.
    “Why didn’t you just hit him?” Casey grumbled as she grabbed the flashlight.
    “If the blow hadn’t put him down,” Levi argued, “he might have gotten off a shot.” Taking him down and assuming control of the weapon simultaneously was the right choice for the situation. “What were you doing while I was taking him down?” She could have jumped in any time.
    She ignored the question and glanced toward the truck. “The driver’s getting out. We have to run.”
    Gunfire erupted. Two, then three shots hit the sand a few feet away.
    Levi rushed after Casey who’d already covered some major ground. She’d turned off the flashlight which basically left them running blind but it was way better than providing easy targets.
    “We should head in different directions,” she suggested as he moved up next to her in a dead run.
    Not a bad idea since the driver was still attempting to hit a target, but Levi wasn’t taking the risk that she would give him the slip. Since she hadn’t jumped in back there he had to assume she had no plans to play partner with him.
    More gunfire shattered the silence. He considered stopping and returning fire but that would mean losing pace with Casey. She was after the same thing he was and Levi needed to know why. His boss would want to know as well.
    Determined not to lose Casey to an abrupt diversionary tactic, he grabbed her by the arm and held on when she tried to shake him off.
    “What’re you doing?”
    “Making sure you don’t get away.”
    She didn’t waste energy arguing, just kept running.
    Keeping pace alongside her, he almost stumbled when the sandy dirt beneath their feet changed to something bouncy. The sound of wood splitting pierced the