Pursuit Read Online Free PDF

words hurt her throat as they emerged. She remembered it now, the tires screeching, the car skidding then leaving the road. . . .
    What car?
    Slow-motion flip-flops, end over end . . .
    The others. Where were they?
    She started to shake.
    “Damn it, move your asses! Get a medical crew over here now !”
    That wasn’t a shout, it was a roar. Loud enough to shatter the night. Loud enough to pull her head out of the terrible vision she seemed to be watching from a distance. Loud enough to make her cringe. Loud enough to penetrate the sounds—the deep, rhythmic thumping overhead, the jumble of voices, the clang of metal, the hum of motors, of which she was just becoming fully aware. Loud enough to be heard. Thanks to him, they would know where she was now without any possibility of concealment.
    They?
    Her pulse pounded. Panic shot through her veins.
    Have to escape, have to escape, have to . . .
    She was, she realized, curled on her side on damp, cold ground. Her cheek rested on something that both cushioned and prickled—dead grass? Something large and sharp that she guessed had to be a rock jabbed into her hip. Her head felt like it was lower than her legs because she lay twisted like a discarded doll on a hillside. She had only to push herself up and . . .
    Gathering all her force, she tried to get to her feet, to scramble away, to run until the darkness swallowed her up and hid her and she was safe once more. Pain shot everywhere, zigzagging along her nerve endings like white-hot lightning bolts, making her want to scream at the intensity of it—only she couldn’t. It hurt too much.
    I can’t move.
    The realization stunned her.
    Only her head moved, and her arms, with a great deal of effort. Getting them beneath her, she found she could push her torso a few inches from the ground—and that was all. She was trapped, immobilized in her own body. As she fell back, terror turned her insides icy. Her thoughts went fuzzy. All she knew for sure was that she was in pain, quickly intensifying pain. Her ribs, her legs, her head—they all hurt. She couldn’t get away. And she was afraid.
    I should be dead.
    Certainty laced the thought. The crash had been bad. Flying out into darkness, into nothingness, the car rolling over and over, end over end . . . and screams, multiple screams. Soul-shattering screams. She was screaming, too. She could still hear the screaming in her head.
    Are the others dead?
    That’s what she tried to ask him when he crouched beside her again. Either she was making no sense or he didn’t hear. She clung to his trouser leg. The material was smooth and cool and sturdy. A lifeline.
    “Help’s coming. Try not to move.”
    He must have felt her grip on him, or maybe he sensed her desperation through the darkness, because he patted her hand in clumsy comfort. If he wanted to hurt you, he’s had plenty of time to do it by now. Instead she felt protected. Thank God. Letting go of his trousers, she clutched his hand instead.
    Warm, strong fingers . . .
    “Don’t leave me,” she begged, her voice a hoarse, dry rasp in her throat. “They . . . they . . .”
    But her mind fogged up again, and all of a sudden she couldn’t remember who “they” were. Wasn’t even sure she had ever known in the first place.
    They?
    Dark shapes rushing through the darkness, silhouetted against the flames . . .
    “What?” He leaned closer, clearly having heard her voice but not understanding what she was trying to say. “Who are you? Were you in the First Lady’s car?”
    The First Lady. Annette Cooper . Oh, God, oh, God, oh . . .
    She could hear a flurry of movement not too far away: the crunch of dried grass, the shuffle of footsteps, a fragment of conversation. People approaching.
    Jess caught her breath. Terror grabbed her heart and squeezed.
    “Please . . .” she begged.
    “Over here,” he called, releasing her hand with a quick compression of her fingers and standing up. Jess guessed that the forest of