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hundred yards away, muffled the
     sound of gunfire from across the clearing, which is the only explanation I have for
     why the young woman would run into the middle of a gunfight. She just didn’t know.
    “ Get back, ” Robichaud yelled, slashing a hand at her.
    His stiff, tense body was more akin to an oak door than a human form. And he was a
     helluva lot heavier than he looked. I could scarcely breathe. Or maybe that’s because
     I was scared spitless.
    “What are you gonna do, shoot me?” She moved closer, obviously misinterpreting the
     entire situation. “Now drop the gun and let her up, or I’ll go get that giant man
     to come over here and pound you.”
    “Get down . Somebody’s shooting at us.”
    She turned to look, but not for long. I watched in horror when her body jerked and
     she dropped to the ground, her head landing close to mine. She clutched her bleeding
     arm and blinked at me, clearly in shock. “Crap. Who?”
    “I don’t know.” I shoved at my protector who was crushing me. “Robichaud, do something!”
    He fired another round, then moved off of me. “Roll under the Jeep. Drag her with
     you.”
    “I can crawl,” she said through gritted teeth as she flipped to her belly and scrambled
     beneath the Jeep, feet first. “Jesus, this hurts. Why the hell is the bastard shooting
     at us?”
    Following her, I peered out at Robichaud, noting the way he aimed and fired, staying
     flat against the ground, scarcely raising his head. No way was the guy an amateur.
     “Do you have any clue what’s going on, Conaway?”
    “Does the shooter have something to do with the blowouts?”
    “We think so. We think he’s trying to kill me because I can identify somebody I saw
     on the Maresco platform before it blew.”
    “You saw the guy who did all this?”
    “I saw a guy. I don’t know if he was responsible.” I glanced at her arm. “You’re bleeding
     a lot.”
    “Just a flesh wound. I’ll live.”
    “Blair,” Robichaud yelled over his shoulder. “We gotta get out of here. I’m running
     out of bullets and for all I know, the guy’s got an armory back there.”
    I looked at Conaway. “You up for a drive?”
    “No problem.” Without asking what I meant, she began to back out from under the Jeep.
    Scrambling after her, I crouched low and opened the passenger door. I helped her into
     the back, told her to lay low, then climbed into the driver’s seat, hunkered down,
     and hollered out the broken window, “Get ready, Robichaud.” I hit the clutch, started
     the engine and took off, making a donut to get the Jeep between the shooter and Robichaud.
     He was in the seat within two seconds and I peeled out, headed south.
    “Where the hell are you going?”
    “Around him, so I can come up from behind.”
    “You’re out of your mind. Drive to the other guys and get out. Let me handle this.”
    “If we wait, he’ll get away.” I nearly flipped the Jeep when I took a turn around
     a clump of mesquites and skidded to a stop.
    Conaway wasn’t a happy camper. “Dude, I’m f’ing wounded. How ‘bout you not do that
     again?”
    “Sorry.”
    Robichaud ignored her, his focus totally on me. “Let me drive.”
    “How do you propose to drive a standard and shoot at the same time?”
    “Yeah,” Conaway said, “you think you can shift gears with your—”
    “Okay, I get the point.” He was still staring at me. “Drive directly toward where
     he was shooting from. Don’t slow down when you spot him. Just drive.”
    “You want me to run over him?” The man was a killer, but I wasn’t sure I was capable
     of running him down. I got weirded out when I accidentally hit a squirrel once.
    “Just drive as fast as the Jeep will take the landscape. I’ll tell you where to go.”
     He glanced at Conaway. “Stay low.”
    I shifted into first and took off again, headed toward the eastern edge of the well
     site. When we hit the mesquites, I focused on driving around the largest of