them,
but still managed to take out every other one, causing the Jeep to jerk and lurch.
Conaway cussed a lot. Robichaud was trying to reload and having limited luck. I circled
around and doubled back again before I spotted a tall, blond man, pointing a rifle
right at us.
I sucked in a sharp breath. “It’s the guy from the Maresco platform.”
“ Drive ,” Robichaud yelled.
I headed straight for Blondie, adrenaline and anger egging me on.
Robichaud opened his door, swung out, and fired at him. “Don’t slow down. Drive around
him, then back.”
With mesquite branches beating the hell out of him as we passed, he clung to the flimsy
door and continued firing at the running man. In the midst of the chase, I was freaking
out in amazement that Robichaud could do that. The man had no fear. None.
Blondie gave up and fled toward his car, but he wasn’t gonna make it because I wouldn’t
let him. And he couldn’t stop, take aim, or fire the rifle at a dead run. I drove
after him and Robichaud continued to shoot, always barely missing because the guy
was winding his way through the brush in a zig-zag.
“He’s heading for the well.” I panicked at the thought of him shooting one of the
guys.
“The asshole thinks he can get to another car. Speed up and cut him off.”
I did, but the Jeep didn’t like it. I heard something crack when I ran over a too-large
mesquite, and I was fairly certain it wasn’t the mesquite. “We’re losing speed.”
“The drive train snapped,” Robichaud said, just before he jumped from the door and
disappeared into the thicket.
I kept going as long as the Jeep would move, but it came to a sudden stop when I hit
a huge hunk of metal. “I just found the rig motor.”
“It blew this far away from the well?”
Glancing over my shoulder at Conaway, I nodded. “The raw energy from a blowout explosion
could light up New York City for three days. There are undoubtedly pieces of equipment
scattered all over out here.” I frowned when I saw how pale she was. “You look like
hell. We need to get you to a hospital.”
“Yeah, that’d be awesome. I think he just grazed me, but it hurts like a mo-fo.” She
jerked her head toward the sound of gunfire. “You think he got him?”
“I don’t know, but we probably shouldn’t stay here, in case the guy comes back this
way. You up for a walk?”
“No problem.”
We got out of the Jeep and started toward the well, but we’d gone less than fifteen
feet when I heard a rapid round of shots, and Robichaud shouted, “Blair, he’s headed
for you— run! ”
If the whole area wasn’t lit by the enormous flames of the well fire, we could easily
have hidden in the mesquites. Since that wasn’t an option, I turned and ran west,
toward the area where the Jeep had been parked earlier, thinking we’d stay close to
the edge of the brush and make it back to the well site.
Too bad Blondie had the same idea, only in reverse. From maybe twenty yards apart,
we spotted each other and he raised the rifle in one, fluid motion, taking aim. “Conaway,
you got a grenade on you?”
“Damn, I left it in my purse. But I do have a camera.” She held it up and began clicking,
sending strobe flashes at Blondie, who blinked one too many times to aim well. His
shot went way wide. Smart girl.
Then we were hauling ass back into the mesquites, back toward the Jeep, my mind racing
for an idea of something to use as a weapon, wishing I had one of Mr. Lacrouix’s pearl
handled pistols. I could hear Blondie crashing through the brush behind us. When I
spied the Jeep up ahead, my gaze snapped to the gas can in the back. Running for the
passenger door, I flung it open, retrieved a book of matches from the glove box, then
went round to the back and lifted the gas can. I hurriedly sloshed gasoline on the
ground beside the small vehicle. When Blondie caught up to us, I threw the gas can
at him.