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out, and this time the side mirror located to Meredith’s right exploded, and any semblance of bravery went out the window. She dove into Sam’s side and clung to his arm.
    “Listen to me,” he said into her hair, apparently unperturbed by how she held on to him. “We can’t stay in the truck. And I know you have no real reason to trust that I’m telling the truth, but I promise you, I’ll get you somewhere safe, then I’ll tell you what I can. Can we agree to do that?”
    Her mouth was too dry to answer, so she just nodded into his chest.
    “Good. You can go back to fighting with me as soon as we’re in the clear.”
    Sam reached over her to pop open the glove box, and Meredith sucked in a breath as she caught sight of what was inside.
    A gun.
    No, wait.
    Two guns.
    Sam pulled both out, then leaned forward to tuck one into the holster under his jacket. The other, he held out, butt-end first, to Meredith. She didn’t reach for it.
    “Take it,” Sam urged.
    She shook her head. “I can’t shoot.”
    Why did she feel bad about the admission? Firing a gun wasn’t something she’d never even considered doing before that second.
    “It’s easy.” He pointed at the trigger. “Aim. Click.”
    Meredith took it cautiously. “I don’t know if I can.”
    “You won’t have to.”
    Meredith wanted to ask why, if she wasn’t going to have to fire it, he was so insistent that she carry it. But he didn’t give her a chance. He reached down to her feet, snapped up the purse she’d dropped back at her building and handed it to her.
    “We’re going out my side,” he told her. “And all I want you to do is stay as close to me as possible.”
    Then he flung the door open, threaded his fingers through Meredith’s and dragged her into the street.
    * * *
    Sam was absolutely sure of two things. One, he was in over his head, and two, he needed to get Meredith out of whatever this was, alive and unscathed. Especially if his suspicions about the origin of that camera turned out to be true.
    No. Don’t focus on that. Concentrate on the moment.
    He held his body in front of Meredith’s as they snaked along the side of the Bronco. His flesh might be an ineffective shield from a bullet, but at least he could make her feel secure. They reached the edge of the truck unharmed, and he scouted for the next point of safety.
    “What do you do for work, Meredith?” he asked as he scanned the area.
    She replied in a shaky voice, “What?”
    “Work. What do you do?”
    “I’m, uh, at a temp agency. So right now, I’m at a market research place. Internet survey stuff, mostly. Compiling data.”
    He spotted a potential spot for cover, about fifteen feet away. It was an easy dash. One that would build confidence for the next, undoubtedly longer run.
    “Can you see that building sign over there?” He inclined his head.
    “The one that says Brookside Apartments?”
    “That’s the one.”
    “Yes, I see it. Why?”
    “In a few seconds, we’re going to run toward its south side. Whoever is firing is coming from the north, and I don’t think they know exactly where we are or they would’ve shot again already. Okay?”
    A pause, followed by an audible inhale. “Okay.”
    Sam counted to ten silently, then tightened his grip on her hand. “Go!”
    At full speed, they hit the pavement, propelling themselves away from the Bronco, and in seconds they reached the sign, unharmed.
    “Do you think they’re gone?” Meredith whispered.
    “No. They wouldn’t give up that easily.”
    “Then why aren’t they firing?”
    “Probably waiting for a clear shot,” Sam replied. “But we’re not going to give them one. How well do you know this area?”
    “Not very.”
    “Could you navigate our way out?”
    “I think so. You want to go somewhere specific?”
    Sam had an idea, but he didn’t want to get ahead of himself. “For now, let’s just get away from this neighborhood—and let’s stay away from yours, too. If you can do