Chapter FourOnce her hearing recovered from the blast of destroying her own helicopter, Amy paused to assess.
Left leg stung like a son of a b***h. Another reason to imagine Dusty laughing. He was the calm one who seldom swore. He’d hardly even cursed when she’d punched him on their first meeting in Portland, Oregon, and landed him in a bed of thorny rose bushes where an old willow tree had stood.
She was definitely the one with the temper.
First assessment. She heard nothing but the occasional unexploded round cooking off with a bang: two from the helo, one from the truck still blazing a few hundred meters down the road, then another spatter from the helo.
No other vehicle sounds. If anyone was hunting her, they were doing it quietly on foot. She’d thought the night-vision gear had be
