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The silver SUV spun out and flipped over the ditch before crashing against the tree on the other side of the road.

She didn’t want the driver to die. But she did hope he was out of commission for a while so they could escape.

And so the police would have time to come and get him.

Brody made a quick call to Dawson. When she heard the sergeant promise to contact the local precinct and send someone, she sank against the seat, feeling like her bones had all melted inside her.

“I can’t believe we survived that.” She sighed, allowing her lids to drift shut. “I thought we were goners for sure. I guess I should have trusted you more.”

He didn’t answer immediately.

Her already frayed nerves shivered. She lifted her lids and moved her head so she faced him, her back still pressed against the seat.

“Brody? Are you okay?”

His mouth formed a hard line. He took another few seconds before answering. “Something’s not right.”

Her stomach tightened. Not again. “What?”

“I don’t know. The car feels wrong to me. Give me a second to—oh, no. You’ve got to be kidding me.”

She sat straight up. “What? Brody, you’re scaring me.”

But then she heard it. A wet thumping sound that she felt under her. Then the SUV started shuddering.

“This isn’t supposed to shudder and thump.”

“No.” He checked the rearview. “Good news. No one is behind us. Bad news. We have a flat tire.”

Jenna stared at him. Of all the stupid things to happen. She’d never changed a tire before. “Do you know how to change a tire?”

He glared at her. “Please. I’d get kicked out of guy school if I couldn’t. As long as there’s a working jack and a spare, we’ll be back in business in five minutes. Stay here.”

She wanted to scream. They were sitting ducks on the side of the road. And what if that shooter climbed out of his car and headed this way? They’d only come a couple of miles before they’d run out of luck again.

Would the issues never end?

Brody shut the door, keeping the heat inside the SUV. He waited until he heard the locks click into place, then moved toward the hatchback, snow and ice crunching under his boots. Brody took the key fob from his pocket and pressed the lift gate button, holding his finger down until he heard the sharp beep. The lift gate rose.

He removed the first aid kit and then lifted the course rug on the floor of the hatchback. He found the jack tucked into its molded compartment beneath the cargo floor. Some of the tension drained from his shoulders. He’d half dreaded not finding one. Brody didn’t trust vehicles that he hadn’t set up himself. He knew exactly where the jack and spare tire were on his own SUV and what condition they were in. This replacement was an unknown. Using the dome light, he inspected what he saw. So far, so good.

He pulled it free, along with the lug wrench, and set both on the snow-covered pavement. The jack was a compact mechanical screw jack. That was another plus. He was familiar with this type of jack. It was simple to operate, although it took some muscle.

The jack was nestled in with the spare tire.

Good. He had everything he needed.

Brody took the two parts of the jack and set it up. He placed it on the ground and laid down some blankets so he wouldn’t kneel in the snow, then went to work, lifting the vehicle until the flat tire had risen enough to work. He took the lug wrench and fitted it on the first lug. Then the second. The third lug was rusted and he needed to force it. No problem with the last two.

He pocketed the lugs so he wouldn’t lose them. He left the jack in place and went back to grab the spare. Within thirty seconds, he was back by the jack, kneeling on the blanket again. He put the tire on and started on the lugs. They went on quicker than they came off. He tightened them firmly.

It wasn’t until he lowered the vehicle back on the ground that he had a problem. The moment the weight fell squarely on the spare, he heard a messy pop followed by an angry hiss. Within seconds, the spare sat like a pancake on the cold ice.

It had been defective, probably from sitting unused for so long.

His stomach tightened. Now what? There was no other spare, nothing to repair it with, and no safe place to go.

He could call for help, but they’d be open targets until someone arrived.