Reaching the bike, she propped Rome against a tree trunk. He was steadier now, but in definite pain, given his intermittent wincing and grunting. The slice in her arm was simply on fire, but she put the burning aside to pull the bike out of its camouflage of leafy brush.

She rolled it toward Rome and started it up just as he’d shown her. As soon as it rumbled to life, she pulled up next to him.

She helped him settle onto the back of the wet leather seat, and then quickly moved ahead of him to straddle the bike, grimacing at the sogginess that seeped into her jeans. About to reach behind to secure his hold, he did the job himself by wrapping his shaky arms snuggly around her torso.

“Rome, are you okay?” she asked softly, knowing she should’ve asked sooner, but also knowing she couldn’t have taken the time. They probably didn’t have the time now, either.

“Yeah. Okay,” he said with a sigh, and leaned forward against her back, his warm breath reassuring against her damp neck.

Harper took a moment to pull his arms tighter around her middle, and then put the bike into gear. The drizzly wind streaked through her hair and the hazy sun energized her exhausted body as they sped through the rough forest in a light drizzle.

Reluctant to take her eyes off the terrain, she chanced a glance over her shoulder at Rome. His eyes were squinted but alert as they raced along.

Turning her gaze forward, Harper was just in time to see a big black Hummer barreling through the trees, headed straight for them.

Harper yelped as bullets whizzed past her head. A man was standing through the sunroof, aiming a rifle at them while the huge vehicle continued on a head-on course toward their little motorbike.

“Holy shit!” Rome’s loud curse reached her ears as more gunfire rang out. “Turn!”

He didn’t need to tell her twice.

She veered the bike to the left, nearly skidding the machine out from under them on the loose, wet soil. The Hummer flew past them and slammed on the brakes to angle around.

Her knuckles strained white with tension as she gripped with all her strength, trying to control the fishtailing bike. Rome began leaning with the motions, which eventually helped her steady the wild twisting.

Sparing a quick glance over her shoulder, she saw the black monster tear up the earth with its spinning tires. Finally catching enough traction, it began to follow them.

Great. Just great. How was she going to lose them? She could barely manage this thing. Sure, she’d driven Jet Skis, but they were made to slide around. The bike needed solid footing. Something that was going to be difficult on the leafy, muddy ground.

Another round of bullets streamed past her as she turned back around. She had to focus on the jarring landscape.

“Weave, don’t keep a straight line,” Rome shouted.

One of his arms unwound from her waist. His hand shifted between them as though he was digging around for something. Something solid brushed against her lower back.

A gun. It was a little frightening that she was beginning to recognize it so easily.

“Keep it steady,” Rome instructed, and started to remove his other arm from around her.

“What are you doing?” Harper asked, worried about his stability. She was fighting hard against the rocks and muck to keep from dumping them off the bike while he was wiggling it.

“I’m going to shoot back while you lose them,” Rome explained simply.

Oh. Okay. No problem.

More rustling behind her was followed by a few grunts. She continued to wind across the terrain, zigzagging to keep from being hit by the bullets peppering the drizzly air and foliage around them.

Harper almost jumped out of the seat when Rome’s arms encircled her to tie his fleece coat around her middle. She looked down to see his hands twist the arms into a tight knot. He tugged on it, pulling her a little with it.

His hands disappeared and she kept her eyes ahead. Then she pitched forward slightly when his arm snaked up her back to hold on to the coat, levering his body as she felt him twist to face the threat behind them.

Ah, Rome was using her as an anchor while he fired off a few shots at the Hummer. Though she doubted his one little gun on the back of the bumpy bike could do much.

“Got one,” Rome called to her.

Despite the dire circumstances, she couldn’t help grinning as she stood-well, sat-corrected.

Her body jerked a little as Rome shifted in the wet leather seat while she maneuvered over some slick granite. She glanced behind, hearing the deep rumbling of the Hummer’s huge engine drown out the bike’s own motor as the big monster began to gain ground on them, plowing easily through the jagged, muddy terrain.

Another smattering of bullets filled the air, and she knew she had to do something. She had a feeling the chase couldn’t go on forever, and at the rate they were going, the Hummer would be on top of them soon.

She gave a fleeting thought to using her psi powers now that she felt a little stronger. Out in the open, it had never failed her.

Looking inside herself, she began to focus on the energy inside her mind.

“Harper!” Rome yelled as she skimmed a jutting rock, almost dislodging them.

“Sorry.” She cringed, glancing around at the blurring greens and browns of the forest as the rain slapped against her face. Apparently not a good idea right now to try out her tenuous control of the power. She could kill the two of them before she saved them.

Taking a deep breath of the fresh damp air, she looked hard at the trees to their sides. At the cutting paths that crisscrossed through the course they were riding. At the hills that rolled ahead.

Harper knew this area. She and Bobby had hiked it many times before, though she had no idea just how close they’d been to the lab all those times.

The bike slanted dangerously from the harsh recoil of another shot from Rome’s gun. Struggling to keep it under control as they raced over moss and mud, she tried to recall everything she knew about this area.

Where could she lose the Hummer? The metal beast was mowing down the vegetation, but she didn’t dare try to slalom the trees to the sides. She was afraid she’d land them smack-dab in the middle of a solid trunk, so she’d stayed on the rough trail that traversed the dense tree line.

“Do you know this area?” she called over her shoulder to Rome.

“A little.” He paused to aim and shoot once more. She anticipated the shot this time and swerved along with the motion. “Just from the map.” He sounded a little breathless. A lot breathless, actually.

Goodness, she’d forgotten about his wounds. And hers. She flexed her arm to test the slice in her forearm. A little tight, but not the heavy stinging of before.

“I think there’s a small gorge up ahead,” Rome hollered, jerking her body backward while he reloaded his weapon, his arm still looped through the coat tied around her waist.

Gorge? Oh, holy cow. Rome was right. But it wasn’t a small gorge. It was a wide ravine. Wide and deep.

Sharpening her focus, she peered through the spitting rain, looking forward for the signs of the fateful ravine that just might save them.

Or kill them for good.

Harper recalled that the only warning of the ridge was the thinning of trees and a small hill that dipped just before the edge. If she remembered correctly, the drop was about the length of the Olympic pools she swam. Probably even a touch more than the fifty meters.

The distance across the ravine was the real problem. She wasn’t sure. Twenty or thirty feet. Maybe farther.

She noticed a rise in the terrain as she swerved around a thick section of a downed tree. The ravine was just ahead.

Now what?

She flirted with the idea of jumping the chasm, then shrugged it off with a smirk. Was she crazy? She was barely keeping the bike stable on the ground. How in the world did she think she could run it off the ledge and make it to the other side? Could this bike even do something like that with both of them on it?