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Taz watched Mike and Jeremy sitting away from the others over the afternoon meal. Nothing exciting, MREs served under the open-sided camo canopy draped over the stolen Ghostrider.
The team waited in a lost valley baking under the scorching sun of central Baja. In small groups, they sat on the dusty ground or perched on ammo cans, all hoping for even the slightest cooling breeze. They’d slept through the morning, but the evening cool still lay hours away.
When she’d first traveled here, she’d been driving. Fifty kilometers away, the nearest town, El Rosario, was a nothing place. Seventeen hundred people perched close by the Pacific, halfway down Mexico’s Baja Peninsula.
El Rosario was known for only two things.
It was traditionally the first rest stop in the six-day off-road rally r
