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So, evidently, did Dante.
He picked her up again. She didn’t fight him this time. The footing was slippery; he stumbled, recovered his balance and she automatically wrapped her arms around his neck. Snow crunched underfoot as he made his way toward the black SUV she knew must be his. Halfway there, he dug his keys from his pocket, pointed the remote at the vehicle and unlocked it.
He put her in the passenger seat, hurried to the driver’s side and got in. For a long moment, they sat without looking at each other. Then he took a cell phone from his pocket and flipped it open.
“It won’t work,” Tally said wearily, leaning back in her seat.
Dante turned toward her. Her face was pale. He sensed that her anger had given way to resignation. It was an emotion neither of them could afford in a situation like this.
“Well, then,” he said briskly, “we’ll just have to come up with another plan.”
He turned the ignition key so that he could read the instrument panel. The gas gauge, in particular, though he knew what he’d find. He’d been in such a damned rush to get to the bank before Taylor arrived…
One look confirmed what he’d suspected.
“We don’t have much gas. Just enough to run the engine for maybe twenty, thirty minutes. After that—” After that, they’d freeze. “So,” he said, again in that brisk tone, “here’s what we’re going to do. I’ll go for help. You stay here and turn on the engine every ten minutes. Let the car warm up, then shut if off. Do that as long as you can and I’ll do my best to find help quickly.”
“Don’t be a fool! You won’t get a hundred yards.”
“Why, cara,” he said, the words laced with sarcasm, “I didn’t think you cared.”
She didn’t. But she did care about Sam. A moment ago, she’d almost let despair overtake her. Now she knew she couldn’t let that happen. She had to live. To live for Sam.
There was only one choice. It was a risk in endless ways, but staying here was worse.
She took a deep breath. “Are you a good driver?”
“Of course.”
Such macho intensity! Any other time, she’d have laughed.
“And is there enough gas in the tank to go fifteen miles?”
He nodded. “Just about.”
“Then start the car. I’ll get us to my house. My neighbor has a truck and snowplow. He can lead you to a place near the highway—tow you, if necessary—where there’s a gas station and a motel. You’ll be fine there until the storm’s over.”
“And you? Will you be fine, as well?”
Tally looked at Dante. His eyes were cool, making it clear his was a polite question and nothing more.
“I’m not your concern,” she said. “I never was.”
A muscle knotted in his jaw. Then he nodded, turned the engine on and headed out of the parking lot and into the teeth of the storm.
THE WORLD HAD TURNED into an undulating sea of white. Shifts in the wind’s direction revealed only an occasional landmark, but that was enough.
The heavy vehicle, Dante’s skill at the wheel and Tally’s knowledge of the roads combined to get them safely to her driveway.
They battled their way to the door. Tally dug out her keys; Dante automatically reached for them as he used to when he saw her home in New York, and they waged a silent, brief struggle until he held up his hands in surrender and let her unlock the door herself.
She paused in the doorway.
The danger of the drive here had deprived her of rational thought. Now she was making up for it with frantic desperation. Were any of Sam’s things in the kitchen? She didn’t think so. Besides, it was too late to worry about it now.
If there were, she’d come up with some kind of explanation. In the last hour, she’d learned to be an accomplished liar.
She stepped into the room, fingers mentally crossed, with Dante close behind her, and reached for the light switch. The room remained dark. The power was out, as she’d figured it would be. The phone, too. All she heard when she picked up the handset was silence.
