by Rachel Caine
We negotiated it down to an even hundred, and got Mona back out on the road in half an hour. Heading for Las Vegas. Since the motel owner was ripping me off anyway, I'd borrowed a couple of pillows, and they were tightly tied around the beer bottle. As soon as I had a chance, I'd hand it over to a Warden, who could get it back to New York to put into the vault.
David was characteristically silent as I drove, the sun flickering over his skin and hair. He wasn't reading. He was watching the landscape slide by outside the window. Sand, cactus, more sand. Not a lot to see.
"We're not going to make it," he said softly, after a while.
I hoped like hell he was talking about Las Vegas.
"We will," I said, and held out my hand.
He took it, and the warmth of it made me smile and settle deeper into the comfortable seat, and urge another few miles an hour out of the Dodge Viper.
We were on our way to a fight I couldn't begin to imagine, but dammit, we had each other, and that was, for the moment, enough.
FB2 document info
Document ID: fbd-13dc2f-6b8c-0d4d-70b2-3f09-7703-613317
Document version: 1
Document creation date: 04.07.2011
Created using: calibre 0.8.8, Fiction Book Designer, Fiction Book Investigator, FictionBook Editor Release 2.6 software
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