Page 120 of Just One Night Together

“Hey, Damon. Back in town?”

“Not for long. I’ll be gone for a few days.”

“Sounds urgent.”

“It is. Remember when you said I just had to ask if I needed something?”

Ty’s tone turned wary. “I do.”

“I need a car. A fast car. And I need it now.”

“Oh no,” Ty whispered, obviously connecting the dots.

“You have the fastest car. I need your car.”

“Where are you going?”

“To say thanks.”

“Why does it have to be fast?”

“Because it’s a long way to Illinois and I’m late.” Damon ducked into the subway station, hurrying down the stairs, and the signal started to break up.

“Are you okay?” Ty demanded.

“Not yet. But lend me your car and by the time I get back, I just might be.”

“Look, I’m not sure about this...”

“You promised, Ty.”

Ty sighed. “I did.”

“I’m in the subway station. We’re going to lose the connection. Where’s the car?”

“At the house. In the garage.” Ty’s voice hardened. “Safe from a blizzard.”

“Is Shannyn home?”

“Yes....”

“Please tell her I’ll get there as soon as I can. Thanks in advance for the keys.”

“Do not wreck my car!” Ty shouted just before the connection was lost.

* * *

The sky was just gettinglight when Damon turned down the suburban street in Illinois. There weren’t many Slaters listed with phone numbers and he was hoping he had the right one. B. Slater. He was sure Haley had said her brother’s name was Brad. Damon had made good time and outrun the forecast snow. Seventeen hours and ten minutes, and no speeding tickets.

No dents in Ty’s car, either. He’d even filled the tank with premium gas, guessing that Ty did that, as well.

Damon checked the address he’d found online and drove slowly down the street, looking for the number. The houses were very similar to each other and appeared to have been built about thirty years before. The majority of them were well-kept with fairly new station wagons and SUVs in the driveways. He slowed down when the numbers told him that he was close and parked at the curb in front of a tidy bungalow. There was a full size red pick-up in the driveway, a pretty new one, with a firefighters’ logo on the license plate.

Her brother was a firefighter.

Damon was in the right place.

He rubbed a hand over his chin, knowing he had a healthy five-o’clock shadow, and was glad he’d brushed his teeth at the last rest stop. He cleared his throat and got out of the car, with the roses. They were looking a little less than their best but he didn’t want to waste time looking for another bouquet. He rang the bell, hearing the chimes echo inside the house.

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