For the Love of Pete

by Julia Harper

  “But what of our restaurant?” Savita-di said. “We were due to open it next week, and hardly anything is prepared. Do not think that Abdul will work when we are not there to oversee him.”

  Pratima watched closely as the skunk girl finished her song on a screech and Mr. Cowell narrowed his eyes in preparation. Could not Savita-di learn to be quiet and enjoy quality television?

  “Rahul says the roads may be impassible tomorrow,” Pratima told her sister-in-law. “And in any case, I think it would be most imprudent to try and drive in these conditions.”

  Savita-di frowned. Such a contrary thing! She would now take the opposing opinion, Pratima was sure, and advocate driving to Chicago this very night. How she, Pratima, had been able to withstand this stubborn need to always be in control on the part of her sister-in-law for so many weary years—

  The flimsy door to the room suddenly flew open and crashed against the wall. Savita-di gave a startled cry—really it was more of a squeak—and Pratima merely stared.

  That Terrible Man stood in the doorway.

  “No! No! No!” Savita-di screamed—she was rarely caught off guard for long. “You must go! Do not disturb us, you Terrible Man! Do not think to—”

  But in the midst if this diatribe, just when Savita-di had really built up a head of steam, a small sound was heard. All in the room paused and turned to the source of this tiny sound—the baby boy.

  He smiled and repeated it. “Da!”

  He held out small, chubby arms toward That Terrible Man, and really it was remarkably similar to one of those television shows one saw on the Lifetime network. Perhaps one involving angels. For a transformation overcame That Terrible Man’s face. He did not exactly become softer—hard to look softer with eyebrows as thick and black as That Terrible Man had—but his face no longer looked quite as menacing as it had before. Perhaps there was even a twinkle in his bloodshot black eyes, although that may have been the cheap lightbulbs her nephew used in his motel rooms.

  The gun in That Terrible Man’s hand shook, and he spoke one word. “Son.”

  Pratima sighed, leaned forward to pick up the television remote control, and clicked the TV off, just when Paula was talking earnestly and looked like she might burst into tears. A pity, really.

  She turned to Savita-di. “Well, this is a fine mess.”

  Chapter Forty-five

  Saturday, 12:48 p.m.

  Dante’s face looked like it was carved from stone.

  Zoey swallowed and nuzzled her nose into Pete’s baby curls, wondering what that kiss had meant. There had been anger in it—she’d have to be dead not to notice that emotion—but beneath had been something else. She wished she could rewind to those seconds when his mouth had pressed so savagely against hers. Maybe she could take notes this time, figure out exactly what he meant. And this time she would try to make his mouth soften. But his kiss had been so fast, so violent, she knew that there hadn’t been time for her to respond, to make him soften.

  She sighed. She was probably overthinking the whole thing.

  Pete had fallen asleep almost as soon as the car had started. Poor baby, she must be exhausted from crying. She smelled like baby shampoo and baby sweat, and Zoey inhaled gratefully. It was so wonderful to be able to hold Pete, to feel the baby’s weight in her arms, to know she was safe, at least for now.

  That thought made her glance at Dante. “I’m sorry. I couldn’t trust the FBI again, not with Pete’s life. I—”

  “You couldn’t trust me,” he clipped out.

  Zoey inhaled. “It wasn’t you, Dante. It was the FBI. They—”

  His mouth turned down into a thin, hard, nasty line. “It was me. Don’t try to pretend otherwise. I had the baby. You didn’t trust me to take her back to Chicago. You didn’t trust me to keep her safe.”

  He was so angry. She could feel his anger coming in waves off of him; it was almost like a physical barrier between them. She didn’t want this awful distance between them. It felt so wrong.

  Zoey tried again. “Dante, I—”

  “I don’t want to talk about it.”

  She closed her eyes and sighed. She was so tired. It was as if all her vitality had been drained from her body. She just felt gray and wrung out. Pete smacked her lips, still asleep, and clutched a tiny fist into Zoey’s hair. Zoey’d forgotten to pick her knitted hat back up when Dante had flung it aside. Her head was bare, her hair tangled and coming down from the braids she’d fixed it in this morning. She probably looked like a mess.

  She glanced at Dante’s iron profile and sighed silently. Not that it mattered. He hadn’t looked at her with much interest before now, and he sure wasn’t going to start at this point. The thought shouldn’t have depressed her further, but it did.

  Dante had turned off I-24 a while back. They’d been driving on a county road, but now he signaled and turned off that, as well. The BMW fishtailed a little on the turn, and Dante tapped the brake. The snow was coming down in big fluff balls that stuck to the windshield and then were swept away by the wipers.

  She shuddered. With the driver’s-side window broken, the car was freezing. Sitting right next to it, Dante must be even colder than she was, but he didn’t show it. He’d duct-taped one of the plastic bags over the window, but there was still an arctic draft. And the bag looked like it might come down at any moment.

  “Where are we?” Zoey asked. The road was drifted with snow, and Dante had slowed the BMW down to under forty mph.

  He glanced at her for the first time since they’d entered the car. “I’m heading east. To the Shawnee National Forest. I have a friend who has a summer cabin on the Ohio River. It’s an hour or so away. Maybe more.”

  “That’s where we’re going? To your friend’s cabin?”

  “Yeah.”

  She watched the snow swirling over the hood for a moment, feeling the exhaustion drag at her limbs. “Nikki came to our house the summer Dad left.”

  She felt more than saw him still. He didn’t look toward her, but she knew he was listening.

  Zoey brushed a damp curl on Pete’s forehead. “I was fourteen and Nikki was only eight. We were fostering other kids that summer, a boy and two other girls, but they were reassigned soon after Dad skipped. Mom wouldn’t let social services take Nikki, though. She said Nikki had already been through enough upheaval, that it wouldn’t be fair to her to move Nikki again.”

  She chuckled, a sound that emerged dry and sad. “Except I don’t know if we were all that good a place for Nikki to be. Mom was in denial and angry because Dad had left us, and I was just angry. Angry all the time.”

  He cleared his throat. “It must’ve been a hard time for all three of you.”

  “Yeah.” She watched Pete’s soft little eyelashes flutter. “But you know, Nikki used to climb in bed with me at night sometimes. I don’t know if she’d had a bad dream or she was just lonely, but I’d wake up all sweaty and there’s be a skinny little hand clutching at my arm. She never let go even when she was asleep. She was a sweet kid, you know. I think she’d figured that she had to be appealing to survive the foster-care program.”

  Dante glanced at her. “Did she stay at your place the entire time she was growing up?”

  “Mostly. There were stretches when she’d be placed with an aunt or grandmother, but her family was pretty messed up and her mother was in and out of prison. She spent most of her time with us.”

  He nodded.

  Zoey wet her lips. “Nikki is my sister. I’ve spent over a decade looking after her. So when she called and said Ricky had done something really dumb and they were going into hiding”—she shrugged—“we kept in touch. I know Nikki wasn’t supposed to tell anyone where they were, but I’d helped raise Pete. Nikki depends on me.”

  “So you dropped your own life and came running when they came back to Chicago?”

  “No.” She frowned. That sounded so pathetic. “But I wanted to be near Pete and Nikki. I wanted to know they were safe.” She took a deep breath, b
ecause he wasn’t going to like what she said next. “You should know that Ricky’s told Nikki that he won’t testify unless he can see Pete with his own eyes. You’re going to have to get her back before he’s due on the stand if the trial’s to continue.”

  His lips tightened and he frowned, but then he glanced at Pete in her arms. “Is she really okay?”

  Zoey smoothed a hand over the curls stuck to Pete’s sweaty forehead. “Yes. She’s just tired.”

  “Good.” He turned back to the road. His lips compressed. “I . . . was worried.”

  She looked at him. His face was unreadable, his expression still grim, but he’d asked. He’d admitted it.

  She inhaled and stared down at Pete’s curls. “I was so scared, Dante. The minivan’s tire blew or something, and I could hardly keep it on the road, and that black Mercedes-Benz SUV was following me the entire way. He was right behind me. Even before the tire blew he’d tried to force us off the road. I didn’t know if we’d make the rest stop, and even if we made the rest stop, what I would do then, and the entire time Pete was screaming from the back seat.”

  She stopped because she was trembling and babbling at this point. He must think her an idiot. She’d been the one to run away from him with Pete. He probably thought it served her right for some psycho hit man to come after her.

  He was silent a minute. Outside, the blizzard had grown worse, the snow driving hard against the windshield. The wipers struggled to keep up, and the plastic bag on his window snapped in the wind.

  “I didn’t think I’d get there in time,” Dante said so low she almost didn’t make out the words. “I thought I’d get there and find . . .”

  He didn’t finish the words.

  She looked at him. He was still grim, still unreadable, but she knew now that his granite mask hid fear.

  Fear for her.

  “When I saw your BMW come into the rest-stop parking lot, I knew . . .” Zoey swallowed and continued, her voice raspy. “I knew we were all right. I knew you’d save us.”

  It was a small change, and maybe no one else in the world would’ve noticed it, but Zoey saw. Dante’s face relaxed. His shoulders lost their tense hunch, his fingers flexed on the wheel, and he almost—almost—smiled.

  Zoey felt her own lips curve as she buried her nose in Pete’s baby neck.

  Chapter Forty-six

  Saturday, 2:03 p.m.

  The snow was getting worse.

  Zoey chewed on her lip, staring out the windshield. The sun was totally obscured behind the storm clouds. Dante had slowed the car again, so that they seemed to crawl through a wall of white fluff that came out of the cold gray and swirled away again as they passed. On either side of the road the Shawnee National Forest rose up, silent and dense. Even at the slower speed, Dante was still having trouble. Every now and again, the car would slide with a stomach-dropping lurch and he would silently and grimly wrestle it back into the middle of the road.

  They hadn’t spoken in forty-five minutes. Zoey didn’t want to break his concentration, didn’t want to voice any doubt in his ability to get them all to safety. But if the car got stuck and he couldn’t get it going again . . . If he couldn’t find the house he said his friend had . . . She swallowed. It was so cold out.

  They hadn’t passed another car in the last two hours. They’d stopped briefly by the side of the road an hour back so that she could hook up the car seat and strap in Pete. Even then, as she’d struggled for ten minutes, no one had come by.

  They were in the middle of nowhere.

  The back end of the car spun, fishtailing across the road. Zoey grabbed for her armrest as they swerved. Dante’s lips were peeled back in a grimace as he fought the car. There was a thud as Zoey’s side of the car hit a snowbank.

  Everything was still again. White flakes silently fell outside. Dante drew a breath and peeled his hands off the wheel to set the brake. “Are you okay?”

  Zoey stared back at him. His cheeks and chin were dark from stubble and he had bags under his eyes, but he looked more attractive to her than he had two days ago. Which didn’t make any sense.

  “Zoey, are you okay?”

  “Yes. Yes, I’m fine.”

  Pete let out a sob from the back seat.

  “Shoot, I hoped she’d stay asleep,” Zoey muttered. She reached back to pat the baby. “It’s okay, sweetie. It’s okay.”

  Pete’s lower lip puckered and trembled, and she had two big, fat tears in her eyes. She sobbed, her little hands reaching for Zoey.

  “Dammit,” Dante muttered.

  At first Zoey thought he was mad because the baby had woken up. But he got out of the car, opened the back-seat door, and released the baby. Pete sobbed harder. Zoey waited for Dante to lose his temper—not many men could handle a crying baby.

  “Yeah, I know. I’m not the one you want,” he said wryly over the baby’s wails. He picked Pete up and pulled her pink hoodie over her head before getting back in the front seat with her. “Here.”

  Pete grinned, showing a row of tiny teeth, and bounced in Dante’s hands.

  Zoey took the baby, holding her close. “Thank you.”

  Pete bounced on her lap for maybe two seconds and then made a determined lunge for the dash.

  “Whoa, sweetie!” Zoey caught her before she could fall on the floor of the car headfirst.

  Pete didn’t take kindly to being saved. She let out an angry scream.

  Zoey looked at Dante apologetically. “She’s tired of being in the car.”

  “Yeah, I know,” he muttered. “So am I.” He reached over and popped the glove compartment, rummaging for a moment. Pete followed his hand with her eyes, even though her mouth was still wide open on a cry. He grunted and came back up with a small, colorful plastic packet. “Here.”

  Zoey took the packet. Inside the clear plastic, jewel-colored candies were stuck together in a clump. “Gummi Bears?”

  He shrugged. “Last time I was home I got corralled into taking my sister and nephew to a park.”

  Zoey’s eyes widened. “You let your sister put her child in this car?”

  “Hey.” He looked defensive. “I’m not that bad.”

  “Yes,” Zoey muttered under her breath. “You are.”

  But she was only hassling him. The truth was, she was pretty impressed with how well he was taking a screaming baby. Ricky had a tendency to run from the room when his daughter started crying. Not that Ricky was on anyone’s top-ten-fathers-of-the-year list, but still.

  She was impressed.

  Zoey tore open the little packet and pried an orange Gummi Bear from its fellows. Normally she’d cringe at the thought of feeding pure sugar to a baby, but in an emergency . . .

  Zoey would’ve taken an oath that Pete had never seen a Gummi Bear before in her short little life, but the baby sure knew what to do with the candy. She grabbed the treat and stuck both fist and sweet into her mouth.

  “I think she likes that,” Dante said.

  “Colored sugar? Ya think?” But Zoey smiled at him and kissed Pete’s sticky cheek.

  Dante quirked an eyebrow at her before shoving down the hand brake. He put the BMW into reverse and looked over his shoulder as he backed out of the snowbank.

  Except that instead of backing, the car lurched and then whined as the wheels spun on snow.

  Dante muttered something and put the car into second gear. He eased down on the accelerator, but the car didn’t move at all this time.

  He closed his eyes. “Wonderful.”

  “We’re stuck?” Zoey asked, a really stupid question under the circumstances.

  Dante must’ve thought so, too. He grunted and opened the car door, letting in a whirl of snow. “Stay here.”

  Then he shut the door behind him.

  “He’ll get us out,” Zoey whispered into Pete’s hair.

  She gently patted the baby’s padded bottom until Pete wriggled again. The only place the baby could sit was on Dante’s seat, so Zoey placed her there. The car rock
ed as Dante slammed the car trunk. Pete leaned forward determinedly until she could place her palms flat on the seat. She grinned at Zoey in triumph, the dissolving Gummi Bear sticking out of a corner of her mouth like a stogie.

  “Aren’t you brilliant?” Zoey said.

  Pete chortled and walked her baby hands forward until she could grasp the bottom of the steering wheel. Zoey winced. Dante’s seat and wheel were going to be covered in sticky baby fingerprints when he came back. On the other hand, Pete wasn’t crying anymore. The baby levered herself up on the steering wheel until she could stand.

  “Ya!” she cried. “Yayayaya!” Each ya was accompanied by a bounce, her bottom sticking out on the bend.

  Dante opened the door. Pete turned in his direction, and for a moment man and baby contemplated each other.

  “I believe that’s my seat,” Dante said.

  “Come here, Pete.” Zoey picked her up, and when the baby got that uncertain look that meant she was thinking about crying, she gave her a red Gummi Bear. Nikki would have a cow if she found out about this.

  Dante by this time was behind the wheel. He put the car into reverse and eased down on the accelerator. The wheels spun.

  “Dammit.” He sighed and looked at her. “You’re going to have to take the wheel while I push.”

  “Okay.”

  Zoey watched him get out of the car. She leaned over the back seat and strapped Pete into the car seat with her red Gummi Bear. Then she crawled over the console, swearing under her breath when she hit her thigh against the shift. Dante’s side of the car was even colder than hers. The plastic bag over the window didn’t seem like any barrier at all against the blizzard outside.

  She settled behind the wheel and watched Dante plow through the snowdrift to the hood. He was spotlighted in the headlights, his head bare, his hair flattened by the wind. He braced his hands on the hood and nodded at her. Zoey shifted into reverse and pressed down on the accelerator. Dante leaned into the hood, his eyes narrowed against the driving snow. The car rocked. Zoey pressed just a little harder. The engine whined; the tires spun against snow. Dante hunched his shoulders, bent over the hood. Almost . . .