She tentatively checked the wound on his head. His scalp had a good slash in it. She was less worried about that than she was the knot swelling nearby.
“Come on, Ian. You’ve got to wake up. I can’t do this on my own.” She tapped his cheek harder. “I still have all kinds of things to yell at you for, and you’re damn well going to wake up to hear them.”
Still nothing.
“Dammit.” She climbed into the back to see what she could find.
Every move seemed to make her hurt somewhere. Just as she slung one leg over the second seat to investigate a box in the very back, the Suburban teetered. And her equilibrium teetered with it. She froze, struggling to get her bearings. The SUV’s movement made it seem like gravity was pulling the car toward the driver’s side. But her brain told her that the ground should be on the passenger’s side.
Trying to figure it out made her head ache. She closed her eyes and pressed the palm of her hand to the throb in her forehead. She met wet, sticky skin. Her stomach dropped. And when she pulled her hand away, she found what she’d feared—more blood. But she was alert and moving, so she continued her quest, praying the car didn’t break through some threshold and plummet.
Holding on to the back seat for stability, Savannah lifted the flap of the box and reached inside. Her hand touched metal. Guns. She recognized the feeling instantly. The small boxes in the corner were probably ammunition. Then she touched something soft and dragged it out.
A blanket. “Thank God.” She reached back in. “Water would probably be too much to ask for—” Her hand closed on something cold and plastic. Hope swelled inside her. She pulled out a jug of water and exhaled in relief. “Thank you, thank you, thank you.”
Tentatively, she moved back to the front of the car without any more teetering incidents. Once she slipped into her seat, her body settled and her equilibrium was restored—gravity pulled her toward the passenger’s side. Ian’s side of the car was pointed up; her side, down.
Savannah shook out the blanket and leaned over the console. She passed her hands over his arms, his belly, his thighs, searching for any obvious injuries. When she didn’t find any, she slid the blanket across Ian’s body. Then she eased closer, and ran her hands up and down over his arms, using friction to create warmth.
“Come on, Ian. Enough slacking.”
She continued to jostle and talk to him, as much to wake him as it was to keep her mind off the very real, very potentially fatal situation.
“You went to all this trouble to get me out of that town. You need to follow through. Jamison needs me. You know he needs me.”
She took a break from warming him and rested her forehead against his jaw. Tears burned her eyes. Tears of fear, of regret. “I’m sorry I got so mad,” she whispered. “I just…I was just…so crazy about you. Thought you might be the one.” Savannah lifted her head and cupped his face again. Desperation snuck in, and she gave him a little shake. “Come on, Ian. I need you.”
His lips moved. Then his lashes fluttered. Hope burned through her heart. She stroked his face. “That’s it. Right here. Open your eyes. I’m right here.”
His lids lifted, exposing confusion-hazed hazel eyes. Savannah laughed with relief. “There you are. Damn, you had me scared.”
He immediately tried to sit up. Savannah put a hand on his shoulder. “No, no.” When his gaze jumped to hers, she said, “You’ve got a couple of head injuries.”
He exhaled and relaxed against the seat. “Okay.”
His voice was groggy, but Savannah was so relieved and thrilled to hear it, she leaned close and kissed him gently. His lips were cold, but he lifted a hand to stroke her hair. When Savannah pulled back, he said, “You’re bleeding.”
“Not as much as you.”
A smile flickered at the corner of his lips. “I’m competitive like that.”
She smiled. “God, I’m glad you’re talking.”
He tried to look around, but Savannah kept his head in her hands. “I’m afraid for you to move. What about your spine?”
Ian’s feet scraped across the floor, then his thighs moved. “I think I’m okay.”
“Move slowly,” she cautioned before releasing his head.
He grimaced and moaned, but he seemed to move well enough. Once he was sitting upright, he took stock of the SUV. “Did a number on this thing.”
“Yeah. Imagine how this would have turned out if we’d stayed in the truck.”
He made a dark sound in his throat.
“When Roman sees this, he’s going to skin you alive.” Their reality sank in again. “If we make it out.”
“We’re making it out,” he said with an intensity and finality that soothed her nerves. He rolled his wrist and pushed up the sleeve, glancing at his watch. The face had been crushed. “My watch has a GPS tracker. Don’t know if it’s still working, but we need to get it to the surface.” He paused, seeming to fight to get his thoughts together. “No telling how deep we are. Doesn’t transmit through snow.” His words slurred a little, and his gaze went distant again, as if he might pass out. “Need to start digging out.?