Chapter Six

Allison’s childhood home went completely dark for the second time that night. Outside the blizzard raged, wreaking havoc on the world as much as Sloan wreaked havoc on her life since landing on her doorstep. She felt buried under an avalanche of problems with no rescue beacon.

“What happened to the lights?” Sloan’s question broke the eerie silence.

Her brain went into overdrive, racing through all the possibilities, unable to answer why the generator stopped working. It had plenty of gas, and was running fine when they left the shed. She’d missed something, but what?

“I’ll go check it out,” she said with a calmness she didn’t feel. “You two start the fire.” She turned toward the door as her eyes adjusted to the darkness.

“Allison,” Sloan called from across the room. “Wait a minute.”

“Don’t worry. I don’t need any help.” She tugged the zipper up on her coat.

“I said, wait.” The hard edge in his voice stopped her.

“What?” She snapped the word out. It wasn’t fair to be angry with him. The fault was hers. This was just one more thing she’d screwed up and he had a front row seat. Regardless, it felt good to lash out.

She heard a click, and the flashlight caught her in its beam. She raised her hand to block the glare.

“You’ll need this.” He walked forward without lowering the light. Leaning closer, he whispered, “I wasn’t volunteering to come with you.”

She opened her mouth to say she was perfectly capable without his help, but his next words stopped her.

“I’m safer in here with Mitch and a handful of matches than in the snow with the Ice Queen.” He held out the flashlight and gave her a wink. “Frostbite is so painful. Maybe we can thaw you out when you come back.”

Allison snatched the flashlight from his hand, and rushed from the house before she smacked him with it. Keeping warm wasn’t going to be a problem—steam rose under her collar.

Once inside the shed, she took off her glove and unscrewed the gas cap on the generator. The gas level was right where it should be. Next, she checked the oil reservoir, wiping her finger inside. Empty. That didn’t make sense. She angled the beam along the lower part of the generator until she found the problem. A small pool of oil stained the concrete. With the slope of the slab, it must have run behind the generator. That was why she hadn’t noticed it earlier. She’d bet her last dollar that a gasket had failed, probably rotted or cracked in the cold, allowing the oil to leak out. Without oil, it would have only taken a few minutes for the motor to seize. Stupid. Stupid. And really stupid.

She stood and played the light around the shed. Maybe she could find another gasket, and replace the oil. She wasn’t ready to give up on the machine just yet.

As she dug through odds and ends on the workbench, she acknowledged that Sloan’s ‘ice queen’ comment wasn’t far off the mark. She was calculating and controlled and frozen in her way of doing things—deliberately cultivating that image. Only Mitchell saw her differently. Even Caroline and Ed thought she mapped out every move.

When Sloan was around, she was doubly careful not to misstep. He was a wild card. A suave, sophisticated male who stirred up all those awkward schoolgirl emotions she kept under such tight control. And now, he was waiting for her in the house. Inside her personal territory.

At Northstar, she was safe behind her computer—able to maintain a professional façade. Battling his sarcasm and interruptions was her way of keeping him at arm’s length. It was instinct. Protection from the unknown. She hadn’t questioned why it was necessary—until tonight.

From the moment Sloan walked into the garage, he’d thrown her off balance. When he trapped her in the office, she’d played right into his hands. She let him touch her. Kiss her—well, sort of. That quick brush of his lips didn’t count as a real kiss. Yet it had affected her like the real thing, hadn’t it?

She found a crescent wrench and clutched it in her hand. What if they hadn’t lost the power? What would have happened? She hadn’t pushed him away. It was pointless to pretend to have any real relationship experience, but she was mature enough to admit she’d been a willing player in his game. Without even knowing the rules.

She didn’t want anyone interfering with her life path. She guarded her independence. Alone in the dark shed, she acknowledged that Sloan had exposed a vulnerability—a hidden desire to be loved. It scared her.

Shaking off the feeling, she pointed the flashlight at a small set of drawers. Maybe she’d find a replacement gasket in there.

Why was she suddenly having these feelings around Sloan? Could it be the attraction between them was real? If he asked for more, she was afraid she might give in. That would be a huge mistake.

The office gossip mill was filled with the legendary trail of broken hearts left behind by Sloan Cartland. He would steal any meager crumbs she offered—and then leave her picking up the pieces like shattered ice chips.

Were these the feelings that ensnared Caroline when she found herself unmarried and pregnant with Mitchell? Her sister’s experience was incentive enough to stay away from men who avoided commitment. In fact, Allison found it easy. She’d never understood how Caroline could give into the lust without love—until now.

Obviously, Allison had the same faulty genes. At least she was aware of her weakness and could shore up her defenses. When she walked back inside, she’d have her protective firewall to keep Sloan out.

She found a spare gasket inside the drawer and returned to the generator with it and the other tools. Pulling off her gloves, she ignored the bitter cold and started working on the generator’s motor. It didn’t take long for her fingers to stiffen. Once the gasket was replaced, she filled the oil and pressed the motor to start the machine. A grinding screech reverberated in the small shed. It was what she feared, once the oil had leaked out, the crankshaft had seized. The generator was as useless now as the computer inside. It wouldn’t work again without major repairs. The best she could hope for was the power would return soon. Without power, she couldn’t continue programming. Without the trace, they couldn’t catch the hacker. If they didn’t catch the hacker…

She refused to travel down that road.

Allison pulled the gloves over her numb hands. Nothing more she could do here. She straightened and grimaced at the ache in her arm. Instead of ignoring the pain, she welcomed it. It reminded her of all the things she had lost in her past, and all the things she couldn’t afford to lose, like her heart. She refused to let Sloan find a crack to exploit.

****

Sloan paced in front of the fireplace. What in the hell was taking Allison so long?

He tried not to panic at the image of her buried in a snowbank. According to Mitch, she’d grown up in this house and knew the terrain like the back of her hand. For some reason, that didn’t ease Sloan’s worry. Regardless of what he’d told her earlier, he shouldn’t have let her go out alone.

“Hey, champ, I’m going to find out what’s taking your aunt so long. Will you be okay by yourself for a few minutes?”

Mitch looked up from his computer game. “Sure. But Aunt Allison will be back as soon as she fixes the generator.”

“Maybe she needs help.”

“Nah, she can fix anything. You could probably hold the flashlight for her, though.”

Sloan frowned. Mitch had no idea how his remark stung. Maybe Sloan didn’t have Allison’s skills, but he had other talents he refused to discuss with a nine-year-old boy. “I’ll be back.” He pushed his arm through the sleeve of his coat.

“Maybe I should go, too.” Mitch hopped off the couch.

Sloan had made Mitch go out in the blizzard once already; he didn’t want to be responsible for making the boy sick. “She’ll be cold when she comes in. Why don’t you stay here and keep an eye on the fire?”

“Good idea.” Mitch picked up his battery-operated game, sat on the couch, and resumed playing.

Sloan didn’t blame him for wanting to stay where it was warm. He wasn’t looking forward to going out either. He grabbed another flashlight Mitch found after Allison had left, and headed through the kitchen. The porch doorknob turned just as he reached for it.

Allison entered, bringing an icy gust inside with her. Snowflakes clung to the exposed ends of her hair. Her cheeks were red and pinched from the cold.

She really was the ice queen!

But she was alive and okay. Unexpected relief surged through him. “What took you so long?” The sensation took him by surprise, and his words came out more curtly than he intended. “Why isn’t there any power?” As he shone the light at her, her pupils narrowed.

“Get that thing out of my face! Where’s Mitchell?” She took off her coat and hung it on the hook beside the door.

Sloan switched off the light. “He’s in the other room, playing his game. What happened?” She was rigid. More aloof than usual. Something in her changed while she’d been outside.

She took a breath, and then blew on her hands. “I’m cold.”

He took off his coat and hung it next to hers. “Come in by the fire and warm up.” He led the way into the great room.

“Thanks for watching the fire, Mitch.” Sloan slid the screen away from the hearth and stirred the embers before adding another log.

Allison stepped near the fireplace, and Sloan moved aside to give her some space. He didn’t know a lot about architecture, but the fireplace seemed built for heating the house. Once he and Mitch had the fire going, the great room warmed up quickly. He wasn’t sure how warm the upstairs rooms were, but the ground floor was quite comfortable.

Mitch looked up from his game. “Hey, Aunt Allison. Where’s the power?”

She looked dazed, like her brain had frozen. Rubbing her palms against the sides of her arms, she turned her back to the fire. “The generator’s broken.”

“No way.” Mitch’s eyes grew wide. “How’d it break?”

She glanced at Sloan and then back at her nephew. If Sloan hadn’t known better, he’d say she looked embarrassed. A rarity.

“It looks like a gasket cracked.” She took a deep breath. “Probably from the cold. All the oil leaked out and the motor seized. It will have to be torn down for repairs.”

“You can fix it, right?” Mitch slid to the edge of the couch.

She shook her head. “I can’t, at least not here. At the garage, with the right tools, maybe.” She crossed to the couch and sat next to her nephew, drawing him close to her as though she needed the contact as much as the warmth.

To Sloan, she looked lost. Worse than that, she appeared to blame herself. It wasn’t her fault. Her expression was direct and open when she spoke to him. “I’m sorry. We won’t have any power until the utility crews can get it on again.”

Sloan understood her sullen mood. “Without electricity, you can’t work on the program.”

“No.” She shook her head.

“What about that power battery thing?”

“It isn’t a long-term power source. Most are designed to last long enough to save the work before turning off the systems. I don’t know how old it is and don’t want to take a chance that it will fail in the middle of my work.”

He swore under his breath. More delays. “I’ll call O’Neal to let him know we’ll need more time.” He pulled out his cell phone. After punching the speed dial button to Northstar, he put the phone to his ear. He heard a tone, then nothing.

“My phone still isn’t working.”

“It’s probably interference from the storm.” She picked up a flashlight from the end table and clicked it on. “Power outages don’t affect landlines.” She walked into the kitchen.

Sloan followed.

The beam locked on the phone hanging on the wall. He picked it up and listened. “It’s dead.”

With a concerned look, Allison traded Sloan the flashlight for the receiver and put it to her ear. She jiggled the disconnect button and listened again. Her shoulders stiffened and the tension he’d sensed earlier seemed to increase.

“What now?” he asked as she hung up the phone.

“We wait.”

“What about driving back to town? The local police will have a generator and power. We could call from there.”

She spun around to face him. “We promised the highway patrol we’d stay put. Besides, you’ve been out there.” She pointed toward the dark windows. “It’d be suicide to even try. I’m not risking anyone’s life until the plows clear the roads.”

“What about a snowmobile?”

“You don’t give up, do you?” She tucked a stray lock of hair behind her ear. “Yes, my brother-in-law has a snowmobile—which is currently at the garage, torn down to the frame to put in a new engine. I promised to have it finished by the time they returned from the cruise.”

“Then we’re really stranded.” The truth of their situation started to sink in.

“Until the storm stops and the plows get through.”

Sloan had never experienced the feeling of being totally cut off from everything. Sure, he’d been on camping trips—during the summertime—in state parks only a couple of hours from the city. With running water available. Did they still have running water? What about food?

“How prepared are you for this?” He began doing a mental rundown on what it took to make it through the night.

“What do you mean?” She tilted her head. “I’m not prepared at all. I saved the file on the desktop. Neither my tablet, nor my laptop, have the programs I need to continue working on the trace. I’m stuck until the power comes back on.”

Allison’s mind was fixed on catching the hacker.

He was focused on survival.

“Screw the job.” His voice raised a notch. “I’m talking about this.” He waved the flashlight around the dark kitchen. “We could die out here in the middle of nowhere.”