"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.