Storm Watch (Woodland Creek)

by Welsh, Hope

  Contents

  Title Page

  Copyright

  Prologue

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Epilogue

  Woodland Creek Series

  About the Author

  Karma's Steele

  30 Stories. 30 Shifters.

  One Epic Release Day

  http://www.woodlandcreekseries.com

  Copyright

  No portion of this book may be reproduced, scanned, or distributed in any print or electronic form without permission.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and coincidental. Any resemblance between persons living and dead, establishments, events, or location is entirely coincidental.

  Copyright©2015 Hope Welsh

  Storm ran to her car with nothing more than her purse and a last small bag of clothes, her only thought was to get as far away from New York as she possibly could. The sky was gray—a perfect match for her mood. It promised rain or snow. Judging by how darn cold she was, she was betting on the latter.

  She was amazed that Raymond had left her alone on his estate. Apparently, he didn’t think she’d have the nerve to run. He was dead wrong. Running had been the only thing on her mind since the day before when he’d shot John in cold blood. She could still see him shooting the man without even a blink of hesitation. There had been no warning.

  Over the last two weeks, she’d noticed that Raymond had changed. He’d become moodier, and violent. He’d slapped her several times, but she’d been too afraid to try and report him, or to run.

  Until now.

  Now, she knew it was only a matter of time before she was the next one with a bullet in their head. Her family was gone. She had no one to depend on but herself.

  The snow started almost that instant. Great. The timing sucked. She disliked driving in snow, but there was little choice. Who knew how long he would be gone.

  She climbed into her old Honda and, thankfully, the engine roared to life. She’d stop and get some money for emergencies at the bank, then run as far and as fast as she could.

  She was going to die. Storm Reynolds knew it as well as she knew her name.

  Less than a day ago, she’d been terrified that she would be murdered—now, it appeared Mother Nature was calling dibs. What did it matter? Dead was dead, wasn’t it? At least the storm wouldn’t go out if its way to make sure her death was as painful as possible.

  A light snow had turned into a whiteout. Visibility was nearly non-existent. The only thing her headlights caught was a wall of white. She couldn’t tell for sure that she was even on the road. Her hands gripped the steering wheel so tightly that her knuckles were cramping.

  “Calm down,” she muttered. The last twenty-four hours had been a living nightmare—she hadn’t thought things could get any worse, but of course, they had. The snow had begun slowly, and then built gradually. The radio was warning motorists to stay off the roads due to the freak blizzard. Just wonderful, she thought yet again.

  If only she could stay off the roads. Pulling over wasn’t an option. Not if she wanted to live. She tried to relax her death grip on the steering wheel, though. Her hands hurt from gripping it so tightly.

  Before she could take her next breath, the car started careening out of control. Immediately she took her foot off the gas pedal, instinctively remembering her driver’s education course from years before.

  She felt herself spinning and released an involuntary scream. She couldn’t see anything but white. She didn’t really know how to drive in this kind of weather. All she could do was hold on. Was she supposed to put on the brakes? Straighten the wheel? God, help me, she thought wildly. She just couldn’t remember more than taking her foot off the gas.

  As if in answer to her prayer, the car began to slow, then finally came to a halt. Her hands were shaking badly as she relaxed her grip on the wheel. What was she supposed to do now? She should have found a hotel or something when she’d stopped for gas in Cincinnati. She didn’t even know if the car was headed in the same direction or not. For that matter, she didn’t even know if she was still on the road or if she’d ended up on the side of the road.

  It wasn’t until then that she realized the car had died. She turned the key in the ignition, but it wouldn’t start. She pumped the gas and tried again. Nothing. “Damn it!” She pounded the steering wheel with her fists. “Start, damn you!” She tried again—but nothing. Just that horrible sound a car made when it was giving up the ghost. Spinning shouldn’t have killed it, should it? But then, the old Honda was fifteen years old.

  Here she sat, in the middle of nowhere with a dead car and the blizzard from hell blowing outside. There was no one to call; by now, Raymond would have convinced everyone that she was crazy—or worse, a murderer. She had no idea who she could trust, so had just run—into the worst storm in Indiana history, apparently. She still didn’t know what had drawn her to this area.

  Logically, she should have at least headed south. It was winter, after all. Who drove through the Midwest during winter if they had a choice? But then, maybe Raymond would be thinking the same and not look for her to the west. He’d known that she’d been living in Florida for years. He’d figure that’s where she’d go, wouldn’t he?

  Her eyes burned as she considered her situation. Dead car. Middle of the night. Storm of the century. With a muttered curse, she tried once more to start the car. Still nothing. There was nothing she could do.

  Her eye caught on the romance book sitting on the seat next to her. With an almost hysterical laugh, she picked it up. At least I won’t be bored, she thought wildly, and tossed the book aside.

  Storm considered getting out of the car and trying to walk—but didn’t—at least not yet. She’d read somewhere that you were supposed to stay with a stranded vehicle. Right now, though, she wanted as much distance as she could get between herself and New York.

  Would she rather freeze in a car or let Raymond and his henchmen find her? What did it matter? she thought yet again. At least with the cold, she’d just fall asleep. She had little doubt that if Raymond got a hold of her that her death would be far different. She shivered, both from cold and from reaction. There was nothing she could do. If a car didn’t come along soon—she’d freeze before Raymond had a chance to find her.

  She didn’t have any clue at all where she was. Somewhere in Indiana. She’d seen the sign a while back. Now, though, she didn’t even know which direction was which.

  Cautiously, she opened the door and stepped out of the car. It was too dark to see anything much, but at least it looked like the car was on the edge of the road. At least some poor soul wouldn’t plow into her car. Freezing, she climbed back into the car. Damn it! Just a little luck would be nice. Someone will stop. Someone safe.

  She wanted to live! Not that it mattered one iota what she wanted.

  She’d run from Raymond as fast and as far as she could—only to put herself at potentially more risk.

  It wasn’t supposed to snow like this, was it? Hell, what did she know? She’d been born and raised in Florida. She was sitting on some road in the middle of Indiana, she thou
ght. She cursed her own stupidity for getting off the freeway. At least there, someone would have spotted her—even just a cop doing patrols. Though, she really wasn’t all too sure she wanted to be spotted by cops, either.

  But here, no one would find her. She hadn’t seen one car the entire time she’d been on this road—and that had been when she could see the road. Now, she had no certain idea where the road even was, as already her own tracks were gone. With a tired sigh, she leaned back and closed her eyes. At least she had a flashlight, and wasn’t in total darkness. She guessed that was some small consolation. Part of her wanted to grab the hammer in the backseat and bash something, but of course, she didn’t do that. As it was, she was freezing. As satisfying as breaking a window might be, it would also make her freeze a lot quicker. Suddenly, she was tired. Just a little sleep. She’d been running on adrenaline for hours. It had easily been over twenty-four hours since she’d slept.

  She’d sleep a few hours until morning. Maybe someone would come by once the sun was out. Surely, at least some road crews would be out trying to clear the major roads.

  With that thought, she remembered she’d avoided the major roads. She wasn’t anywhere near a major road right now. That likely had as much to do with her not seeing another car for hours as the storm did. Stupid. She’d been stupid.

  Raymond had made her so paranoid, she was afraid of the ones who should be able to protect her the best—the cops!

  Someone had to live around here somewhere—but even as she had the thought, she couldn’t stop the pessimistic thought that she wouldn’t be waking up. Even with her coat on, she was already freezing. Her hands felt like blocks of ice. The radio had said the temperature was in the single digits. She was more than sure the chill factor was much colder than that. Maybe if she layered her clothes? Would it matter? Probably not, she decided gloomily. She’d be likely frozen by morning.

  Still, she reached into the backseat and pulled out the small suitcase she’d dared to pack. She hadn’t brought much, but at least she had a few sweaters and the like.

  She’d only been in New York a month. Most of her clothes were Florida clothes, and woefully unsuited for northern winters. Shivering, she pulled off her coat and put on two of the thickest sweaters she could find, then put back on her coat. She didn’t have gloves, of course, so she shoved her hands into her pockets. She’d lost her scarf somehow, but it wouldn’t really do much.

  The main issues were going to be staying warm until help arrived—if help arrived. But damn, she was tired. Really, really tired.

  She realized suddenly that she wasn’t nearly as cold anymore. That, at least, was a blessing, wasn’t it? In fact, she realized, she wasn’t cold at all. Just a little nap, she decided. She’d close her eyes and get a bit of rest. It didn’t dawn on her that not being cold was probably a very, very bad sign when you were stranded in a car on the side of the road in the middle of nowhere.

  Luke heard the business line ring, and frowned. He didn’t have a case currently, so who would be calling at this hour? With a sigh, he picked up the phone. “Forged in Steele.”

  “Forged in Steele Investigations?” a male voice queried.

  “One and the same. What can I do for you?” he asked, his mind not really on the phone call. He was more worried about the damn storm that was headed this way rapidly.

  “My name is Raymond Samuels. I’m calling to hire you,” the man said. “I need to locate my girlfriend.”

  Luke frowned. Domestic cases were messy. He really didn’t want to take on a cheating spouse case. “Do you know why she left?” he asked, rather than simply declining the job. He could use the money.

  “Storm has been quite depressed of late,” he explained. “I’m really worried about her. I was out of town and came home only to find her gone. No note, nothing. It’s not like her to do that.”

  “Perhaps she just left?” Luke said gently. It wasn’t at all strange to think a woman who was having trouble in a relationship would leave when she was alone.

  “No, no. It’s nothing like that. I’ve been trying to help Storm. She suffers from severe depression. She’s not thinking clearly. And, the radio says that there is a nasty storm. She’s from Florida, and not used to driving in this kind of weather.”

  Well, hell. “I know your name, Mr. Samuels. What makes you think she’d be in these parts?” he asked carefully.

  “Well, she used one of our joint credit cards at a station in Cincinnati. I have the feeling she’s headed west.”

  Luke paced to the window and looked out. The storm had begun. Already, visibility was almost non-existent. “I see. Well, I guess I can take a ride in the area. How long ago was the card used?” he asked.

  “About two or three hours,” Samuels supplied. “Please, Mr. Steele. I need to know she’s safe. Her mental state isn’t right just now. I don’t want her harmed.”

  It took Luke only two seconds to make up his mind. “I’ll find her,” he said quietly. Hell, if there was one thing he was good at, it was tracking down people who didn’t necessarily want to be found. “Can you fax me a photo?”

  “Of course,” Samuels said easily.

  Ten minutes later, Luke was looking at the photo of a beautiful young woman. Her hair was long and auburn. Curly as hell, too. He knew from Samuel’s description that she was only a little above five feet tall. A tiny thing.

  Out in a nasty storm on her own.

  Well, there was nothing for it. He put on his coat, boots, and leather gloves, and headed for the front door.

  §§§

  Luke’s sharp blue eyes narrowed as he tried to see in the white hell. Why would anyone be out in this willingly? He shouldn’t have accepted this damn job. He’d given up his badge; there was no reason for him to feel obligated to find the missing woman. Still, the forecasted storm had intensified his urge to find her quickly. There was no way he could find anyone in this storm if it got worse. Visibility was nil. He half-wondered if one of the wizards had done a damn spell on the weather.

  He could shift into his tiger, but that wouldn’t help him just then.

  His head pounded from the concentration it took just to drive and keep the Jeep on the road; roads completely deserted now. Most of this part of Indiana had had the good sense to stay inside.

  If it hadn’t been so damn cold, he’d have pulled over, but he knew his best bet was to just bite the bullet and keep going. Only a fool would be out in this—apparently, he was a fool, he thought with self-derision. At least he wasn’t the only one. There was at least one person out—and he’d been crazy enough to take on the task of finding her. Around the next curve, the car started to slide and he corrected smoothly. Just as he was congratulating himself on not going off the road, he saw a large blob on the side of the road. It was obviously a vehicle. If not for his exceptional vision, he might not have even seen it in the darkness.

  Okay, so there were more than two crazy people out in this crap. It was doubtful that anyone was still in the car. It was covered in snow and ice. Most likely, someone would have assisted the stranded motorist.

  Apparently, that car hadn’t been as fortunate as he had on the patch of ice. He almost didn’t stop, but the cop in him compelled him to stop and make sure the car was unoccupied. The last thing he wanted to do was get out of the warm car, though!

  Muttering curses at the stupidity of anyone being out in this—including himself—he pulled on his gloves and hat and climbed from his Jeep. Damn, but it was cold! At least the tiger would have given him a bit more warmth. But, on the off chance someone was in the car, he didn’t want to risk them seeing a white tiger out their window.

  There hadn’t been a storm like this here in years. Leave it to him to be the one out in it! He hadn’t really even wanted to take the job offer. Domestic cases were inherently a pain in the ass. He said/she said drove him nuts. Of course, he admitted to himself grudgingly, there was no way in hell he could leave a woman in the shape his client had said she was in to her
own devices. Too many memories of another woman he hadn’t been able to save.

  Luke made his way quickly to the other car, ignoring the discomfort in his chest with each drawn breath of the frigid air. There was a layer of snow on the windows and he was tempted to turn back around to return to his vehicle when a flash of color near the door caught his eye. It looked like a scarf that had gotten caught in the door. God, there was someone inside the car!

  He opened the door quickly. The woman was either sleeping or unconscious. He felt her neck for a pulse and was relieved to find it there on her frigid skin. Was she unconscious or just sleeping?

  “Hey, wake up,” he growled, brushing the long auburn hair off her face. “You’ll freeze to death in here.”

  Her eyes fluttered open, then widened. “You’re an angel?”

  Luke chuckled at that. “Not quite, darlin’. What happened? Did you run off the road?”

  Slowly, she shook her head to clear it. “I’m not dead?”

  Luke frowned. She must have been scared to death when she fell asleep if that was what was on her mind. “No, darlin’. And you’re not going to die. Let’s get you out of here and into my Jeep. It’s warm.” He glanced around the car and saw that it was crammed full of junk. There were suitcases on the backseat. It looked like she had been in the process of moving. Hell, red hair. Moving. Everything suddenly clicked.

  This was the woman he was out in this hellish storm to find. Storm Reynolds. If ever a name was ironic, it was now.

  §§§

  Storm groaned. “Thank God! I was sure I was going to freeze to death by morning! How close are we to Indianapolis?”

  He frowned, idly wondering why the hell she’d been headed to Indy. Did she have family there? “We can talk once we get inside the Jeep. Come on, let’s go,” he ordered, taking her hand in his. Storm followed him to the Jeep and huddled gratefully into the passenger seat. She smiled when he climbed in next to her. “Thank you for stopping.”