by JoAnn Ross
Annie had lived on Turnabout for five years. She hadn’t even known there was an emergency siren. She ran to the second bedroom and threw the door wide, calling Riley’s name.
But the room was empty.
Chapter 4
Annie’s heart stopped.
Riley wasn’t in her bedroom.
Before she thought about the idiocy of it, she darted into the room, looking under the bed when she knew perfectly well the only things that fitted under there were the shallow plastic storage boxes that contained a lifetime of photographs. She also yanked open the closet door. But all that was inside were her vacuum cleaner and clothing she never wore.
“Riley?” She stumbled around the twin-sized bed to peer out the window that overlooked the front of the house, only to jump back with a cry when a palm branch slammed against it, then screeched along the side of the house as the wind carried it.
Logan was there, arm sliding about her waist, bodily lifting her away from the shuddering windowpane. “Stay away from the glass.”
She was beyond listening, twisting away from him, nearly falling over the foot of the bed again as she ran into the hall, calling Riley’s name again, barely able to hear her own voice over the wail of the emergency siren.
Darkness seemed to have fallen in the span of minutes, broken by the hideous strobe of lightning that seemed too close and far too dangerous. “She’s not in the house.” Panic choking her, she headed toward the door, only to find Logan blocking her way. “I have to find her!”
“You don’t even have on shoes. I’ll go.” He reached for the door himself. It blew out of his grasp when he opened it, slamming back against the wall behind it before he caught it again. “Stay here. Inside. She can’t be far.”
He’d barely disappeared out the door before Annie ran into her bedroom. She shoved her feet into her tennis shoes and followed him.
Her sweatshirt was immediately soaked, her hair whipping around her head, nearly blinding her as she ran around the side of the house. The wind tore Riley’s name from her throat, and the siren wailed on and on and on, threatening to madden her.
Where was Riley?
Logan had headed up the path that passed for a road in the front of the house. Annie took the beach behind the house instead. Squinting against the sand that managed to blow despite the deluge of water pounding down on it, she ran past the black, cold fire pit, all the way down to the frothing, roiling edge of water. Peered right and left, staring hard between flashes of light, her heart beating so viciously she felt ill. “Riley!”
But the only thing she saw was an empty ribbon of beach.
Keeping a tenuous grip on common sense, she ran back toward the house. A sob broke out of her throat when her foot caught on a piece of driftwood and she pitched forward in the sand.
She pushed up to her knees, bowing her head against the rain that seemed to blow horizontally, right into her face.
Please, God, let us find Riley safe and sound and I’ll take her right back to Will and Noelle. I promise.
Her canvas tennis shoes were full of sand, heavy with water as she unsteadily gained her feet and trudged onward, more carefully this time. Around the side of her small house, sand giving way to gravel, gravel to grass that was drowning in the water that fell too rapidly for the earth to absorb. Her rubber soles slid in the pools of water and she fell again, words coming from her mouth that she had banished from her vocabulary a decade and a half earlier.
She righted herself, shading her eyes with her hands from the storm as she bent against the weight of wind, battling her way to the front of the house, calling Riley’s name until her throat ached.
And then she saw Logan in the center of the road.
He was alone, and her stomach dove.
She ran toward him. “I didn’t see her on the beach! I don’t think she’d have gone toward the water.” Riley knew how to swim. Annie had photographs of her as a little girl, wearing a pink polka-dot swimsuit, being coaxed into a swimming pool by Noelle. But surely Riley would know better than to go near the water now.
Logan caught her arm, pulling her closer to him, seeming to shield her from the brunt of the storm. “I told you to stay inside.”
“We have to find her, Logan.”
He looked grim. “We will.”
Lightning streaked overhead, filling the air with an odd scent. He swore and practically lifted her off her feet as he hauled her farther up the road, away from the palm tree that suddenly burst into flame. She watched, horrified, as it split in half and tumbled to the ground where they’d been standing.
The rain quickly doused the fire.
Annie covered her mouth, staring wildly around them. She didn’t have time to be nauseous. Riley was out in this. Alone.
“She can’t have made it to town. It’d take too long. Which means, if she’s smart, she tried to find some shelter on the way.”
Annie shuddered, nodding. “I’m going with you.”
He grimaced, but kept hold of her as they headed toward the main road. She was grateful for the support. She’d never felt such wind in her life. Every few steps they managed, it seemed as if the rain switched directions. Blowing straight into their backs one moment. Straight into their faces the next.
Evening was hours off yet, but the clouds were so dense, so heavy, it felt as if night had already fallen. The constant, racking thunder made a mockery of her attempts to call out Riley’s name.
“Dammit,” Logan cursed, when a river of water coursed toward them, nearly knocking her off her feet as it washed away the gravel.
“I’m sorry!” She scrambled to maintain her balance. She’d never realized the path was a natural wash before, because it had never rained this much.
He wasn’t looking at her. Water streamed off his arm as he lifted it, pointing. “There.”
She looked. On the other side of the wash stood an open-sided shack. Sara had told her once that the people who’d built the house where Annie now lived had sold produce at the stand.
“Stay here.” Logan’s voice was hard. “I’ll check it out.”
Annie swallowed. In the past decade she’d come to depend only on herself, and this went against every instinct she’d garnered. But she nodded.
He moved away and she realized immediately just how much his tall, broad body had shielded her from the storm. The wind plowed into her with such force she felt bruised by it. She slipped and slid her way to the edge of the wash and wedged herself against the boulders that were clustered there.
The water was up to Logan’s knees as he crossed against the flood. His progress was slow, but it was steady. Then he made it to the shack.
The wind tore half the roof off and she cried out, watching it head toward him. He lifted his arm across his face, ducking. The wood glanced off him and bounced, end over end, until it slammed into a tree and splintered apart. He didn’t stop, though, and disappeared into the shack only to reappear a moment later.
He carried Riley in his arms, running flat out toward Annie, splashing through the torrent.
“She’s all right.” His deep voice cut through the bellowing storm. “Get back to the house.”
Too relieved to argue that she wanted to run her hands over Riley to feel for herself that she was okay, Annie slid away from the boulders and ran. Impossibly, the storm seemed to pick up strength with every step she took. Before she knew it, Logan had grabbed her arm and, still carrying Riley in one arm, nearly carried Annie as well. Beyond the danger of the swelling wash. Past the destroyed palm tree that blocked the lane.
She could hear his harsh breath, and knew hers sounded worse. They nearly skidded across the grass, and Annie darted forward, shoving open the door. It took a death grip to hold it against the wind, as Logan carried Riley inside and set the girl on her feet. Annie s
urrendered the door to Logan and grabbed her niece in her arms, pulling her close.
“Thank God,” she whispered, breathless. “Thank you, God.”
“We’ve gotta find a more secure—” Logan broke off, swearing, when the door blew open again.
Annie let go of Riley long enough to lend her weight against the door. Her wet hands fumbled with the heavy dead bolt that she’d never had cause to use before. It finally slammed home, but still the door rattled and jumped, and she had serious doubts the lock would hold against the punishing wind.
Thinking ahead of her, Logan had grabbed one end of her couch and shoved it up against the door the moment she moved out of the way. “That’ll hold it for a while,” he muttered. “Only time I remember them setting off the siren was when I was ten years old. Scared the living hell out of me. Everybody went to the school then. Stayed in the basement there.”
A thunderous clap shuddered through the house. Windows vibrated. Lord, she didn’t want to go back out in that. Fortunately, the road that had become awash didn’t head straight toward her house, but they’d still have to cross it to get to town. “We can’t make it to the school—” She broke off with a gasp when something crashed against the back side of her house. The glass doors shuddered.
“The bathroom,” Logan said abruptly.
She could feel Riley shivering. She rushed the girl back down the short hallway and into the small bathroom, yanking folded towels off the shelf next to the sink as she moved. “Wrap these around you,” she told Riley.
“Into the tub.”
Annie didn’t question Logan. She climbed into the tub. Riley followed, back to Annie, sitting between her legs. Logan flipped the light switch, but the power was definitely gone.
Around them, the house groaned and creaked. The emergency siren ceased as abruptly as it had begun. She contrarily wished it had continued wailing.
“Got candles? Flashlight?”
Annie continued tugging the oversized towels around Riley’s shoulders and forced herself to think through her panic. Riley was in front of her, shivering, but safe. That’s all that mattered.
“There’s a flashlight in the kitchen somewhere,” she said shakily. “Maybe the bottom drawer next to the stove. And, um, there are a few candles in my bedroom on the dresser.”
He left.
Riley shivered violently. Annie hugged her arms around her niece. She had a strong desire to screech what were you thinking but she battled it down. “It’ll be okay,” she whispered instead.
The girl sniffled. “This is supposed to be an island paradise.”
Annie hadn’t been seeking paradise when she’d come to Turnabout. Only peace.
She pressed her forehead against the top of Riley’s dripping head. Will would never forgive her if something happened to the girl.
She’d never forgive herself.
“Are you hurt anywhere?”
She felt Riley shake her head.
Logan was back in seconds. He handed Annie the flashlight and told Riley to set the candles in the tub in front of her. He also carried a gallon jug of water that Annie had left on the kitchen counter earlier that week. It hadn’t fitted in her refrigerator because she was storing Island Botanica products there. He set the jug on the floor then left again.
“He’s coming back, isn’t he?” Riley asked a moment later. Her voice was very small.
Annie closed her eyes, wincing with every crack of thunder that shuddered through her little house. “Logan won’t leave us,” she promised faintly. Where would he go? Back out into the storm?
He returned quickly, bearing the blanket from Annie’s bed as well as several sweaters that he dumped on the ledge beside the tub. Then he muscled the mattress from the guest room’s bed into the bathroom.
She wasn’t sure what shocked her more. That he’d gone through her drawers to find dry clothing, or that he’d managed to fit a twin mattress into what she’d always considered a frightfully small bathroom.
Logan gestured at Annie and she quickly slid forward, urgency nudging out the shock when he worked his big body into the tub behind her, and pulled the mattress close until it leaned lengthwise against the edge of the tub.
Then he exhaled roughly, and managed to yank his wet shirt over his head. He tossed it beyond the mattress and it fell on the floor with a wet slap.
“Okay, this is getting seriously weird,” Riley muttered. She was crunched forward, her legs bent to allow room for the two adults behind her. Her boots thumped against the porcelain. “Don’t take anything else off, or I’m outta here.”
“Riley, he’s as wet as you are.”
She huffed, but fell silent.
Logan grabbed the blanket and began working it around Annie’s shoulders much the way Annie had wrapped Riley in towels.
“No, wait.” Annie tried to hold him off. “You must be cold, too.”
Riley huffed again, then yanked one of the towels from her own shoulders and held it back to Annie, who gave it to Logan. “What’s with the bed?”
“So we can pull it over our heads if necessary.” Logan’s voice was matter-of-fact.
“Are you kidding me?” Riley’s voice rose. “Auntie Annie, is the house going to blow away or something? This is Turnabout, not the freakin’ Wizard of Oz!”
Annie closed her arms around her niece, enfolding her in the blanket, too. Riley was shaking like a leaf. So was she.
Then Logan closed his arms around her and for a moment, just a brief moment, relief swept through her, calming her own panic just enough that she could sink her claws back into it and keep it under control.
Logan had found Riley.
They were all safe.
“Three men in a boat,” Logan muttered. As far as Annie could tell, his breathing was already back to normal, while she still sounded—and felt—as though she’d just run a marathon.
And there they sat while the earth shuddered and the sky seemed to fall down around them. Annie realized she was peering into the hallway, watching the flash of lightning, holding her breath as she felt the steady drum of Logan’s heartbeat against her back.
“Turn on the flashlight again,” Riley finally begged. “Can we at least turn on a light?”
Annie flipped on the flashlight. Her own panic was starting to weasel out of her hold on it. She couldn’t lose it again. There was no time.
No space!
She focused on what was physical. Logan, a reassuringly solid presence, his warmth steaming through their soaked clothing. Riley, a soft, trembling weight leaning back against her, for comfort.
They’d get through this. It had been a long time since Annie had had any storms in her life—this one just happened to be a physical storm, rather than an emotional one. And she’d survived the emotional ones.
More or less.
She tilted her head to look up at Logan, only to find the dark cast of his eyes watching her through the gloomy light.
Annie was suddenly aware of the intimacy of their positions. Of the fact that—beyond the clinging wetness of her sweatshirt and the increasingly damp blanket—his chest was pressed against her back. Hard, wide and feeling damnably perfect.
The kind of chest that could shelter her from a storm.
And had. The thought was tinged with hysteria.
And then, just then, the storm went silent. As if it, too, were holding its breath.
His long fingers skimmed over her cheek and her mouth went dry. She shuddered and the warmth of him against her wasn’t merely a barrier against the fear of the storm outside, but something else, entirely.
She felt his chest lift in a deep, long breath.
His fingertips, warm, steady, glided along her jaw. Fleetingly touched the corner of her lips.
She stopped breathing.
Impossible memories of his warm touch, his rough sighs, slipped into her mind. Impossible, because he’d turned her away all those years ago. Impossible, because what they’d shared had lived only in her dreams.
Then he broke the taut moment. “Storm’s here,” he said, his tone arid. His hand fell away from her face, wrapping instead in the fold of the blanket around Annie’s shoulder.
Her breathing kicked in, leaving her feeling dizzy. Or maybe it was only the effect of the uneven strobe of lightning that filtered into the bathroom from the rest of the house.
Riley made a choked sound. Annie had barely realized it was nervous laughter, when the house heaved a great, wrenching moan.
Logan swore, pushing down on both Annie and Riley as he dragged the mattress over their heads.
Chapter 5
“Oh...my...God.”
Annie stared around at what remained of her house. Horror made her dizzy.
They’d stayed cramped in the bathtub, huddled under the suffocating, steamy warmth and protection of the mattress for what had seemed hours. But now, through the gaping hole in her roof, she could see the hint of sunlight trying to break through the clouds, and knew it couldn’t have been all that long, after all.
Not until the boisterous racket of the storm ended had Logan pushed aside the mattress, along with an appalling amount of debris and allowed them to unfold their cramped bodies. The worst of the storm seemed to have passed, leaving behind a gentle, misting rainfall.
A rainfall that came right through her house, since there was a good portion of roof missing.
“Geez,” Riley muttered, staring at the mess—wallboard, shingles, palm fronds—that had pummeled the mattress and littered the bathroom and hallway. “Serious bummer. Good thing you thought of the mattress,” she said. “Otherwise that stuff would’ve landed on us, huh.”
If it weren’t for Logan’s steadying hand warming the back of her neck, Annie thought she might well pass out. “We don’t have tornadoes here,” she protested faintly.
“It was probably a downburst or a microburst,” he said. His hand left her neck and she blinked, trying to make sense of everything as he grabbed one of the dry sweaters he’d gotten from her room and pushed it into her hands. He looked prepared to dress her in it, as if she were incapable of doing so herself.
