Taking Chances: Tangled Up Part 3

"Noted," Max replied.

"Thanks," Bree added.

"Be careful," Wes said. "I know both of you too well to think that you'll head for cover now. So watch your a.s.ses."

She smiled in spite of the reason for the warning. "But you also know us well enough to know we'll watch each other's a.s.ses."

"Keep your phone on," Wes ordered.

"Of course."

She disconnected as Max called, "Check it out!"

She opened her door and stood up on the running board. "Chief says there's hail," she called over the wind.

"Yeah. Check out the funnel."

She looked. It wasn't officially a tornado until it touched the ground, but there was enough debris swirling underneath it that it almost looked like one. There was only a small visible s.p.a.ce to tell that it wasn't fully formed yet.

Max ducked back into the cab. As a well-trained, well-connected storm spotter, Max was a part of the Skywarn system that used volunteer spotters to track storms and call in reports. The National Weather Service's local offices could access the information as well as local law enforcement. He made his report, including location, time, and what he was seeing.

"Be advised this is a fast-moving storm, heading northeast. Touchdown seems imminent," he said.

Bree felt a shiver run through her. It was that familiar and beloved combination of excitement and dread.

She knew it was a little abnormal to love being worked up, even scared, so much. She knew she was wired differently than most people, including her two closest girlfriends. But the man sitting on the truck seat with her at that very moment rea.s.sured her that she wasn't completely crazy. Or at least wasn't alone in her insanity.

They were both lifelong adrenaline junkies. They knew they needed the rush, but they knew they had to be careful, too. They'd learned about sc.r.a.pes and b.u.mps and broken bones and sprained joints and concussions together as kids-jumping off things they shouldn't, climbing into things they shouldn't, flat-out trying things they shouldn't. But at least they'd learned caution, and first aid, before they were old enough to use things with motors and electricity and bigger consequences.

"We moving?" she asked as he put his hands back on the steering wheel.

He gave her a little grin. "Let's see what she's got."

Bree grabbed hold of the handle above the door, knowing the "she" was the storm bearing down on their hometown, families, and friends.

They were the only ones on the road, and Max stayed to the middle as he pushed the pedal and made the speedometer inch up. That kept him out of the ruts in the road and also meant he could keep most of his attention on the churning clouds without worrying about running off into a ditch.

"She's gaining," he said.

Bree nodded. The funnel was dipping lower now, and the width of the swirling debris had increased.

They kept going. The clouds seemed to be getting darker, and rain pelted the windshield. After another two miles, hail was pinging off the truck and growing in size.

"Dammit, I didn't want to have to replace another windshield," Max said.

Bree's throat was tight with . . . fear, she supposed . . . but she managed to laugh. "Your insurance company know that you chase tornadoes?"

"You should see my premiums."

A golf-ball-size piece hit right in the center of the windshield just then and did, indeed, make a mark.

"Dammit."

But he kept driving.

For another mile.

They were now within two miles of the storm.

"There!"

Suddenly Max pulled over and slammed the truck into park.

Bree didn't need to ask what he was talking about. She saw it. Her eyes grew wider, and her chest clenched to the point she couldn't make a sound.

The funnel had touched down.

Tornado.

Three miles from Chance.

Max made another report as he recorded for a few minutes. The storm seemed to be churning hungrily, sucking up the earth below it and then spitting it back out.

It was amazing to watch. Not amazing in the "Oh, wow, that's amazing!" way, but in the "in awe at the power of nature" way.

It was unbelievable. Even though she knew it was happening right in front of her, it felt surreal, like she was watching a movie.

Max shifted into drive.

"We're going closer?" she asked. She wondered if she sounded scared. Because she was getting to the top-of-the-bas.e.m.e.nt-stairs-in-a-horror-movie point.

"It's moving away from us," he told her, pulling back onto the highway. "The one we need to watch for is the one behind us."

Bree pivoted on her seat so fast her seat belt pulled tight, trapping her. "Ugh!" She unhooked it and swung around to look out the back window. "Are you kid-"

But he wasn't. She saw the funnel directly behind them.

"Uh, Max . . ."

"Yeah, I know." He didn't sound happy. He kept looking into the rearview. "It just popped up. It doesn't have as much spin as that one," he said, pointing ahead of them. "But we need to watch it."

They drove another half mile.

"Do you know the odds of seeing two twisters touch down at once?" he asked.

If he'd meant the question to be rea.s.suring, as in the chances were slim that the one behind them would actually turn into a tornado, the eagerness in his voice took away from it. Because Bree knew this man. He wanted two tornadoes to touch down at once.

"Maybe we should get inside somewhere," Bree suggested, her fingers digging into the seat.

"Yeah, probably. I don't really see anywhere, do you?" he said.

He was right. They were in between a bunch of cornfields; the nearest house was at least two miles from them.

"So we should-" Her eyes widened as the funnel behind them dipped a little lower.

"f.u.c.k." He'd seen it, too. Max turned off onto the next gravel road, the back of the truck sliding slightly. "Ditch," he said simply.

It wasn't perfect, but it was better than being in a pickup on a highway.

Bree shoved open her door and jumped out as he stomped on the brake and turned off the ignition. A moment later, Max came around from the back, a huge blue tarp in hand.

"Put your sweatshirt on, for G.o.d's sake," he growled.

Right. Things were going to be flying around any minute. She grabbed it off the pickup seat. She took off her cap, tossing it into the truck, and started to pull on the hoodie, but Max grabbed her arm and pushed her toward the ditch.

"Move it."

"Okay!" she snapped.

He didn't let go of her as they ran for the ditch. Max flipped the tarp to spread it out so they weren't lying in the mud, but the wind whipped it up, threatening to take it away. Her hair flying around in front of her face, Bree grabbed for it and managed to snag a corner and keep it from blowing off. Dirt and gra.s.s spun around them. She felt the sting of something a little bigger than dirt, likely gravel from the road, against her cheeks. A tree branch went tumbling through the ditch only a foot or so from where they stood.

"Come on!" Max yelled over the whooshing of the wind.

They worked together to get the tarp down, then Max shoved her onto it as soon as it was spread out, and she landed on her knees.

"Okay already!" she yelled. He didn't have to be so bossy.

He started to yank on the tarp so they could flip it over them to protect as much as possible from more dirt, gravel, gla.s.s, and who-knew-what, but just then he looked to the side, swore, and dove at her.

He knocked her onto her back and landed on her.

CHAPTER TWO.

Dizzy from the tumble and with her diaphragm not working for a moment with Max's weight on her, Bree froze. But then she became aware of him muttering something like, "Dammit f.u.c.king sonofab.i.t.c.h" and shifting off her.

He pushed up to kneel on the tarp. "What the h.e.l.l-" He touched the back of his head and pulled his hand away, b.l.o.o.d.y.

"Max!" Bree was up on her knees and reaching for his head immediately.

He tried to push her back. "No, it's fine. Just get down."

"You got hit in the head!"

"I'm aware," he said drily.

"For f.u.c.k's sake, Max, what was that?"

"A tree branch. Coming straight for your pretty little head," he said with a scowl.

"Let me see it!" She pulled his hand away, but he arched back, not letting her get a good look.

"Get your a.s.s down, woman!" he barked. "It's not over yet."

Bree frowned at him. n.o.body called her "woman" like that. But he had sacrificed his skull for hers. She grabbed her sweatshirt, which she still hadn't managed to put on, and thrust it at him. "Put this against your head before you bleed to death."

"I'm not going to-"

Something in her face made him break off and nod.

"Fine. Now get the f.u.c.k down."

He pushed her, and she sprawled on her stomach. He lay down beside her and pulled the tarp over them both.

The rushing of the wind intensified, and Bree squeezed her eyes shut, linking her hands behind her neck as they'd been taught since kindergarten in tornado drills at school. Protecting the head, neck, and face was always priority one.

Which of course made her think of Max's head. And the fact that he'd saved hers.

She turned so she was facing him. It was dark under the tarp, but she could tell he was facing her, too.

"Thanks."

"Of course."

Of course. Two simple words. Nice words. Something anyone might have said. But this was Max, not just anyone. And he meant them. Not politely, not because he was a nice guy, but because it was her.

He made her feel safe.

It was a dumb thing to realize all at once, but Bree supposed that ducking for cover from a tornado in a ditch with him put things like safety and security and trust and comfort foremost in her mind.

But she also realized that she'd always trusted him to keep her safe and that Max was a big part of her being able to take risks. And enjoy it. She knew she'd be okay if he was around.

He hadn't been there every time she'd sped down the highway on her bike or every time she'd plowed through the drifts on her snowmobile or drunk too much or smoked some weed-okay, he'd never been there when she'd smoked weed-but he was there. A phone call away. Someone she could always count on. When he'd left for the Guard, it had been an adjustment. When he'd moved to Oklahoma, it had been worse. But she'd still known he'd be there. She could call, and if he couldn't make things better by talking to her, he would mobilize his resources on the ground in Chance.

He took care of her. And he made it seem like no big deal. So she'd always thought of it as no big deal.

But it was a big deal.

And if this was her last day on earth, she was . . . okay. She was okay as long as she was with Max.

"Max-" she started. But how did you thank someone you'd known your whole life-someone you'd taken for granted all your life-for all he'd done? How could she express what it meant that she could be herself, wild and crazy and you-only-live-once, because he got her and took care of her and was right there beside her-even when he wasn't?

"I think we're in the clear." He flipped the tarp back off them and looked up.