Winning Love (14 page)

“Got it.”

“Oh. And pack light.”

Chapter Eight

M
ac sat in the backseat of the SUV, watching a small Oklahoma town speed by as they raced to the western corner of the state.

The skies were clear with nary a cloud.

Hard to believe they were only an hour away from where a system was supposed to wreak havoc on the land.

Maybe this had been a bad idea.

A really bad idea.

The longer they drove, the more his gut started to clench with doubt. Earlier this morning, after Gayle had hung up the phone, it’d seemed like the logical choice. His nightmare had been disturbingly vivid as he’d tossed aside the rubble and found Ally’s lifeless body. For the hundredth time in four years.

When Gayle had received a call from Rick at that exact moment, Mac took it as a sign from the universe. Lance had all but shoved him out the door, telling Mac not to worry about him, just go and heal. So the decision had been set in stone.

But now he wasn’t so sure this was the right method to go about it. What if facing this shit fucked him up worse than he already was?

Shaking his head, he blocked out the mental negativity. He’d made the decision, and he would stick with it.

He turned his attention away from the road to the front seat. Rick, Gayle’s chasing partner, was driving. When she introduced them before they left, Mac had noticed the guy was around her age and definitely not bad-looking from a dude’s standpoint. A worn red ball cap covered his dark hair, and he kept it pulled low over his eyes. He wasn’t necessarily muscular, but he also wasn’t lanky like a stereotypical lab rat either, more along the lines of an average, burly guy who did blue-collar work. Women tended to dig that.

More than once Mac caught himself watching Gayle and Rick’s interaction to see if there was, or ever had been, anything more between them than storm chasing. So far, the only thing he’d picked up on was a friendship with the occasional sarcastic, but good-natured, insult.

Gayle sat on the passenger side; her hair was gathered to the side to hang over one shoulder, as she jotted something down on a notepad. All kinds of equipment, ranging from cameras to GPSs to tablets, surrounded her. He felt like he was in some kind of fucking aircraft. A laptop mounted on the center console between the seats pivoted in her direction for easy access. She spent a lot of time on the thing, looking at maps and radars. She’d explained that one of the gizmos on the roof was a satellite internet connection, so she was always up-to-date with the latest weather information. There were a shitload of transmitters and radios, too. Why she needed so many, he had no clue. But every damn one of them was on, emitting a constant low hum of static in the car, a startling screeching voice shattering the silence on occasion—though
he
was the only one who jumped. Big fearless cage fighter, his ass. Fuck.

He hadn’t contributed to the conversation much over the last four hours. How could he? Gayle kept tossing around a bunch of words he didn’t understand. Things like dry lines, outflows, and wind shear were complete Greek to him.

As they got closer to their destination, they’d started passing more weather nuts on Interstate 35. One right after another. How could he tell? Every damn one of them blazed their intentions on the side of their vehicle with some clever tornado chasing slogan.

“Looks like we’re in for a chaser convergence,” Rick said with a tight laugh.

Gayle scowled as she glanced up from the laptop to peer out the windshield. “Damn, that just means more yahoos to worry about.”

Intrigued by her reaction, but again having no clue what language they were speaking, Mac leaned forward. “What are you two talking about?”

“Chaser convergence. Systems like this bring in weather chasers from all over the country. That’s why we’re seeing so many of them.” She pointed to the passing cars. “The towns are going to be packed with yahoos.”

“What’s that?”

She sent a mocking smile at him. “A yahoo is what you think I am, handsome. A thrill-seeker. What they really are is amateurs without proper equipment. They clog up the roads something awful, don’t know the etiquette of chasing, and put themselves and others in danger. I really wish they’d just stay home.” She returned her attention back to the laptop with a scowl.

Mac asked, “And what you do
isn’t
dangerous? Why is one danger okay and not the other?”

She slowly turned her head toward him. Irritation was written all over her face and took him slightly aback. Other than when he’d been a complete dick to her, Gayle was always carefree. Guess that didn’t apply to questions about her job. Then again, she’d been tense all morning. Not really herself. Was this how she got while out hunting these monsters? He wasn’t sure how he felt about this new side of her.

“I’m not claiming I’m safe at all times. It
is
Mother Nature. Everyone in this car can attest that her fury is unpredictable.”

Rick muttered a, “Hell yeah, we can,” which earned him a nod from Gayle.

“However,” she continued. “I take
every
precaution to stay safe. I don’t take stupid risks just to get a better view. I will back off, even if it means I miss the storm.” Her speech was gaining speed and power as it went, just like one of her storms. “Yahoos don’t. Most of them have watched way too many documentaries on the Discovery Channel, think chasing looks
so
awesome, and have no regard for the actual danger. All they do is get in the way of those of us doing actual scientific research!” The last was said in a high-pitched burst of frustration.

Okay, then.

Thoroughly slapped down, Mac lifted his hands and sat back. “My mistake.”

Gayle went back to tapping on the damned laptop and jotting stuff in a notebook.

A tense silence enveloped the cab. Another thirty minutes down the road, she looked up, took the pencil out of her mouth, and said, “Rick, take the next exit. This is a perfect location to stop and get something to eat before things pick up this afternoon.”

She looked over her shoulder at Mac. He expected to still see some lingering annoyance, but she sent him a soft,
real
smile. “Ready to stretch your legs?”

“That’d be nice.” She really hadn’t been kidding about the driving. And he’d forgotten his damned book.

“There won’t be any fine dining over the next few days, handsome. We’re on a fast food and convenience store snacks diet.”

At the exit, Rick veered off the interstate and they rolled into a town so small if Mac blinked he’d have missed it. Rick pulled into a truck stop and jumped out. “What’s everyone want? I’ll grab it.”

“Just make it easy and get three burgers, three fries, and three sodas,” Gayle said as she climbed out the passenger’s seat. The other man trotted off.

Mac also got out and stretched. Muscles thanked him as he lifted his arms over his head.

Gayle went to stand by the bumper, head tilted up to the sky. Though he appreciated the nice view of her legs under her worn, ripped jeans, he had to admit he’d rather see her back in his clothes again. He sidled up next to her. The clouds were thickening, even he could tell that, but they were sporadic, not the dark, angry thunderheads he always associated with a brewing storm. How the hell could she tell a tornado might happen today but not on some other random day?

“What do you think?” he asked as she continued to gaze upward.

She was quiet for a long moment, then met his eyes. “Are you really ready for this?”

The uncharacteristic tension he’d noticed in her since this morning suddenly made sense. She wasn’t concentrating on tracking the forecast. She probably hadn’t even been irritated by his question earlier—okay, maybe some—but usually she was so unflappable he had a hard time seeing past the cheery mood she exuded to any underlying frustration.

Today she couldn’t hide it. Because she was worried about
him
.

Damn
. “You really didn’t want me to come, did you?”

“Not on this one.” She gave a soft laugh, but it seemed hollow. “You were pretty adamant, though.” She sighed. “Mac, I have a job to do. You might not understand what I do, but I don’t just go after these things for the adrenaline or some sick thrill. I’m gathering data, as are a lot of other research-oriented chasers, so we can
help
people. Things are going to get scary. Intense. In your eyes, I’m going to make some stupid decisions.”

“I can handle myself, Gayle.”

She studied him for a minute, her doubt shining back at him loud and clear. “Can you?”

Then it hit him. She truly regretted bringing him along. And man, that hit the ego pretty hard. But he had to respect her bluntness.

She continued, “I will pay for a rental car right now so you can go back to Cheney if you have any reservation whatsoever about going through with this. Believe me, I won’t judge you, Mac.”

He
had
been having doubts, but hearing her express worry over him raging out brought out his stubborn streak. “Listen, as much as I’d like to be a fearless Spartan warrior and charge straight into battle, I’m not. I’m also worried about what I’m going to see, how it’s going to make me feel. But that’s
my
deal. I know what I’m getting into. Your warnings have been heard. You do your job, and I’ll take care of me. Okay?”

She caught her bottom lip between her teeth, drawing his attention down. Swallowing, he averted his gaze off to the field across the road. The last thing he needed was the damn attraction to Gayle to come roaring back just as a fucking tornado roared up. One thing at a damn time, for fuck sake.

A resigned exhale came from her. “Okay. I won’t say anything more, then.”

A few minutes later, Rick joined them and handed each of them a white paper bag. After they got back in the truck and dug into their food, Gayle looked up the latest weather information.

Mac watched her go to multiple tabs on the laptop. Since he was here, he might as well learn a few things. “What exactly are you doing?”

Without looking up, she said, “Each one of these programs gives me the data needed to calculate which area has the highest potential for supercell formation.”

“What kind of data?”

“Wind flow patterns and temperature, which can cause moisture, instability, lift, and wind shear. What I’m doing now is trying to pinpoint the location where the activity will start. The CAPE is higher about forty miles west.”

“Cape?”

“Convective Available Potential Energy which is—” She glanced at him, chuckled, and waved her hand dismissively. “Never mind. That’s getting too technical.”

Most likely she added the last part because he was squinting at her with a what-the-fuck-is-coming-out-of-your-mouth stare. He had no clue there was so much science involved in this stuff.

“In weather-for-dummies terms, the higher the number, the more likely a storm will be severe.” She traced an area on the screen. “This area here is very unstable, which is good for us. We also have agitated cumulus clouds developing on the satellite, which means storms are going to start firing along this line soon.”

He studied the black and white image. The clouds looked like pulled cotton—not really very menacing.

“Rick, let’s stick with the main routes, stay out of the convergence for now. I’m hoping most of them will be drawn farther south into the panhandle, which is also looking very promising. We’ll end up bottlenecking soon enough. Let’s avoid them for now.”

The other man nodded, put the SUV into drive, and pulled back onto the road. As they drove through a very rural part of Oklahoma, Gayle kept a close eye on the data.

“Got a couple of cells finally forming on radar, Rick. Take the road coming up on your left. We need to veer south.”

The excitement vibrating in Gayle’s voice made Mac swallow. She leaned over and turned the volume up on NOAA weather radio.

“The National Weather Service has issued a severe thunderstorm watch for portions of western Oklahoma until 9:00 p.m. Those storms can produce winds over seventy-five miles per hour and large hail,” she told him.

Mac glanced out the window. The clouds were definitely thickening and darkening in the distance. He tried to block out the constant updates from the weather radio and gibberish filtering in from other chasers on the CB until the word “warning” caught his attention.

“
Radar indicates a thunderstorm moving northeast at twenty miles per hour capable of producing heavy rain, damaging wind, and large hail. People in the warning area are advised to seek shelter
.”

Gayle glanced over her shoulder at him. “We’re right on top of this sucker. You ready? Because things are about to get real.”

No. No, he was not. He gave a jerky nod anyway.

Tension crept into his body and he spent the next few minutes fighting it back. Just when he thought he had it under control, Gayle let out a breath, and said, “Oh, God, it’s beautiful. Look at it!”

Certain it was a tornado, he stared at the headrest in front of him and inhaled deeply, then he made himself look out the window. Air gusted from his lungs when a twisting mass was nowhere to be found. What was she talking about? Then he glanced into the distance and his mouth dropped open.

What. The. Fuck? In all his years in Kansas, he’d never seen anything like that. Maybe because he’d never really paid attention. Maybe because he’d never been out in the open when a storm was brewing. But there was
nothing
beautiful about the sci-fi monstrosity of a cloud they were approaching now.

“Pull over,” she said, slapping Rick on the arm.

He parked behind a line of other vehicles. Gayle jumped out with her camera and stood on the side of road, taking pictures. The wind was blowing so hard her clothes pressed tight to her body. He made himself get out and go stand beside her. The strength of the wind stung his eyes, and he had to put his hand in front of his face to ward off the worst of it.

“What is that?” he yelled.

She lowered the camera. “That’s what we call a mothership supercell.”

Yeah, it definitely looked like a prelude to a flying saucer bursting forth. Fucking eerie. The huge, circular cloud with protruding rings hovered above them in a black mass of menacing raw power. Seriously. This was shit they put in movies to scare the hell out of people.