They both looked up at the ceiling that seemed to be struggling beneath the weight of the water pooling there.
“Oh no,” Kasra said.
Whoosh!The far side of the roof dropped.
At the same time Range reached to pull her away, Kasra leapt away from the falling roof—colliding with him. Water shoved into the stand, effectively cutting their shelter in half.
Kasra gave a nervous laugh. “At least the whole thing didn’t collapse.” She looked up into his eyes … and stilled.
So did he, entirely too aware of her slumped against him, eyes alight with the absurd hilarity of it all. Dark hair plastered to her face, he brushed it back. Felt the electrical reaction of that touch.
She straightened, her gaze bouncing around his face as he thumbed a splotch of mud from her cheek, which was wet, but not cold. At all. Warmth pulsed from her. Or was that the fire in his gut he felt?
Crack! Boom!
Light exploded, stabbing shards of brilliance into the stand.
Snapping Range out of the idiotic stupor. He set her—and himself—straight, in more ways than one. “Sounds like it’s already slowing.” It wasn’t. But he needed air. Needed her out of his arms. He set her back. Looked out the slats that provided shelter.
Felt more than saw her tuck her hair back.
“I love storms,” she whispered.
“I don’t.” Why did he feel so irritable now?
“Why? They’re cleansing.”
He scoffed. “That’s an interesting way to look at them.”
“How do you see them?”
“Destructive. I once airlifted a woman from a boat during a storm.”
“What happened to her?”
He heard the awe in her voice. “I lost her.” Then he thought of the little girl who died … “I lost another one in a storm, too.” He watched the downpour, willing it to slow so they could be on their way. So they weren’t stuck together. So close together.
“Storms are merely a delivery system,” she said quietly, shivering and staring out at the storm as well.
Wind whipped up a frenzy. Rain, thrashing and dancing in a dozen different directions. Reminded him of hurricane personality. Something struck the side of the stand at the same time the roof seemed to press in on them more.
“Oh!” Kasra yelped, stumbling backward into him.
His hand found her waist. Steadied her. “Keep still.” He gritted his teeth, no idea where to put his hand, so he dropped it to his side, feeling awkward and entirely too aware. The space was so ridiculously confined now, they might as well be in a phone booth—which likely had more room.
“Sorry.” She shifted forward, all but pressed to the dripping wall. Rested her head there. Sighed.
Somehow, his hand found her hip again. He cursed himself. “Watch out.” He rolled around her. “I’ll be back.” And he struck out across the plain, no idea what he was doing. Just had to get out of there. Breathe. Think. Find a bigger shelter. Find a phone. Find out what the heck happened to Pike, how he could hang him out to dry. Deliver this woman for justice.
“Range!”
Furious, he turned, disbelieving that she’d followed. That she didn’t stay put. “Get back—”
“Look!” she shouted, pointing back in the direction from which they’d come.
Lightning crackled along the sky and ground.
But what crawled the ground in the midst of the torrents … that wasn’t lighting.
