Storm Watch (Woodland Creek)
Read Storm Watch (Woodland Creek) Online
Authors: Hope Welsh,Woodland Creek
Tags: #Paranormal Romance
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
S
torm 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.
S
he 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 thought. 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.
