Storm Warning

Storm Warning - By Kadi Dillon



CHAPTER One



She was eight years old again. Her biggest worry was what to dress Barbie in for their picnic. She’d had a hard time deciding between the red dress and the green, but ultimately the green had won. Barbie’s blond hair was clumsily braided and swept up in the same style Tory saw her mother wear. Mommy was inside making cheese sandwiches to have with their tea.

Sunday lunch had already been devoured and Tory Fairchild had done her duty without complaining, drying each dish until it shined. Now, she and Barbie sat in the backyard on a pink and white checkered quilt, watching the storm clouds roll in, and waiting for tea time to begin.

She knew it was coming, but she didn’t get up from the blanket. No matter what she did—no matter what she said—it happened anyway. She watched and waited.

“It’s okay,” she assured Barbie as the wind whipped her hair from her face. “That twister is going to suck Mommy and Daddy right up, but it won’t touch us. Don’t worry.”

There was a dull roar somewhere in the trees. It sounded like one of those freight trains they waited forever and ever for at the railroad crossing outside of town.

Her mother came out of the house like a bullet shot out of a gun, pointing to the field. Tory didn’t look this time. She stared hard at her mother, memorizing her pinched features. The twister was here now, she thought, clutching Barbie to her while she trembled. It always came.

The sirens screamed and she covered her ears as she sobbed. It wouldn’t be long now until her parents were taken away. And she would have to watch.





Tory jumped up from where she slept in the front seat of the SUV. Propped on the dashboard, her sneaker clad feet hit the windshield with a thump. Swearing expertly, she righted her chaotic position and sat up. She fought for breath as the tornado sirens continued to ring in her ears.

No, not a dream, she thought disoriented. The sirens were really sounding. Tory swore under her breath and reached into the backseat for her binoculars. She jumped out of the SUV and ran around it to find her team mates struggling to set up equipment.

What time was it? It was dark out, but the lightening was so intense and electric that she could see the ground with every step. She estimated the wind to be at thirty-five miles-per-hour, maybe more.

“Damn it, did everyone fall asleep?” Tory muttered and quickly turned on the radar units. “Where is it located?” she hollered to Frankie Lowe, who manned the radars.

“We’re right behind it. Two miles north-east of us moving at thirty miles per hour. Funnel was spotted and called in to the National Weather Station two minutes ago by another chase team.”

“We got some wicked footage already.”

Tory glanced back at Joel, who was shooting from the back of one of the trucks. “Great. Keep that camera rolling, Joel!”

“Yes ma’am,” he grinned

“Jesus, what time is it?” Tory picked up weather bulletins and scanned them.

“One twenty-three.”

“This cell came out of nowhere, Tory,” Jack—Joel’s twin—said, coming up beside her. “If I hadn’t been up taking a—ah—using the facilities, we would have just now been alerted.”

She nodded. The sirens sounded again, drowning out any conversations they might have needed to have. Fortunately, Tory mused, watching her team handle the equipment and procedures—communication wasn’t needed. Her team was solid.

After eight seasons of chasing storms, she knew without a doubt that she could rely on her team for anything. They’d been through the ringer together—including their latest crisis. It cost a substantial amount of money to chase, and funds were lower than ever. Even with Tory working off-season and saving every penny, the Pirate’s bank account was running on fumes.

The shrill of the sirens died down again. Tory picked her binoculars up and set them on her nose. Any minute now. She bit her lip and waited.

“Where’s my brother?” she asked. “He’s going to want to get this on film.”

“I’m here.” Adam Fairchild dashed around a truck and set his tripod on the ground, anticipation shining like a light in his sleepy eyes. “Let’s do this.”

Moments later, the funnel dipped down and spun furiously. As it descended, it collected more dirt and debris and it grew. Black on black, she thought with a shudder.

The sirens sounded for the third time and Tory watched in amazement. Her heart thudded painfully against her rib cage for the next five minutes as the twister spun madly, never quite touching the ground.

The sky sucked the tornado back up and the dust settled, leaving the open field quiet and once again undisturbed. She let out the breath she’d been holding and waited for the sirens to end before turning around and shouting.

“Did you see that? F-2, call it in!”

Armed with a notebook and thick-framed glasses, Kary Brewster smiled at Tory with serious, green eyes. “First of the summer. It’s exciting.”

“Mmm,” Tory agreed. She handed the data to her and helped haul equipment back to the truck. “It won’t be the last. I just hope we can finish the season.” Their funds would only take them through June—if they were frugal.

Carefully, Kary folded the sheet and slipped it in her notebook. “Did you change your mind about the photographer, then?”

Tory shook her head and struggled not to sigh. “I don’t have the luxury of changing my mind. He’s our only ticket to finishing the season. But nothing is guaranteed until his check is in our bank account.”

“He won’t bail. And it won’t be so bad,” Adam said. “This guy’s a legend.”

Tory smiled because she knew Adam was looking forward to welcoming their honorary—temporary—member of the team. They’d signed a contract with world-known photographer Gabe Wills, allowing him to tag along on their chase to shoot pictures.

It seemed fool-proof, but Tory knew nothing came free. The guy was paying them five thousand a month to be in her back pocket—not hers physically, she knew, but she felt crowded all the same. Chasing wasn’t for thrills, it wasn’t for fun. It was for research.

Billy Small jumped down from the other SUV, adjusting his ever-present Kansas State cap over his mop of sandy brown hair. Tory handed the truck keys over to Adam. Judging by Billy’s expression, he wasn’t thrilled about whatever he’d come to talk to her about. Since dragging the photographer around was his idea, she guessed it was that.

“Gabe’s flight is landing in Lincoln at one tomor—” Billy glanced at his watch. “Today.”

“Who’s picking him up?” she asked with a yawn.

“Uh, I can. I just wanted to let you know. And Tory?” he added when she turned to walk back to the truck. “You will be nice to him, won’t you?”

“Why wouldn’t I be nice to him, Billy?” She widened her eyes and kept her lips from quivering with laughter. So little faith, she thought.

“Ah, shit.”

Tory laughed devilishly and started back to the SUV. “We’ll review that footage in the morning. Everybody get some sleep.”

But she wouldn’t be getting back to sleep, she thought as she slipped her head phones in her ears. No, she wouldn’t have a descent night’s sleep for a long time. She never really did.





Tory thrust Gabe Wills and his money from her mind the next day. At a crowded truck-stop in Lincoln, she watched the video Joel had recorded the previous night while they waited for their lunch to be served.

Billy had already left to pick their guest up from the airport. Everyone else had stayed behind to help clean and reset the equipment. Having finished with that, they all crowded in the semi-circle booth and sipped soda. She thanked the waitress when their food was placed in front of them, once again reminded that if it wasn’t for Gabe Wills and his money, she would be waiting tables twelve months out of the year instead of eight.

She dunked a fry in ketchup and bit into it dispassionately. She understood this was something her team needed. The trucks needed gas, equipment needed cleaned and replaced frequently, hotel rooms weren’t free—but it burned.

Thanks to a stranger, the Pirates would chase again, and Tory had nothing to do with that. She resented that. She understood it—but she didn’t have to like it.

After lunch was devoured, she paid the tab, packed away the laptop, and headed out to the SUV.

“We’ll be staying here in Lincoln tonight and we’ll head out tomorrow. Crashing at that fancy hotel on the edge of town,” Adam said as he slid into the driver’s seat.

Tory sat in silence for a moment, waiting for her blood to cool. “I’ll sleep in here.”

He scoffed. “Why do you have to be so difficult?”

“I’ve thought about it and I want nothing that man pays for. He can tag along—or whatever—and snap his pictures, but he is not interfering with my research.”

“And providing you with a very comfortable bed and good food is going to interfere with your research?” He shook his head as he maneuvered the truck onto the highway.

“Yes,” she folded her arms. “It will.”

They pulled into the expensive hotel Adam had talked about. Even though she secretly longed to be able to spread out on a big fluffy bed, her pride wasn’t ready to accept it.

What if this guy was only out looking for a thrill? What if he insisted on staying on the team? With him manning the purse strings, he would hold all the power. He would take over, completely leaving Tory out of the circle. How had control slipped so quickly away?

While Adam checked the team in, she thought of all the possible things that could go wrong while carrying a high-maintenance, sophisticated man like Gabe Wills around. A few minutes into her brood, Adam slid back into the truck and handed a card key to Tory.

“In case you change your mind,” he said with an irritating grin.

“I won’t.” She put the card key in the glove compartment, shutting it with a pop.

Once everyone had gone into their rooms, she leaned back in her seat. She wasn’t being unreasonable, she told herself. She was grieving in a way. This was no longer going to be her team, her project. She’d lost—failed, and it was mortifying.

On a muttered oath, she slid into the driver’s seat and started the engine. She needed time to herself, she thought as she pulled out onto the highway.

She braked at a stop light and waited for it to turn green. She should be happy right now. She was finally in Lincoln, where Vance lived. They weren’t serious—Tory had no desire for serious—but they always had a blast when they could carve out a little time together.

She gunned the engine and switched lanes.

Restlessly, she glanced at the clock on the radio. It was only four o’clock. She grumbled something bad temperedly and forced her eyes away from the neon green numbers. They could do an early dinner, she thought. Maybe go for a drive later.

After fumbling out her phone, she dialed Vance’s number.

“Hello.”

“Hi. It’s Tory.”

“Tory.”

Since he said it like a question, she answered it in kind. “Yes. You know—your super-hot girlfriend slash rival storm chaser, Victoria Fairchild?”

“I know who you are, baby. You caught me in the middle of a nap.”

“Oh, I’m sorry. Do you want to call me back?” She fiddled with the air conditioner as she waited at a crosswalk.

“No, no it’s cool.” He coughed viciously into the phone. Struggling with disappointment, she pretended it was a real cough all though it sounded anything but genuine.

“Are you all right?”

“Yeah, baby. I’m real sick. I know you’re supposed to be in town today, but I’m afraid we’ll have to wait until tomorrow to be together.”

The idea of spending the entire night alone wasn’t an appealing one, but one more day wouldn’t kill her. Vance was more like a convenient friend with benefits. Only now wasn’t convenient. “All right, tomorrow. It’ll have to be early. We’re planning on heading out at nine, but I can push it back a few hours.”

“Great. We can go to that little candy shop you like. I can get a new tattoo—”

Tory listened to him rattle on about the new design he’d drawn for a tattoo on his chest—some kind of Viking helmet in honor of his own storm chasing team. His brother—Charlie—was supposed to get one to match. She wanted to gag.

“Sounds hot,” she said, turning the truck into a gas station parking lot. “Listen, I’m going to run, but I’ll call you in the morning. Feel better, okay?”

She clicked the end button and tossed the phone onto the floor board. With a moan of frustration, she turned the truck around and drove back to the hotel.

She had never counted on anyone for a good time, she thought angrily. Why should she start now? Surely there was something she could do in this town. Her team would be busy catering to Mr. Big Shot. They probably wouldn’t even notice she wasn’t there. She would make her own fun, she decided as she pulled the truck into a space and slammed it in Park.

When she reached the stairs, she walked up them slowly. As petty as it was, it was a blow to her pride to come here, to a hotel he paid for.

“Finally get your head out of your ass?” Adam asked when she knocked on his door. He stepped aside, holding the door open for her. He had just stepped out of the shower and hadn’t yet pulled his hair back in its stubby tail he kept in habitually. Unable to resist, Tory tugged the wet strands.

“No, it’s still up in there. I just wanted to let you know I’m going to go window shopping. I might try the club on Fourth Street tonight.”

“Vance taking you?”

She felt a twinge of longing deep within her. She couldn’t quite call it loneliness yet. “He’s staying home. He’s sick.”

“Sick,” Adam scoffed.

“So that guy’s here?” Tory asked, making herself comfortable on Adam’s double bed.

“If you mean Gabe, then yes. He’s here, he’s nice. You should go talk to him.” Adam finished drying his hair with a towel, then tied it back. “He asked about you.”

“Not interested. He can ride with Billy all season.” She jumped up off the bed. “Don’t wait up for me, okay?” She turned to leave and almost smacked right into Billy’s chest.

“Where do you think you’re going?”

“Wherever I want.” She poked him in the arm. “Going to ground me?”