Tears of the Renegade Read online

  “There’re a couple of towels in the trash bag,” he informed her curtly, sliding back under the steering wheel and putting the vehicle in gear.

  She pulled one of the towels out and patted it over her bare arms and shoulders, then blotted her dripping hair. That was the best she could do, and she stared in dismay at the soaked seats and floorboards of the Blazer. “I’m sorry,” she choked, realizing now that they should have remained at the cabin until the storm had passed.

  Rain still glistened on the rock-hard planes of his face, and drops were caught like liquid diamonds in the black silk of his beard. He pulled the soggy cap from his head and dropped it on the seat between them. In silence she offered him the towel, and in silence he took it, rubbing it over his face and head with one hand as he eased down the driveway.

  The headlights caught the swirling, muddy waters of Jubilee Creek as they crossed the small bridge, and she was frightened at how high the water had risen in the short time it had been raining. Cord gave the water a grim look. “I hope I can get back.”

  He had to keep both hands on the wheel to hold the Blazer steady against the gusts of wind that pushed at it; one particularly strong gust pushed them so far to the side that the two left tires left the road and dug into the soft earth on the side. Cord wrestled them back onto the roughly paved secondary road, but they could proceed at nothing more than a crawl. The headlights did no good against a blinding curtain of rain, and the windshield wipers, though going full speed, couldn’t keep the windshield clear.

  Making a sudden decision, he glanced at her and pulled the Blazer over onto the side of the road, then cut the ignition. As the engine died, the roar of the rain hitting the metal top sounded even louder. He’d turned off the headlights but left the dashlights on, and in the dim glow she turned frightened eyes on him.

  “I can’t see to drive,” he explained. “We’re going to have to wait until this blows over.”

  She nodded and clasped her hands tightly in her lap, staring out through the windshield. She couldn’t see anything; the darkness was absolute, the rain cutting them off from everything else, isolating them in the small sanctuary of the Blazer.

  Seconds ticked past and became minutes; if anything, the rain fell harder. Cord turned on the radio, but the static was so bad that they couldn’t make out what the announcer was saying, and he snapped it off again. Out of the corner of his eye, he caught her shivering, and he reached out to touch her chilled arm.

  “You should have said something,” he scolded, and started the motor, then flipped the heater switch to high.

  The blast of warm air felt good on her feet and legs, and she slipped her icy feet out of her soggy shoes to stick her toes up close to the vent.

  Silence thickened and grated on her nerves. “It’s been a long time since I’ve seen it rain like this,” she ventured, if only to break the quiet.

  He drummed his fingers on the steering wheel.

  She controlled a shiver. “Why did you start letting your beard grow again?”

  “Because I don’t like to shave.”

  The curt sentence slapped at her, and she winced. So much for conversation. She hugged her arms around herself, for the first time thinking of the suit jacket she’d left in her car, as well as her purse. She’d been acting like a wild woman, so desperate to get away that she hadn’t given a thought to anything else.

  A metallic sound began to reach her ears, just barely detectable above the pounding of the rain. She sat up straighter and cast a puzzled glance in Cord’s direction, to find that he was listening, too. “What is it?”

  “Sleet.”

  No sooner were the words out of his mouth than the sound of the sleet began to intensify. He turned off the motor, his eyes alert and wary.

  “The thunder and lightning are farther away,” Susan said hopefully, not admitting until that moment that she was a little frightened.

  “Shhhh,” he cautioned, his head turned slightly in a listening position. He reached out and caught her hand, his hard fingers wrapping securely around hers. Susan caught her breath and listened, too, becoming more uneasy as she realized what they were listening for. The sleet stopped, then abruptly the rain stopped, leaving behind a silence that was broken only by the dripping of water from the battered leaves of the trees.

  It was the silence, the utter stillness, that was so unnerving. There was a tense, heavy waiting quality to the air, making it difficult to breathe, or perhaps she was simply too frightened to draw in a deep breath. She was clinging so hard to his hand that her nails were sinking into his flesh. “You can see to drive now,” she said nervously.

  He slid across the seat until he was pressed warmly against her, his body heat making a mockery of the soggy condition of his clothes. He put his arm around her shoulders in a comforting gesture and briefly pressed his lips to her temple. “We’ll wait awhile,” he told her mildly. “We won’t be able to hear it coming if the motor is running.”

  Susan shivered and closed her eyes. “I know.” Her every muscle was tight, her heart pumping faster. The quiet before the storm wasn’t just a cliché, it was a reality. As a native of the warm Southern climes where the heated Gulf bathed the region in warm moisture, triggering wild and magnificent storms whenever a cooler system from the west swept in to collide with that warm, damp blanket of air, Susan knew all too well the lethal power of the twisting tornadoes that were spawned out of the towering thunderheads. She knew all the signs, the warnings, and as a child had been drilled in school in the best way to survive a tornado. The Number One Rule: Don’t get caught by one.

  “If we think we hear something, get out of the truck as fast as you can,” Cord instructed quietly. “There’s a small ditch on the left of the road; it’s probably full of water, but that’s where we’ll go anyway.”

  “Okay.” Her voice was strained but calm, and she rolled down her window a little, making it easier to hear. Only the dripping of the water, splattering down on the undergrowth, reached her ears.

  The first hailstone hit the windshield of the Blazer with such force that they both jumped, and Susan bit back a shriek. Cord uttered a short, sharp expletive, then anything else he might have said was drowned out as golfball-size hail began to pound the Blazer, ripping the leaves of the trees to shreds, taking small saplings completely down. The din was incredible. Susan felt that they were on the inside of a giant drum, with some maniac beating wildly on it. She tore her hand from Cord’s grip and pressed her palms over her ears.

  Then it was gone, racing away, leaving the ground covered with shimmering balls of ice, a deep rumble following after it.

  With a quick, hard motion Cord reached over her and shoved the door open, then used his body to force her outside. He grabbed her around the waist, keeping her from falling as her feet hit the ice and skidded out from under her. She was barefooted except for her stockings, and the ice was unbearably cold, bruising her soft feet, but she knew that she had better traction without her shoes anyway. High heels would have been more than useless, they would have been dangerous, unsafe for picking her way across a road covered with ice balls. Heedless of the pain, she ran, hearing the rumble come closer, feeling the earth begin to tremble beneath them.

  They splashed into the ditch, the freezing water taking her breath. There was an eerie yellowish cast to the sky, an absurd lightening of the night sky, and she was able to see the taut lines of Cord’s face. With one hand on her shoulder he forced her to lie down in the ditch, and the rushing stream of water splashed up in her face, filling her mouth with the taste of mud. She spat it out and looked up at him, her eyes burning. If she had to die, then thank God it was with him. Then he was covering her, pressing her down deeper into the foul water, putting his body between her and the fury of the storm that was thundering toward them.

  Somehow, it didn’t seem quite real. Inside she was terrified, but on the outside she was not only calm but oddly detached. She felt the wind buffeting their bodies, so fierce and