Free Hell on Wheels: A Loveswept Classic Romance by Karen Leabo Page A

reported a rotating wall cloud—the precursor to a tornado—about four miles north of town. Although visibility wasn’t as good in this part of the state because of the trees, Victoria could see the supercell off in the distance. Adrenaline surged through her veins, and the air seemed to be charged with the power of the storm as the atmospheric pressure dropped.
    “Find a good road north,” she said, tapping the map Roan had spread out against his thigh.
    “I’m looking,” he said impatiently.
    Another “beep beep beep” grabbed their attention. This time it was a tornado warning—a funnel cloud had been sighted.
    Victoria let out a string of curses.
    “Vicky!”
    She turned on him. “You call me Vicky one more time and you’re walking.”
    Roan’s hurt expression made her want to bite her tongue out. “I’m sorry,” he said. “I don’t do it on purpose.”
    She eased her foot off the gas and took a deep breath. “No, I’m sorry,” she said. “It’s stupid for me to let the stress get to me like that. But this is very frustrating! If we just had another fifteen minutes—”
    “Highway 64A,” Roan interrupted. “That should be the intersection just ahead.”
    Victoria made a kamikaze turn onto rural route 64A, which turned out to be a twisting two-lane blacktop. “Are you sure about this?”
    “It’s the only decent road leading north.”
    Excited voices came thick and fast over the radio now, describing the tornado. According to their eyewitness accounts, the twister was long and spindly, churning across open pastures. Then abruptly the voices stopped. One man finally reported, “It’s gone back up. Show’s over.”
    “That’s it,” Victoria said, expelling a long breath. “It’s over, and we missed it.”
    Sure enough, when they crested the next hill they met up with several vehicles parked haphazardly along the roadway, including TV station vans. Some of the cars she recognized as belonging to fellow storm chasers. Most were quickly packing up their video cameras and tripods, ready to zoom off to the next likely cloud in hopes of catching another storm.
    She pulled up next to Eddie and Marilyn Dunne, a couple from Dallas who were amateur weather enthusiasts and regulars on the chase scene for several years.
    “Victoria!” Eddie greeted her, looking surprised. “We were wondering where you’d gotten to. Jeff Hobbs said you were out and about, and I couldn’t believe you weren’t here. Everybody’s here,” he said, gesturing toward the dozen or so cars. “Did you see it?”
    “I’m afraid not.” She quickly introduced Roan to the couple, then asked, “What did I miss?”
    “Just a little ol’ rope of a storm, that’s all,” Marilyn said, assessing Roan with lazy green eyes. “Wasn’t on the ground more than a couple of minutes. But it was kind of pretty, backlit by the sun and all. I think I got some nice stills.” She patted the camera dangling from her neck.
    “No damage or injuries, I hope?” That was always the first thing Victoria wanted to know about any tornado.
    “No, I’m sure not,” Marilyn said.
    Eddie signaled for her to hurry up. “There’s another wall cloud on the other side of town,” he announced.
    “And I suppose we’re going after it,” Marilyn said with a soft laugh. “You know how Eddie is. He wants to chase to the bitter end.”
    By that time most of the chasers were hopping into their vehicles and taking off with some urgency.
    “You mean there might be another one?” Roan asked.
    “Could be. These things often occur in clusters.”
    “Well, hell, let’s go, then!”
    Victoria pulled back onto the highway, working her way into the queue of cars driving like maniacs. “Shoot, we’re in a lot more danger from these crazy drivers than we are from any storm,” she said as someone came within inches of rear-ending the van.
    “Is it always this crowded?” Roan asked.
    “Lately it seems that way. Several years ago, when I first