Page 3 of Never Let Me Go

He glanced at the sky, or at least the part he could see from under the gazebo’s roof. “I’ll get started on this, and we can meet again later to fine-tune the details. You should get home before the storm rolls in.”

Marisa flinched when a crack of thunder followed a flash of lightning that hit close by. “You’re right,” she said. “That’s enough for today. I don’t want to get wet.”

The thought of Marisa wet and available had him shuddering inwardly. God help him, he was still hung up on her.Stupid, stupid, stupid.

Before either of them could make a move to leave, an ominous but familiar sound filled the air. Tornado sirens.

His companion gasped. “I’ve got to go,” she said. “Bye, Jeff.”

He grabbed her wrist, feeling the delicate bones. “No time. My place is half a block from here.”

She jerked away, her expression horrified. “I’mnotgoing home with you.”

Their one night of wild, wanton sexual excess had happened in his bed. The foreplay on his kitchen table. And halfway up the stairs.

The sirens screeched again. “Come on,” he said. “We don’t have time to argue.” Three years ago, he had bought the abandoned First Georgia Bank on a side street off the town center and renovated it. The original safe in the cellar was now a completely outfitted storm shelter.

Marisa was still trying to argue with him when the sky turned an odd shade of green.

“Hell,” he muttered. “This is bad.”

There was no time to move cars or go anywhere except straight across the quad. All around them, people were running, faces filled with alarm.

The sirens continued their relentless shriek.

Jeff focused on a single goal. Keeping Marisa safe.

He had her wrist again, but she wasn’t fighting him now. They ran in tandem, panting, sweating.

It took six and a half minutes. As they neared his front door, he dug in his pocket for keys. The wind howled now. Hail hit like bullets on the street around them.

“Hurry,” Marisa said, her fingers twined with his.

Inside, they ran for the stairs.

He hit the light switch to the basement. “I have a generator,” he said. “If the power goes out, we won’t be in the dark.” They scooted down the narrow flight of steps.

She balked momentarily at the door to the safe. “I might have a slight aversion to being buried alive,” she said.

The attempt at humor failed miserably. Her face was dead white.

“It’s not bad, I swear.” He wrapped an arm around her waist, gently urging her forward. They were out of time.

From outside, a crash reverberated, and then they heard a sound no one wants to hear. The deafening roar of a freight train, soon to be right on top of them. The noise amplified second by second.

“Jeff!” Marisa cried out as he dragged the door shut and slammed the locking arm.

“We’re safe,” he said urgently. “We’re safe.”

His words sounded like the worst of lies, even to him. The town hadn’t taken a direct hit from a tornado since 2011. Today, Blossom Branch’s luck had run out. The shrieking moan of the wind was incredible.

He pulled her into his arms and held her tight. Suddenly, their silent animosity vanished, at least from where he was standing.

Marisa buried her face in his shoulder. Her arms wrapped around his waist. He felt the tremors in her body. Jeff was doing some shaking of his own. A man would be foolish not to be alarmed. Fear was a positive defense in a dangerous situation. This qualified.

Suddenly—when he thought things couldn’t get any worse—the pressure in his ears increased, the unmistakable noise of breaking glass rained down like a horror movie, and a huge groaning boom exploded overhead.

“What was that?” Marisa burrowed closer.

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