Page 87 of Those Who Are Bound

She felt every tiny bit of hail that was now sheeting down and bouncing off the walls, concrete, and—yes—being blown in with the hurricane-force winds. Even though she knew it was gone, and probably in the next county by now, she still wanted to be sure that the tank lid was beyond reach. She couldn’t see it; the flashlight beam was shooting off and upward at an angle, no use at all. But maybe the lid hadn’t gone far. If she could get off the generator and feel around…

Elliott started peeling off the rain slicker as she continued to lie face down on the machine. Once removed, she shook it, rolling her eyes at her actions because shaking off the water while practically in the rain was a wasted gesture, and she quickly slid the jacket over the tank hole. She sat up, breathing a sigh of relief as she climbed off the generator.

Keeping a tight hold of her jacket over the tank hole, she bent down and looked around the vicinity for the lid. Not seeing it, she took up the flashlight and panned it around. It was nowhere in sight.

And still the sirens screamed, the wind whipped, and the tiny hailstones flung themselves against her body while leaves and twigs joined in the melee. And she was stuck. Dropping to her knees, groping around with one hand in the loud flashes of light, she madly continued to search for something that wasn’t there.

It never occurred to her to walk away; it wasn’t something she did. Sure, she could buy a new generator tomorrow because she most likely had ruined this one, but defeat wasn’t in her.Instead, she struggled to drag the contraption farther into the shelter of the garage, slipping on the concrete. Again, it should have been easy to give up, but her own frustration got in her way.

Lightning continued to come fast and furious with Earth-shattering sonic booms; she thought it had been bad earlier. How long could a tornado last, anyway? Weren’t they faster moving than this? Twenty minutes, tops? Hadn’t it been almost an hour? It seemed so long. But she probably hadn’t been out here for more than ten minutes. She should have tried to wait the worst of it out.

A brilliant light bathed her, and she cowered against the generator for what she was sure was her last moment before the final strike when she heard her name. Her heart stopped.

“Elliott!”

Not a hallucination, not her last moment.

Jonah was suddenly at her side, his arm around her waist, pulling her shaking body to his, instantly warming hers. “What the hell are you doing?”

She almost laughed; it wasn’t as if this was a fun storm ritual for her. She called out over the howling around them, “I lost the gas cap.” Then, “What areyoudoing here?”

Jonah was looking around, not letting go of her. “I couldn’t get a hold of you; I was worried.”

“So you drove over with sirens going off?In hail?”

He grinned at her. “It’s in the boyfriend contract.”

Elliott blinked against the rivulets of water running down her face, relief flooding through her to have him here. So much for all of her independent womanly ideals—she wasthrilledthat he was here. Wanted to turn in his arms and hang on.

He gave her cheek a quick kiss before taking up the flashlight and moving away from her. He swept it around, looking for the missing item, pushing his own wet hair off his forehead and then using his hand as a visor to keep the rain out of his eyes. Unlike her, whenever lightning hit too close for comfort, he didn’t flinch; it was like he didn’t even notice it. Elliott ducked down with a wary glance to the sky.

After a few sweeps of the light and several steps away from her, he walked off into the grass and retrieved the lid. Jogging back, he held it up.

“I still need to put in the gas,” she informed him.

“Keep it covered,” he instructed, locating the gas can. He filled, then capped the tank as she provided cover with her jacket. Once finished, he tossed his head in the direction of the stairs and called out, “Go inside.”

“I’m okay,” she told him. Besides, she was soaked through already.

“It wasn’t a question,” he said, glancing over her.

“Jonah, I’m fine,” she insisted.

“I need to dry this off and get it started. Go inside.”

“I can do it.”

He grasped her arm and pulled her farther under the cover of the house. “I know you can do it. But I want you to go inside and let me finish taking care of this.”

She glanced from the generator to the headlights illuminating them. “Your car—”

Jonah grasped her face and directed her attention to him. “Go inside and wait for me. Please.”

Elliott blinked and then nodded. His expression was intense; serious. The jolt of electricity in the air wasn’t coming from the storm surging overhead. When he released her, she took a few steps back, her attention bouncing between the generator and him. Finally, she turned and hurried to the stairs, racing up and into the house.

Once inside, she stood just inside the doorway in indecision. She was dripping wet, pools of water forming beneath her. The closest thing she had to dry off with was in the kitchen; dish towels. So she padded over to the cabinets and pulled them all out, dropping one over her head, realizing in short order that it wouldn’t be enough. Dropping the cloth onto the counter, she decided to slip and slide on the wood floor and retrieve towels from the guest bath.

She managed to pat herself down and dropped a towel on the floor, shimmying it along with her feet to the front door in an effort to soak up her drippings. Jonah would need towels, too, so she waited for him as she stood by, continuing to dry her hair as she stared out at the weather.

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