Storm Warning - By Kadi Dillon Page 0,1

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