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Clay grabbed an old chaise lounge from the patio and dusted it off. He carried it into the hall. It was a wider chair. They could both sit in it comfortably. It took up most of the hallway, but it worked. "Sit. I want that leg propped up."
He hadn't missed the way she had been favoring it. "Take off the pants. I found these upstairs."
Found, and appropriated. She took the sweatpants and T-shirt gratefully. "Turn your head."
"Yes, ma'am."
He listened to her shuffle around for a few minutes. "You can turn around now. Did you find you anything dry to put on?"
"A second pair of sweatpants. A bigger pair."
"So we're looking for at least two men doing this?"
"Or a man and a woman. Those sweats there can go either way." He didn't bother turning away from her. "Turn around for a minute, sweetheart, or you'll see something special about the sheriff of Barratt County."
"You're a cross between an idiot and a twelve-year-old boy, Clayton Addy."
"Fourteen. I wasn't that precocious at twelve. Jake was."
"Do you think they're ok?"
"They should be. Jake's smart enough to watch the weather." And Jake was the cautious type. He’d never take risks with his son’s safety. Neither was Bert.
But that didn’t mean something couldn’t have happened. The storm had come up on them without warning, and they’d had a damned radio on the entire time.
"There's a shelter at home. Bert's never been careless about storms."
"See? Jake's probably snuggled inside it with that kid of his and his daddy. Probably worried about you, though."
She nodded. She plugged in the old radio and fiddled with the buttons.
The National Weather Service warning beep sounded in the hallway. The tornado warning for Barratt County had ended more than two hours ago. But the watch was still ongoing. There could always be another storm.
Clay hoped the people in his county were still heeding it.
They would be looking for him to tell them what to do. Him and the mayor of Value. Clay threw off the itch to get back to his town and his people.
He wouldn't do anyone any good if he got himself killed out on the road, walking in a storm. And he couldn't leave Bailey here in a house full of drugs alone—even if he had a vehicle.
The radio crackled to life. "This is Finley Creek TSP Chief Elliot Marshall with an update. At six forty-three this afternoon, a tornado preliminarily ranked as an F4 on the Fujita scale struck the south side of Finley Creek city limits before heading north toward Wichita Falls and Burkburnett. It crossed the state line into Oklahoma at 7:17. There have been reports of casualties. Finley Creek General Hospital took a partial hit, as did the Finley Creek TSP post, the Hope Life Church on South Boethe Street, and several public schools. City hall has been leveled. Survivors were pulled from city hall, including Mayor Turner Barratt, at near eight p.m. this evening. Surrounding counties, including Barratt County, are reporting extensive damage as well. Anyone needing medical assistance can be seen at the triages at Finley Creek General, Finley Creek County, Barrattville Med Center, and Barratt County General, plus any hospitals in the surrounding counties. Please be aware that there are downed power lines in many places, trees blocking the roads, and extensive flooding. Please only leave your home if it is a genuine emergency. We do not need to clog up the streets with gawkers preventing emergency teams from missing our neighbors who are in trouble. There are also more storms on the way. Please heed all warnings and use common sense. I repeat: unless it is a true emergency, please keep our roadways clear. This may not be over yet."
Clay was silent for a long moment. "Damn it! We need to be out there!"
"I know." She tried to stand up. "Maybe we should hike to the highway. See if we can catch a ride. The rain’s let off now."
"Hell, no. Not on that leg." He wasn’t about to risk her. Not for anything. As much as he didn’t like it, he wasn’t taking her back out there again tonight.
But he wasn’t blind to the possibility that the owners of those little packets in the back room couldn’t show up at any time.
He didn’t think it was likely. The traffickers wouldn’t want to catch someone’s attention by being on the roads tonight.
"We need to be out there."
"We wait, Bailey. I'm not risking you. Not for even a moment." He crowded his favorite deputy back on the lounge chair and leaned over her. Bailey-blue eyes widened. One small hand landed on the center of his chest. Her fingers spread. Fire focused where her skin met his. "I will never risk you. I will protect you, keep you safe. No matter what I have to do. Because you matter too much to me for me not to. Because of this..."
He covered her lips with his again.
Bailey’s fingers flexed on his skin, and her other arm slipped around his waist. Clay tried not to press on her injured leg. The only other place he could hold her was on her rear. So he did.
It was Bailey, and she was safe in his arms.
He could have lost her tonight. Clay would never forget looking at her just as the damned truck had been pushed off the road. He'd have given his entire life to keep her safe in that moment.
Because Bailey Moore was his life.
He just didn't have the words to tell her that.