Double In (8 page)

“Over here.” George pointed to an interior wall that
sectioned off her bedroom from the living room area. The wall was empty save
for a long, narrow decorative table. “Crawl under that and make yourself into a
ball.”

She did as he said, turning her back to the wall, and
pulling her knees close to her chest. All five of them would never fit beneath
the table. George and Pete folded their aging frames into the space on either
side of her. R.J. and Clyde hunkered down along the wall separating the living
room and bathroom. They had just gotten settled when the lights went off again
and the building started to shake.

“Here we go.” George and Pete put their arms around her and
leaned close, using their bodies to shelter her more than themselves.

Marsha had ridden out several hurricanes in her lifetime
but, even though they were known for spawning tornados, she’d never experienced
one. She’d often heard they sounded like a freight train barreling down the
tracks. She couldn’t disagree as the rumbling above her head got louder, the
shaking worsened, and sounds of things being ripped to pieces filled the early
afternoon air.

She’d also often heard the first thing people did when in
the path of a tornado was start to pray. Though she knew she didn’t do that
nearly enough, she squeezed her eyes shut and hoped with all her being that
someone up there was listening.

* * * * *

Porter peered out the living room window of the house he and
Reid shared, a turkey sandwich in one hand and his cell phone in the other. The
storm outside had diminished to a near drizzle and, miraculously, the sun was
even beginning to peek through the moving clouds. The worst of it seemed to
have gone around them. So why did he still have a tight knot in his gut?

He slid his thumb over the speaker command on his cell and
told it to call Marsha. Instead of ringing, he got a series of beeps followed
by a voice telling him that his call could not be completed as dialed.

“Storm is interfering with the cell towers,” Reid said
grimly from his place in front of the other window. He placed a hand on the
window frame and looked at Porter. “Dude, really? You’re eating now?”

“I always eat when I’m nervous. You know that,” Porter said
around a bite of the sandwich. “Try her on your phone. Yours gets signal from
different towers than mine.” He listened as Reid dialed Marsha on speakerphone
and held his breath when it started to ring. Four rings later her sultry voice
filled the living room.

“Hey, this is Marsha. Sorry I missed your call, but…”

Reid cut the connection, pressed a few buttons, and got the
bar’s voicemail next. “No-go on either one.”

“Fuck.” Porter stomped from the window, tossed his sandwich
on the nearest table, and raked a hand through his hair. He started to turn
back when the television caught his attention.

“
News of the vicious storm that moved through our area
just moments ago is still sketchy. Several tornados were spotted near
Interstate 75, Greater Valley University and Morrison Road. We also have
unconfirmed reports of a tornado touching down near Cumberland Valley Road.
Hamilton County Emergency Operations Center has been activated and crews from
the local fire and police departments are en route.
”

The blood turned to ice in Porter’s veins. “Son of a bitch,
the bar is on Cumberland Valley Road.” He whirled around, snatched his keys
from the end table and headed for the front door. “Fuck this phone shit. I’m
out of here.”

“Not without me, you aren’t.”

Reid was at his heels as they left the house and made a
beeline for Porter’s truck. Porter peeled out of the driveway, slammed the
truck into gear, and left tracks on the pavement as he punched the gas. They
lived ten minutes from the bar. In less than three he was hitting the main road
between their subdivision and Bulls Eye Billiards. It took him the other seven
to make it a half a mile closer.

“Holy shit.” Reid exhaled an audible breath, shifting in the
passenger seat to look out his window.

Porter scanned the view as he crept along in four lanes of
bumper-to-bumper traffic. Abandoned cars lined the road on both sides.
Emergency vehicles blocked turning lanes and personnel in full uniform swarmed
between the cars, directing traffic and checking people for injuries.

A few feet ahead, a tree had fallen across the road and cars
were being motioned to detour through the median to get around it. Pieces of
tin, obviously from the roof of a nearby marina, were lodged in trees and
scattered on and along the roadside.

The destruction took Porter’s breath away. He could see the
path the tornado had taken and a fear more profound than anything he’d ever
experienced washed through him.

“It looks as if it took a diagonal path through here,” Reid
said. “Christ, Porter, if it stayed on that track…”

It went straight for the bar, straight for Marsha. “Fuck!”
He pounded the steering wheel. “I can’t get through here.” His first instinct
was to park the truck and walk. They’d definitely get there faster at this
rate. Trouble came in seeing that there wasn’t a place to park outside of
leaving the truck in the middle of the road. As desperately as he needed to get
to Marsha, he knew he wasn’t the only one fighting to get to a loved one. All
he’d be doing was making the situation worse on everyone.

But he could let Reid go. He looked at his brother, opened
his mouth to tell him to get out, and Reid’s pocket started to ring.

“Thank God.” Reid fished his phone from his pocket and hit
the speaker button. “Marsha?”

“Reid, I—”

“Mars, are you okay?” Porter cut her off. Relief churned
with dread as he waited a full heartbeat for her answer.

“We’re okay, but I think we’re trapped.” She gave a
half-laugh, but there was no humor in her tone. “Honestly, I’m scared to find
out.”

“Where are you?” Reid asked, meeting Porter’s gaze.

“In the basement. We’re okay. No one is hurt. But I don’t
think upstairs is okay. Reid, it sounded like the place was torn apart.”

Her voice hitched and Porter briefly closed his eyes. The
sound was a double-edged knife stabbing at his heart. “Stay where you are.
Don’t try to go up there. We’re on our way to you now.”

“You are?” There was so much surprise in her question it
only drove the knife deeper.

“We’re stuck in traffic on the main road, baby, but we’re
almost there,” Reid answered her. “Wait for us, okay. Don’t move.”

“Okay, I won’t.” Silence filled the line and Porter thought
they’d lost the connection until she spoke again. “Reid, Porter, thank you.”

“You can thank us properly later,” Porter told her around
the lump forming in his throat. He said it to break the tension, to hopefully
make her laugh. It worked, although the giggle he heard was watery.

“You can count on it.”

* * * * *

Marsha heard shuffling above, voices, and pushed herself to
her feet. She’d already crawled from beneath the table and stayed on her hands
and knees as she blindly went for the flashlight she kept in the end table
drawer by the sofa. She hadn’t attempted to stand for fear she’d fall right
back down. Her trembling had subsided, but only by a fraction. Her legs
quivered as she tried to walk. Her hands shook, causing the beam of the
flashlight to jerk. She extended her free hand to George to help the man stand.

“Someone is up there,” Pete said, getting to his feet on his
own.

Marsha turned the beam of the flashlight on R.J. and Clyde
and saw they were already walking toward the stairs that would lead them up.
“Wait. We don’t know what’s on the other side of that door.” It could be
anything or nothing. The basement door was located in the kitchen of the bar.
So were the gas stove and other appliances. She took a deep breath, smelling
only the faint scent of the incenses she burned regularly in her apartment.
Still, that didn’t mean there wasn’t a fireball waiting to happen above.

“You sit right there,” R.J. ordered. “I’m agoin’ up there to
see.”

“No you’re not. Marsha’s right,” George agreed. “Whoever
that is can see better up there than we can. They know we’re down here?” He
looked to Marsha for confirmation.

Marsha nodded. “Porter and Reid are on their way.”

R.J. scowled, but stopped at the foot of the stairs.

George patted her shoulder. “Then we wait for them.”

The waiting part was easier said than done. What seemed like
hours, but probably amounted only to minutes, passed before the door creaked
open. Pale light streamed in from upstairs, silhouetting Porter’s muscular
frame as he filled the doorway.

Marsha let out a breath she hadn’t been aware she was
holding. “Is it safe?”

Porter came down the stairs with Reid behind him and headed
straight for her. He squinted when she accidently shined the flashlight in his
face and nodded. “It’s safe.” He pulled her into his arms and squeezed her
tight. “You scared me to death, Mars.”

Marsha’s eyes filled. She buried her face in his chest,
blinked back the tears, and breathed in his calming scent. “Scared you!” She
let out a watery laugh. “You should’ve been in my shoes.”

“Honey, we would’ve traded shoes with you in a heartbeat.”
Reid touched her shoulder and let his hand slide caressingly down her back.

She eased away from Porter, wanting to touch Reid too,
needing to absorb the comfort of them both. Porter let her go and she walked
into Reid’s awaiting arms.

“I’m goin’ up now. Been waitin’ down here long enough.”

Until R.J. spoke, Marsha had forgotten she, Reid and Porter
weren’t alone.

“Go ahead.” Porter nodded once at the older man. “Just watch
your step.”

Marsha looked up at Reid, searching his expression for any
telltale signs. “How bad is it?”

“Not as bad as you think.”

“You know that wall you’ve been talking about knocking down
since you started working here?” Porter asked, his tone laced with a trace of
amusement. “Well, Mother Nature just took care of that for you.”

Marsha gazed at him, blinked, and her mouth dropped open.
“That wall is gone?” She couldn’t wrap her mind around it, couldn’t think what
that meant for the stability of the rest of the building. She’d known taking
out that wall and expanding was possible, but it would have to be done
skillfully by trained professionals. While she wouldn’t discredit a tornado for
its lack of skill, she doubted very seriously one had any training beyond
destruction.

Porter nodded. “The wall and a portion of the roof.”

“Looks as if the building caught the outer edge of the
tornado,” Reid put in. “It’s repairable. It’ll have to be rebuilt of course,
and from what we saw at a quick glance, the whole roof will probably have to be
replaced to fix it properly, but it can be done.”

Marsha stepped back, out of Reid’s embrace. The loss of his
warmth washed through her, but she couldn’t stay there snuggled against him
forever. “I want to see.”

Porter held out a hand. “Come on. We’ll show you.”

She put her hand in his and let him lead her up the stairs.
The kitchen seemed completely undisturbed. That’s good, she told herself,
suddenly feeling silly for staying in the basement for so long after the storm
when she could’ve easily walked out herself. She took a deep breath before
walking through the door to the main area of the building and tried to prepare
herself for anything. They’d said it wasn’t bad. They were contractors. They
destroyed and built things for a living. She should believe them. She
did
believe them, but that didn’t mean what she was about to see might not hit her
like a physical blow.

“Watch your step.” Porter held the door open for her and
moved aside to give her room to pass.

“There’s broken glass everywhere, so be careful, Marsha,”
Pete called to her. “Tornado might not have come inside, but the wind damn sure
did. We’re going to head outside, see what we can see out there.”

Her step faltered at the first crunch of broken glass
beneath her feet. Almost instinctively, her gaze swung to the wall behind the
bar, to the shelves that had held the bottles of liquors before the storm.
Those bottles now lay in pieces, their contents mixing a potent concoction on
the floor.

“Don’t drop a match,” she muttered on a sigh.

Reid chuckled softly behind her and lightly placed his hand
on her shoulder. “Yeah, we’ll definitely have to make this a nonsmoking
establishment until we get this cleaned.”

Marsha shot him a shaky smile over her shoulder, then went
back to scanning the room. It was brighter than it should’ve been with the
power off, no doubt because a full wall was missing on the other side. She
didn’t look that way yet, wanting to take in the destruction slowly, and
mentally cataloguing what it would take to get her place back to par.

A couple of the neon signs dangled precariously on the
walls. Others had fallen and busted. A few tables had either been upended and
flipped completely or lay on their sides. The chairs and stools were scattered
around the floor. She could tell without even walking near them that the four
remaining pool tables were soaked.

She sucked in a quick breath as her gaze finally landed on
the worst of the damage. The other two pool tables had apparently gone with the
wall, along with the dartboards and the vintage jukebox that had once stood in
the corner.

“Damn, Martin loved that jukebox,” she said more to herself
than Porter and Reid.

“I’m sure we can find another one somewhere if you want to
replace it,” Reid assured her.

They could. It wouldn’t be the same. It wouldn’t come with
the memories the old one had held. But it could still be replaced. It could all
be replaced. She would be fine, the gentlemen who’d ridden out the storm with
her would be fine, and so would her bar. She didn’t think there would come a
day when she wouldn’t be grateful for that.