Winning Love by Abby Niles

Author:Abby Niles [Niles, Abby]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: sports romance, romance series, Romance, storm chaser, MMA, Contemporary Romance, MMA fighter
Publisher: Entangled Publishing, LLC
Published: 0101-01-01T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter Eight

Mac sat in the backseat of the SUV, watching a small Oklahoma town speed by as they raced to the western corner of the state.

The skies were clear with nary a cloud.

Hard to believe they were only an hour away from where a system was supposed to wreak havoc on the land.

Maybe this had been a bad idea.

A really bad idea.

The longer they drove, the more his gut started to clench with doubt. Earlier this morning, after Gayle had hung up the phone, it’d seemed like the logical choice. His nightmare had been disturbingly vivid as he’d tossed aside the rubble and found Ally’s lifeless body. For the hundredth time in four years.

When Gayle had received a call from Rick at that exact moment, Mac took it as a sign from the universe. Lance had all but shoved him out the door, telling Mac not to worry about him, just go and heal. So the decision had been set in stone.

But now he wasn’t so sure this was the right method to go about it. What if facing this shit fucked him up worse than he already was?

Shaking his head, he blocked out the mental negativity. He’d made the decision, and he would stick with it.

He turned his attention away from the road to the front seat. Rick, Gayle’s chasing partner, was driving. When she introduced them before they left, Mac had noticed the guy was around her age and definitely not bad-looking from a dude’s standpoint. A worn red ball cap covered his dark hair, and he kept it pulled low over his eyes. He wasn’t necessarily muscular, but he also wasn’t lanky like a stereotypical lab rat either, more along the lines of an average, burly guy who did blue-collar work. Women tended to dig that.

More than once Mac caught himself watching Gayle and Rick’s interaction to see if there was, or ever had been, anything more between them than storm chasing. So far, the only thing he’d picked up on was a friendship with the occasional sarcastic, but good-natured, insult.

Gayle sat on the passenger side; her hair was gathered to the side to hang over one shoulder, as she jotted something down on a notepad. All kinds of equipment, ranging from cameras to GPSs to tablets, surrounded her. He felt like he was in some kind of fucking aircraft. A laptop mounted on the center console between the seats pivoted in her direction for easy access. She spent a lot of time on the thing, looking at maps and radars. She’d explained that one of the gizmos on the roof was a satellite internet connection, so she was always up-to-date with the latest weather information. There were a shitload of transmitters and radios, too. Why she needed so many, he had no clue. But every damn one of them was on, emitting a constant low hum of static in the car, a startling screeching voice shattering the silence on occasion—though he was the only one who jumped.

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