by Robin Caroll
Torrents of Destruction
Robin Caroll
RC Productions Inc
Contents
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Review Request
Dear Reader
Promo
Also by Robin Caroll
About the Author
Copyright © 2015 by Robin Miller
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other noncommercial uses permitted by copyright law.
Scripture quotations or paraphrases are taken from the following versions: the Holy Bible, New International Version®. NIV®. Copyright © 1973, 1978, 1984 by International Bible Society. Used by permission of Zondervan Publishing House. All rights reserved.
Publisher’s Note: This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are a product of the author’s imagination. Locales and public names are sometimes used for atmospheric purposes. Any resemblance to actual people, living or dead, or to businesses, companies, events, institutions, or locales is completely coincidental.
For Casey:
Because you inspire me to be better than I am~
and love me even when I’m not
“The cords of death entangled me; the torrents of destruction overwhelmed me. The cords of the grave coiled around me; the snares of death confronted me. In my distress I called to the Lord; I cried to my God for help. From his temple he heard my voice; my cry came before him, into his ears."
Psalm 18:4-6 NIV
Chapter 1
Thunder crashed over the West Virginia sky. Clouds cast eerie shadows, foreboding and ominous. Katie Gallagher quickened her pace down the gravel path. The approaching storm interfered with her determined strides. Shadow, her Blue Heeler and ever-present companion, trotted at her side.
She pushed into the store with Shadow on her heels, headed to the counter, and dropped onto the stool. She flipped to this evening’s appointment log and grabbed a pencil from the holder, rolling it between her thumb and forefinger.
Her elder brother Gabe’s soft smile enhanced his tanned face. “Your group should arrive after seven tonight. Ready?”
Katie’s gaze moved to the bank of windows across the front of the store. Lightning flashed in the bright afternoon sky over the Gauley River. While no rain pelted the area yet, foul weather would arrive soon enough.
Gabe adjusted the display rack of wetsuits a fraction of an inch, then hobbled back to study his handiwork, dragging his walking cast.
She scuffed the toe of her sandal against the tile, letting the shoe slip to the floor. “I still don’t see why Christian can’t take this group. I need to run the projection numbers for next month.” Seemed like as of late, their younger brother constantly shirked his duties.
“We’ve been over this.” While Gabe didn’t sigh aloud, the implication was clear.
“But you and I aren't the only Gallaghers working Gauley Guides. Dad left the business to all three of us.” She let out an exaggerated breath and tapped her pencil against the cash register. “I hate baby-sitting power executives who think they can tame the river.”
“It’s not like I asked to have my leg broken, Katie. I’d do it if I could.”
And he would. Gabe carried the brunt of the responsibility for the family business. Good thing he had such broad shoulders. Katie didn’t envy his load.
Guilt circled her heart, but the tight knot of irritation wouldn’t let loose of her nerves. She had a stack of bills she needed to figure out how they were going to pay, and she wanted to check out the new equipment they’d just received. Besides, she yearned for some solitude after last weekend’s trip with a group of rowdy college kids. “Christian’s better suited for these guys.”
Gabe concentrated on re-arranging the rack holding the life jackets, but shot her a scowl as he straightened two hangers. “Maybe, but he’s not as good as you. He’s taking the group tomorrow.”
A day trip. So easy she’d mastered those trips when she was only fourteen. “True, but Christian always seems to squirm out of the hard work.” Maybe it was time he accepted more responsibility. He was nineteen now, time to grow up and act like an adult. It wasn’t right for the brunt of the work relating to the business to fall on Gabe and Katie. They’d sacrificed enough already. Especially Gabe.
Gabe shuffled to the wooden counter where she sat. Resting his elbow on the glass top, he clucked his tongue. “These men are pencil pushers, sis. Come on—they’re going to need the best guide to get them through the Upper Gauley. And since I’m unavailable, you’re the next best Gallagher.”
Her eyes narrowed and she shoved his elbow. Hard.
His arm jarred out from under him. He tottered for a moment, then straightened and laughed.
Katie glared. “Second best, am I? Gabriel Gallagher, I’ll take you on any day of the week and twice on Sunday.”
“I know you would. Look, it’s only a three-day trip.” Thick brown curls brushed his forehead, just as their father’s had. “How bad can it be?”
“Never ask a question like that. You know better. You’ll jinx me for sure.” She turned to the shelves and flipped on the radio set to the weather station.
Tropical depression Emily still fringes on the coast of North Carolina. It has not yet been upgraded to a hurricane. The National Weather Service estimates the storm will make landfall by midnight. Stay tuned for more after these announcements.
Katie raised an eyebrow. “Should we cancel our tours this weekend?”
He limped across the room to lean against the door and stare at the late afternoon sky. “Emily’s been sitting on the coast for several hours—I have a feeling she’ll lose strength.”
No one could read clouds like Gabe.
Still . . . “The wind’s picking up, and it looks like we’ll be getting some rain.”
“I know what you’re saying, but we need these trips. Since we bought all the new equipment last month, I’m depending on the confirmed bookings to keep us in the black.”
Should she tell him the bank had called earlier today? Katie scrutinized her brother. Years of worry and stress lined his face, and his skin took on a pallor like a person who’d been in the hospital too long. No, she needed to ease his burdens, not add to them.
Gabe shuffled by, then reached under the counter and pulled out a can of Fresh Linen- scented air freshener. No matter how much he sprayed and disinfected, the odor of mildew permeated the shop. “I honestly don’t think Emily will turn inward, and I don’t want to fall behind on the bank note. Do you think losing everything would honor what Dad worked for all his life?”
Playing the Dad-card, the cheat. Her heart twisted at the memory of their father’s lecture on dependability. She’d probably have to step up to the plate more to help Gabe since Christian was no help. “You want me t
o risk being out on the river with a hurricane making landfall?”
“It’s not a hurricane, Katie. It’s a tropical depression.”
“Which will still swirl some nasty weather our way.”
He stowed the spray can back under the counter. “We don’t have a choice. You know the numbers we’re dealing with.” He paused, tilting his head. “Are you really worried? If you are, just say so. I don’t want a scaredy-cat guide out there with clients.”
Gabe pushed the right button. Indignation reared its ugly head. “Puhleeze! You know better. I kayaked that river at thirteen, during flood stage.”
“Then what’s the problem?”
Katie slammed the appointment book shut and stabbed the chewed pencil into the holder on the desk. “No problem.”
“That’s the spirit. Dad would be proud.”
She gave a long, labored sigh. “You know I’ll take care of things. I’d better go make sure my little executives’ cabin is ready.” She eased her feet inside her sandals and gave Gabe a hug, snuggling her head against his solid chest. The physical contact warmed her to her toes. “At least we don’t have to feed them tonight.”
Katie pulled away and jerked the master key off the board, then slipped it into the pocket of her shorts. “Christian better have stocked the cabin, or I’ll have his punkin-head on a platter.”
“Where is he, anyway? I haven’t seen him for a couple of hours.”
“Who knows? He’s never around when there’s work to be done.” She snapped her fingers. Shadow bounded to her. She bent to scratch beneath his chin.
“That’s not nice, sis. Christian tries.” The slight reproach fit Gabe, ever the peace-maker.
Katie reached into the pocket of her shorts and pulled out a peppermint, then unwrapped it and popped the swirl-colored candy into her mouth. “Not hard enough.”
“He’ll come around. It’s just taking him a little longer, but what can we expect? He’s the baby.”
She snorted and snatched a stack of fluffy towels piled on the round table.
“It’s partially our fault, Katie. We spoiled him.”
She pushed the door. The tiny bell tinkled softly above her head. “Then we need to un-spoil him and make him grow up and face reality.” She let the door whoosh closed behind her and Shadow, not allowing Gabe time to respond.
She trekked toward the lodging cabins, inhaling deeply. The fragrance of pure river mixed with earth settled over her like the comfortable memory of fishing with her father.
Unlike her brothers, Katie had never felt the pull to leave here. No college romps for her, no indeed. The clean, crisp air year-round, the crunch of oak leaves in the fall, the roar of the class-five rapids in September and October . . . that was enough to satisfy the longings of her soul.
Katie picked up her pace as she passed Gabe’s cabin—once the family’s home. A raw stab of grief knifed through her. Her father was gone, but this land still belonged to the remaining Gallaghers. She stiffened her shoulder muscles, resolving to not let the family business go down. Not if she could help it. If that meant she had to guide a bunch of suits, so be it.
Shadow barked and darted ahead in pursuit of a gray squirrel scampering up the trail. Katie headed for the third cabin in the row. The rentals rested back from the gravel access area to the river. Now, in the purple mist of dusk, the wind lifted to a gust. She stood, relishing the sensation as the breeze rushed over her face, and tucked loose strands of her hair behind her ears and pressed on.
She bounded up the stairs, then shoved the key into the lock and opened the door. Shadow emerged from the tree line and edged near the door.
She rubbed behind his ears. “No, boy. You have to stay on the porch. Wouldn’t do for our special guests to find your hair all over their linens.” She pointed a finger at him. “Sit.” Shadow dropped to his haunches. “Stay.”
As soon as she stepped across the threshold, the stale stench of mustiness accosted her, making her eyes water. She blinked several times before glancing around the room. A fine layer of dust rested over the coffee table and magazines. No hum of the ceiling fan sounded, no welcome mat laid on the floor. Dirt littered the air—dancing on the breeze sneaking in from the open door.
Annoyance pulled in her chest as she surveyed the cabin. If Christian had actually prepared this place for rental, he’d done a poor job—he hadn’t even bothered to air out the main living area. She carried the clean towels into the bathroom.
Ttsss-Ttss-Ttsss! Ttssssssssssss!
Katie stared, frozen mid-step. A bed of Northern Copperheads lay curled in the middle of the bathroom floor, slithering and striking. She slowly lowered her foot, searching with her toe for the floor behind her. Hauling in a slow breath, she set the towels on the dusty counter, then took precise steps backward until she cleared the room. She shut the bathroom door tight before rushing out of the cabin.
She closed and locked the cabin. Oh, Christian would pay for slacking off. This was the last straw. He had one thing to do. One!
Shadow trotted to keep up with Katie as she stormed toward Christian’s cabin. The fury swirling in her chest matched the tempering clouds settling over West Virginia.
She stomped up the stairs to Christian’s cabin and thumped on the door. Before he had time to respond, she gripped the knob and pushed the door open.
Christian moved down the hall, sans shirt, his hair dripping. “Don’t you ever wait to be invited in?” He yanked a tee off the back of the couch and tugged it over his wet head. His green eyes pierced hers, flashing sparks in anger or irritation—Katie couldn’t tell which.
“Don’t you ever do your job?” She stabbed back with her glare, her rising blood pressure causing her pulse to pound. “Something as simple as prepping a cabin for our guests?”
“What are you mouthing about?” He ran a hand through his shoulder-length, shaggy blond hair. “I have cabin four all nice and ready for the guests.”
She shook her head. He couldn’t even follow the simplest of directions. “We reserved cabin number three for them, Christian.” She hissed air between her teeth. “Three.”
He shrugged. “No big deal. Put them in four. They’re about the same square footage.” His wide, boyish smile could almost diffuse her temper.
Almost, but not quite. “I can’t put them there because your group arriving tomorrow has four reserved.” The urge to throttle her brother boiled into her chest. Didn’t he realize the dire situation the business was in? She kept her fists balled firmly on her hips, not trusting herself to change the pose.
Christian rubbed the stubble on his chin, the scuffing noise breaking the silence. “Well, then, I’ll get three ready tonight.” He met her gaze. “Come on, Katie-cat, don’t be mad.” He flashed another hundred-watt grin and looped an arm over her shoulders. “Trust me, I’ll get it done. Not your problem.”
His awkward embrace warmed her. Her anger slipped away like an untied boat in the current. Christian knew how to diffuse her wrath, the imp. She wrapped an arm around his waist, loving the outdoor smell clinging to his body despite the shower. “Don’t call me that. And you’re right, it’s not my problem.” She squeezed him into a sideways hug. “But when you go to cabin three tonight, be prepared. There’s a family of copperheads in the bathroom … and that is your problem.”
Hunter Malone leaned back against the smooth, black leather seat of the chartered Gulfstream 100. The temperature remained comfortably cool in the cabin, yet a line of sweat trickled down his back, pasting his shirt to his body. Flying at 25,000 feet didn’t cause his discomfort—he’d been in and out of planes since his early twenties. Even the sharp drops and pitches didn’t worry him. No, his nerves twisted at the prospect of white-water rafting on the famous Gauley River.
He’d done his homework on the elements and knew what to expect—the unexpected. Mother Nature could be most volatile when the mood struck her. Hunter glanced at his waterproof watch. They’d land in Summersville within the hour, and he’d
have to force himself to prepare for his first rafting trip. He grimaced. He didn’t like adventures. Not ones he couldn’t control.
Lord, give me the strength to endure this. You are my rock.
“You’ll have fun.” The older man sitting beside him smiled. “I’ve done the Gauley twice before and it’s a thrill you’ll never forget.”
Carter James, CEO of Lassiter James Accounting Firm. Hunter had a hard time picturing the fifty-something executive enjoying any thrill but the excitement of making a tidy profit off another man’s hard work. Apparently, the founding partner of the firm enjoyed a good adventure, but how close to the edge would the old codger go to experience the rush? Something illegal?
That’s what Hunter was here to find out. He frowned, then switched to a smile in the space of a blink. “I’m sure I’ll remember this trip forever.”
The older man nodded before glancing out his window, dismissing the conversation. His knobby knees bounced. Hunter couldn’t recall a time in the past six months seeing Carter anything but stoic.
With his own nerves jumping with excitement, Hunter pushed to his feet. The jet bobbed and dipped, and he stumbled on his way to the bathroom. His elbow jabbed Walter Thompson, who sat across the carpeted aisle.
Glaring at Hunter, his grimace in perfect harmony with the familiar scowl etched into his face, Walter grunted. “Watch it, boy.”
Hunter swallowed his irritation, a credit to his years of training. “Sorry. Turbulence.” He stared hard at Walter, the man well into his late fifties. Hunter knew how deeply embedded in the company Walter must be—he’d held onto his top ranking for four years now. How far would Walter go to prove his loyalty?
Continuing up the aisle, Hunter wove his way into the bathroom, then turned and locked the door. He withdrew his cell phone from his pocket, then pressed in the numeric code 962 as a text message, and hit SEND. The confirmation came within seconds. He slipped the phone back in his pocket, then waited two more minutes before flushing the toilet and exiting the bathroom.