Rebecca's Wolves (Wolf Masters Book 6) (32 page)

Rebecca could only do so much, but she knew if someone didn’t keep the blood flowing to that woman’s limb, she would lose it.

She moved to another patient. A small girl. She was crying, but not loud enough. She had a long cut down her cheek, blood running down her neck.

Rebecca grabbed some gauze from her bag and held it to the girl’s face. “Do you see your parents, honey?”

The girl shook her head. She was trembling with fear.

Rebecca met her gaze and held her cheeks. “We’re gonna help you, okay? Stay brave.” She glanced around again and found a teenage girl standing on the sidewalk, too stunned to move. “Sweetie,” Rebecca called to her, “Come here.”

The girl looked around and then pointed at herself.

“Yes. You. What’s your name?”

“Darla.”

“Great. Darla. I need your help. Can you do that?”

“Ye-yes.”

“Good. Hold this bandage and help this little girl to the hospital. Okay?”

Darla looked around frantically.

“Darla. Everyone who is able needs to help. You want this sweet girl to get medical attention, right?”

“Yes.” Darla leaned down and did as Rebecca asked.

Two down.

Rebecca stood to survey the area. So many people. Hundreds. She couldn’t do this alone.

She jogged to the next victim, and the next, and the one after that. She ordered stunned survivors to help the less fortunate.

“Rebecca. Baby.” She thought she heard Griffen in her head, but as she went to answer him telepathically, she realized the voice had been out loud.

She spun around and found him jogging toward her. He was out of breath. He stopped and pulled her into his arms tightly. “So fucking scared.”

“How did you find me?”

“Couldn’t get into your head. Went back to the hospital. They said you were here.” He stepped back. “What do you need me to do?”

“Stop blood, help people get to the hospital.” She lifted her face to his. “Where’s Miles?”

He hesitated.

“Dammit, Griffen.” She shook his arms. “Where’s Miles?”

“Not sure.” His voice was low, tender. “He got called to the reservation soon after you went to work. Some emergency. I can’t…”

“You can’t reach him,” she finished. She closed her eyes and reached out.
“Miles?”
Nothing.

“Maybe he’s busy. We can’t know what damage happened on that end of the lake.” Griffen gave her a squeeze. “Let’s get to work, baby.” He released her and tugged her hand.

They worked side by side for hours. The sun rose high in the sky and then dipped toward the other side. The heavens had no idea such destruction had occurred in this little slice of earth.

At some point, Griffen shoved a protein bar in Rebecca’s hand. “Eat.”

She took a bite and kept working.

“Eat,” he commanded again.

She rolled her eyes at him and took another bite.

By the afternoon, a full triage tent was running in the middle of the street. Every once in a while everyone froze while a building collapsed under the pressure or the rubble settled.

People who weren’t involved in the race were trapped inside many of the structures.

Rebecca had never seen anything like this in her life, not even on television. Such total destruction in her own town. A town she’d grown fond of. Now just piles of rubble.

When the sun fell, she was dead on her feet. She’d worked for over twelve hours without taking a break.

Griffen’s arms went around her and pulled her in tight. “Let’s go, baby.”

“We can’t. There’s still so much to do.”

“Baby, you’re exhausted. Every able-bodied medical personnel has arrived by now, even some from out of town. Look.” He lifted her face toward the tent.

It was indeed filled with doctors and nurses caring for the wounded.

“You’re no good to anyone until you’ve slept. They need you well rested.”

She nodded. He was right.

He took her hand and led her away from the havoc.

“Miles…” she reminded him. Neither of them had communicated with him all day. She choked on a sob as she considered the possibilities.

He didn’t say a word, but led her the few blocks to his condo. The streets were dark. There was no electricity. The entire triage area had been lit with generators, but now that they’d walked away…

Griffen opened the door and held her back. “Let me make sure it’s safe.” He went inside while she stood in the entrance, chewing on her lip. Worry she’d stuffed to the back of her mind for the past twelve hours now gnawed at her.

She had to take deep breaths to keep from breaking down in tears. It wouldn’t help anyone.

Griffen materialized in front of her again. “It’s safe. At least for now. Grab some things.”

“Where are we going?”

“To the reservation.”

She exhaled slowly.
Thank fuck
.

She hustled into the condo and stuffed a bag as if she were going away for several days. She couldn’t be sure what they would find when they reached the rez. She wanted to be prepared.

And then they ran to the truck.

Repeated attempts to contact Miles failed. It was so unusual that Rebecca fought the rising panic inside her. She tried to convince herself he was busy. Wherever he was, if the damage was anything close to what Cambridge looked like, he would have spent the entire day in a bustle of activity similar to what Rebecca and Griffen had experienced.

But it had been hours now, more than twelve, since she’d made contact with him.

“Stop thinking so hard, baby.” Griffen set his hand on her thigh and squeezed. “We’ll find him.”

She bit her lip.
Alive?

He squeezed her leg again. His own concern was as palpable in the truck cab as hers. This was not good, and they both knew it.

She watched out the truck window as Griffen pulled up to Miles’ house. Miles’ beat-up older truck wasn’t there. The place was dark. No sign of life. It also didn’t appear to have suffered much damage.

“Wait here,” Griffen commanded as he jumped down from the cab and jogged to the house. He’d left the truck running. Less than a minute later, he was back, swinging up into the truck. “He’s not here.”

She figured that. “Melinda’s?” They had to go somewhere.

Griffen nodded, threw the truck into reverse, and sped away from the house.

Miles groaned as he attempted to turn his head to the side. Something dug into his cheek. He tried to open his eyes. They were heavy and gritty. What the hell?

He was on his back, but his face was twisted to the side and smashed into the ground…gravel maybe. It smelled. Horse manure…

He fought to force himself more awake. His head hurt like a mother fucker. He couldn’t lift it. He couldn’t lift anything. Not even his arms and legs. He was pinned. Something heavy held him down.

His entire body hurt.

It was dark. Very dark. He could see, of course, but where the hell was he? A barn? It looked like an entire interior wall was on top of him.

He took a deep breath. He needed to calm down and figure out where he was.

Think
.

Randal Peaceman… The man had called him early that morning needing help with a birth.

He squeezed his eyes tight.
Think
.

He left after dropping Rebecca off at the hospital…

He showed up at the old man’s home and followed him to the barn…

There was no horse in labor… What the…?

That was all he could remember.

Fuck
.

He tried to move again to no avail.

Griffen. Rebecca.

“Hey…”
He knew his connection was weak, if coming through at all.

Nothing.

His mind was too foggy to make a connection with them. Maybe he had a concussion.

Deep breaths.

Someone moaned nearby.

He twisted his head in the direction of the noise, hoping to see something. Anything. Too dark. There was nothing to see. Barn walls. The side of a stall. So dark.

He swallowed. He was so thirsty. And son of a bitch, his head hurt.

“Griffen…”
he tried again.
“Oh, God. Rebecca?”

“Miles!”
The sweet, sweet voice of his mate penetrated the fog.

“Oh, thank God.”
He relaxed infinitesimally, having made the connection.

“Where are you? Miles? Talk to us,”
Rebecca communicated.

The moaning nearby started again.

“I think I’m in Randal Peaceman’s barn. That’s the last thing I remember.”
He sucked in a breath. His chest felt heavy.
“Get Melinda. She knows the place.”

Griffen’s voice came through next.
“We’re with Melinda now. She’s nodding. Getting in the truck. Hang tight.”

“Are you hurt?”
Rebecca asked.

“Not sure. Something heavy is on my chest. An entire wall, I think. What the fuck?”

“Maybe something fell on you during the earthquake?”
she continued.

“Earthquake?”
He shook his foggy brain, which only hurt worse.

Silence.

Apparently it would be strange that he didn’t know about any earthquakes.

Griffen came through again.
“Be there in ten, buddy. Hang tight.”

“Stay with me, Miles,”
Rebecca said.
“Please. You’re scaring me.”

“I’m here, love. I don’t think I’m dying.”
He tried to chuckle. It wasn’t funny. Rebecca didn’t laugh.

Miles jerked his head to the side again when he heard mumbling.

“Mother fucker…”
Randal?

“Randal?” Miles’ mouth was so dry the word barely came out. He tried again. “Randal?” He remembered being with Randal. Surely he still was. Maybe the two of them were pinned in an earthquake, though it worried Miles a lot that he didn’t remember the incident.

A grunt and then a shadow fell over him. Almost total darkness, but he recognized Randal.

“You’re still alive?” Randal asked. The guy was old. Very old. Miles was pretty sure he was the oldest living member of the pack. He still lived way out in the middle of nowhere with his moonshine and his few animals. Miles knew he had a son, Randal Junior, but he didn’t think the younger man lived out here with his father. He wasn’t sure if Randal Junior even lived on the reservation anymore. The old guy had been one of the elders who governed the tribe for many years. He still held the position, although in more of a figurehead capacity these days as a matter of respect.

“Something’s on top of me. Can you help?”

Sardonic cackling. “Fuck no, I ain’t helpin’ you, asshole. Unless by help you’re referring to the bullet I’m gonna put through your thick head. Then yeah.”

Miles flinched. What the fuck?
“Griffen. Dude. Heads up. Something’s not right here. I’m not alone. I think Randal has lost his mind. He’s threatening me.”
Out loud he said, “Randal, what the hell are you talking about? Help me up.”

More deep chuckling.

Miles fought against the obstruction on his chest and legs. What was wrong with him? He was so weak.

“Now you listen here, you asshole.” Randal’s voice sounded shaky. Pissed off. His face was full of rage as he leaned closer. He kicked something. There was a noise, and whatever pinned Miles shifted.

Miles screamed at the sharp pain in his legs when the item moved.

Randal laughed again. “Ain’t this perfect. A fucking earthquake pins the very asshole I’m about to kill. Nice.”

Kill?
Fuck.

“We’re close. What’s going on?”
asked Griffen.

“Randal is mumbling about killing me. He must have lured me here for that purpose and gotten thwarted by the earthquake. Be careful. I think he has a gun. I’m pinned in the barn. Something must have fallen on me in the quake. Do you have Rebecca and Melinda with you?”

“Yes.”

“Leave them in the car. Too dangerous. You might need to shift. Gonna have to shut off the engine and come in quiet so Peaceman doesn’t hear you coming.”

“Got it. Turning the car off now. I’ll run from here.”

Miles turned his attention back to the deranged old guy. He needed to reason with the man, buy some time. “Randal. Let’s talk about this. What’s bothering you?”

Was he suffering from dementia or something?

Randal laughed harder. “Rich. Sure. Let’s talk. Let’s talk about you thinking you can mate with two people outside our pack and get away with it.”

What?
“Get away with what, Randal? They’re my mates.” And how did Randal know so much about Miles’ private life? The man hardly ever came to town.

The pressure on his chest increased as Randal leaned into the object. He gritted out his next words. “We do not mate outside the pack, asshole. Never. We’re a superior tribe. We mate inside the pack.”

Miles licked his lips. He couldn’t think how to respond. “Okay, Randal. Calm down. Maybe I’m mistaken.”

“Yeah. Maybe you are. And maybe you’ve already planted your seed in that human bitch who isn’t a member of our pack or our tribe. She’s not even fucking lupine.” Spittle sprayed from Randal’s mouth to land on Miles’ face.

Miles shook his head. “I haven’t. Trust me. I would know.”

“Thank God for that. At least no half-breed fuckers will be born into the pack this time.”

This time? What the hell is he talking about?

“Guess the apple doesn’t fall far from the tree. You probably don’t even remember your mother. That bitch tried something similar. Must run in your family’s fucked-up blood. Look what happened to her.”

“My mother?” Miles had no memory of his mother. He was three when she disappeared and left him and Melinda with their grandmother. To this day no one knew if she was dead or alive. He knew there had been extensive search teams, but no body was ever found. It was as if she simply vanished. One day she left the house and never returned.

Did Randal kill her?

“That bitch made bad choices. Like the ones you’re making now. Thought she could mate with some white man. Stupid, stupid bitch.”