She turned her gaze to his. Had both these men lost their minds? “Can’t you drop me off first?” It was nearly forty-five minutes from Cambridge to Sojourn. They were about halfway between the two cities.
Griffen shook his head. His face grew serious. “It doesn’t work that way, baby.”
“What doesn’t work what way?” She knew on some deep level she should be terrified of this new development. Two men she’d known for less than a weekend had her in an old truck headed toward the Indian reservation—or so they said. They could do anything they wanted with her and toss the body. It would take years for someone to find her bones out here.
“Rebecca, look at me,” Miles commanded.
She twisted her neck in his direction, fighting to breathe over her panic.
“How long have you known Sharon?”
“Several months.”
“Do you honestly believe she’d leave you with two deranged madmen? One of us is even her brother.”
“No.” But people misjudged others every day.
Miles winked at her and took one hand off the steering wheel to set it on her thigh. “You’re safe. Trust me. Nothing’s going to happen to you that you don’t beg for, love.” His smile widened.
Was she supposed to understand his once-again cryptic sexual innuendo?
They drove in silence while Rebecca pondered the situation. There were things these two men knew and hadn’t shared with her. More than the fact they were wolf shifters. What the hell was up with the black cloud thingy?
Miles kept his hand on her thigh, rubbing circles that reached so close to her pussy she had to fight against the growing wetness gathering between her legs to soak her pants.
Griffen continued to stroke her neck with the fingers dangling over her shoulder, fingers that reached precariously close to the edge of her shirt and skimmed her bra.
Insanity. Neither man seemed concerned about the other.
And weirder—she would bet money they were talking silently between themselves the entire drive. Possibly even tag teaming against her libido.
Who did that? Two men, both seemingly interested in her, neither of them worried about the other.
Finally, they pulled off the main road—if you could call it that—and onto a gravel drive. “Stopping by my place first. You must be starving. We’ll get something to eat, clean up, and then go to my grandmother’s.”
She nodded. It wasn’t up for discussion.
As a quaint ranch-style home came into view, Miles muttered a single, “Fuck.”
“That’s your grandmother, isn’t it?” Griffen asked.
“Yep.”
“I thought you were kidding about her.”
“Nope.” Miles turned off the engine and faced Rebecca and Griffen. “Showtime, I guess.”
“What’s he talking about?” Rebecca felt a sinking feeling in the pit of her stomach that she wasn’t going to enjoy the next hour very much.
“She’s got the sight,” Griffen teased.
Miles rolled his eyes. “She’s a medicine woman.”
“You’re saying she can tell the future?”
“Apparently,” Griffen muttered under his breath, “or she wouldn’t be sitting on Miles’ porch waiting for us.”
Rebecca couldn’t wrap her head around the concept any more than anything else she’d experienced in the last day.
“It doesn’t really work quite like that. More like visions.” Miles opened his door and jumped down from the cab before Griffen had a chance, so he reached for Rebecca’s hand and tugged her out his side, grasping her waist to set her on the ground. He let his hand slip to hers and threaded their fingers together as he made his way toward the porch. “Mimi,” he greeted her.
The woman was tiny. It was amazing she was related to the beast of a man beside Rebecca. She pulled herself to standing. She was fit and strong. Rebecca couldn’t be sure how old she was. Her skin was weathered from the sun, but probably she was younger than she appeared. Her long white hair was pulled back in a single ponytail that hung down her back. She wore a dark blue dress that seemed more appropriate for winter. Her face was darker than Miles’.
She didn’t smile. Her brow was furrowed as they approached.
Griffen appeared on Rebecca’s other side, his hand landing on her lower back.
“Grandma, this is Rebecca. Rebecca, my grandmother, Mimi Bartel. Grandma, you remember Griffen.”
His grandmother hadn’t glanced at him, nor had she acknowledged Griffen. Her gaze traveled with Rebecca all the way to the porch where Rebecca now stood at the foot of the stairs with the two men, feeling the sweat trail down her back at this woman’s perusal.