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Rebecca’s Wolves(47)

By:Becca Jameson


“Talk to us, baby,” Griffen encouraged.

“There was a fire.” Her voice was so low, he could barely hear her.

“Where?” Griffen asked.

“At my apartment.” She slumped back, covering her face with both hands, her chest heaving, her entire body shaking. Miles’ hand was trapped behind her, as was Griffen’s.

“A fire?”

“Transformer exploded, apparently.” She heaved for a breath, a sob escaping under the weight of the news.

“Ah, baby…” Griffen pulled her into his embrace.

She let him, her body going slack as she leaned into him. Her hands still covered her face as she cried.

Miles rubbed her shoulder and then slipped his hand into her hair under her braid, cupping her head. “I’m so sorry, love.”

She cried, soft tears of frustration and exhaustion. “This…is…so…insane…” Her words trickled out. It was hard to catch them all.

“How bad is it?” Griffen tipped her head back and gently lifted one hand from her face.

“Not sure yet,” she whispered. “Sharon will call back later. She’s heading over there now.”

“How did Sharon know?” Griffen asked.

Miles was wondering the same thing.

“Smoke everywhere. I don’t live far from her. She saw it on the news.”

Her phone rang again in her lap, and she jumped, her fingers fumbling to pick it up. She stared at the incoming number, shaking.

Miles took it from her hand and answered it. “Miles Bartel speaking.”

“Oh. I was looking for a Rebecca Larson.”

“This is her phone.”

“Ah. This is Detective Krantz with the Cambridge PD.”

“Yes. Are you calling about the fire?”

“Yes.” The man let out a breath, probably glad Miles was already informed. “I’m calling to ensure Ms. Larson wasn’t in the apartment, and that she’s safe.”

“She’s with me now. Shook up.”

“Understandable. So she wasn’t at the complex when the accident occurred?”

“Correct. She’s on the reservation with me.”

“Good. We’ll need to speak with her at some point, but that’s all I need for now. I have a list of residents to check on. Can I reach her at this number later?”

“Yes. Thank you.”

“No problem. Please give her my condolences.”

“I will. Do you know how extensive the damage is?”

“Not yet. Her unit may have some salvageable items. It’s hard to say. There were others that got hit worse.”

“Okay. Thank you. I’ll let her know.”

The line went dead.

“Is it bad?” she asked, her small frame shaking in Griffen’s arms.

“Not sure yet, love.” Miles stroked her face. His heart hammered in his chest.

If she’d been there…

If she’d gone home this morning…

If the tires hadn’t been flat…

If that tree hadn’t been blocking the road…

He swallowed the enormous lump in his throat as he pondered the implications.

Tears streamed down her face as she turned her cheek into his touch. “Do you think this was it?”

“What, baby?” Griffen asked.

“The warning. The reason for all the signs.” She cried harder, curling into Griffen.

Miles popped her seatbelt so she wouldn’t be tangled in the straps.

She turned onto her side, her head in Griffen’s lap, and sobbed. “I’m so sorry…” she mumbled.

Sorry? What was she sorry for?

She repeated it over and over, burrowing into the man who held her tighter.

Griffen struggled to pull her up higher and snuggle her into his chest.

She buried her face in his T-shirt and fisted the material on either side.

Pent up stress from days of aggravation let loose while she cried harder.

He met Miles’ gaze over her head. The man was also pale. He had no more idea how to handle a crying desperate woman than Miles, but he did the only thing either of them knew to do. Hold her. Let her ride it out.

When she finally sucked in deep cleansing breaths, Miles leaned over her and kissed the side of her head. “So sorry, love.” There wasn’t anything else to say. He understood what she was thinking, and he had no way of knowing if she was right.

Was it possible all the events of the last few days had led to this? A pile of pressure from the spirits placed in their paths to keep her out of harm’s way?

He shivered at the idea. He had been raised on this reservation, mostly by his grandmother. He knew better than most how important it was to heed the signs. He’d lived with not only two women most of his childhood, but both with the ability to see things. Precognitive. Not just shaman, but they had sensitivities even he couldn’t explain.