Rebecca’s Wolves(88)
She figured that. “Melinda’s?” They had to go somewhere.
Griffen nodded, threw the truck into reverse, and sped away from the house.
Chapter Thirty-One
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.