A Fragile Family

by J. J. Massa

  Montgomery Family Legacies 1

  A FRAGILE FAMILY

  By

  J.J. Massa

  Scanning, uploading and/or distribution of this book via the Internet, print, audio recordings or any other means without the permission of the Publisher is illegal and will be prosecuted to the fullest extent of the law.

  This book is a work of fiction. Names, places, events and characters are fictitious in every regard. Any similarities to actual events or persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.

  Montgomery Family Legacies 1: A Fragile Family

  Copyright©2007 J.J. Massa

  ISBN: 978-1-60054-122-4 (E-Book)

  Love Songs and Fairy Tales

  Cover art and design by TLW

  All rights reserved. Except for review purposes, the reproduction of this book in whole or part, electronically or mechanically, constitutes a copyright violation.

  Published by loveyoudivine

  2007

  Find us on the World Wide Web at

  www.loveyoudivine.com

  Dedication:

  To some of my closest friends—Tracey, Claudia, Sasha, Holly – Thank you.

  To Barb, always my champion. Tom Jackson, a good man. March 14, 2007. You’re in my heart.

  Prologue

  Camiguin Province

  Northern Mindanao

  Philippines

  “I don’t see it.”

  “Don’t see what?”

  Ashley puffed a heavy sigh. “Sherman, are you even here with me?”

  “Sure I am, sweet cheeks,” the large man grinned, his head popping out from behind an old, overused map.

  “I’m looking for the fuel filter. There must be a fuel filter…” she stopped, pulling in another deep breath. “Sherman, you think you could come over here and give me a hand?”

  “Sugar hips, nothing would make me happier…except maybe calling a limo right now. Problem is, a limousine turning up on this lovely dirt road is just as likely as you getting that relic started again.” Sherman moved around the car during his little speech and now stood facing her. The first heavy drops of rain were splattering his face.

  He was right, she knew that. And because of that, he had already insisted that they prepare the three families stranded in this isolated little town for the storm on its way. First an earthquake had divided this low-lying plain, and now, a storm threatened.

  There just weren’t that many options. It was a low-lying area and the ground was dusty and dry. There weren’t any caves in the area and the only hills around were likely to cause more harm than good. They couldn’t take the families anywhere, really, that would make them safe.

  They’d ridden in with the usual emergency team, splitting up so that the other three members could go to a larger settlement and help those people regroup in the aftermath of the earthquake—the result of an angry volcano.

  Unfortunately, the other team was out of reach and there was no transportation available to take anyone anywhere. To make a bad situation worse, this small settlement was on the side of a steep hill. Though there were seven volcanoes on the island, the area surrounding this little village was all loamy dirt. Dirt that made mud.

  “Ahh, stuff it!” she growled, aggravated. It was a “Myles” thing to say, she knew it. But somehow, invoking her estranged mate comforted her just a little bit. It didn’t take away her ire, though. “We’re stuck and I’m just wasting time, right? Just go ahead and say you told me so, why don’t you?”

  “You said it well enough yourself, Ash. You don’t need me for that. Now,”

  Sherman folded the map and stuck it back into whatever pocket or flap he’d pulled it out of. “Let’s go find us some grub, shall we? It pays to eat while it’s on offer, don’t-cha-know?”

  “Yeah, yeah,” Ashley grumbled, following Sherman into one of the ramshackle buildings that those who’d remained behind were using as a community center.

  ****

  The rain beat a steady tattoo on the tin roof, a drumbeat of danger, impending doom that everyone there was aware of, and could do nothing about. They’d already lined a wall of sandbags around the perimeter of the little community, hoping to divert the flow of mud when it came. And it would come. There was no doubt about that.

  As if Sherman were privy to her bleak thoughts, and he so often was, the large man strode toward her, entering from the opposite side of the building, his long legs eating the distance between them.

  “John-John, could you get me some more rice crisps?” Ashley smiled sweetly at the little boy who’d become her adoring shadow. The moment he scampered away, she looked at Sherman. “What’s wrong, Sherm?”

  “Ash, the storm is increasing in strength and heading this way. We’ve got one real problem and a potential one,” he warned her.

  “Oh, is that all?” she quipped elbowing him, eliciting a tight smile from her team leader. “Hit me!”

  “Not that you don’t need a good spanking,” he winked, then sobered. “Okay, the real problem is, of course, that the trench and sandbags might not hold off the water and mud because of the ground saturation and such. Worse than that, though, is that there’s a few little farms up the hill there, some with cleared dirt, and one for sure with a pond of some kind. Uh…” he faltered for a second and then continued. “There’s a weak tectonic shelf, according to the genealogist I just spoke to, with a rock mass consisting of sheared and brecciated volcanic, sedimentary and volcaniclastic rocks.”

  Ashley stared at him, blinking, ice water pounding through her veins. She shook her head hard. “Are you telling me that the rain is going to wash whatever is up there down, and what’s up there is big and heavy and going to steamroll right over us?”

  Sherman squeezed his eyes shut and then opened them, looking back at her.

  “That’s the short answer, yeah,” he nodded.

  Ashley moved to the covered doorway of the dilapidated building, her eyes marking the lush countryside rolling green and misty above her. The rain seemed to increase in velocity, hammering at the soft earth, mocking her, the cacophony ridiculing her guilt. And she did feel guilty because her first thought was that she’d be too busy, too worried to think of her mate, to miss Myles, if she were entrenched in a life or death struggle.

  One wry glance up at Sherman told her that his guilt echoed hers.

  Chapter One

  Office of Bernadette Fonteneax, Disaster Relief Coordinator

  UCH-Medical Center

  Tampa, Florida

  “Blinkin’ shite,” Myles murmured, almost under his breath.

  Bernadette looked from Myles to his adopted brother who was her own husband and mate, Marc. It hadn’t been easy giving Myles bad news about Ashley, his mate—his wife? She wasn’t completely sure, but she thought they were considered married. The two hadn’t exchanged vows as she and Marc had, but Ashley wore a faint bite mark on her shoulder very similar to Bernadette’s.

  That bite mark made it official in a werewolf pack. Wedding vows or not, Ashley had taken his last name. She and Myles were joined in the eyes of the pack, and she supposed, God. Certainly, being mated was a force of nature, and apparently couldn’t be undone except by death. They were mated, ergo: Ashley and Myles were also married, right?

  Regardless, Ashley was missing. Ashley West-Montgomery and her team leader, Sherman Landon were both missing. They’d been in the Philippines aiding in the recovery of an earthquake that had ravaged several islands. The rains that had followed the quake had been worse than the original catastrophe.

  Marc moved up behind Myles and squeezed his shoulders.

  “Bloody. Buggery. Bollocky. HELL!” Myles ground out.

  Bernadette’s head snapped back as if she’d been struck. One didn’
t need to live in England to understand the curse words. Besides, Myles’ tone was perfectly clear.

  “They were in the area of Northern Mindanao, one of the least populated municipalities of Camiguin. Needless to say, everything that can be done is being done, in an effort to…” Bernadette was hiding behind official speak right now. Obviously, Myles was having none of it.

  “Sod all,” Myles growled. “That’s what’s being done. I’m going in there and finding my Princess…”

  “Myles, come on,” Marc interrupted. “You can’t even get there right now. Not by boat, plane, not at all.”

  “You!” Myles’ face was changing now, hair covering his cheekbones, teeth elongating. “You bloody well knew what was going on! My mate!” He whirled away from Bernadette and stalked around the chair, toward Marc, snarling.

  “Go wait outside, Bernadette,” Marc growled, his face changing now. “Go!”

  Bernadette scampered out of the office, only too pleased to be out of the way.

  She’d heard stories about Myles’ superior strength and had even seen it in action for a split second. That’s how long it had taken him to snap the spine of an attacking werewolf.

  But Marc and Myles were brothers, always looking out for each other. She knew they wouldn’t hurt one another but still…

  She shook her head. She didn’t want to think about that. A loud crash drew her attention to the door again, snarls echoing through the thick wood. Bernadette flinched and stepped to the side of the door, because anything could happen now, and she was frankly relieved to be out of the line of fire.

  “You knew! You could have stopped her! You could have told me!” Myles voice raged on the other side of the door.

  “If I’d told you, she would’ve done it anyway, but somewhere else! At least this way, I knew!” Marc bellowed back at Myles. And did it really matter what they were saying to each other? Bernadette didn’t really think so.

  “She could be hurt, in pain, in need,” Myles’ voice was lower now, but still heard.

  “I can’t stand it, Marc…I can’t stand it.”

  A low howl, the heartbroken sound of a dog in pain rose up, floating out to her, rending her heart, squeezing and drawing tears to her eyes.

  ****

  Devastated.

  Marc couldn’t think of another word. His little brother—everyone’s little brother, was devastated. A book slid off a tumbled pile behind them, a muted punctuation to the heartbreak written on Myles’ face.

  Both men were on their knees now, and he held Myles against his chest, head pressed between neck and shoulder as he licked and soothed, allowing the younger man to grieve.

  There was no reason yet to think that Ashley was lost, and he knew that wasn’t what Myles was grieving about. It was time, the lost years that separated Ashley and Myles as they’d grown apart, living separate lives, each on their own side of an ever-widening chasm.

  Finally, Myles pulled back, his beast in check once again. “You can’t go there, Myles,” Marc murmured, raising a finger to brush away a lingering tear. “You know that, right?”

  “I’d feel something if she were gone, yeah mate?” Myles looked into Marc’s face, a younger brother checking his facts. “I mean, I could feel that she was…something was wrong, but it doesn’t feel like she’s gone…”

  “I--I think you would,” Marc nodded, looking earnestly back at him. “Riker …well, I know guys who’ve felt things from their mates when separated,” he trailed off, not able to complete that thought.

  “It’s okay, pet. I don’t think she’s dead, I just don’t,” Myles grunted, turning away, gaining his feet again.

  Marc rose behind him, laying a hand on his shoulder. “Why don’t you come and stay with me for a bit, huh? Come on over to the house, spend time with Rafe and Tayler, let Bernadette feed you up a little.”

  Marc’s immediate family was made up of his mate, Bernadette, Rafe, and Tayler.

  Rafe was a young Were who had been sent to kill Tayler, Bernadette’s pup, but who had come to love him and assumed the role of protector.

  “I don’t…I can’t…How can I eat, Marc? She’s out there…” Myles was stumbling over his words now, stuttering.

  A hand on the side of his neck told Marc that the other Were had a rapid but weak pulse and clammy skin—he was going into shock. Whatever their problems, love and empathy were not missing between Myles and Ashley.

  His own heart breaking with the loss of Myles’ and Ashley’s well-being, Marc tried to shove it all away. He stepped up to the phone, punching a few buttons as he gathered Myles into one arm.

  When his assistant picked up, Marc didn’t waste time on pleasantries. “Jeanette, are my pups around there?” he addressed the Were who was his able assistant and general dogs body. “Send Rafe in to Bernadette’s office with a blanket and a saline IV kit.”

  He didn’t wait for a reply, hanging up the phone and lowering Myles down until he was seated once again on the floor. Sinking down behind him, Marc wrapped Myles in a bear hug, sharing body heat. If Myles had been unconscious, Marc would have laid him down, but for now, he kept him upright, hoping Rafe would hurry.

  Marc needed the young Were to help him get Myles home, but before that, he needed to make sure his little brother was hydrated, safe. Should he have told Myles about Ashley’s activities? She’d sworn him to secrecy about working with the Disaster Unit, and Marc had kept his word. Nobody in the family knew that Ashley West-Montgomery, daughter to Tavist Darke and mate to Myles Montgomery, put her life on the line regularly to rescue strangers from natural disasters. They very likely would have kicked his ass from one end of the pack to the other had they found out.

  Seventeen years had passed since Myles was legally adopted by Mik Montgomery, the Montgomery-Livingston Pack Alpha. He became a Montgomery, and literally, a werewolf in blood at the very same time when Mik donated his own DNA to help rid Myles of Hemophilia. The disease had been worsening and his future looking bleak prior to the experimental procedure that saved and changed his life forever. Now, aside from his accent and the fact that he couldn’t change completely into wolf form, Myles was so much a member of the Montgomery clan that his birth origins didn’t matter at all.

  Marc was divided between self-flagellation and soothing Myles, murmuring softly to him as he berated himself. Myles was unresponsive, shivering, and occasionally tugging against Marc’s hold. Marc simply held on, busy worrying about Myles, fretting about what he should and shouldn’t have done regarding Ashley when the door opened and Rafe came striding in.

  “¿ Qué paso, Papi?” Rafe asked, pulling the door closed resolutely behind him.

  One quick glance no doubt took in the chairs thrown aside and an overturned bookshelf.

  Marc could smell Tayler from a distance and knew that Rafe was protecting him from the unknown. From whatever it was that Marc had called him into. The twenty-year-old Were had adopted Marc and Bernadette as surrogate parents when his own father had been killed during an attack on Tayler.

  He was now a full and valuable member of the extended Montgomery-Livingston pack. Marc was the overall pack leader for the Florida and Alabama branches of the very large werewolf pack.

  Rafe made their family perfect, as if they’d always been a family—two sons, two parents. But what a collection they were. Beautiful, brown-skinned Bernadette, then Rafe with dark, almost black skin and long, glossy straight hair, silver flecks in his dark eyes.

  Tayler’s skin was a creamy caramel color, a cap of curly black hair and dark gold eyes making him cuter than he wanted to be. Then there was Marc with his black hair and pale yellow eyes. They did look like a family, a motley one, but a family nonetheless.

  “Myles is in shock,” Marc explained brusquely, accepting the saline bag from Rafe, knowing he was worried, too. He quickly swabbed a length of Myles forearm over the vein and then eased the IV needle in.

  “What happened?” Rafe asked, easing the blanket around Myles’ shoulders, ca
reful not to interfere with the tubing.

  “Hold this,” Marc instructed, handing the bag to Rafe. “Go ahead and stand—the bag needs to be elevated. I’m gonna get an ammonia capsule and bring him around again.” Rafe did as instructed, keeping one eye on Myles and one eye on the door. Marc knew he was concerned about Tayler’s safety. That was always uppermost on Rafe’s mind. “It’s okay, son,” he began, stroking a soothing hand across Rafe’s cheek on the way to the first aide kit in Bernadette’s desk. “Ashley is missing, and we had to tell Myles.”

  “Tayler,” Rafe called softly. “Tayler-Puppy,” he called again. “He’ll comfort Myles, you won’t need that smelly stuff,” Rafe explained.

  Marc knew that Tayler was out there, and knew that he’d heard every word. The door opened slowly and the thin young Were eased inside. Marc’s eyes locked with the dark butterscotch eyes of his adopted pup. Tayler nodded and Marc winked, holding out a hand.

  It was almost painful to watch Tayler limp the short distance from the door to Myles, and Marc made a mental note to have a talk with Rafe. Obviously, he was carrying Tayler again as opposed to making him walk. Rafe couldn’t stand the idea of Tayler suffering, even if it was for his own good.

  Tayler was still recovering from a painful and debilitating bout of canine distemper virus, complete with myclonic seizures—painful muscle contractions that sometimes rendered his legs next to worthless. His illness had brought Bernadette and Marc together, and for that, Marc was grateful. The pain this little pup lived with day in and day out was excruciating for all of them. He didn’t blame Rafe for wanting to ease Tayler’s suffering, even though, in the long run, it was doing him more harm than good.

  Tayler planted both hands on Myles’ shoulders, lowering himself to straddle the older, more muscular Were’s legs. “Myles?” he murmured, his voice still high-pitched with youth. “It’s me, Tayler,” he added, his palms cupping Myles’ cheeks now.