Sanctuary Unbound: Red Rock Pass, Book 4

by Moira Rogers

  Of course, he couldn’t admit it out loud.

  Dylan saved him by shaking his head. “No, Sasha needs to pull the bond into herself to learn how to duplicate the feeling, which will link her to whoever shares the bond. She’s familiar with me, and I’d rather be the one connected to her. Adam, you won’t have to hold the bond with me for more than a few minutes at most.”

  For the first time, Adam felt sincere gratitude to Dylan. “I can do that.”

  “What about me?” Cindy asked.

  Sasha closed the spell book. “I need you to gather blood from the refugees, as well as anyone else who’s leaving. A drop from each should do it.”

  “Dylan, you can help her,” Keith said from the end of the table. “The refugees could use a friendly face.”

  Gavin spoke. “Most of us are going to spend the day getting ready to go, or helping others do the same. We’ll center everything at the bar. That should make your task easier, Cindy.”

  “It should,” she admitted. “Having everybody in the same place.”

  And by nightfall the town would be all but empty, most of the weaker inhabitants gone, along with Joe and Brynn. Neither looked particularly happy about that as Keith and Gavin discussed the evacuation route, but neither argued, either. Red Rock was a town where people trusted their leaders, a town where responsibility and honor lived side-by-side.

  For the first time in years, Adam wondered what sort of town Joan and Seamus had built with the remnants of his people. Maybe it was something like this. Something safe. Something good.

  “Adam?”

  He started and realized Keith was looking at him, his expression expectant. “Yes?”

  “Are you okay staying with them at the bar in case Sasha and Cindy have questions?”

  “Of course.”

  Gavin pushed back his chair and rose. “If it’s all right, Keith, I need Adam’s help with something.”

  Keith nodded, clearly distracted, and Adam spared a smile for Cindy before rising to follow Gavin out into the backyard.

  He was braced for an angry accusation, but Gavin only pulled a cigarette from his pocket and stared at it. “I’ve already asked too much of you, but I—” He groaned. “This is hell. My pack’s going into a fight, and I have to tuck tail and run in the other direction.”

  Reminding him that the pack belonged to Keith now would only make it worse. Besides, once upon a time, Gavin had helped him save his own pack, his own life. Honor demanded he repay the wolf for the assistance. “You can ask whatever you want. I owe you too much.”

  “Help them.” The entreaty was hoarse. “They’re strong. They can handle this, but…in some ways they’re so young, Adam. I don’t know if we were ever that young.”

  “We weren’t young in the same ways they are,” Adam agreed. “It’s a different time. A different damn world. They’ve been through hell, but none of them were born into it. Doesn’t mean much when push comes to shove though, does it? Joan was a wide-eyed kid and she’s the one who went out and made something of her life. Sometimes us broken old bastards need to let the people who aren’t so damn tired take the lead.”

  Gavin looked through the window set in the door. “Time for me to let go, is that what you mean?”

  “Time for you to step back.” Adam rubbed at the back of his neck and closed his eyes. “Me, on the other hand… It’s time for me to step up.”

  “You’re here now. That’s what matters.”

  “Is it?”

  Gavin knew exactly what he meant. He tensed and avoided Adam’s eyes. “I tried to warn you about Cindy.”

  The phrasing annoyed Adam for no reason he could figure. “Maybe you should have warned her about me.”

  Gavin snorted. “Cindy’s stronger than she knows. If you two become involved and it goes bad, she’ll be fine. Hurt, but fine. You?” Worry creased his face. “I’m afraid of what would happen if you fell in love with her and then lost her.”

  His pride rebelled at that, but he was too old to let it sting him for long. “She reminds me of Astrid, a little.”

  “Oh, Jesus Christ.” Gavin’s hands closed into fists.

  Adam realized how it sounded too late. “Oh, shit Gavin, not like that. I’m not… Christ, don’t be an idiot.”

  “What the hell am I supposed to think, Adam? You mourned Astrid for years, longer than anyone else you lost in that whole mess. I figured it out a long time ago.”

  “Then you figured out the wrong thing.” Adam scuffed his boot on the ground and shook his head. “Astrid didn’t want me, and I failed her. I spent forty years trying to convince myself those two facts weren’t related.”

  “What did you figure out?”

  “That I’m not that kind of bastard. That I did every God damned thing I could to save them.” He closed his eyes. “And that’s the terrifying part, isn’t it? I’m back where I started, with a woman I’ve got complicated feelings for, only this time my brain’s all muddled and it’ll hurt a thousand times more if I fuck it all up.”

  “There’s a world of difference between this and Boston, Adam. You’re not saving these people. You’re helping them save themselves.”

  It all felt the same now—crushing responsibility. “I promise I’ll do better by your people than I did by my own.”

  Gavin’s expression turned bleak. “If that’s how you see this, you need to go. Today, when everyone else leaves. You can head back east.”

  “Damn it, Gavin, what do you want me to say?”

  The door swung open, and Cindy stepped out on the back porch, her arms crossed over her chest. “Is everything all right?”

  Adam snapped his mouth shut and drew in a sharp breath before letting himself reply. “Fine, Cindy. Gavin and I were just having a spirited little chat.”

  She hesitated. “Gavin? Are you being an ass?”

  “It’s my resting state, love.” His tone fell just short of teasing. “Ask anyone.”

  Cindy wasn’t buying it. “Sam wanted to see you.”

  “Guess that’s my cue, then.” He looked at Adam. “We can talk more before Sammie and I leave.”

  He didn’t doubt Gavin would find time, even if there wasn’t any to be readily had. “I look forward to it.”

  Gavin brushed a hand over Cindy’s shoulder as they passed each other on the porch steps. She gave him a strained smile in return and gave Adam a questioning look as the door closed.

  The wind tugged at a strand of her hair, pulling it across her neck. Adam reached out and smoothed it back into place with a smile. “History. Ancient history.”

  “He wasn’t giving you a hard time over staying at my place last night?”

  “Maybe a little of that too.” It didn’t seem prudent to tell Cindy that Gavin was concerned over the state of Adam’s heart instead of hers.

  “Ignore it,” she urged quietly. “We don’t deal with change very well around here, but once we get used to things…” Her words trailed off, and her cheeks reddened.

  It was his fault she thought he was taking off for Maine as soon as the dust cleared, and he didn’t know what to say. Promising that he wouldn’t might put too much pressure on them both, but a reassuring lie was still a lie. He settled for a middle ground. “At least Gavin will have other things to think about. I’ll stick around long enough once he gets back to yell at me until it’s out of his system.”

  She nodded silently and looked away. “I have to get set up at the bar. I’ll see you later.”

  The last thing he wanted to do was spend another hour listening to werewolves bicker over evacuation and battle plans. “I’ll come with you. They’ll be fine without me.”

  “Okay.” Cindy held out her hand. “I’m glad you’re here, Adam, and it has nothing to do with this fight.”

  “Me too.” Her hand was small for being so strong, but he liked the feel of it curled in his. “Let’s go before they drag us back in there.”

  Her smile widened, and she pulled him down and kissed him, soft and
slow and warm. It wasn’t the easy kiss of a convenient lover or a casual sex partner. Her lips under his made his heart race and his blood heat, and signaled danger. Too much danger.

  He supposed with the world falling in around them a bit more danger wouldn’t matter, which made it easy to kiss her again.

  Chapter Six

  Cindy laid the last of the folded shirts into Gavin’s suitcase and held up the small white paper bag she’d brought from her office. “Everything is clearly labeled with instructions. Some are only in case of emergency. Call me if you can. Otherwise, ask Joe.”

  “We’ll be fine, Cindy.” Sam didn’t look up from her desk, the scratch of pen on paper almost as loud as her voice. “I need to talk to you about some worst-case scenarios before I leave.”

  They couldn’t afford pretense. All it did was stave off the inevitable. “All right.”

  “I keep contacts in Helena, and some in Minneapolis. This town wouldn’t have survived cut off from everything, not even with my money.” She signed the bottom of the page, her signature a mess of loops and swirls, then pushed the paper away. “When Keith left a few years ago, I made some changes in my estate. Everyone knows I inherited money from my father, but most people don’t know how much.”

  Sam had never denied her a request for a necessary piece of equipment or technology, regardless of the expense. “I always assumed you had plenty.”

  “And I do. I’ve always kept my investment risks conservative. Red Rock’s needs are supported entirely by the interest, and during the years we don’t lend assistance to other packs, I tend to reinvest the extra.” Sam folded the paper carefully and slipped it into an envelope. “If something happens to us, the bulk of the money goes to Keith first, then Joe, then you.”

  The unspoken line of succession. Cindy cleared her throat. “What do you need me to do?”

  “You just need to know. Keith knows, and he’s telling Joe. I’ve also set up accounts for all three of you. Emergency funds. If the transfer of the estate doesn’t go smoothly, you’ll have enough to keep the town running for a year or so.” Sam held up the envelope. “Debit cards and checks are in here, as well as some cash. I keep an emergency stash in the darkroom Gavin built me. The bottom box in my stack of chemicals.”

  The extent of Sam’s planning scared the hell out of her. “Are you taking extra pains to be prepared, or do you have some reason to think you won’t make it back?”

  The older woman’s smile was exhausted but real. “I think we’re going to drive to St. Anthony, and Albert and Sally’s great-grandchildren are going to crawl all over Gavin until he never wants to leave. And you lot will do us proud. But if things go badly, I want to know everyone will be taken care of.”

  Sam was so tired, even more so than Gavin. Cindy closed the suitcase. “We had the best mentors, didn’t we? You two have taught us everything.”

  “You of all people know how badly we wanted children. And now we have them.”

  Tears threatened, and Cindy blinked them back. “I’d be dead if it weren’t for you and Gavin.”

  “Oh, honey.” The chair scraped across the floor. “Come here.”

  She wanted to fall into Sam’s arms, to let the woman who was usually her friend be her mother. Instead, she folded her into a hug. “You take care of Gavin and of yourself. Don’t worry about anything else.”

  “I’ll always worry about you.” Sam was tall, tall enough to kiss the top of Cindy’s head. “I don’t know what you’re doing with Adam, but all I need to know is one thing. Is it making you happier than you were?”

  “That’s a reasonable question.” Cindy laughed and wiped her cheeks. “I like him. I don’t know what we’re doing either, but he makes me happy.”

  Sam smiled and released her. “Good. Sometimes all we need is a little joy. I’m going to tuck the envelope in my desk drawer. It’s got contact numbers in it too. Not just for Idaho, but for Seamus and Joan in Maine.”

  “Joan.” Maybe, after everything had settled, Adam would take her number and get in touch with her. Pick up the frayed threads of friendship, maybe even visit.

  The pain that lanced through her at the thought of him leaving was so sudden and shocking that Cindy almost gasped. Only one hand braced on the back of a chair kept her from swaying.

  Sam’s eyebrows came together. “Adam and Joan were never… I mean, if that’s what you’re thinking, it’s foolish. Joan’s been happily married longer than I’ve been alive.”

  “What? No, that’s not—” She took a step back. “I know how things were between them.”

  “Then I don’t understand.”

  As if the puzzled expression on Sam’s face hadn’t told Cindy as much. “Just occurred to me, that’s all. That Adam probably won’t be staying.”

  “Oh.” Sam moved to the bed and hoisted the suitcase. Her next words were slow, too casual…and a clearer sign of worry than the hugs and tears had been. “It’s just occurred to you? Or it just matters more now?”

  “Both, I guess.” It was easy to be rational, to recognize and accept the harshest realities when your heart wasn’t in danger. She’d known he would leave—he lived across the country, for Christ’s sake—but she hadn’t felt it until now.

  Sam nodded but didn’t reply until she’d set the suitcase on the floor and turned to face Cindy again. “It’ll work out, but don’t forget what I said about Adam being more like Gavin than he knows. You can see what this is doing to Gavin, not being able to protect his people. Adam takes things even harder.” Sam smiled and clasped Cindy’s hand. “But that means he’s worth it. All the men who care hard are worth it, whether they know it or not.”

  Adam was something beyond oblivious, and far more damaging. Events almost a century past had convinced him of his lack of worth. Of his weakness. “Adam and I have more in common than he realizes, I think.”

  “Maybe you do.” Sam didn’t sound particularly surprised. But then, she wouldn’t be.

  “Work on Gavin while you’re gone.” Cindy smiled. “He still thinks Adam is taking advantage of me.”

  “All Gavin wants is to see both of you happy, be that together or apart.” Sam nudged the suitcase with her foot. “You put his medication in here, didn’t you?”

  “Along with the instructions.” She hugged Sam again. “Tell Sally and Al that I said hi.”

  Sam held her a little longer than usual, but when she let go her eyes and expression were clear. “You better run on. Tell Keith and Abby where the money is. I’ll make sure Joe knows too.”

  “Come back,” Cindy found herself saying. “There’s more to this sanctuary thing than money. We need you.”

  “You don’t need us.” Confidence filled Sam’s voice, along with warmth and pride. “But I sure as hell am coming back.”

  “The best of both worlds, then. You can come back to a relaxing, fulfilling retirement.”

  “That’s the plan, anyway. Take care, Cindy.”

  Stepping back took a conscious effort, and Cindy crossed her arms over her chest. They both had more to do, and not much time left. “I have to check on a few of the refugees before you guys head out. I’ll see you when I see you, Sam.”

  She ducked out of the room and hurried down the stairs before the tears choking her could find their way free. They’d planned all they could, and the rest was up to chance. They’d make it or they wouldn’t.

  Only time would tell.

  Sasha opened the apartment door before Adam managed to knock. “We’re ready.”

  It would be uncharitable to accuse them of being excited. “Of course you are. Let’s get this over with.”

  She’d set out books and herbs on the coffee table in the living room. Folded beside the spell components lay a white cotton cloth dotted with dozens of spots blood. Adam paused to examine it, brushing his fingers along the edge of the fabric. “The Helena wolves?”

  “Yes. Well—” She flushed. “Most of them. Cindy thought it would be more believable if it seemed like not
everyone survived.”

  Adam considered it, weighing the possibility against what he’d felt from the other vampire. “He knows I stole the bonds. He can’t know I released them. It’s not an easy thing to do, so he might not even know it’s a possibility. Yeah, if I’d kept taking power from the weak and injured, they’d be dead now.”

  Sasha knelt and flipped through one of the books. “Cindy’s smart about those things.”

  It seemed like an offhand statement, but at the base it was anything but innocent. “About the horrible things people do to each other?”

  “No, not just that.” She looked up at him thoughtfully. “Eventualities. Looking at the big picture. I would have made sure I didn’t miss anyone when I collected the blood, and that would have been wrong. It’s too neat. Suspicious.”

  “I suppose so.” Adam straightened and surveyed the cluttered room. “Where’s Dylan?”

  “Talking to Bobby. He’ll be here soon.” Sasha closed the book carefully. “We should talk about what I plan to do. It can be jarring, and I’d rather warn you now than have you angry or embarrassed.”

  “All right.” He lowered himself to the couch more to put himself on eye level than out of any real desire to sit. “Tell me, then.”

  “It’s more intimate than you know, my process,” she confessed. “I’ve grown accustomed to ignoring the baser aspects of my magic, but I’ll still be privy to your knowledge—and your thoughts—for a short time. Most people find that uncomfortable.”

  Adam had to tell himself not to show his amusement. “Sasha, sweetheart, I was bound to a witch and a werewolf for nearly four years. Most of the bonds weren’t intimate, but Joan and Astrid and I had to learn how to stay out of each other’s heads.”

  “Don’t be condescending, Adam,” she said mildly. “This isn’t as simple as a bond. Your experience will help you keep Dylan out of your thoughts, but you can’t hide from this magic. If you could, the spell wouldn’t work.”

  He was showing his usual talent for communication. “I didn’t mean I could keep you out. I was saying I’m used to it.” He smiled a little. “You don’t know invasive until you’ve had a prissy teetotaler debutante getting judgmental with you over every inappropriate thought. Just promise not to faint, and I’ll be fine.”