by Anya Nowlan
As he was turning back to walk to Redmond, something struck him, like an arrow to the heart. He was left gasping for a moment, frozen in place. It felt very much like what he imagined losing a limb would feel like. Twisting, wringing pain that seemed to take hold of him for a moment that lasted far too long. When he managed to draw breath again, Ragnar knew what was wrong.
Abigail.
Something was happening to Abigail and he knew he needed to find her.
“I need to go,” he roared over his shoulder, scrambling past Old Bell and running toward Deacon who was taking a momentary breather after coming from the other end of the fire site. “I need your truck!” Ragnar said, his entire body speaking of urgency.
Deacon took one look at him and snaked out the keys from his pocket. It didn’t take much for one shifter to understand another’s pain and it wasn’t like Ragnar was hiding anything in this case. With a barely mumbled thank you on his lips, Ragnar scrambled into the truck and kicked it into gear. He floored it as soon as he could, sending dust flying in his wake as he peeled out of the command post on one of the rural roads.
His body was pricked with goose bumps as he made the truck go as fast as it possibly could, taking any and every shortcut he could think of to reach home faster. Hamilton House seemed like it had been moved a million miles farther away, with every second taking ten times as long in Ragnar’s head.
I’m coming, beautiful, he thought desperately.
He didn’t know what it was that made him so sure that something was wrong with Abigail, but his bear was adamant about it and his physical reaction was chilling. Never had he felt that kind of panic. Gnashing his teeth, he reached the intersection leading to the house and his stomach dropped when he saw the clear, harrowing signs of a fire blazing somewhere close to the house.
The truck wanted to bump off the road a few times as he made it go far faster than the snaking road allowed. As he got closer, he saw that it was the workshop that was on fire, a tight, concentric circle of flame drawn around it with no way in. Ragnar pulled up in front, jumping out of the cab before it had even come to a proper stop.
“Abigail!” he yelled, his hands balled into fists. “Abigail, are you in there?”
But he didn’t get an answer. Even without it, he knew she had to be. Through the flames, he could see Redmond’s truck parked in the workshop but Abigail nowhere in sight. His throat closed up for a second when he noticed that the pit was covered up on one side, which was the only way to get out of there. The smoke was snaking low and thick and the fire was beginning to creep up the inside of the shed, consuming everything in its path.
Without thinking, he let the shift take him over. He’d never changed so fast in his life. His body grew wider and thicker, elongating at every end and becoming rippled with muscle and thick hide. The soft but slick dark brown coat covered him from head to toe and when he fell on his front paws, lashing his nails into the dry earth, he let out a deep, rumbling roar.
There was worry in his brown eyes as he charged forward, but not for his own health or safety. Throwing himself through the flames, that seemed like the least important thing in the world. The fire curled around him, giving him no choice but to ram through it as it singed and bit at him mercilessly. Luckily the area around the truck and the pit was still mostly clear, giving Ragnar a fighting chance.
He felt the pain of his wounds, the burns that he must have gotten already. But it didn’t matter. Letting instincts take over, he threw himself against the truck once, twice, three times until it rolled back with a crash, embedding the bumper into the back wall of the workshop where flames were more than eager to latch to it.
Abigail was down there, passed out from the smoke. There’d been no way for her to get out and fearing the worst, Ragnar steeled himself as he jumped down, barely fitting in the tight space. He shifted back, holding his breath as he scooped Abigail up in his arms and threw her over his shoulder in a fireman hold. He climbed up the ladder with the seasoned ease of a man who’d done this far too many times, but this was the first time when he had truly felt afraid.
For his heart. For his Abigail.
The flames were building higher now and being in the shed was like a furnace. He could barely see a thing now and breathing was not an option. Running through the entrance with Abigail in his arms wouldn’t have worked. She couldn’t have taken the burns. Ragnar looked around, searching for another way. He yanked open the back door of Redmond’s double cab, finding a small fire extinguisher on the floor.
Grabbing it, he immediately doused the entrance with the white foam. The fire was too strong for it to make much of a difference, but Ragnar only needed a split second. He ran through the inferno, the monstrous flames closing behind him. Rolling Abigail into his arms and off his shoulder, he ran farther away from the workshop to be out of the range of the fire and set her down on the ground.
Small, wheezing gasps were strangled in her throat, but she was still breathing. Ragnar fell back on his haunches, heaving for breath. What had he done? His stubbornness had almost cost Abigail her life. They would have taken her along if it hadn’t been for him telling Redmond earlier that he thought it was best if Abigail wasn’t around them much. And it wasn’t lost on Ragnar that the workshop going up in flames was no accident. It was a warning; a threat. One that had almost been deadly.
Abigail coughed suddenly, her eyes fluttering open. Hell, if it wasn’t the best thing Ragnar had heard all his life.
“You’re safe now, Abigail,” he murmured, putting his arms around her as she sat up and looked from the fire to Ragnar and then back again.
“I… I don’t know what happened. I heard footsteps and I thought it was you guys, and then everything went up and I couldn’t get out.”
A tear rolled down her cheek, more shock than anything else, Ragnar knew. A feeling of certainty rose in his chest, one that he’d already made up his mind about as he was driving back toward Hamilton House, but that he could only now put into words.
“Don’t worry about it. It’s over. And I’ll never let you be in danger again,” he said sternly, planting a kiss on her forehead.
“Wouldn’t that be hard to do with you actively trying to ignore me?” she queried, her boldness apparently immune to the fire.
“I’m sorry, beautiful. It’s a long story and I’ll tell you all of it. But right now we need to get you checked out,” he said.
And catch the fuckers who did this to you, he added quietly in his head, picking Abigail up and walking back to his truck.
There was no doubt in his mind who was behind this stunt. And they were going to pay.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
Abigail
The workshop fire had been put out easily enough as soon as Redmond and Royce returned from the forest fire. By then, of course, the shed was nothing more than a pile of rubble, along with Redmond’s new truck. The irony of him losing two trucks in about as many weeks wasn’t lost on anyone, though Redmond didn’t seem to find it too funny.
Despite her loud objections, Abigail had been taken to Warren’s wife Kacey, who was a nurse, for a quick check-up. She was administered a healthy dose of rest and relaxation, which she was obviously not going to follow. How could she when the world was going to shit around her? Someone had tried to kill her and she knew they must have heard her calls from within the pit when the match had been lit. Despite Ragnar’s reluctance, she’d weaseled herself along for the immediate drive to the Hassleback homestead.
She was still coughing, feeling like someone had shoved a chimney down her throat instead of a windpipe, when they pulled up in front of the Hassleback house. There was just one truck parked in front of it and the blue-eyed man who walked out of the building didn’t seem too surprised at all to find the three Hamilton brothers standing there, with a slightly scorched Abigail in the background.
Her eyes immediately went to his boots. They were the same kind of dark brown boots that she’d seen during the fire, but they were
missing those bright yellow tags. Swallowing thickly, she went to stand beside Ragnar, not entirely sure what was going to happen next but knowing that she might have to be the voice of reason here.
“It’s not him,” she whispered softly, getting onto her tiptoes.
Ragnar’s hard expression contorted slightly at that.
“Where’s your brother, Sear?” Ragnar barked, his arms crossed over his chest.
“I’m not his babysitter. I don’t know,” Sear answered glumly, his brows furrowed. “And even if I did, why would I tell you?”
“Why? Because as far as we know, your brother’s the one running around setting half of Shifter Grove on fire,” Royce growled.
“Why just him? I think they’re both in on it,” Redmond huffed, exchanging a look with Ragnar.
“Someone set the workshop on our grounds on fire today, about two hours ago. Before that, a patch of forest went up as well. I don’t think this is an accident. Abigail almost died in the workshop fire and whoever lit the match heard her screaming in there. Anything you want to say about that, Sear?” Ragnar asked, his calm, deep voice trembling a little.
Sear’s eyebrows shot up, and for a second his cool, controlled demeanor wavered. He looked like he’d just gotten hit by a truck, his expression going slack, before he caught himself and brushed it off. Ragnar was almost vibrating with anger, but Abigail knew that the Hamiltons wouldn’t gang up on a single guy. That wasn’t the way they operated. But without real proof, they couldn’t drag Sear back for questioning either.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he said grimly, shoving his hands in his pockets. “We’ve been living here all our lives. You three have waltzed back to Idaho like you fucking own the place. How about you leave me and my brother alone and we won’t have to have any more trouble?” he said through gritted teeth.
Abigail could feel Ragnar begin to jerk forward and she grabbed his arm quickly, shaking her head. She heard the surprise in Sear’s voice. Whatever else he may have done in his past, he hadn’t set that fire. And she got the feeling that he didn’t even know about it.
Abigail slipped her hand into Ragnar’s, giving it a squeeze. He looked down and the darkness in his eyes cleared, the deep brown that had flashed in there retreating and giving room to the hazel she loved so much.
“Don’t do anything stupid,” she said with a small smile, her voice a whisper. “Let’s be smart about this. You’ll find the evidence, and you’ll put them away if they did this.”
Ragnar stared at her for a moment, his hand squeezing hers almost painfully. Then, he took a deep breath and nodded, turning to look at Sear again.
“How about you let me know when your brother’s back. I want to have a talk with him. And Sear, I don’t know if you’re involved in this or not, but if you are, I swear I will hunt you down and we’ll settle old scores the way they were meant to be,” Ragnar said, a dark threat that couldn’t be mistaken now entering into his voice.
Abigail’s heart leapt into her throat. After the story Ragnar had told her, she had no doubt about what he meant by his words. This stern, quiet man had a beast within him that was waiting to be unleashed if anyone hurt the ones he loved, and it was clear as day that Ragnar had been pushed far enough for that. She put her other hand on his palm as well, trying to soothe him with her presence.
“Noted,” Sear said coolly, turning around and walking back into the house.
The guy had some nerve.
“Let’s go,” she said quietly, feeling a bit woozy from everything.
Years and years in LA had not prepared Abigail for the kind of excitement Idaho held. After all of the madness, she needed a moment to figure things out for herself. Looking up at Ragnar, it was evident that they both needed a chance to catch their breaths.
***
She wasn’t sure how long she slept, but it felt like a lifetime. When her eyes opened and she gingerly stretched out her body, she immediately felt eyes on her. Flipping around, she came face to face with Ragnar, who was sitting on the corner of her bed, smiling slightly at her.
“Morning,” he said gruffly, his voice growlier than usual. She liked it.
“How long was I out?” Abigail asked, propping herself up on some pillows.
Dressed in an oversized Los Angeles Fire Department T-shirt and some boyshorts, she should have felt underdressed in front of Ragnar. The way his eyes rolled over her form, hungry with appreciation, made her consider chucking the shirt off altogether.
“About fourteen hours, give or take a few,” he replied, shrugging back his shoulders.
The first rays of dawn were peeking into the bedroom and Abigail groaned slightly, shaking her head. That was a damn long nap she’d allowed herself. But at least her head was a little bit clearer. Scooting closer to Ragnar, she climbed into his lap and curled up there. She was beyond giving a crap about what her logic and reason told her. Her heart told her she wanted to be as near to him as possible, and dammit, she had to stop doubting herself at some point.
His warm embrace was soothing as it was a turn-on. Hearing his heavy heartbeat thumping in his chest, the breaths he took, and the way his body seemed to curve around her protectively like an outer shell made her core throb and her hands bind into his shirt. Why was he wearing one anyway? She much preferred him without one.
“I think we need to talk,” Ragnar said after a while of just holding her.
“So talk,” Abigail shot back simply.
No way in hell was she getting off his lap and give him another chance to weird out. Nope, she was staying right there and whatever he had to say, he’d have to get it out right now. He chuckled as her hands fisted around the material of his shirt, like she was intending to hang on for dear life.
“I haven’t told you everything about me yet,” he said.
“I’d hope so!” she laughed. “I’d like to think there’s more to you than a few conversations can reveal.”
“Sure, but I mean the big stuff. Abigail, I’m an addict,” he said, leaning back so their eyes could meet.
Abigail blinked a few times, looking at him. Ragnar Hamilton, the man so strictly in command of his feelings and actions, an addict? It was a surprise, no doubt. But thinking about it, it made sense. The way he took himself out of situations that could turn painful for him, how closed off he sometimes was… she’d known men who’d had that in their past, and a few who were addicts in the present. It wasn’t an easy way to live.
“Drugs?”
“Whiskey,” he said with a wry smirk. “I’ve been clean for years now, but you almost made me want to drink.”
Her cheeks paled as the blood rushed out of her face. Was that why he’d been so damn distant? That she was bad for his… sobriety?
“You have to explain yourself better than that,” she said softly.
“I intend to. Abigail, I think you’re much better for me than I could be for you. I have my problems and I’m not ashamed to admit that they run deep. My father, my past… it isn’t something I enjoy talking about. Royce and Redmond do not know about the drinking, but Rhodes does. And I’m not even sure if my older brothers ever realized what really happened to Dad. But I told you. I wanted you to know everything, and I still do.”
He paused, causing Abigail to frown. If she could have, she would have burrowed even deeper into his lap, hanging off of his every word as she was.
“What does that mean?”
“I know you’re my mate, Abigail,” he said, keeping his gaze steady as a million butterflies flooded her stomach.
She knew what that meant. Hell yes she did. Having worked in the fire department for as long as she had, she’d seen more than one firebear find their mate and their heart right along with it. Ragnar telling her that explained a lot, and made her realize that perhaps deep down inside she already knew. Wasn’t that why she’d allowed herself to fall so easily for him, or was the werebear magic rubbing off on her as well?
“Then why did you ignore
me?” she asked, hating herself for sounding so silly.
“I didn’t want to. I thought you would be better off without me. Without my darkness. I’m not an easy man to love, beautiful, and from the bottom of my heart, I want what’s best for you. But what happened at the workshop changed things. I don’t want to pressure you into anything. That’s the last thing I desire, but I had to tell you. I needed you to know that however I acted, however I will act, it’s all because… I love you.”
It hit her like a mallet to the stomach. Her mouth opened and closed a few times as she stared up into his soulful hazel eyes, not a shred of dishonesty to them. She could always be sure that Ragnar Hamilton was honest to the bone. The way he held his heart out for her to see was amazing.
“I don’t want you to leave. I want you to stay with me, here in Idaho, and we’ll figure things out. If it doesn’t work, okay, but I want to know that I at least tried. And I wanted to be honest with you. It is, at the very least, what you deserve,” he said, his expression hardening.
Instinctively, her hand went up to his face, tracing the lines of his high cheekbones and the rugged sharpness of his jaw. God, he was the most handsome man she’d ever seen and here he was, telling her he loved her after barely knowing her for a week and then dragging her out of a burning building. It was happening so fast, but it all felt… right. And it knotted her stomach up, knowing that what she wanted to tell him mirrored his feelings almost to the word.
“I don’t want to leave,” she said with a small smile, brushing away tears that threatened to come to her eyes.
His face lit up and he grinned widely, the warmest smile she’d seen on him yet. “Really?”
“Really,” Abigail nodded, scooting up a bit to be level with his face. “I don’t know what this is exactly, but I feel it too. I don’t want to walk out on you without giving this a chance to go where it’s going. I love your darkness, and if you need it, I can shine a light in there and make it a bit brighter,” she said with a grin.