by Silver James
The folks in and around Tarpley were a resilient lot, he reminded himself. Those who weren’t here in the command post would be aware. The ones outside of town would be standing on their porches, eyes to the skies, watching and waiting. Not every one of his volunteer firefighters had made it to the station but he was in radio communications with those who weren’t. It was probably better that way—like they were already pre-staged for rescue operations.
Reba had a phone pressed to her ear when she trained big eyes on him, and he heard it too. Freight train. Roaring right through the middle of town.
“Take cover!” he shouted as he shoved Reba under the metal desk. He reached for Justice McAlester, the newest member of Tarpley VFD, but Jack already had her tucked under another desk. Both men covered the women with their own bodies.
The building rattled and shook and debris banged against its metal sides and roof. His ears popped as the air pressure plummeted. The walls sucked in and then expanded in a rush, like a pair of lungs desperate for oxygen, before letting all the air out in whoosh. The roaring diminished though miscellaneous pings and pops, probably hail mixed with debris, rattled against the sheet metal building. Finally, it was just the sound of rain drumming on the roof as the roar faded into the distance.
Pops rolled away and climbed to his feet. He reached down to help Reba up. A few other volunteers scuttled out from beneath the fire engine and brush pumper. He glanced over and noticed that Jack and Justice were a bit slow to unwind from under that desk. When they did emerge, Justice looked flushed and Jack…well, Jack looked like he’d swallowed that damn canary.
“Everybody okay?” His question got affirmative replies. Then the phone rang, the radio squawked, and someone banged on the door. Time to assess damage and get into search and rescue mode. As fire chief, this is what he’d signed on for. Even so, he took a moment to text Elena and Joy. The blue bar on his message app hung up, and the text wasn’t delivered. The tornado must have taken out some cell towers.
“Help!” someone cried from outside. “Randy’s Hellhouse has been hit hard! There’s people trapped inside.”
He put away his worries for his girls and did what he’d trained to do—respond to a cry for help.
The men trooped out of the basement of the office, surprised to discover the cabins all intact—mostly. Small trees, branches, and debris littered the horseshoe of grass at the center of the motel. One cabin was minus a porch. Half the roof of another had been ripped off. The Nightriders checked their Harleys. They’d managed to come through the storm undamaged. The black SUV was slightly worse for the wear, sporting dings from the hailstorm that rode the tails of the tornado.
Across the street, the river rushed past, it’s level rising from the rain. They could hear sirens in the distance, saw flashes of lights and sparks. Downed power lines most probably. A hint of smoke lingered in the air. Something was on fire not too far away.
The men exchanged looks. Two of them were combat medics whose skills would be invaluable. The others were supernaturally strong and could help with the rescue efforts. But they were here to get one of their own back. Nate was close to going feral and knew it. But Joy was with a man who did this shit for a living—even if it was only on a volunteer basis. He gazed across the ravaged landscape, realized the RV park across the highway had taken a direct hit. Shit. West would take care of Nate’s little girl until he could get there. In the meantime, others needed their help.
“Mount up,” Mac ordered.
Nate pointed to the RV park. Grim-faced, Mac nodded. They climbed into the SUV as the bikers fired up their Harleys. They pulled into the park as people began to emerge from the two metal buildings on the property. Mac surveyed the area while Hardy and Boomer set up a makeshift triage/first aid center at the back of the SUV.
From the looks of the people, most were just shell-shocked. A few sported some cuts and contusions. A little boy had abrasions on his hands and knees from taking a fall on the asphalt of the parking lot. Boomer was teasing him as he cleaned the scrapes. Gravedigger, Smoke, Rook, and the rest of the members from the Dallas chapter took off on foot to search the crumpled RVs. Even in human form, their sense of smell would alert them to any casualties.
A Bandera Police car swooped in, lights flashing. The cop climbed out, his face hard and suspicious. Mac and Nate met him at the front of his squad car.
“We got this,” Mac said before the other man could speak. “I have two combat trained medics—” he waved toward the two. Boomer had just finished putting Band-aids on the kid and was lifting him off the cargo area of the SUV and into his dad’s arms. “They’re set up for triage and minor medical care. The rest of us—” he swept an arm toward the devastation behind him. In a less forceful voice, he said, “The rest of us are searching for survivors.”
“I don’t like the idea of outlaw—”
Mac cut him off. “You don’t have much choice, son. And we aren’t outlaws. I’m the sheriff of Blaidd County, West Virginia.” He gestured toward Nate. “This man is one of my deputies. Take a little mutual aid while you have it.” Mac flipped out his badge and ID to prove his identity.
The cop all but deflated in relief. “Yessir. Thank you, sir. If you’re vouching—”
Mac pointed to Hardy. “We served in the Army together. SpecOps. I’m vouching for all of them.”
His head bouncing like a bobblehead, the cop backed up, climbed into his patrol car, and sped off to his next assignment.
A muffled shout caught Mac’s attention. He and Nate exchanged a look and then they both took off running. Boomer was hard on their heels, a huge medical kit slung across one shoulder thumping his ass with each long-legged stride. They stopped at what appeared to be a metal pretzel, though it had been a large 5th-wheel travel trailer before the storm. Nobody breathed as what sounded like a baby crying echoed from the interior. The men exploded into action, ripping and tearing at the metal with bare hands.
Ten minutes later, they had a woman of about twenty-five and a six-month old baby laying on blankets retrieved from the trailer. Both were banged up but no life-threatening injuries. A cat crawled out of the debris and slunk over to the young mother. Boomer checked them over, cleaning and bandaging their wounds.
A yell from Gunner sent them running to another trailer. It was going to be a long night.
Elena and Joy huddled in one of the empty stalls near the center of the barn. They’d probably be safer in a corner stall, but all Elena could remember about her tornado safety training was to take cover in a small room in the center of the house. She hoped the same held true for an old wooden barn with a metal roof. She held Joy in her arms, back braced against the wood planks of the stall’s side. Big Jake snuggled next to Joy while Chisum pressed against her as the wind howled outside. The horses neighed and stamped their feet. One kicked the stall door, the wooden thud echoing through the dark barn. They’d turned off their flashlights to conserve batteries. There’d been no chance to run for the cellar, and Elena was mentally kicking herself for getting caught outside. They should have ignored the animals and gone directly there. Except Joy, with her soft heart, would have fought going. And Elena had been the one to suggest checking on the horses because her heart was as soft as the girl’s.
She stared into the dark, her mind flitting from topic to memory, looking for something to settle on, something to ground her and hold her fear at bay. Pops. Sitting on the porch with him, necking like teenagers. Of him reaching for first base, his movements tentative and unsure then the warmth of his big hand cupping her breast and the way that made her clench her thighs together. Her hand brushing against his erection and noting the way his cock strained against the buttons of his jeans. Of the sweet kisses. The hungry kisses. Of dueling tongues. Of her hand in his jeans gripping him and slowly pumping. Of his hand in her panties, callused fingers seeking the warm depths of her.
They’d truly been as randy as teenagers, necking in the dark, sneaking in the sexy bits like they
were hiding from their parents. And then he’d taken her dancing. And they’d made love. Her heart sped up and not from fear, but from desire. She was loco for sure. A bad storm that might take their lives was bearing down on them and she was thinking about making out with Pops.
Shivering, Elena tore her thoughts away from that runaway train. She had her arms wrapped around a scared little girl. She was the adult here. She needed to focus and stay focused in order to keep them safe. The barn shuddered and she hunkered lower to the ground, taking Joy with her. “We’re okay,” she murmured into the girl’s hair. “We’ll be okay.”
Something big and heavy crashed against the side of the barn and the whole building shook. Dust and bits of hay rained down from the loft above them. A horse screamed in terror and Big Jake growled. Elena could feel the big dog tremble against them. “Shh, puppy. We’re safe.”
Her ears popped and she could hear…nothing. No howling winds. No wooden creaks. No pings against the metal roof. Then the rain started. A hard drumming against the corrugated tin roof tapering off into a gentle patter. Then nothing again. One of the horses snorted and pawed the straw and dirt on the floor of its stall.
“Elena?” Joy’s fervent whisper sounded almost optimistic. Had they weathered the storm?
“I need to check outside.”
“I’m coming with you.” Joy clutched her hand and Elena knew there’d be no leaving the girl behind.
They fended off the dogs and pushed to their feet. Elena clicked on her flashlight and checked the barn first. The tin had been peeled off a small section on the far corner, near the doors closest to the house. She couldn’t decide if that was good or bad. She played her light over the stalls. The horses blinked back at her, seemingly calm now that the storm had passed.
Easing down the center aisle of the barn, they approached the big, sliding doors with caution. It took both of them to force one side open enough they could slip out. Chisum squeezed through as soon as there was room. He barked and once they got the opening a little wider, Jake bolted through. Finally, with a last heave, the door opened wide enough to let her and Joy exit. Scared of what they’d find, Elena went first.
The house was still standing. A shop building was gone, along with a windmill, and several trees. They found the blades of the windmill scrunched against the side of the barn. Elena’s car was wrapped around a utility pole. She almost laughed because, in her haste to get away, she’d considered driving one of the state cars home instead of her own. If that had been a government vehicle wrapped around that pole, the state probably would have docked her paycheck for months to pay for it. Her car was insured, and though it would be a pain to deal with, she’d eventually get a new vehicle. She rolled her eyes. The places her brain went to when it was in shock.
“The generator is over here,” Joy said, tugging on her hand. Elena followed the girl around the house. Broken chairs from the front porch littered the back yard and she briefly wondered how they’d gotten there. The brick BBQ grill had been demolished and the picnic tables and outdoor furniture normally in the yard were nowhere to be seen. Elena knew enough to go check the huge tank that stored the propane gas used to help power the house. She didn’t smell a leak and it looked intact. Joy showed her the generator, which was propane fired and had instructions right there on the cover to the controls. Five minutes later, it was working, and a light shone through the kitchen window.
“Well, that’s a relief!”
Joy heartily agreed. They split up to check all the windows and then Elena climbed into the attic to check for damage. The house had escaped unscathed. That was a huge relief. Sadly, though, with her car out of commission, they were stuck there at the ranch until help arrived—not that they actually needed it. They had lights and power, and even hot water. The food in the fridge would keep.
She’d just stepped out onto the front porch when her phone pinged. Surprised, she pulled it out of her hip pocket and read the text. Her heart lurched when she saw it was from Pops.
Are my girls ok?
She smiled. His girls. She went all warm and gooey inside every time he called her and Joy that. The text continued.
Tarpley took a hit. I’m good. Station still standing. Don’t know when I’ll be home. Come here when you can. Want you safe.
Elena almost laughed at that last order. They were perfectly safe here at the ranch. Pops just wanted them where he could keep an eye on them. Too bad they didn’t have transportation. She hadn’t flipped on the porch light, but she didn’t need light to respond with a text of her own.
House, barn, home critters, and your girls all ok. Some damage. Don’t know about cattle. My car is
She stopped typing when she heard the growl of motorcycles. “Joy?” she called. The girl appeared a moment later. She’d shut the dogs inside. “Go hide,” she hissed. Her thumb brushed across the send button on the text as she shoved her phone in her pocket. She was pushing the girl toward the door when somebody grabbed her. She heard Joy scream and then…nothing.
Nate, Mac, and Boomer were exhausted. So were the Nightriders. They’d worked through the night and managed to rescue about ten people, and several pets. The local first responders were still leery, but the Wolves could live with that. Nate, however, was within a deep breath of shifting into his wolf. Only Mac’s ironclad control kept Nate in human form. He had to get to Joy. Had to see her. Touch her. Assure himself—and his wolf—that she truly was okay.
“Easy, man,” Mac urged. “We’re done here. I found out exactly where that fire chief’s ranch is located. I have directions. We’re only about twenty minutes away.”
Nate growled, his fingers curling into his palms to hide the claws. Mac and Boomer exchanged worried glances. Nate was not a Wolf in the normal sense. Wolves carried an extra gene in their DNA and began to shift during puberty. Nate had been the subject of a horrific experiment involving gene splicing and he’d been forced into the change—and he hadn’t been able to shift back into human form until he met his mate. Now he was close to losing all control, something that hadn’t happened in years.
Mac gripped his shoulder. “Hold on, Nate. We’re almost there, yeah?”
Unable to speak, Nate simply nodded. Mac pushed him into the back seat of the SUV as Boomer climbed into the front passenger seat and Mac into the driver’s. The Nightriders fired up their motorcycles and they all roared out of Bandera, headed southwest towards Tarpley and the Four Points Ranch.
Driving slower than the urgency eating at their souls wanted due to all the debris on the road, the Wolves finally rolled up the long drive to the limestone farmhouse with the big wrap-around porch. There was damage but nothing major. Lights shone through the windows of the house and they could hear the faint hum of a generator coming from around back. A small crossover SUV with Texas tags was wrapped around a thick power pole. No one was inside.
Alert, and all their senses in use, they discovered several things almost simultaneously—two ranch dogs had all but gnawed through the front door trying to get out, there were a few drops of blood—not Joy’s—on the front porch, Joy’s scent permeated the area, and there was a cell phone with the message app open lying in the wet grass beside the front steps. Gravedigger had found the phone while Mac, in all his alpha badassness, dealt with the dogs. Digger scrolled through the messages and couldn’t decide if they contained good news or bad. Because they’d all picked up on the scents of strange Wolves.
“Looks like the fire chief told the social worker and Joy to head to the fire station in Tarpley. That’s where he is,” Digger called to the others.
“We’ll go there,” Mac agreed. It was a place to start. And maybe—just maybe—the Hell Dogs had arrived after Joy and the woman left for Tarpley.
Ten minutes later, they parked at the Baptist Church across the street from the fire station and hiked over. The front garage doors were open and they walked right into controlled chaos. The man wearing a navy T-shirt that had the words “TVFD” and “Chief”
embroidered on it wore a day’s worth of scruff and red eyes, his exhaustion plain for everyone to read, stood at the back of the equipment bay barking orders into a radio while writing on a big white board. There were women there, but no Joy.
The chief looked up, saw them standing there, and blanched. Then he got angry and charged. Another firefighter caught him around the waist, stopping his forward progress. “You bastards can’t have her,” he shouted.
Nate shook loose of Mac’s grip. “The hell I can’t. I’m her gawdamned father and I’ve been searching for Joy for months now. Where the hell is my daughter?”
All the fight leeched out of Pops as he stared at the hard men gathered just inside the bay. Military. Even the bikers looked like they’d had special training, despite their 1% patches. “Who are you?” he demanded.
Mac stepped forward, his ID and badge in his hand. “I’m Mac McIntire, sheriff of Blaidd County, West Virginia.” He gestured toward the men with him. “Nate Connor. Joy’s dad and one of my deputies. And the rest are…friends of the family.”
Pops didn’t believe that last bit for a New York minute, but he had to admire the hard men. And sometimes, you had to fight fire with fire. Since a biker gang was after Joy, maybe having another biker gang at your back was a smart tactic.
“Where’s Joy?” Nate’s voice was little more than a growl.
Pops blinked as his brow knit. “At my ranch. She and Elena. They’re fine. I got a text—”
The big sheriff held out a phone. Elena’s phone. Pops would recognize the sparkly cover anywhere. His gaze bounced from man to man. The what ifs swirled around his brain until he couldn’t think, couldn’t breathe. Black dots swam before his eyes and a heavy weight crushed his heart, right before he dropped to his knees.