The Bears of Blackrock, Books 1 - 3: The Fenn Clan (15 page)

And finally, John. What was he? A bear folk, a shape shifter, just a guy working as a carpenter for the Fenn Contracting Company for seven years?

As Catherine fought to shift on the couch and not disturb the bandages and still healing stitches in her side, she caught sight of him in the kitchen, bustling around with plates and forks and a Lasagna dish and the roasted chicken, piling chunks of both onto plates. Clearly he’d decided what they were having for dinner. She watched him a moment, stealing bites off both plates as he popped them into the microwave. Her heart swelled with affection, enough to bring tears to her eyes. This was going to be her life.

He glanced up, catching her looking at him and he smiled, giving her a flirtatious wink.

Catherine took a deep breath and sighed as the room began to fill with the savory smell of Janice Fenn’s Lasagna.

What was John?

John was home, and that was all she ever needed to know.

Book Two

BEARLY BURNING

Blackrock Bears - Book Two

Men In Charge

By

Alana Hart & Michaela Wright

CHAPTER ONE

The wheels locked instantly as Joe stepped on the brake, dropping her stomach through the floor of the tired old Ford Taurus wagon. She lifted her foot, quickly pumping to gain traction. The car did what it wanted in this kind of weather; it would stop only if it damn well pleased. A moment later, they reached a stretch of clear road and the wheels found traction again. Joe slowed the speed down to a snail’s pace. She might be desperate to get to the border, but she wanted to get them there alive.

“Momma?”

“Yes, baby?” Joe whispered into the backseat. Her daughter, Rory, lay stretched across the back, her mid-section strapped in by two separate seat belts.

“I’m scared. I don’t wanna drive anymore.”

Joe sighed. Her knuckles were white on the steering wheel, and the snow was coming down with such fury that the view through the windshield looked more like the Millennium Falcon traveling at warp speed than it did a station wagon on the back roads of Maine. Still, Joe needed to get as far away from Portsmouth as possible. Eight hours of driving was taking its toll on them both, and the threat of storms had turned into whiteout conditions by Bangor. Joe glanced down at her phone.

Time to destination – 55 minutes.

Fifty five minutes and they’d be at the border of Canada. Fifty five minutes and they’d cross into a country that didn’t welcome felons. Fifty five minutes and they’d be out of the reach of Carson O’Neil.

Still, fifty five minutes in whiteout conditions at three in the morning felt like an eternity. Joe turned on her blinker and pulled off to the side of the road.

“Siri, where is the nearest hotel?”

The phone began to hem and haw over this request, taking longer than usual in the backwoods of Who Knows Where, Maine. Joe glanced back into the rear view at her tired girl.

“I found only one hotel near you. Would you like directions?” Siri said.

Joe glanced down at her phone – The Blackrock Inn and Tavern. She looked around at the dense trees and white squalls of wind and snow. There seemed to be nothing, as though this corner of the world had been torn from the map, left untouched by person or light. She took a deep breath.

Siri offered up directions, and Joe turned the station wagon onto Falkirk Road, a stretch of pavement with no line at its center to betray much traffic. Joe straightened her rear view mirror and crept forward along the road. The snow was several inches thick on the roadway, sign of the last plow having past quite some time ago. Still, there were tire tracks to betray the road ahead, and Joe was grateful for a trail to follow. She followed the road at a slow speed, passing tired old buildings and a quiet post office.

“Turn right onto Falkirk’s Harbor Way.”

Joe did as she was told and almost instantly regretted it. The car skidded out around the corner, taking the turn sharper than she’d intended. She turned the wheel into the turn and the car straightened out, but even with traction restored, Joe didn’t like Falkirk Harbor’s Way. There wasn’t a tire mark to betray previous cars, no sign of a plow having passed down this road since the storm began. Joe envisioned her and her daughter pulled over on the side of the road, or stuck in the middle of it with spinning tires, helpless and waiting for a plow to find them and dig them out.

God damn it, Maine. I fucking hate you.

Joe slowed the car as she pulled around a bend in the road, passing a sign that pointed in the direction of an Indian Reservation. The sign pointing in the direction Siri commanded her to go simply read ‘Docks.’

Exciting stuff, she thought.

Joe pulled around another corner, and Siri burst to life again.

“Turn left onto Seaside Drive and the destination is on your left.”

“Oh, thank God,” Joe said, turning the wheel. This road was just as hidden beneath snow, its boundaries betrayed only by the tree line on either side. She rolled along the road, trudging a path through well over a foot of snow. The road twisted and turned, betraying nothing beyond trees and blackened openings into surrounding forest – the only sign of side streets and driveways. She passed a gated road on the left and rounded a final corner as Siri assured her The Blackrock Inn was just ahead on the left. The road dipped with such a suddenness that Joe’s stomach shot into her throat. She pressed her back into the seat, fighting to keep her breathing steady. The tires had traction, she was going slow enough. If she just maintained this speed, she should make it to the Inn without any skid outs. Right?

She pulled around the corner at five miles an hour, and the world around her took on a strange depth. She stared through the windshield at the strange glow of the world. A light in the distance flashed toward her, then disappeared. She crept down the hill another few feet, watching the black ahead. The light appeared again. A lighthouse. They were right on the water.

Joe turned back toward Rory. “Baby. You awake? We’re almost there, sweetheart.”

Rory grumbled, but did not move.

“There’s a lighthouse out on the water. You can see it even through -”

Joe turned her eyes back to the road just in time to see a massive black shape bound onto the shoulder. She slammed on the brakes, twisting the wheel away to keep from hitting the bear, but her wheels locked in the snow instantly, and the car began to pick up speed on the downward slope.

“No, No!” Joe chanted to herself as she pumped the brakes desperately, the massive bear by the road now a distant memory as her car slid down the road, faster and faster. She fought to turn the wheel, but there was no direction to the skid – the car was going down. Down, down, and hell bent on doing it at high speeds. Suddenly, trees appeared in the light of the high beams, and Joe turned back to brace her daughter as the car dropped from beneath her, plummeting a sickening distance. She held her breath, bracing in the eerie silence that fell over the car as it dropped off the edge of the road.

A sound like a shotgun blast rattled the car as they made impact. Joe saw white, then black. Then the pain began to set in.

Joe could taste metal, the sour flavor of it filling her mouth. She spit onto the floor of the car, and pure red trickled from her lips. Her body throbbed from head to toe, her temple and her neck growing warm with running blood, then cold as it cooled in the frigid air.

“Momma?” Rory said, her voice pained.

Joe opened her mouth to speak, but her throat clamped shut on the words. She fought to move her right hand, the only part of her body that wasn’t screaming against even the thought of use.

This can’t happen, Josephine. Don’t you dare fucking die here. Don’t you dare. Fight.

Joe felt her hand down onto the console, lifting the cap to pull her phone from inside. Her face contorted in grief and pain as she silently prayed that these moments would not be her last. Her daughter was alone there, lost in the middle of nowhere. They had no family, no one to know they were missing. Rory would be trapped in that cold car, and Joe could do nothing to protect her. She felt her fingers crack as she moved them, but she would not succumb to the pain.

I hate you, God, she thought. Don’t do this to me! Don’t do this to my baby! Please God, don’t do this!

“Momma, there’s something outside the car. There’s a big thing coming over!”

She fought to clench her fingers around the phone, but they could do little else, certainly not dial numbers. A moment later, Joe saw the screen come to life, the streaks of her own blood coating the glass surface of the phone. She pressed her thumb to the button and held it. Siri chimed to life.

Joe gasped for air, feeling blood trickle into her throat. “Siri. Call 911.”

“Calling 911,” the phone assured.

“Momma, there’s a bear outside! Momma don’t go to sleep. Momma!”

CHAPTER TWO

The wagon was hissing and clinking away twenty feet down the seawall, its hood crumpled against one of the two massive trees that had stopped its tumbling down the rocky beach and into the water. Kirk stomped his paws into the snow, feeling the cold crunch under him. He moved slowly, fighting with his massive weight. He moved down the hillside, the trail of the car gauging a smooth line through soil and snow combined. He lost footing just a few yards uphill from the wreck, skidding a foot or two on his ass in the snow.

“Momma, there’s a bear outside! Momma, don’t go to sleep! Momma!”

Shit! He thought. He’d forgotten his state, climbing down the steep hill on all fours – he was still a bear. Kirk took a deep breath and pulled himself upright, feeling his insides shift and rise as the man emerged from within the beast. Kirk stood there naked in the snow, inspecting the car with clearer, human eyes.

The front driver’s side door was imploded, pushed in by the trunk of the first tree. The driver would not be in good shape. The back door remained intact, fogged now by breathing from within. He took a step and slipped in the snow, his bare ass slamming into the ground. His skin scraped over rocks and twigs, but he was back on his bare feet and by the side of the car a moment later.

There was a voice; he’d heard someone. He knew at least someone survived. He frowned. It sure as hell wasn’t the driver.

Kirk could hear a calm voice repeating itself, followed by a higher pitched cadence. It sound like that of a child.

Kirk lunged for the car and pulled the door handle. The back door of the car opened. He held it in front of him, shielding his naked, lower half from view. Seeing a naked man in the wilderness at night would be enough to give any kid nightmares.

“Are you there, Rory?” The voice on the phone asked. The little girl in the back seat nodded, but did not speak, her wide eyes trained on the naked man standing outside her car. She moved away from him across the back seat. This wasn’t the first time he’d seen this kind of scene – a child helpless as their parent lays injured in the front seat. This wasn’t the first time he’d been called to such a scene, but this was different. He hadn’t been called to this scene, he’d caused this scene.

“Rory? Are you there?”

The little girl nodded again, but before she could answer, the woman in the driver’s seat inhaled, turning her eyes to Kirk.

“Don’t let him have her,” she said. Then her eyes closed.

Oh my god, she’s alive!

Kirk turned his attention back to the little girl, no longer concerned with her seeing his naked state. “Sweetheart, tell the lady on the phone to tell dispatch you’re off Seaside Drive. Halfway down Lookout South.”

The little girl frowned and her lip began to tremble as she moved further away from him, tears welling up at the corners of her eyes. “My Momma says I’m not supposed to talk to strangers.”

His chest tightened as the words came. “It sounds like your Momma loves you very much. I know I must look like a crazy person, but I promise I’m here to help. Can you tell the lady for me? Please?”

Rory stared at him, the bloodstained phone shaking in her hand. Kirk leaned down, but made a point not to move closer. The little girl clutched the phone with desperation, the voice on the other end calling to her softly. “Rory, honey. Are you there? Who’s with you? Did your Momma wake up?”

Kirk put his hand out to the little girl. “My name is Kirk Fenn. Has your Momma ever told you that when you’re in trouble you should find a policeman or a firefighter?”

The dark haired little girl nodded her head. Kirk fought with everything he had to show patience, but he knew her mother needed care, and she needed it immediately. If he couldn’t get the phone by coercion, he’d have to take it by force. God damn it, why didn’t he bring his truck tonight?”

“Well, I’m a firefighter, and my cousin is the man who drives the ambulance.”

“Rory, who’s there with you honey.”

“It’s Kirk, Paula!” He called, inspiring an audible flood of relief on the other end.

“Oh, thank god. Deacon is on his way. We have the phone pinging down by the harbor.”

Rory moved the phone toward him, holding it out in front of her. Kirk took it from her shaking hand, reaching up to the front seat to get the driver’s pulse. It was there, but barely.

“Lookout South. Car’s halfway down Lookout South,” Kirk said, inspecting the imploded driver’s side door.

“Oh Jesus. It didn’t go in the water?”

“How far out is he, Paula?”

There was a conference of radio on the other end of the line, his cousin, Deacon Fenn’s voice muttering through static in the distance. He couldn’t make out the words, but a moment later, he didn’t much need to know, as the engine gave a low popping sound – the sound of something hot bursting into flames.

“Tell him to get here as fast as he can. I’m going to have to move the victim.”

“Alright, I’m staying on the line,” Paula said, but Kirk was no longer paying attention as he ducked down into the door of the car to look at the little girl.

“Honey, I need you to get out of the car, ok?”

Rory shook her head, glancing toward her mother for reassurance.

Kirk took hold of the driver’s side door handle, but the handle mechanism was shot. He gave it a tug nonetheless. The door was sealed shut, smashed into place and locked there as though soldered. Kirk growled as the smoke began billowing out from the hood and into the front seat, flames licking from beneath the hood and casting gold light on the ground beneath the car.

“Rory. Get out of the car!” He said, causing a visible fright.

The little girl began to cry, and Kirk lost all calm. His temper was flared, he was losing his ability to hide what he was – a bear. It didn’t matter right now. If he didn’t act, the woman was going to die in a burning car.

Kirk took hold of the driver’s side door and with one brutal yank, ripped it off at the hinges. The little girl screamed in the backseat, openly wailing in terror as Kirk reached into the driver’s side, unlatched the seat beat, and slipped his arms under the little girl’s mother. He felt the warmth of fresh blood oozing from her side, fighting to move her as gently as he could. It was difficult to mind the spine of the victim when the threat of engine combustion was seconds away. Still, he moved her with care, scooping her up as though she were weightless in his arms.

He leaned down to speak to the little girl. “Rory, honey. I know it’s cold, and I know you’re scared, but your Momma needs you to get out of the car now. Come on, sweetheart. Please, help me.”

The little girl pursed her lips, glancing terrified toward the smoke now billowing into the front of the car through the dash. He knew if she didn’t move in two seconds, he’d have to set her broken mother in the snow and pull the girl out kicking and screaming, or rip the roof off the station wagon to get to her. Given his mood, he wouldn’t mind the outlet.

Just then, red and blue lights began to dance over the hillside, glinting off the millions of snowflakes that whirled around them in the air. Rory took a sharp breath at the sight, and slid across the back seat, tumbling out into the snow to climb the hill at Kirk’s side.

A brown haired head appeared on the hillside above, a massive orange backboard under his arm. Another figure appeared, a short woman with a black ponytail bouncing high behind her head. Kirk fought with his footing to get to them, setting the woman down in the snow at their feet to let them strap her to the backboard. Then Kirk turned back to Rory, and without a word of request, snatched her up in his arms and hauled her up the rest of the hill. They hadn’t reached level ground before the car gave another foreboding pop and whoosh sound – the sound of the fire engulfing the entire hood of the car. Kirk watched the fire move across the front half of the car, growing dangerously close to the cab.

Kirk watched down the hill as his cousin Deacon and Deacon’s partner Lara made quick work of settling the injured woman. Then Deacon made the way of the hill, using a long rope to pull the backboard up behind, bringing her to level ground without further damage done. The woman’s face was covered in blood as she came into view, inspiring Kirk to carry the little girl around the side of the ambulance and out of sight of her ailing mother. The young girl hadn’t made a sound since being scooped up, instead resting her arms around his neck, holding onto him as her tiny body shivered. He listened to the EMTs placing the mother into the ambulance, finally coming around to greet them as they were closing the back door.

Deacon slammed his jacket into Kirk’s hand. “Jesus, man. Cover yourself, will ya?”

Kirk felt his face grow hot, but didn’t speak.

“Come on, sweetheart. We’re gonna take a ride to the hospital, alright?” Deacon said, opening his arms to the child.

The little girl nodded, reaching for the younger man, and climbing into the back of the ambulance without another word.

Deacon shut the doors, turning back to Kirk. “Fire’s on its way. Come down the hospital after, yeah? Your truck nearby?”

Kirk nodded. It wasn’t exactly nearby, but a mile through woods wouldn’t take too long. He couldn’t help but wonder what the other firefighters would think when they arrived to find him bareassed naked, only half covered by an EMT jacket.

“Good. Go get dressed and come down to the hospital - just in case,” Deacon said.

“Don’t say that, man.”

Deacon moved toward the front door of the ambulance. “Just come down, alright?”

Kirk nodded as Deacon climbed into the driver’s seat of the ambulance and pulled away from the roadside toward civilization.

Kirk wrapped the jacket around his waist and turned to watch the burning car, the smoke and flames rising up under the ancient trees. The smoke was traveling up the hill with the ocean breeze, blasting snowflakes and chemicals into his face. He rubbed his bare feet together, the cold of the snow beneath them beginning to bother him despite the elevated heat of his body. He covered his nose with the back of his hand to shield from the smoke and glanced up the hill as another set of familiar flashing lights appeared on the road above.

“We haven’t been able to find any family members. We’ve searched every database we have for a Theresa Little, but there’s just nothing coming up.”

Kirk stood with the nurse and the social worker in the quiet hospital entrance.

“They’re airlifting her to Bangor. The little one can’t go with her, and with no family to call -” The social worker, Peter Vance, turned his balding head toward Kirk with a set brow that spoke louder than words. It said quite clearly, ‘I dare you to say no.’ Peter knew Kirk well. This moment had occurred more than once before.

“The only other foster household just recently adopted their third child and they don’t currently have the room. There’s no telling how far from here we’ll have to send her to find a placement. We’re not exactly in the -”

“Peter. I’ll take her. You already knew I’d take her.”

The nurse’s eyes went wide, and she gave Kirk a once over. He wasn’t sure if this new nurse’s surprise was due to his burly exterior, all soot stained and massive, or if she knew he was a Fenn. Sadly, the Fenn family name didn’t come with a great deal of affection in Blackrock.

Peter visibly relaxed, then nodded, glancing down at his paperwork.

“Is she already on her way to Bangor?”

The nurse startled at his question, stuttering a moment as she searched for words. “No. The helicopter is on its way now. They’re just trying to keep her stable now.”

Kirk nodded. He thought about the bruised and bloodied face, the green eyes that bore into him when she fought to speak.

Don’t let him have her.

Kirk had known he’d be taking the little girl home before the firetruck even arrived. Even if the Coolidge Family had room, he’d have pressed to take her. It was the least he could do.

That little girl’s mother was banging hard on death’s door – and it was his fault.

“Alright, she’s currently sleeping in the break room, if you’d like to come meet her.”

Kirk scoffed, following Peter without a word. Oh, he’d met her alright. He wondered how well this conversation would go over when little Rory Little informed the social worker that she’d seen Kirk Fenn naked.

God damn it, Kirk. This would only happen to you, he thought.

“Rory, honey? Time to wake up, sweetheart.”

The little girl shifted on the small green couch, her dark red curls matted down against her sweaty cheek. Peter pulled a chair up for himself and for Kirk, coming to sit before her in his usual, gentle way.

“This man is Mr. Fenn. He’s the man that saved you from the car -”

Rory rubbed her palm against her eyes, green like her mother’s, and focused on Kirk’s face with an almost startling intensity. He felt like an ant under a magnifying glass, and rubbed his hand over his untrimmed beard, wishing he’d taken more care that day. It wasn’t as though he’d planned to encounter anyone when he set out into the woods to enjoy the fresh snowfall under his paws.  He hadn’t planned to cause a near fatal accident either.