6
Megan
Sunday morning. Matilda was still heading straight for us. I’d spent the night crying into my pillow and listening for Dylan to arrive back home. He never did. When my alarm went off that morning at six, the same as it did every day, the local news blared warnings about the incoming storm.
Still a category five, it didn’t look as though Matilda would go easy on the islands. It took Maverick Maine, the local DJ, sounding out his last broadcast to really light a fire under me. He was leaving the island and the station would be broadcasting the national weather service alerts until he returned. Matilda was less than eighteen hours away.
I jumped up in a panic. Shit. I hadn’t done anything to protect the house. I’d been so lost in the difficulties between Dylan and me that I’d let it completely slip my mind. Ugh, stupid. I didn’t take time to change or shower, I just rushed downstairs and raced out onto the beach. The water already looked choppy and agitated. It seemed to know something big was coming. The sky was dark and grey, a harbinger of dangerous weather.
Other than the wind and waves, the surrounding neighborhood was eerily silent. Most people had vacated while I was in my stupor. I ran my hands over my face and then rushed to get to work. I could lose everything if I didn’t board up the house.
My fury spurred me on as I worked tirelessly. The windows had shutters that I bolted closed. The first floor of the house was surrounded by a deck so those windows were easy to access. After making sure the shutters were secure, I nailed sheets of plywood over them, ensuring the house would be as protected as possible.
The second floor windows were more of a challenge. Those had to be accessed by a ladder and each one took entirely too long. I couldn’t carry a sheet of plywood up a ladder, and then both hold it steady over the windows while securing it. Not without help. So I nailed a couple planks across the shutters on the second floor, in hopes that it would be enough. By the time I finished, I was flushed and sticky with sweat. The strong breeze coming off the ocean did nothing to cool me down.
Time was passing too rapidly. It had taken hours for me to secure the house alone. Before I knew it, it was late afternoon and the sky was darkening faster than it should have been. I was still tuned into the weather broadcast and I could hear it blasting away in the house. While Matilda had been downgraded to a category four, she was moving in quicker than first predicted.
In a state of sheer panic, I jumped in my SUV and sped down to the shop. In the back of my mind, I was hoping that Dylan had uncharacteristically stepped up and closed up our shop. I was hoping to maybe pull up and find him still there, finishing up.
Main Street was empty. Everyone had either already evacuated or, if they’d decided to stay put, had retreated indoors. I was the only idiot on the road. It took me less than two minutes to get to the shop and what I found made my heart sink. Nothing was covered. The glass windows that lined the front of our shop were still perfectly naked and I could see right through them to the prints in the shop, still on display. They had also not been packed up or moved to a safer location.
Dylan hadn’t done a damned thing. I searched my pockets for my phone, but came up empty. It was wherever I’d left it the night before—probably on guest bedroom night stand. I slammed the car door, unlocked the shop, and headed straight to the office to grab the phone. I halted in my tracks when I saw the state of the small backroom.
It was completely trashed. Empty file folders littered the floor, the desk drawers ransacked. The computer was gone, the safe under the desk was open—and empty. My hand flew to my open mouth as I sank into the office chair. I hadn’t been around to do the deposit drop for a few days, but I knew we’d made several sales. I’d had some thank you emails from customers saying they loved their new pieces. The register drawer was always placed in the safe. And it was there alright. But, it was empty.
My brain reached for possibilities. We could have had a break in—been robbed. I knew the truth, though. My heart was in my toes as I reached for the phone with a shaky hand.
Dialing Dylan’s number, I almost hoped he didn’t answer. I didn’t want to hear the truth. The reality I was facing was ugly and cruel and I wasn’t sure I could handle it while at the same time trying to take care of the business we owned together. I was devastated, not so much by the idea of losing him, more by the fact that my life was turning into a joke. I was also so furious with myself for falling into an avoidance/denial trance for the last week. I wasn’t usually so lax about protecting the things I owned and cared about. I’d been through hurricanes before. I knew what to do and I’d always handled things capably and responsibly. Not this time. Waiting until last minute was not just stupid, it was dangerous. Hell, I didn’t even have a decent evacuation plan.
The line clicked and Dylan’s voice came through clear. “Megan.”
I sank into the chair and looked up at the ceiling. It was stark white. I noticed a cob web in a corner. “You took everything, didn’t you?”
A heavy sigh. “I didn’t have a choice. I needed the money.”
“And the business? What? We just let it go?” My voice didn’t even sound like my own. It sounded flat and vacant.
“I really don’t have an answer. Maybe we should let the hurricane do its thing and collect the insurance money.” He spoke to someone in the background and sighed again. “Look, Megan, you and I are over. We both know it wasn’t working.”
“Okay.” I shook my head and sat up, feeling something unexpected pass over me—acceptance. “I guess you evacuated?”
“Yeah, of course.”
If I was waiting for him to express an iota of concern for my wellbeing, I would have died waiting. I just dropped the phone into its cradle and looked back up at the cob web. Something else I had only just noticed.
I couldn’t afford to waste any more time. Even though I wanted to stay in that chair and obsess over how much money Dylan had taken and how he was spending it, most likely on Brandi, I couldn’t. I had to take care of the shop. Just because my husband was an asshole, didn’t mean I was going to leave our shop to Matilda’s wrath.
The prints hanging around the shop were worth thousands, money I would need to put back into the shop—and whatever damages Matilda wrought. I worked as fast as I could to take them down and layer them between packing blankets in the trunk of my SUV. Then I got all of the other delicate material out of the shop. The cheaper prints that I could redo if necessary, I carted into the office and stored on top of the desk, in case the water did come inside.
Screwing plywood over the windows was a task for at least two people, but I managed to do an okay job of it. I had to ignore the strain on my body to get it done. Lifting and using my body to hold the boards in place while I stretched to screw in the bottom was painful and awkward, as was stretching my arms overhead to secure the top of the plywood.
The wind picked up as I went, and the sky grew darker. There were eight windows and a door that needed covering, but I was only halfway done when a gust of wind took the plywood I was holding and tossed it, end over end, down the street. The damned wind ripped it right from my hands, leaving them bloody and splintered from the rough ends of the wood.
My hair whipped around my head wildly. My oversized shirt billowed out in front of me and my eyes stung from the salty wind. When the rain started, goosebumps spread over my body. I’d never waited so long to evacuate, nor had I ever stayed on the island through a dangerous hurricane. I was about to experience my first time—with Matilda.
I doubted she’d go easy on me, either.
My brain worked at lightning speed to formulate a plan. I wasn’t sure the house would be a safe place to ride out the storm. It was on the east side of the island, facing the Atlantic, and was where Matilda would hit first. I couldn’t stay in the shop. Even if I did manage to get the rest of the windows boarded up, it wouldn’t be structurally safe. I didn’t know where to go. Maybe the medical center. On the west side of the island, it was sm
all but made from reinforced concrete. If I could get in, it would be safer than most places.
I turned back to the windows and, with a renewed determination, I decided that I had time to finish and still make it to the medical center before the brunt of the storm hit. I went after the board that had flown down the street and got back to work.
My determination faded almost as fast as it had arrived, however, as the wind grew increasingly stronger. I was weak from the physical exertion I’d expended all day—boarding up the house and then the shop—and hadn’t thought to eat anything. I only got one more window done before I hit a wall. I didn’t have enough energy or strength left to finish.
I stepped back from the shop and wiped at a stray tear. I felt as though life was closing a chapter on me that I hadn’t planned on closing. No matter the situation, I didn’t want to see the building damaged. It had been good to us.
Before I could continue my sentimental journey, a huge wind gust shoved me sideways. I caught myself and then looked east. Horrified, I saw that the shoreline was much closer than normal. The water was already coming in hard and fast. My heart raced.
I did my best to speedily shove everything in the shop higher up and farther away from the windows. When I’d done everything I could, I rushed back out and climbed in my SUV. In just the last ten minutes, the water line had risen aggressively. I couldn’t have made it back to my house, even if I’d wanted to. I floored it down Main Street to the small island medical center and parked in the ER entrance, the only place even remotely shielded from the wind and rain. I went around the back and worked quickly to pull a tarp over the prints hoping that would offer enough protection if the windows blew out, then I closed and locked the doors.
The medical center had been evacuated early on. Maintenance had boarded the place up, protecting it from the storm and potential looters. I made my way slowly around the perimeter of the place, searching for a way in. When I found none, I retreated to the SUV and sat in it, trying to think. I was soaked. The wind and rain rocked the vehicle, the howling made my stomach clench tightly. I didn’t know where else to go. It was pitch dark by that point. The emergency broadcast system was saying that Matilda was arriving soon, a storm surge of ten to fifteen feet was expected.
It was too late to try to drive inland. It was too late to make it anywhere else. I put my head in my hands and cried. It wasn’t very helpful, but I was out of options.
7
Roman
My bear was unusually unsettled—more so than I ever remember him being. Matilda came in with a raging attitude, beating the little island of Sunkissed Key with unbridled ferocity.
I was an adrenaline junkie—all of us in P.O.L.A.R. were—which was why we chose to do the work we did. Despite the fact that I was no stranger to hazards or risks, and I’d certainly been in more perilous situations, there was something different this time. Exciting, sure, but it also felt like something ominous was lurking just over my shoulder—something that made the hairs on the back of my neck stand on end.
The storm had just started, at a little past ten in the evening, and already, within a half-hour, the east side of the island was flooded. Alexei was hanging out on a rooftop somewhere, watching and keeping us up to date. I was jealous, but I didn’t want to leave Susie’s. I could tell the older woman was nervous and I wasn’t about to let her face Matilda on her own.
For about the thousandth time, I stifled a growl and rolled my neck. My bear was highly agitated. “Having fun so far, Susie?”
She looked up from her find-a-word puzzle book and shrugged. “As long as my place is still standing in the morning, I’m good.”
I forced a laugh and paced over to the covered windows. I wanted to see outside. I kept feeling like something was happening out there. Something I should know about, or take care of.
Anything, Alexei? I called to him through our mental link, hungry for any news.
This storm is wild! Even in my head, I could feel the energy radiating off of him. I don’t know how much longer I’ll stay up here, but it’s been worth watching.
See anyone in need of assistance? My bear growled again, growing even more riled. He kept urging me to go out on a rescue mission, but there was no one out there. No matter how many times I told him, and how much I tried to convince him, he just grew more determined.
No one would be crazy enough to be out in this. I think I’ll head your way. Susie have any of those cinnamon rolls?
I looked over at the covered plate—what was left of the cinnamon rolls she’d made for me about twenty minutes ago. A few. Come on. I’m going to switch positions with you for a bit. I have a weird feeling in my gut.
Alexei showed up a few minutes later, soaked to the bone and grinning like a madman. He wiped his face and made a beeline for the cinnamon rolls. “Susie, will you marry me?”
She smiled at him. “What would you boys do without an old lady like me to look after you? Why you insist on going out in this is beyond me. It’s too dangerous.”
I nodded to Alexei and moved towards the door. “We’ll be okay, Susie. We’re trained for this kind of stuff. Come lock this behind me, Alexei. I’ll let you know when I’m on my way back.”
I didn’t wait on them to reply. My bear was ripping at my flesh to get out and search for whatever it was that had him so worked up. I’d barely gotten ten feet from the diner before he tore free, shredding my clothing and slapping large paws down in the standing water. I lifted my head to the sky and inhaled through my elongated snout. Every one of my senses was heightened in that form, but most of all my sense of smell. I breathed deeply, searching for anything that stood out as unusual.
Salt air, island scents, and something sweet but soiled with the bitter tang of fear. My heart leapt and I ran towards the scent. A faint scream pierced the howling wind and crashing waves. Racing faster, it wasn’t long before I was swimming. The surge had hit and the island was more water than land.
Hear that? Serge came in urgent.
I’ve got it. Headed towards it now. I’ll let you know if I need backup.
I passed the last house and felt a rip current tugging at me. I let it pull me closer to the sound of the scream. It carried me deeper into the ocean, farther south, deeper into the storm. Whoever was out there wouldn’t last long. The ocean was a dangerous beast, even when not stirred up.
A flash of lightning lit up the sky and for a split second, I saw the person. About a hundred yards out, someone was flailing to stay above the rough water. Once spotted, I was able to keep them in my sights, even in the dark. I watched as a wave crashed over them, dragging them under. My heart squeezed painfully and I pushed my muscles through the churning water.
Swimming as fast as I could, it still took me several seconds to get to the spot where I saw the person go down. It was rougher seas than I’d ever attempted to navigate before. I dove under and searched the dark waters.
A white shirt stood out and I was on it—her—in seconds. She was unconscious, and not breathing. She did not look good. My pulse raced. The idea of her not being okay was unacceptable. I had to save her. I clamped my jaw gently over her arm, being careful not to puncture her skin with my sharp teeth, and pulled her to the surface. I had to shift back to resuscitate her. The waves tossed us and I did the best I could in the situation. One forceful blow of oxygen into her mouth and she was back with me—what a fighter.
Terrified, hazel eyes flew open and connected with mine. She was frozen, her body stiff against mine.
“Are you okay?!” I shouted over the raging storm, scared I’d been too late, somehow.
She blinked a few times and then looked around. Her nails bit into my skin as her hands locked onto my arms. Her legs started kicking, helping keep us afloat. She shook her head, the panic in her eyes was clear.
“I’ll get us back! Just hold on to me.”
I didn’t give her a chance to think about it. I turned and wrapped her arms around my neck. Then, I swam like I’d never
swum before. She was light on my back, but it was an awkward way to swim and I used every ounce of my shifter strength. Her mouth next to my ear was more distracting than it should’ve been.
She was more distracting than she should have been—especially given the dire circumstance. I was hyperaware of her body against mine. I swam hard, making sure to avoid the rip current, and got us back onto land. The land was more underwater than it had been just minutes before, but I carried her to the closest house. It was a beach house on stilts, so it was safe from the water, if not the wind.
The water level had risen halfway up the staircase. As soon as she could grab the stair railing, she let go of me and pulled herself up until she could climb the top few steps. It was easy to see that she was sluggish and weak, exhausted, and I worried.
At the top of the stairs, the home was boarded up well. I forced the door open, and ushered her inside ahead of me. I’d apologize and pay for damages later. As soon as I had the door shut and secured, we were plunged into relative silence. It took a few seconds for the ringing in my ears from the howling wind and crashing waves to subside. I turned to the woman who had almost been a casualty of the storm looked her over. The hair on the back of my neck stood on end. Tingles shot through my body.
She looked as though she was still in a daze, not quite processing reality, and that concerned me. “Are you okay? Tell me how you feel. Are you dizzy? Any trouble breathing?”
She shook her head and then nodded before shaking her head again. “I… I don’t know. I don’t know.”
I led her over to a barstool and motioned for her to sit. When she did, I looked her over more closely. I couldn’t see any damage, anything that would alert me to any injury she’d incurred. Her hazel eyes began to focus, despite everything. A just slightly upturned nose on a heart-shaped face, full lips…kissable lips. Lusciously kissable…
She coughed, her hand going over her chest.
Rescue Bear Page 3
