The Bears of Blackrock, Books 1 - 3: The Fenn Clan Read Online Free Page A

me,” he said again.
    She did as he asked, finding his blue eyes clear even in the darkness.
    “Nothing is going to happen to you. You’re safe. He’s not gonna come to camp. He’s as afraid of you as you are of him. Shh, you’re alright.”
    “You don’t know that!”
    John took hold of her shoulders, wrapping his arm around her as he turned her and pulled her down the gravel path. “I got you. You’re alright. You’re safe.”
    She felt trapped, held there by this solid man, and trapped in the woods of Maine with nowhere to run to. She couldn’t go to the Calhoun house at this hour – just show up on the doorstep and ask for a place to stay – indefinitely, and she sure as shit couldn’t go home. She was helpless. She felt like the bait a hunter leaves out on August 1 st .
    “Yeah, but this was in the middle of the summer. It wasn’t rough weather, or rough trails season. It was a bright, blue skied, sunny day when they set off on an easy section of the hike and never reached the other side.”
    Paul was still telling his story when they returned, everyone too enthralled by the conversation to notice John approaching with a shaking leaf version of Catherine in his arms.
    Everyone save for Jean. “You guys alright?”
    They all turned, startled. Catherine could hear John explaining what happened, could see their reactions, but the sound was tinny, as though coming through an old gramophone.
    John turned back to her after a moment.
    “Ah, shit,” he said. “Catie, come on hon. Come sit by the fire.”
    She shook her head. This wasn’t time to sit by the fire. This was time to pack up the trucks and run for their lives. Get as far away from Maine as a person could get. How were they so calm?
    He reached out for her, but she couldn’t move. She felt so cold.
    “Come on, right here darling. Sit right here with me.”
    Catherine felt her body moving as John led her over to the fire, holding onto her as he lowered her down to her seat. She heard the words, ‘she’s in shock,’ before he took her hands in his, rubbing them to keep them warm.
    The conversation continued, Paul regaling them all with his exact thoughts on Falkirk Seat’s ‘no bear hunting’ regulations – that if he’d brought his gun, he’d go hunt the fucker right now. Catherine couldn’t respond. Their voices sounded more like Charlie Brown adults than drunken Mainers.
    “Hey, Catherine. Can you tell me a story? Come on, hun. Why don’t you tell me something?” Deacon asked.
    Deacon appeared at her side, wrapping his unzipped sleeping bag around her shoulders. Paul tried to hand her a bottle of cider, which she reached for mindlessly, but Deacon blocked it, glaring at Paul like he’d offered to shave her head.
    “Why don’t you lie down, hon. Here, just lie back,” Deacon said as he and John leaned her onto a stretch grass and sleeping bag. “Raise her feet for me, will you Benny?”
    Bennett moved quickly, settling at her ankles and propping them into his own lap. Catherine protested the strangeness of this interaction, but she didn’t have the wherewithal to argue.
    “We can’t just stay here. We should go. Let me up,” she said, but her words were weak, hardly sensible. John sat at her shoulder, rubbing her hands between his.
    Deacon held her wrist a moment, glancing at his watch.
    “What the hell are you doing, Deac-head?” She asked.
    John and his brother both laughed.
    “Man, I haven’t heard anyone but John call me that in a long ass time,” Deacon said, smiling down at her. “I’m checking you out. Making sure we don’t need to haul your ass to the clinic.”
    Catherine crinkled her nose at him, suspiciously.
    Bennett patted her legs. “Deac’s an EMT, Catie.”
    Catherine’s eyes went wide. “You are? But you were always such a jackass.”
    It felt as though any alcohol she’d drank that night was compounded now, making her words as slippery as her thoughts.
    The brothers laughed again, and Deacon