Alphas in the Wild by Ann Gimpel Read Free Book Online Page B

was gentle, as if he thought she’d lost her mind. He picked up the still-twitching raven and chucked it out the door.
    “Normal birds would,” she said through gritted teeth. “But these aren’t normal. Now help me before any more get in here.”
    As if responding to an invitation, two more flew inside.
    “Grab your stuff,” she panted. Ice chips skittered down her spine.
    “What? Why?”
    “We’ve got to go to one of the other tents. We’ll never get them out of here.”
    “That’s ridiculous. Of course we will.”
    For just a moment, she thought he was going to refuse. She didn’t know what she’d do then, but Tim got his pack and the rest of the small pile of clothes Jake had brought for him. He tucked his staff under one arm and turned off the stove. Clapping a lid on the hot water, he said, “Okay. Ready.”
    She thought about shutting the tent door, but she didn’t want to lock the birds inside the main tent. There were things they’d need in there. Besides, Moira was pretty sure the ravens would leave as soon as she was gone, so long as the door was open. Pack on her back and gun belt in hand, she squinted against the blizzard in progress and led the way to the next tent.
    “The trick,” she yelled to make herself heard over the wind, “will be to get us inside without any birds.”
    “That should be easy.” Hot breath brushed against her cheek and she realized he’d placed his mouth right next to the side of her head. A shiver ran up her back that didn’t have anything to do with being afraid. “They didn’t follow us. Open the door. My hands are full.”
    She fumbled with the latch, her gloved fingers clumsy. Moira was careful not to open the door very far. As soon as the opening was wide enough, they slid inside. She slammed the canvas in place, hooking it against wind and birds. Tim set the things in his arms down. He took a hefty swig of warm water from the cook pot and walked over to her, laying gentle hands on her shoulders. “Do you want to tell me what this is all about?”
    “Not really.”
    He nodded. “Yes, but I think you have to.” He looked around the tent, twin to the one they’d just vacated. “We may end up the only two people here, since it doesn’t appear Jake’s coming back.”
    Anxiety—and guilt—clanged like discordant notes. “I—uh—I ought to go look for both of them.”
    “In that?” He gestured toward the door. “You couldn’t find your own arm out there, let alone two potheads who want to be left alone with their dope.”
    “I suppose you’re right.” She moved away from him and set her pack down, but kept hold of her gun. Shooting the birds was an option, but killing wildlife went against the grain. She respected animals. As a ranger, she was sworn to protect them. Besides her large bore revolver would put major holes in the tent. She might even kill Mitch or Jake inadvertently if they showed up at the wrong time.
    Tim settled himself on a canvas stool. “Grab a seat—” he pulled up another one and pointed to it “—and tell me why those birds attacked us.”
    “It’s a long story—”
    “Just hit the high points.” He sounded deadly serious. When she didn’t move toward the other stool, he stood, went to her, and pulled her into his arms. He kneaded the tense muscles in her neck and shoulders. “You’re shaking. Whatever this is, mo ghrá , we can get through it.”
    Maybe it was the Gaelic endearment, but to her horror, Moira felt a sob rake its way through her chest, followed by another. It had been so long since she’d felt any tenderness from anyone that it undid her. She tried to pull away, ashamed of being weak and needy, but Tim held fast.
    “Ssht. Hush. Take a few deep breaths. The birds can’t get to us here.”
    Moira raised her head from his shoulder long enough to stare at the canvas-walled tent. She wasn’t certain a raven’s beak couldn’t breach the stout fabric. “Not so sure about that,” she