Burn Bright (Alpha & Omega #5)(32)

Anna looked down blankly at the bright purple vet wrap that wound around her right hand. Charles had used the time between when he’d used Jonesy’s phone to call for help and when help started arriving, about fifteen minutes later, (some members of the pack lived almost as remotely as the wildlings) to do a little first aid.

“They shot Hester with a silver bullet,” she managed to get out reasonably smoothly. “I held on to it too long when I recovered it. It’s fine.”

“I got sent over to see what was taking you so long,” Sage said briskly, sensing, with her usual perceptiveness, Anna’s volatile emotional state and that Anna would rather not expound upon it. Sage was very good at knowing exactly what to say and when to leave things alone. “Her royal highness is getting restless.” Though Sage got along with Leah just fine, it didn’t spare Leah (or anyone else for that matter) from Sage’s pointed comments. “I think she just wants to know what Charles and Asil have found, like all the rest of us.”

Sage’s voice was beautiful. Born in the Deep South, it flowed out like honey on a sore throat, soothing and sweet. The rest of Sage was beautiful, too. She was tall, though not as tall as Leah, and slender as a runway model. Sage was funny, sharp, and warm at the same time, a combination that let her get away with saying things that a lot of people were thinking—and not getting in trouble for it.

Before Anna could decide to tell her that she knew one of the dead people, Sage rounded the end of the truck and saw Anna’s initial problem.

“Ha,” she said. “Did the idiots who loaded the bodies forget that you’d have to shut the tailgate or risk dropping dead people all the way home?” She hopped up without a fuss and started shifting the bodies around.

“Some people have no sense at all,” Sage said. “And I include Charles in that. Sending you, of all people, out to deal with all the dead bodies.”

Anna found herself at a loss for words. Still reeling from … PTSD, she supposed, it took her a moment to realize that Sage seemed to be ascribing any oddity in her manner to all the dead bodies in the back of the truck.

Well, she was right in that, if not for quite the reason she thought. Sage hopped out and shut the tailgate. Anna stirred herself and began reapplying bungee cords, ignoring the pain in her burnt hand.

“Oh I wouldn’t do that, honey,” Sage said. “They’ll probably just have to undo the tarp all over again when they load whatever they found in Hester’s cabin.”

Anna let her hands drop, and Sage muttered to herself. “Leave it alone. Leave it …” she snorted, shook her head, and asked, “Are you all right, Anna? Is there anything I can do?”

Anna made a helpless gesture because, while Sage had been moving bodies, Anna had decided that the first person who needed to hear that she knew one of the dead men was her mate. And because she couldn’t tell Sage she was fine. Sometimes living with werewolves sucked—like when it made little social lies impossible.

When she didn’t answer, Sage gave her a sympathetic smile. “Sometimes it hits me, too.” She looked at the truck bed, at Hester’s cabin, then a sweeping glance that took in the pack altogether. Sage closed her eyes and took a deep breath. When she opened them, she said, “What I wouldn’t give to live an ordinary life, you know? No monsters. No dead bodies. The kind of life where I could get outraged that some guy is getting paid more than me for doing the same job. That a speeding ticket is enough to ruin my whole day.”

Anna started to agree but then stopped and shook her head. “No. Then I wouldn’t have Charles. He’s worth all the rest.”

“Charlie?” said Sage. She started to say something else, but she shook her head and gave Anna a rueful smile. “Charlie sure thinks the sun rises and sets on you, that’s for sure.”

Even without telling Sage everything, the other woman had helped Anna find balance. Just having someone else there, someone who reminded Anna by her very presence that she wasn’t in Chicago and that there were people here she could trust to have her back.

So Anna had recognized one of the dead men. That was no excuse to break into a cold sweat of memory. He was dead, after all, and memories couldn’t hurt her unless she chose to let them. And she was no one’s victim these days.

Taking emotion out of the discovery, there were some interesting implications about her knowing one of the men, weren’t there? Especially given the ammunition that had killed Hester.

“Are you okay?” Sage asked. “Is there anything I can do to help?”

Anna gave her what she hoped was a reassuring smile. She did want to talk things out but not with Sage. At least not with Sage first. “You already have, thank you. I was just having a moment—it’s been a long day. Let’s get the truck over before Leah has an aneurysm.”

“Do you think she would?” asked Sage, with interest. “That she could?” She made a happy noise. “It probably wouldn’t kill her, but it might get her to cool her jets a little. We could wait here for a while longer, don’t you think?”

“Leah’s a werewolf,” Anna said dryly. “I think she’ll survive a little frustration. Do you want to ride over with me?”

“No,” said Sage. “I’m also on my way to find Tag and ‘make sure the enfant terrible has not forgotten where he put the fuel for the fire.’” The last was said in Asil’s unmistakable accents.