Lucian
A month earlier…
Driving through the small mountain town of Tehachapi was a trip. Of the mind-blowing variety. With a population barely over thirteen thousand, it was a charming community nestled high in the Southern California mountains. In the past as I zoomed by on Highway 58, I'd barely registered the exit. I remembered coming into town exactly once, and the high price of fuel and snacks sent me right back to the highway. Although, to be fair, it was probably marked up near the interstate to catch the tourist money, not locals. I’d keep an open mind.
Yeah… looking at the area with fresh eyes, I could see myself settling in here quite nicely. It was definitely scenic. The rugged desert was twenty minutes down the highway, while these hills thrived with life. Sure, rocky hills and craggy bush surrounded the highway, but off of it, trees and grass took over. And grape vines. And neat suburban neighborhoods with manicured lawns.
How did a thriving pack kept themselves hidden in such a small, enclosed town? Given the surrounding mountains, they couldn’t sprawl like most places in this state.
About twenty minutes out of the downtown area, I found myself in the Bear Valley Springs neighborhood and better understood. The homes I passed now sat on larger plots. The land was filled with trees, surrounded by hills and the ever-present mountain. If they kept their heads down, a pack would easily blend in. The GPS told me the address was still a couple miles out, even further from town. Another good idea. Maybe this new pack wouldn’t be so bad.
While I was trying not to have any expectations, the best way to avoid disappointment in my book, I’d been half afraid of finding douchebags like Bart Macklebee III, the former alpha I’d killed while defending my buddy Matt’s packlands.
I hadn’t been the only alpha to accidentally inherit a pack. I was simply the shmuck who’d least wanted one. The West Coast Wolves, my biker club and unofficial pack of fellow alphas, were all growing up with packs of our own, it seemed. With everyone else stepping up to their responsibilities, I’d had no choice but to do the same.
At least, I was sticking with that story when anyone asked. Secretly, Matty’s growth as a pack alpha had inspired me, and I wondered if maybe, just maybe, I might have it in me to follow in his footsteps with a pack of my own. After a lifetime without roots or family to call mine, it felt like the right time to take a chance on finding some. Roots, anyway. I had a family with my crew. Anything more would be too much to hope for… and if I harbored a fantasy or two in such a direction, nobody needed to know.
It was okay. I knew I could do this, and at least I was still a quick ride to any of my buddies and brothers-in-arms. But… fuck. I wasn’t like Matthias with his purposeful pack management. How he’d accomplished so much in Lucerne Valley in such a short time was amazing. Although having a mate like Eli didn’t hurt.
Yeah, Eli had to be one of his secrets. Matty was lucky to have a perfectly sweet helpmate at his side who knew how to organize with the best of them. Not to mention his pack was filled with good wolves, happy to come together and build a better future for themselves. I’d never felt more at home anywhere in my life than I had during my stay in Lucerne Valley.
If I was going to do this thing—be an actual fucking pack alpha—I needed real, down-to-earth folks like Matty’s pack. I wouldn’t last a day with fake assholes. That, along with habit, was why I was wearing my WCW cut as I rode up on my beast with its spiffy sidecar. The latter was an addition I’d put on so Eli’s kid brother could ride safely, but I’d decided I liked it. It gave my old Harley a special touch, set it apart somehow.
If anyone thought I was keeping it on in case Noah, or pups in this new pack, might want a ride at some point… well, they wouldn’t be entirely wrong. It was never too early to teach the next generation to love riding.
Focusing on the area again, I pushed my thoughts aside, hunting for my turn when the GPS spoke over my Bluetooth and told me it was coming up on my left. I noticed several wineries before I rolled up at the address our territory chief, the man who oversaw all the packs in our territory, gave me. The man himself was parked in front of a large wooden sign carved with the image of a wolf howling at the moon beside the name—The Drunken Wolf Winery.
Fucking A, awesome. I remembered hearing the pack had a winery, but hadn't heard what it was called or given it much thought until this moment. Drunken Wolf Winery… I shook my head, grinning at the audacity. Things were looking up because any wolves chill enough to pick such a name were my kind of people.
Turning my attention back to the chief, I shut off my engine and removed my helmet before climbing off my beast and walking over to shake his hand. Leaning against his truck, hands in his pockets while he watched me approach, the man grinned like the Cheshire Cat.
"Lucian Smith, am I ever glad to see you. I figured it was even odds whether you'd actually show up to claim your new pack or decide the highway held more interest instead."
Gripping his hand, I couldn't help but laugh at his greeting because he wasn't entirely wrong. "TC Woodlawn, I thought I told you I didn't need my hand held for this part, although I’m damned glad to see you. As for the odds, I wouldn't blame anyone who bet against me. Especially if we've met and they know my opinion about running a pack. But here's one thing they don’t know—I always keep my word."
Eyes glinting with fresh respect, he nodded as he dropped my hand. "Glad to hear it. I knew I liked you for a reason. If you can't trust a man's word, then what's the point of dealing with him?" Shoving his hands in pockets, he nodded over his shoulder toward the open gate. "You ready to do this, son?"
If I wasn't, nobody would ever know. Tipping my chin up with a cocky grin, I held my hands out wide as I backed toward my bike. "TC Woodlawn, I was born ready. Anything I need to know before we go in there?"
"How many times am I going to have to tell you and those rowdy friends of yours to call me Ash? Dammit, son. Quit making me feel old. I'm still in my prime. The first time was respectful. Now you're just being mean."
Winking, I lifted a shoulder in a halfhearted shrug. "If you don't want to feel old, maybe you oughta stop calling a grown man 'son,' Ash."
"Touché, you little shit. As far as things you need to know, I don't have much. I told them what happened over in Lucerne Valley and how their former alpha went and got himself killed. They know you're coming, and I think you'll find they're—"
A golf cart came flying through the gate, taking the turn on two wheels, kicking up dirt and pebbles in the process. Fortunately, it came to a complete stop without hitting either of us, since we were both too busy gawking to react.
The man driving was about my age, maybe a year or so younger but not much more. He hopped off and slipped his sunglasses to the top of his head, appearing every ounce the preppy in beige golf shorts and a pale pink polo shirt. The sockless feet in his matching, pale pink chucks amused me.
Still, his outfit worried me until he looked back and forth between us with a welcoming, yet slightly uncertain smile, as if he couldn't figure out who to greet first and wanted to get it right. Despite his fashion choices, the dude wasn’t a little rich prick douchecanoe.