Loyal

by Hollis Shiloh

  "I'm sorry," I said. "I'll get some."

  I put down the little kid, who was ready to go. He started running around the second his feet hit the ground.

  It was a hot enough day chocolate would melt pretty quick, but if I'd promised, I'd promised.

  A couple of men were standing around watching me from the distance, but nobody got close. They all figured I was here on Eddie's business, too. Besides, I was feeding the kids. Even the people who didn't like me tolerated me for that reason.

  Nobody really wants to see kids hungry, even when they can't fix it. Even when the man giving them food seems to be doing it for a gangster's PR.

  "I'll get it," I told the chocolate-craver, again.

  "You better." He seemed to be holding back tears, behind his fierce anger. His hands were bunched at his sides. "Grownups are such liars."

  I could feel he'd been wanting to say that for a while, and I was a grownup he felt safe saying it to. I just nodded. "I'm sorry," I said again. It really wasn't about me.

  The kid turned away so I wouldn't see his face. He nodded once, mouth tight. "Everybody's sorry," he said, and walked away. "Sorry doesn't mean anything." He spat on the ground.

  Obviously I had to make a chocolate run, but it took a little while. Couldn't shoo them away, or start driving when the street was full of kids.

  A few of the teens who hung back during the first rush came up now. It was an unspoken rule that kids were first, but any teenagers who were hanging around, who happened to be there, could finish whatever was left.

  They took the granola bars, most of them not wanting to look at me, slouching and half-guilty, like they were ashamed to take food from anybody, for any reason.

  Pride like that doesn't get you anywhere, I wanted to tell them. And I don't want anything in return. But they didn't talk to me and I didn't talk to them. They weren't easy with me like the younger kids.

  Some of the girls snuck multiple glances at me, though. Behind the hard makeup too heavy for them that many wore, lurked young eyes, at the age of crushes and confused feelings and figuring out how they felt about boys. A few of their gazes were too knowing, like they really did know what to do, and maybe had stumbled past or been pushed over the why and figuring out stages all together.

  I understood that a little too well. Didn't like seeing it in them.

  I really didn't think I was anything much to look at, but a big, strong man who provides and doesn't hurt has a certain cachet in any community. I would be quite a catch, I could just about hear some of the girls thinking, apparently not connecting the fact that to me they were kids. They didn't see themselves as kids, probably didn't think anyone else did either.

  I drove off, finally, glad to briefly escape the speculative interest. It made me a little squirrelly to be eyed up so frankly. The little kids were so much less complicated. They wore their hearts on their sleeves, but they weren't crush-having or calculating hearts. They were just little hungry kids. Good and bad and mean and sweet all mixed up inside them, along with the hunger, and ruthless life, driving them on to learn and grow and find out how to survive in this strange and cold world.

  Getting enough chocolate for everyone cost a lot, but I didn't mind that. Eddie paid me well, and my expenses were few and far between. I often ate on his dime, and I still slept in the back of the pool hall, on a mattress on the floor. (I was too big for most beds to hold up under me.)

  Staying there, I was handy if anybody got rowdy, I was on hand to be shaken awake and go sort out the problem. Usually just showing up was enough to make people forget their fights or skedaddle. I was a big guy, and I looked intimidating.

  I could've gotten an apartment, I suppose, but I hated being alone, wouldn't have liked being even further away from my pack. I was already very far away, and seemed to be growing further all the time.

  Mostly what the chocolate delivery took was time, time I could barely spare, since I was running a little late for Eddie's main dinner report.

  He'd only given me two assignments today, as well, and I'd already reported about the first.

  I really shouldn't be late, but promises are important, and chocolate melts fast. When I was finally free to go—chocolate delivered, street clear enough to drive off—I hurried back to the restaurant that was a base of operations for Eddie, his favorite restaurant, a real restaurant, with sterling food and just as sterling books—although Eddie had some money in the business, and one of his cousins was the manager.

  The spaghetti sauce smelled amazing today, although I was pretty sure the busboy had dropped bleach in the back, because it smelled really strong to my wolf nose. Nobody else seemed aware of it, though.

  I'd worked in the back one summer, before Eddie decided I was better elsewhere. The chef had taken one look at me and gone all sour. He didn't want me there, but he didn't want to say no to Eddie. I'd peeled and prepped and washed and been rushed off my feet, jumping every time someone yelled. It was a relief to both of us when Eddie changed his mind. But I still loved eating here.

  Today Eddie was eating with some important people he was planning to do business with, I suppose. It had that sort of look to it, and he was wearing one of his nicest suits. A couple of his men stood around, body guarding, and a few more waiting to report. He was taking his time, giving a lot of play to the cloth napkins, enjoying the eyes on him, the deference.

  My heart sank as I realized I probably wouldn't be invited to sit and eat. Not if he was hamming it up and hanging out with important people. I joined the line, and waited my turn.

  Eddie was verbally rough with some of the guys, showing off his power, and their groveling was accompanied by the sharp smell of anger that always set me on edge. Eddie didn't need to make any of the guys angry with him. The pack was already a lot less loyal than I'd have liked.

  Finally it was my turn. I kept my head slightly lowered, my posture submissive, shoulders down, hands clasped behind my back. Eddie never seemed to read my body language, though, no matter how much I groveled. It always shocked me a little, that he didn't get it. Even though I knew he wasn't that sort of alpha, some part of me constantly expected more from him. Some acknowledgement would be nice. Some warmth. Even if he'd just accept my submissive attitude, it would be something. But he never seemed to trust me lately...

  "And L?" he said to me sharply, ordering me to report. He never called anyone by name during these half-public performances, just in case. But L for Leland wasn't exactly a hard code to crack. Still, he was pretty careful of surveillance, and I doubted anyone was listening.

  "Fine, sir," I said. I tilted my neck a little to the side, baring it, submitting to him. I risked a glance at his eyes, trying to get a read on him. They were...difficult to read. Calculating or something, maybe a little hard.

  I wished he'd invite me to sit down and eat. I wished he'd pat his thigh and call me to him, like he'd done when I was younger. Then, a ruffle of my hair, an arm around me in a quick half hug, were my reward for a job well done, for being eager to please and young, for doing what he said. Now he never did. Sometimes he stared at me really hard, till I wanted to shrink, till I wanted to beg him for something.

  If he'd been wolf, he'd have felt my desperation. I wasn't too proud to grovel, but he never saw it. He was blind to it, and that hurt. Shouldn't he see how much his acceptance and approval would mean to me?

  But he didn't. He never touched me anymore, and didn't speak kindly to me. Sometimes he just looked at me with hard eyes, like he was doing now.

  If I'd been in wolf form, my belly would have been on the ground, and I'd probably have been licking my muzzle appeasingly. I'd have rolled over and let him bite my neck if it would make him less angry, let him feel like the boss.

  He was the boss—why wasn't it enough anymore? Because I doubted him?

  But I still listened. I tried so damned hard, and I didn't want much from him—not really. Why couldn't he give me even a little of what I so desperately craved?

&n
bsp; "I want you to go and put the frighteners on J," he said at last. His voice was harsh and rough, and my heart sank. I could hear the capricious tone of it, the irritation—he was showing off again.

  I lowered my gaze a little more, staring down at my own feet now. They looked too big in their steel-toed shoes. I made a sound of complaint and disagreement in my throat.

  Eddie froze, but just for a minute. I raised my eyes to his, slowly, and found him looking at me very hard. There was something assessing and cunning there, something I didn't like aimed at me.

  Did he want me to say I wouldn't, so he could teach me a lesson? Eddie had never done that before, but he seemed so restless today, with too much to prove. Perhaps he would.

  "Vance will take you," he said, each word cold and hard as a nail, and merciless. Great. He was leaving me in no doubt that I had to be a wolf, that I had to throw his weight around. He never sent anyone with me unless I needed "handling" as a wolf. Well, I couldn't drive myself, and I wasn't allowed to shift in front of anyone and give my identity away.

  I lowered my gaze again, slowly, heart pounding.

  In that one moment, I knew if it came to a straight-up challenge, I could beat him. The thought startled and shocked me. Shouldn't I be more grateful than that? He was the alpha, I wasn't. I wasn't even alpha material, not really. I wanted to be held too much.

  There were so many times I would have done anything for a little comfort from him. Any wolf would have given it. Any wolf alpha, that is. Even if the cost was high. Even if he snarled and bit me first, he'd have given it to me. And Eddie wouldn't.

  Eddie didn't like me anymore. He was my alpha, and he disliked and feared me. The thought made me so miserable I couldn't speak—not that any words were wanted from me.

  Eddie waved me away imperiously. "Go on. When you're done, you can eat in the kitchen."

  The kitchen. My throat felt dry as sawdust. He was punishing me already, and I hadn't failed him yet. I wouldn't fail him at all, and he didn't care.

  Of course it's just because there's company, I reminded myself. He didn't want my big, cloddy self there, slurping up all the spaghetti when he was trying to impress everyone with what a big man he was.

  I was bigger.

  I'd always be bigger than him, and I was getting mighty fed up with his poor alpha skills.

  A good alpha wouldn't hold back every single thing I need, demand the world from me, and then tell me to eat in the fucking kitchen.

  JARAMILLO WAS ONLY a little late with his protection payment. He ran two big warehouses, and it was no surprise that cash flow was sometimes dicey. We had the standing three-day grace period for him because of it.

  He'd never actually failed to pay, or tried to screw Eddie over. Gunning for Jaramillo now would be bad all around. His three days weren't up yet. Besides, he had always struck me as a man you didn't want to cross.

  Somehow Eddie never saw it, because Jaramillo gave and gave, and was polite, but under everything, there was steel in the man. Right now he found it easier to follow along and not cross Eddie. He paid up. He kept his head down. But I knew him. I knew more about him with a sniff than Eddie did from his whole lifetime.

  Why was Eddie such a brick-dumb alpha?

  The terrible, disloyal thought lingered, relished viciously, for a whole two minutes before I swept it reluctantly away, tidying my mind for shifting, for intimidation.

  But this wasn't the right way to handle Jaramillo, even supposing he'd needed handled. Which he didn't.

  In my mind's eye, I could see this going wrong many ways. Most of all, I thought if we went through with it, if I followed orders and did what Eddie meant, Jaramillo would get so angry he'd never pay again. Whether that meant going to the cops, shooting the next Eddie man to walk through his door expecting money, or burning his entire warehouse to the ground, he wouldn't give in, when pushed too far.

  As Vance and I headed to the car, I cast him a speculative look. Did I trust Vance? Sure, I suppose—as much as any of the pack. He had his limits, and he got fed up with things a lot, but he wasn't vicious for the sake of it.

  Vance wouldn't get off on my terrorizing Jaramillo. If anything, he'd be grimly angry about the whole thing. And while that could have the outward appearance of making him seem like he was vicious and getting off on it, there were little tells, subtle differences that told the truth.

  Had Eddie not noticed that? Or not bothered to think it through? I'd never have considered flat-out disobeying him if it was somebody with a real mean streak who'd report back with relish, but Vance smelled about as fed up with bullshit as I was. Plus he had that subtle limp going on today—probably the rain coming soon—that meant he had even less patience for Eddie's poor decisions than usual.

  Vance was older than me, with a jaded, "I'm putting in the hours and keeping my head down, but this is bullshit" attitude that I hadn't understood for a while.

  I understood it better now, and I thought we could talk about this. I had to pick my time, of course. Nobody watching, and talk fast enough to convince him before we were heading to the warehouse, me in wolf form. Partly because I couldn't talk to him in wolf form, and partly because once we were on the way, he'd be too stubborn to change anything, even if he knew I was right, and wanted to.

  "Vance," I said cautiously, as we headed to the back room. I didn't touch his arm, because he didn't like being touched and would've smacked me off him with a curse, but I wanted to. I wanted to touch him very lightly, let the plea be clear with more than my voice. That was wolf body language more than human, though.

  Instead he didn't even look at me, stomping toward the back room, a sour glare on his crinkled face. I realized I was tilting my head a little, showing my neck, licking my lips lightly. Damn it, I didn't want to submit to Vance!

  "Vance," I said. "Please...wait."

  The please got him. He swung around and looked at me, surprised, then searching, a wary hardness entering his gaze. I gave him a wobbly little smile. "Vance, you know he's wrong this time, don't you?" I shrugged awkward and exaggerated. I always had to exaggerate my body language around non-shifters. Even then it didn't always register. "Jaramillo needs his three days' grace. He's not someone to piss off, don't you think?"

  "I'll fucking say so," growled Vance.

  "So, maybe we could take that...as a suggestion. Or a...a verbal feint, to impress the businessmen. Hm?" I raised my brows, making my eyes big.

  He looked at me, expression changing, shifting and wary, and then cunning and wry. "Skip the theatrics, you mean? Damn."

  "Why not? Jaramillo isn't going to say anything, and he'll have the money to us by tomorrow, you know he will. What do you say?"

  He looked at me hard. "And I don't say anything if you don't. I get it. What's in it for you, though?"

  "I just don't want trouble with Jaramillo."

  "No, you've been avoiding the muscle work more and more. What's in it for you?"

  "I just—"

  He stepped forward, poking me in the chest, hard. I gave before him, gaze lowering.

  "You making a move on the boss?"

  I flinched. "No, I—"

  "I should tell him now. I should march back in there. You're trying to double-cross me good, aren't you?"

  "No, Vance! I—" I held my hands up. "I wouldn't. I just don't think it's a good idea."

  He studied me hard, eyes flinty. Then something shifted. "Hm. Well, I don't either, as it happens. This time, we skip it—this time. But no more secrets, understand?" He reached up and cuffed the side of my head, rough.

  He'd been around long enough to know he could slap me around and I wouldn't say a word or resist. I flinched a little from the second blow, but he caught the side of my face and gave me a rough rub instead of a slap.

  I didn't breathe. What was he up to?

  "And if you do want to make a move against the boss, I'm the first one you talk to, understand? Don't you fucking dare make a move without me. You ain't got the brains to survi
ve it. You pass anything—anything—by me. Even if you skim a fiver, you hear me?" This time he did slap me, rough and sudden. "You fucking hear me?"

  "Yes, Vance." I kept my gaze down.

  He reached for me again, and I flinched hard.

  "I could fucking wipe the floor with you," he muttered. Then: "I could run this town if you were loyal to me instead of him."

  I raised my eyes, shocked. He made a move to backhand me, and I looked down, quick, heart pounding.

  Vance wanted to move against Eddie? Why hadn't I realized that?

  "He don't know what he's got with you," muttered Vance. "Sleeping in the back room and eating scraps. You'd eat out of his hand and he don't even see it. I'd treat you better."

  "I—I just don't want to rough up Jaramillo," I said in a miserable voice. "I wasn't saying anything else."

  "All right. All right. Just you think about it, okay?"

  "Mm-hm," I said, because I didn't want him to hit me again.

  He studied me for a moment. Then he reached up again, real gentle, and curved his hand around the back of my neck, where the skin and the small hairs met. He was cupping the back of my neck, and I let him. I shivered: a helpless little shiver, finding comfort in his touch, despite everything.

  Eddie wouldn't touch me anymore. Eddie looked at me like I was his enemy sometimes, like he despised me and...and other things I didn't want to think about.

  "That's my boy," said Vance, real soft. He kept his hand there for a moment, and his voice was soft and pleased. His fingers stroked real gentle, so brief I almost whimpered for more.

  "We'll be all right, you and me," said Vance, and I raised my eyes and met his, and this time I didn't flinch from his gaze. There was something triumphant in those eyes. Something cunning and strong and fiercely alive. Something very alpha.

  AFTER THAT IT DIDN't take Vance long. Now that he more or less had me on his side, he got a bunch of other guys, dissatisfied with Eddie's growing capriciousness, to more or less say without saying that, if something should happen to put Vance in charge, they wouldn't be averse to working with him, they wouldn't be crying to have the old leadership back.