by Sky Winters
Atticus pressed another button on the visor, the leftmost of the three doors opening and revealing a sleek, modern garage. He drove the truck into the open space and killed the engine. After getting out and ascending the staircase leading from the garage, he stepped into the massive living room.
The main room of the compound was a tall-ceilinged space of neutral colors, simple yet expensive with well-made furniture and a large, gas-powered fireplace. The wall facing outside was entirely comprised of a huge window that looked out onto the greens and browns of nature beyond. Towards the top of the room, there was a second-floor balcony that looked out over the space, hallways entering from either side led to the rest of the first floor on one end and the dining room and kitchen on the other. The walls were decorated with simple, modern art and a subtle, musky scent wafted through the air. It was a clean and tastefully-appointed bachelor’s compound for him and his three brothers.
The air was still and quiet, and Atticus wondered where everyone was.
“Is that you, Atticus?” called out a deep, manly voice from the second floor, the sound carrying through the open space of the home.
“Clyde! Where are you?” called Atticus in response.
Clyde responded by appearing at on the second-floor balcony, his huge, muscular frame dominating the view, his typical wide smile on his face. Seeing Atticus on the first floor he turned toward the stairs and ran down, the footfalls of his enormous feet sounding through the living room. Upon reaching the first floor, he ran towards Atticus and wrapped him with his massive, beefy arms, lifting Atticus into the air.
“Good to see you, brother!” he said.
“You too,” said Atticus, his face muffled by Clyde’s chest. “But if you could put me down, I’d appreciate it.”
He complied, and Atticus took a step back and looked at his brother.
Clyde was the brawn of the group, a role that he was happy to fill. An enormous man of nearly six-and-a-half feet of height, he was loaded with muscles. His hair was cut to a buzz and his handsome features always seemed to project warmth and friendliness. Atticus’s younger brother by several years, he always thought of Clyde as a Golden Retriever- loyal and kind.
“How was the vacation?” asked Atticus, referring to Clyde’s recent trip to the woods of the Pacific Northwest, were he spend the better part of the winter with a pack of Grizzly shifters.
“Not much of a vacation,” he said, looking away. “Lot of work.”
Atticus looked around the house.
“Where’s everyone else?” he asked.
“Out in the woods, on a pack hunt. I would be with them, but I just got back in not too long ago and, well, I didn’t really feel up to it.”
Atticus was about to press Clyde for more details, before he did, the movement of shapes in the window beyond was visible in the corner of his eye.
“Ah, that must be them,” said Clyde his attention drawn to the same place.
Atticus walked towards the enormous glass wall and looked down at the cleared grounds of the compound. Sure enough, the rest of the pack was moving from the southern entrance, the precession of nude, freshly-shifted men striding through the grounds, all with the same confident gait.
Sighing, Atticus wasn’t looking forward to the conversation he was going to have with them.
“How’s the girl?” asked Clyde, walking to Atticus’s side.
“You’ve heard?” asked Atticus, surprised.
“Only a little, that you’ve been having the pack look after some woman in town.”
“That’s right,” said Atticus.
“Why?” asked Clyde, giving Atticus a playful jab to the arm, which Atticus found still hurt quite a bit, even despite Clyde’s playful intentions. “You have a little crush?”
Atticus smirked and rolled his eyes, the events of the day flashing through his mind.
“Nothing so indulgent. You remember the meth dealers who’ve been taking up residence in the woods?”
“I do,” said Clyde. “Bringing more and more crime into the area.”
“Exactly. Besides that, they’re putting up more and more drug labs in the woods, setting up booby traps and destroying the woods around them with their chemicals.”
Clyde shook his head.
“We need to rid them from this area, if you ask me.”
“I agree,” said Atticus, his eyes still on the pack as they split up, his brothers making their way towards the house.
“So, what does the girl have to do with all of it?” asked Clyde.
Atticus heard the doors open on the floor below.
“We’ll talk all of this over in a minute. For now, I need a damn beer.”
“That does sound nice,” said Clyde.
The pair walked through the living room and down the hall leading to the kitchen, passing the dining room on their right, a room with a long, birch table and a view onto the woods just as spectacular as the living room.
Atticus made his way to the tall, stainless steel fridge and opened it, letting the cool air rush over his body for a moment before he withdrew a pair of Budweisers. He cracked the two caps and handed one to Clyde.
“Thank you,” said Clyde, taking a long draw. “But you’re not going to meet with Ian and Roland?”
“As much as I need to talk with them, I think I’ll give them a minute or two to throw on some clothes.”
Clyde made an expression of realization. The two of them then walked out onto the large patio that overlooked the property, took a seat and sipped their beers.
“I never get tired of this view,” said Atticus, looking out at the trees just outside of their compound, followed by the gentle, rolling curves of the hills beyond, the view building to a crescendo of faraway mountains painted with a glow of soft pinks and creamy whites from the dramatic sky of the setting sun.
“It’s quite a place to call home,” said Clyde. “Especially after where I just came back from.”
“Not as nice of a view?”
“The home of the pack was more…cave-like,” he said. “And it rained every damn day.”
“That’s the Pacific Northwest for you,” said Atticus. “It’s why I prefer our little slice of land.”
“Agreed,” said Clyde, taking a sip of his beer.
Before they could continue, Atticus heard his brothers enter the den. Soon after, the door to the patio opened, and turning in his seat, he was greeted with the sight of Ian and Roland, his other younger brothers.
“There’s our older brother,” said Ian, walking around the deck chairs where Clyde and Atticus sat, taking position leaning against the wooden railing in front of them, blocking their view.
Ian was the opposite of Clyde in just about every way. Where Clyde was tall and brawny, with an open and warm personality, and interests that tended to veer towards the physical, Ian was a slighter, leaner man with a sharp intellect and a mind more inclined towards the cerebral. He had the same sandy-blonde hair as the other brothers, his pin-straight, grown to shoulder length and tucked behind his ears. His features were just as handsome as the other men, though his were sharper and leaner, cheekbones pronounced and high, his hazel eyes narrow, giving him an expression of constant skepticism. Ian was wearing a tight, gray t-shirt that showed off his ropey, slim musculature, and a pair of jeans that fit his legs snugly. His feet were bare and pale.
Roland, on the other hand, was all business. His sandy-blond hair was slicked back and had a sheen that gave it the appearance of being polished. He had the same wide jaw and rugged, handsome features as Atticus, but his expression was fixed and serious. His shoulders were wide and square, and his solid, muscular physique marked him as a man who attended to his health and appearance with the same serious-minded focus that he applied to every other facet of his life, including the finances of the pack. He was in charge of making sure that their money was wisely invested, and that the maintenance of the compound was always attended to. He was dressed in a simple white button-up shirt and pair
of black slacks, his feet in a pair of black, stylish slip-ons.
“And your younger one, too,” said Clyde, almost sounding hurt by his brothers not giving him the same warm welcome as Atticus.
“Of course,” said Roland as Clyde rose to his feet. “Welcome back.”
The brothers greeted one another briefly, followed by a quick hug between Ian and Clyde.
“I’m glad you’re both here,” said Atticus, resting his beer on his flat stomach. “We have matters to discuss.”
“I hope this doesn’t involve another slumber party at your crush’s house,” said Ian.
Atticus shot him a narrow-eyed look.
“No, Ian. This is about the meth operation in the area.”
“Go on,” said Roland, preparing to pay close attention.
“Well, as we already knew, Lucas Henderson is a high-up the Bear Mountain meth scene. And I actually had an appointment with Tessa Henderson this afternoon. Turns out that they’ve split for one reason or another.”
“No doubt she found out about her husband’s involvement with the drug scene,” said Roland, folding his hands in front of him.
“Or she walked in on him fucking one of the strung-out teenagers he can’t seem to keep away from,” said Ian.
“I’m thinking both,” said Atticus. “I talked to her about it, briefly, and she was cagey. Cagier than if she had just found out that he was cheating. I got the impression she was dealing with something that she wasn’t expecting in the slightest.”
“And the reason you were over there?” asked Ian, a sly smile crossing his red lips.
“An appointment, like I said. Lucas did cut the power to her place, after all.”
“Something tells me that wasn’t the only need of hers you were attending to,” said Ian.
“That’s enough,” said Atticus, shutting him down.
“Wait, what?” asked Clyde. “A girl? Does this mean you’re finally getting married?”
Atticus held up his hand, getting the brothers back on topic.
“It means that she’s likely to be a way to get closer to Lucas. Maybe with her on our side, we can finally get at him. And if we were able to do something about him, it might be just the thing to turn the tide on the meth gangs in the area. Not to mention that if he’s willing to sneak up to her place at night and cut her power and water, who knows what else he’d be willing to do. Especially since she now knows what kind of business he’s involved in.”
“True,” said Roland. “Meth doesn’t exactly lead to ‘cooler heads prevailing’ types of situations.”
“Did any of you see anything in the woods?” asked Atticus.
“That’s what we want to tell you about,” said Roland. “We found another abandoned trailer out there, not too far from town. No drugs. But the, ah, chefs left plenty of ingredients behind.”
“Chemicals just leaking into the ground,” said Ian.
“That’s terrible,” said Clyde. “Who would do something like that?”
“Assholes who don’t care about anything other than making money,” said Ian.
“They need to be eliminated, that’s for sure,” said Roland. “Even if we didn’t care about the harm they’re inflicting on the community, it’s only a matter of time before they wreck the environment in the area.”
“Not to mention, they do something to Tessa,” said Ian.
“Hey, you guys don’t have to sell me on this,” said Atticus.
“I say we just shift at night, go to that house on the other side of town and tear the place apart,” said Ian.
“That’d be a temporary solution at best,” said Roland.
“Right,” said Atticus. “Not considering how they outnumber us, unless we get the leadership to help, we know they’ll just reform and get right back to it.”
“You can say a lot about meth users,” said Roland. “But a lack of focus isn’t one of them.
“Fine,” said Ian. “What’s the next step, then?”
“Next step is we make sure that nothing happens to Tessa, just like we’ve been doing,” said Atticus. “Aside from it being the right thing to do, she might just be the key to getting this problem solved.”
“And maybe you can finally pick up a bride in the process,” said Ian.
Atticus shot him a dirty look.
The tradition of the black bear shifters was that the Alpha of the tribe, typically the oldest male, would be the first to find a bride. Once he was married, the rest of the men of the tribe would follow suit. Atticus, by preferring to stay single, had put something of a strain on the rest of the pack. Ever since his 35th year, the age when the Alpha of the pack was expected to wed, Atticus’s brothers had been putting a fair amount of pressure on him to settle down and find a mate. And now that his 40th birthday was drawing nearer and nearer, this pressure had been becoming less and less subtle.
“But for now,” said Atticus, “we just keep an eye on Tessa.”
“Fine,” said Ian, his body tensing, telegraphing to Atticus that while he would obey his Alpha, he didn’t care for sitting around.
Silence fell over the brothers as they watched the sun set over Bear Mountain. Atticus let himself slide further back into his chair, the subtle buzz from the beer weaving through his body. However, the phone ringing from where he left it on the kitchen counter snapped him out of his relaxed state. Setting his beer down on the wood floor of the deck, he trotted into the kitchen and picked up his phone. Looking at the display, he saw that it was a number that he didn’t recognize.
“Hello?”
“Hey, is this Atticus?” asked the voice on the other end. It was a woman’s voice- a familiar woman’s voice.
“It is. Who’s this.”
“It’s Tessa. Are you free to talk?”
CHAPTER 12
Tessa drove her car down the road heading to the center of Branlen, her headlights cutting through the pitch darkness that surrounded her. She drove with more care down the sloping, winding road, as tough Lucas and his cronies might jump from the shadows at any moment.
She called Atticus on a whim. Tessa realized that she barely knew the man, but between the feeling of unease that being alone at her house instilled in her, and the fact that she felt strangely comfortable and safe around him, she knew that she wanted to spend more time with him. So, dialing his number, she asked him to meet her at Hannagan’s for a drink and was pleased- not to mention, relieved- when he agreed.
The soft glow of the town lights appeared down at the end of the road, and after a few more minutes of driving, Tessa was in the center of town. She drove the last bit of distance to Hannigan’s and scanned the parking lot as she drove in. The lot seemed bare and she couldn’t spot Atticus’s work truck- the only cars there were a handful of older-model trucks and sedans. She slid her car into an open spot and headed into the bar.
Hannagan’s was fairly dead, which wasn’t uncommon for a weekday night. Having her choice of places to sit, she slid into an open spot at the bar, Julianne arriving moments later with her usual smile on her face.
“Well, look who it is,” Julianne said, tossing a coaster onto the bar in front of Tessa.
“Hey, Jules,” said Tessa.
“Still no Lucas?” Julianne asked, pouring Tessa a pint of her usual.
“No,” she said, realizing that she was about to meet Atticus here and that wouldn’t be the best look. “I’m, ah, meeting the electrician who did some repair work today. It, uh, turns out he’s a pretty good artist and he’s going to give me some tips on getting more of my art sold.”
Julianne looked at her with a lowered-eyelid, skeptical expression.
“Hey, no judgements here, girl. I’m on husband number three, remember?” she said, holding up her left hand and pointing to the ring on it. “Henry told me some name he has for it.”
She turned to Henry, who was pouring a line of whiskey shots for a group of construction workers.
“Henry! What’s that thing you called people chea
ting on each other?” she yelled, Tessa’s face turning a deep shade of red. “That French thing.”
“Luh comedy humaine.”
“Yeah, that,” said Julianne. “Kinda means, people cheat, people break up; it’s just how people are, you know?”
“Oh, OK,” said Tessa. “I’m not doing any of that, though.”
“Sure, sure,” said Julianne with a wink before leaving Tessa with her beer.
But before Tessa had a chance to think about the conversation she just had, Atticus walked into the bar.
Since their encounter earlier in the day, Tessa had been debating whether or not she should’ve done what she did. But seeing him again, in the flesh, Tessa knew that she made the right decision.
He nodded at her with a small uptick of his chin, walked towards where she sat, and slid into the open seat next to her.
“Hello, again,” he said.
“Hey,” said Tessa.
Julianne walked up to them once more.
“Whiskey, please,” said Atticus.
“You got it,” said Julianne, making no effort to hide the eye-fucking she was giving Atticus.
A moment later, she returned with a small glass of brown liquid.
“To be honest, I didn’t think I’d be hearing from you anytime soon,” he said, taking a sip of his drink.
“Oh, yeah?” asked Tessa, curious as to why he would think that.
“Mhmm,” he said. “Like I said, you’re not my first married woman, let alone the first woman who was, well, taken. Those types tend to have changes of heart about screwing around that are…sudden, to say the least.”
“Well, before you flatter yourself too much, the main reason I called you was because I didn’t really feel safe at the house. What, with my husband and his friends sabotaging the place.”