Page 24 of The Brave (Black Arrowhead #6)

T hree days had passed since Atticus was invited to stay on Arrowhead land. Though he owned property, he now had a better understanding of why Joy loved it here. Sometimes a few of them would sit on the fence and tell jokes. They worked together and behaved as a family. Their wolves rolled in the grass and played. They always ate together, and their meals were filled with conversation and boisterous laughter. Atticus could see how this would be an ideal place for a child to grow up. It was the home he had always wanted for himself.

Though he had to work at the club, they spent their evenings together. Atticus remained focused on the mission. As long as those men lived, Joy would always be in danger—her child would always be in danger—and he couldn’t let that happen. If destiny was real, this was a second chance to protect the one person he loved more than life. He pondered over what it could mean for Joy if he didn’t return alive—if he failed to carry out his promise.

That heavy burden weighed on him.

It was late in the evening and the busiest day of the month. After he reviewed inventory and paid his employees, Atticus ordered a dry martini and sat alone in the green room of his club. Soft piano music played on the speakers while couples flirted in small pockets throughout the room, which was accented with flowers. Gardenias were an attractive scent, but it always depended on what he could get from the florist.

He watched the customers, none of whom approached his table. They all knew him, but most were too intimidated by his quiet demeanor. He wished he could experience the same comradery as Joy’s packmates.

“Be careful what you wish for,” he murmured when three familiar faces entered the room.

Krys flipped his dark hair back. When he spotted Atticus, his eyes glinted angrily.

Being a Vampire, Atticus was more interested in the Shifter’s bare chest, which was flushed. Blood revealed emotions, but in this case, the sting of warm air hitting cold skin indicated that Krys had driven over here on his motorcycle in the wintry air. Atticus pondered why the Shifter wasn’t dressed appropriately but guessed he was giving a message that he was tough and nothing fazed him.

Was that message for Atticus?

Krys unzipped the bottom of his leather jacket and whispered, “This is bullshit.”

“Will you cool it?” Archer bit down on his wallet and pulled out a few bills. Then he folded it back up. “He might be listening. If you guys are traveling together, I wanna make sure you won’t kill each other. Now quit your bitching. We’re bonding tonight.” After tucking the wallet in his back pocket, he handed the money to Lucian, who veered off to the bar.

Archer gave him a curt nod as they swaggered up to the table. “What’s up, man?”

Curious where this might go, Atticus stood and bowed his head. “Good to see you, gentlemen.”

“You don’t have to be so formal with us.” Archer clapped him on the shoulder and grinned. “We’re practically family.”

“Is the rest of your pack here?”

“Nah. It’s game night, so the couples are going to war. Nothing like a little world domination after dinner to get those couples fighting. Mel pulled out the Risk game when Tak suggested Yahtzee. That man has some magic voodoo on those dice.”

Atticus returned to his seat while listening to Lucian placing orders at the bar.

Krys sat opposite him and crossed his arms. His closed-off body language suggested that he hadn’t come here voluntarily.

“What brings you out this way?” Atticus pretended he hadn’t overheard them whispering moments ago.

“Thought we’d keep you company.” Archer stole the chair to the right and glanced down at his jacket before removing it. He quickly adjusted his white shirt when the left sleeve got caught behind his back.

“I have a tailor who can make some alterations to your shirts,” Atticus offered.

Archer cleared his throat. “It’s cool.”

“Let me know if you change your mind. He can take off the excess fabric and make it look as if it were made for your body. No trouble. The right fit makes a difference.”

Krys scoffed. “We don’t wear your fancy clothes.”

Lucian returned, and when he sat down with the beer bottles, he sniffed the air. “What are you guys talking about?”

Krys shook his head. “Wasting money on getting street clothes fitted.”

Lucian cracked open his beer. “It’s not a waste if you want to look good. I get my nice shirts fitted.”

Archer smothered a laugh while sipping his beer.

Resting his arms on the table, Atticus decided to change the topic to make Archer less uncomfortable. “Joy mentioned you’re having issues with Hamish Macgregor.”

“Dickhead likes to give us trouble,” Archer replied. “One of these days I’m going to snip off that curly mustache of his.”

“He tried throwing down more poison ivy seeds,” Lucian said. “It’s petty and not very effective.”

“Did you hear the news about his beta?” Archer’s eyebrows reached for his hairline as he straightened up.

Krys jerked his head back. “What?”

After setting down his bottle, Archer leaned back in his chair. “I overheard his men talking at the Rabbit Lounge this afternoon. Apparently he was having trouble with his beta and threw him out.”

“No shit?” Krys smirked. “Serves him right. A pack is only as strong as the top two wolves. That should create some chaos.”

“Maybe it’s karma for all the shit he’s doing on our land,” Lucian grumbled.

Archer reached for his beer. “Hold that thought—the best is yet to come. Guess who he picked to replace him?”

Atticus knew many of Hamish’s packmates and wasn’t impressed with any of them, especially the third in line.

“Kevin?” Lucian quipped.

Krys’s lips twitched.

Archer gulped down more beer with an anticipatory look on his face. “Deacon.”

“You’re fucking with us,” Krys said, his voice tightly caged. “Are you kidding me? That piece of shit musclehead who…” He glanced at Lucian, whose face turned an ugly shade of red. Because he had a shaved head, most of his scalp was also flushed with either anger or embarrassment.

Lucian lowered his eyes, his clenched jaw and stiff posture making it clear that he and this Deacon fellow had history.

Atticus wondered if he might have seen him in the club before. So many people came and went, and he didn’t know all their names. “Who’s Deacon?”

Krys scraped his teeth over his bottom lip. “The fucker who tried to get Lucian killed. He was vying for beta in our group.”

“He was on your land?”

Archer took over the conversation. “Tak might have told you he put out an ad for packmates. Our group came down on a bus, Deacon included. He was a real piece of work, always trying to control the situation. Deacon used to be a hotshot beta for a pack out west and thought he was entitled to the position, but Lakota already had it. He and Lucian had issues before we got here, but then it got worse.”

Lucian’s eyebrow arched as his gaze slanted to the side. There was obviously more to the story than just conflicting personalities.

Archer rubbed his chin. “We ran into some trouble, and a couple of our guys were shot up. Deacon wanted to leave Lucian for dead. Tak wanted to get to the truth, and Deacon split. He doesn’t believe Chitahs belong in a pack. I don’t think he liked me either for obvious reasons. That’s not the kind of man you want as beta. The beta’s the guy you go to—the one who resolves pack issues and strengthens bonds. I don’t know what the hell is going on over at Hamish’s pack now with Deacon second in charge. I didn’t even realize he was hanging out with Hamish’s people.”

“Was he in their pack all this time?” Atticus asked.

Archer shrugged. “I’m surprised his head didn’t explode from ego overload. Shit. Now we have to deal with that megalomaniac.” Archer ran his fingers through the bleached tips of his hair. “You just know he’s dying to rub it in when he sees us.”

Unfortunately, they had to deal with Hamish, but it wasn’t an ideal situation to have your enemy as your neighbor.

“Maybe you should have a peace party,” Atticus suggested.

Lucian scoffed before chugging his beer.

“You don’t have to make friends to make peace,” Atticus pointed out. “It’s not good to live in fear of what your neighbor might be up to.”

“We’re not scared of Hamish,” Archer countered. “He couldn’t seize our land even if he tried. The Council put a cap on how much territory he can own, so if he attempts a land grab, it’ll be in vain.”

Krys eased in closer and folded his arms on the table. “Really? Because the Council out here ain’t that big, and we don’t know them. He might bribe one of them.”

Lucian set down his drink. “Councilwoman Eden isn’t like that.”

Archer scratched his throat where a crown of thorns tattoo wrapped around his neck. “Eden’s cool, but I don’t know the others.”

Krys let his bottle swing between his fingers while locking eyes with his cousin. “What if someone takes out the Council? Do you think any of the big-city Councils give a shit what goes on out here in the sticks? Who would replace them? Probably no one. They’re the only thing standing between Hamish going for our land.”

“You and your doomsday predictions. Don’t give me a headache.” Archer rubbed his eye. “I came here to have a beer with the man who’s shacking up with Joy.” He regarded Atticus with a flicker of curiosity. “Salem’s been keeping himself extra busy. It must be awkward as hell between you two.”

Atticus laced his fingers together. “If there’s any awkwardness, it’s on his end. Joy and I are too busy enjoying our time together.”

“I thought they were a good-looking couple.”

Atticus gave a crooked smile. “I’m not attractive?”

Archer laughed under his breath. “You’re too good-looking. Maybe Joy’s gone all swoony over you without thinking it through.”

“If there’s one thing I’ve learned, Joy isn’t impetuous.”

Archer nodded. “True.”

“Hey there.” A black-haired beauty with fuchsia lipstick eased between Archer and Lucian. “Can I join? Or is this a private party?”

Archer gave her a tight grin. “I’m taken, cutie pie.”

“I wasn’t asking about you.” Her eyes settled on Krys like a flame on gasoline. “Who wants to buy a thirsty girl a drink? I could use some company tonight.”

Krys’s dark eyebrows knitted together as he reached for his beer. “Sorry, honey. We’re in the middle of something.”

She strutted over between Krys and Lucian and touched each of their shoulders. “ I’d like to be in the middle of something.”

Krys flicked a glance around the table. “Maybe later.”

She forced her way onto his lap and traced her finger down his bare chest. “I don’t take rain checks. Now, how about that drink? We can go into the red room where it’s more comfortable.”

Atticus heard Krys draw in a sharp gasp before grabbing her hips and forcing her off him.

“ Not interested, ” he growled.

She flicked his ear. “Neither am I.”

“That was cold,” Archer remarked, watching the woman strut off.

Krys groomed his short goatee angrily. “She was using sensory magic.”

Archer shook his head. “You can’t trust a chick who has to push emotions into you. Something ain’t right.”

“I bet she has crabs,” Lucian said with a straight face. “She was wiggling too much.”

A quiet moment passed before Archer erupted with laughter. Atticus chuckled and took another drink of his martini. Breed women were assertive, which made their clubs interesting in comparison to human ones.

Archer set down his beer. “So… you’re serious about Joy, huh? When exactly did you set your sights on her?”

Lucian leaned in. “Yeah. Why Joy? She had a mate. At least, that’s what everyone thought. Are you a home-wrecker?”

The tension was palpable. “I’ve always been drawn to her since we first met. Whenever your pack visited my club, I noticed her.”

Archer twisted to face him. “What exactly did you notice?”

“How thoughtful she was—how generous and humble. Yet always with a self-awareness of her worth. If it eases your mind, I never made advances while she was with Salem. We barely spoke, and she disliked me immensely.”

Archer rubbed the back of his neck. “If this thing works out, I don’t want you starting shit with Salem. We don’t need conflict. He’s a good guy.”

“He’s not exactly a saint,” Krys muttered before taking a drink. He gave Archer a pointed look, and it was clear they were still sorting out their feelings after discovering Salem’s involvement with the lab.

“I felt the same way,” Atticus admitted. “But he saved her. He saved the others, risking his own life and whatever job security he had. I think he has a long way to go to make peace with what he took part in, but I respect that he cared for her all this time, even if he’s a fool for not recognizing what he had all along.”

Archer’s attention drifted off to a group of men on a green couch. “Yeah. They made a good couple even if it was all bogus.” He squinted. “Is that who I think it is?”

Krys twisted around in his chair and stared intently at the group of men. Instead of turning back around, he continued staring until one of the men noticed. A debonair fellow wearing a brown turtleneck met eyes with the long-haired Shifter who was glaring at him.

Atticus focused on the man’s accelerating heartbeat. The Englishman cleared his throat and then invited his group to join him in the gold room for a meal. As he crossed the room, he ignored the death stares coming from the Arrowhead pack.

Finally Krys sat forward and shook his head. “I fucking hate small towns.”

“Who is that?” Atticus watched the man lead his party into the adjacent room.

Archer finished his beer and pushed it to the center of the table. “That’s Ian Mason, another Shifter that was kicked out of our group.”

“What for?”

“His crazy wolf tried killing Tak and then attacked Robyn. If he ever shifts in your bar, watch out.”

“Duly noted. I’ll make sure my people keep an eye on him.”

“You don’t have to go that far. It’s our business.”

“Your business is now my business.” Atticus finished his drink. “Your enemies are my enemies.”

That held their attention. Krys and Archer exchanged a quiet glance. Lucian, however, was glued to his phone.

“Is something up?” Krys asked.

Lucian shook his head. “Catcher triggered one of the alarms on the outside perimeter.”

“What the hell’s he doing that far out?”

Archer reached around and put on his coat. “We should head back and make sure nothing’s up.” He reached over with his right arm and patted Atticus on the shoulder. “Well, this was fun! Wasn’t it, Krys? We’ll have to do it again sometime.”

“You can come over to my place tonight after work,” Atticus quipped.

Archer got up from his seat. “That’s a hard no.” When he leaned down, the smile evaporated. “I know you two are having fun in there, but if you hurt her or the baby, I’ll put a stake in you.”

“And I’ll dig the hole,” Krys tacked on.

Atticus grinned and stood up to escort them out.

Krys kicked in his chair. “Something funny, Vamp?”

“Your threats are reassuring. Joy’s still worried you won’t accept her, but every time you threaten my life, I see how much you care for her.”

Lucian’s brow furrowed. “You’re a weird dude.”

Once outside, Krys and Archer walked ahead, and Lucian fell into step beside Atticus.

“I’d be careful on that trip,” Lucian said quietly. “Krys is a wild card, and he doesn’t like you. Well, from his scent, I don’t think it’s you specifically. It’s Vampires.”

“And what about you?”

When goose bumps spread across his arms from a cold wind, Lucian put his hands in his pants pockets. “I can scent emotions before people think to hide them. I know when someone is masking, just in case you get any ideas. So far you’re all good, except for your arrogance around Salem. You should cut that out. Just because you have money doesn’t mean you’re superior.”

“You speak your mind.”

“I say what needs to be said. People think I don’t have a filter, but I’m truthful.”

“So am I.”

“That remains to be seen.”

“I’m over three thousand years old. People used to hunt my kind out of fear, and they had no qualms about killing us indiscriminately. They would stake us and throw our bodies onto the fire while feasting and dancing. I’m used to people hating me for what I am. It doesn’t change anything to know your packmate has issues with Vampires.”

Lucian abruptly stopped and faced Atticus. “Like I said, I’d watch my back on that trip. I like Krys all right, but he’s got strong feelings about you joining the pack.”

“I’ll keep that in mind. Hey, if anything happens and I don’t return, or if we fail the mission, take care of Joy. She needs protection. I’ve already made financial arrangements that will benefit her.”

Lucian’s golden eyes darted briefly at the men ahead. “You better not tell anyone else.”

“Why?”

He jerked his head toward the truck. “Don’t give Krys more incentive than he has. On that note, see ya.”

If Atticus had any hope of the pack accepting him, he would have to first win the trust of the one person who despised him the most.

If he survived the trip.