by Rhys Ford
“You’ve got other burdens, other troubles, and I’m not saying you’ve got it easy, but you’re not alone. I’m here. Your grandparents and some of the other family members are too,” he assured softly, wrapping his other arm around his kid to give Declan a tight hug. “I told you a long time ago, we’re making this shit up as we go along, and the only thing I have to guide you with is what I’ve learned myself and what everyone around me has to say.”
“Because you’re going to listen to Uncle Gibson?” Declan pulled back a bit to wrinkle his nose at his father. “He writes romance books and lives in a cabin out in the middle of nowhere. What’s he going to teach me?”
“Probably that having romance in your life is a damned good thing to have,” Levi shot back, unwrapping his arms so he could tweak Declan’s nose. “I’m not saying I’m perfect. God knows I’ve fucked up, and I’m always going to adult up and apologize if I’m wrong, but in this, I know it’s the right thing for you. Everyone there’s got something to teach you about how to be you, and they’re people other than me. Because sometimes you’re going to need to hear truths that aren’t mine, and maybe you’ve got something to say to someone else to help them figure things out. Just… go up there, have a good time, and for God’s sake, don’t blow anything up this year.”
“Shit, blow up one toilet—”
“You blew up three toilets, and the year before that, you guys were caught making a still out in the canoe shed, which also exploded.” Levi sighed. “Seriously, dude, can you just not set anything on fire or bring down hellfire and brimstone for three weeks? Between you and your cousin Dino, I think our family’s replaced most of the buildings up there. Go, have fun, and this time, no makey with the boom-boom. My bank account can either feed you or buy a new roof for a cafeteria. Your choice, kiddo.”
JUDGING BY the weight of the duffel in his hand, Levi figured Declan shoveled all of his belongings—and possibly the pub’s huge kitchen sink—into the two soft-sided totes. Waiting outside for the camp van to come by to grab his kid was a summer ritual, one he’d participated in at least fourteen times himself. Now, on the other side of the pickup, Levi wondered if his own parents worried about making sure he’d been ready to take on the world once he stepped off the curb.
Talking seemed to push back the anxiety of watching his son take another leap forward, and even though he knew in his gut Declan needed to hear others’ stories and maybe discover a bit about himself without his old man looming over him, it was still hard to let go.
“Now, remember what I’ve told you, Deck?” Scuffing his boots on the gritty sidewalk outside of the building where he lived and worked, Levi peered down the street, then clarified, “Other than the no-exploding-things bit.”
“No means no. If someone doesn’t listen to me saying no, then….” Declan snarled, shifting his canines into wolf-form to make snick-snick noises with his elongated teeth. “Make them listen with a bit of bitey-bitey?”
“You’re fifteen now. We don’t call it bitey-bitey.” He covered his son’s mouth, looking around to see if anyone was near. “And don’t let Grandma see you do that. She’ll tear me a new asshole for teaching you that. Bad enough Pops taught me. She’ll start saying you look like a chihuahua. And yeah, no means no, but I was thinking more of the whole… keep it wrapped, or better yet, keep it tucked?”
“Dad, anything I can do there, I can do here, just in a bed that doesn’t smell like mold and maybe snakeskin,” Declan groaned, rolling his eyes. “I love you, but man, I don’t want to have a kid before I’m twenty. Maybe not even before I’m thirty. I want to be old when I have crotch goblins.”
“Great, now I’m old,” Levi chuckled, mocking Declan’s eye roll with one of his own. “And that’s going to be your new nickname—Crotch Goblin. That’s how I’m going to introduce you to everyone. Hey, have you met Crotch Goblin Declan? I made him myself.”
“Swear to God, the main reason I’m sorry I’m an only child is because someone else should share the shame of having you as a dad.” Declan dug into his jeans pocket, probably looking for something to bind his long brown hair with. The wind picked up a few strands, carrying a hot kiss on it, the heavy mugginess of summer lingering in the afternoon air. “I’m okay. I haven’t bitten anyone in years, and to flip things around, if you do decide to bring someone home, make sure they don’t wear the same size shoes I do. Unless you want to replace all my Converse again.”
“Have you looked at the boats on your feet?” He snorted. “I could just buy you those inflatable Zodiacs and put them on you. It’ll be a lot cheaper.”
“Yeah, yeah, so funny.” Declan narrowed his eyes and peered around his father, pushing Levi’s firm shoulder out of the way. “Van’s coming.”
“Okay, give me a hug before anyone can see you,” Levi murmured, drawing his kid into a smothering embrace. “Can’t let them see we love each other.”
“You are so fucking weird, Dad,” Declan grumbled into Levi’s chest, but his arms came up, wrapping around his father’s back. “Gonna miss you anyway.”
Levi closed his eyes, holding on to the moment as tightly as he did his son. They’d come a long way together, battling the world and pushing back anyone who said Levi could only raise hell and not a kid. It’d been a battle with temptations along the way, sins dark and deep enough to pull him off the path he’d set for himself, but he’d overcome them, focused on being the kind of father he’d had instead of the man he’d become. He and his father, Davis, were too much alike, his mother always said, destined to butt heads because they always had to be right. In some ways, Levi hoped she was right, because if anyone deserved the kind of stand-by-you father Davis was to his kids, it was Declan.
“Man, I love you, kiddo.” He squeezed tighter. “I would recognize your foul stench anywhere.”
“Okay, Dad… um, the van’s almost here.” Declan squirmed. “You can let go now.”
“No, no. Let me have this moment,” Levi sighed, rocking Declan back and forth in as dramatic of a roll as he could. “Seeing my little boy off—”
“Dad, do you want me living with you for the rest of your life?” his son mumbled, unable to pull away from Levi’s strong hold. “Because this is how that happens. This is becoming a ‘Hot For Teacher Sweet, Sweet Waldo’ thing, and dying a virgin wasn’t on my life plan. Let go before I have to live under my bed.”
“Okay, go get into the van, and good luck with the bears.” Levi released Declan, then steadied him with a firm hand, clenching his son’s shoulder affectionately. “And well, whatever other shifter is up there this year. Send me an email or something if they ever unchain you from the basket-weaving bench, and no—”
“Biting or exploding stuff.” Declan picked up his duffels, his shoulder muscles bulging under his thin T-shirt. “Yeah, I know. Same goes for you.”
There was a bit of the same old catch-up small talk with Brandon, the camp’s head counselor, as Declan loaded his things and climbed into the van, already mostly full with other teenagers in various stages of funk and sullenness. Stepping back onto the curb, Levi watched the van take off, cruising down the road toward the woodland site nestled in the hills. It would be a long drive ahead, or at least long enough for the kids to get caught up on old friendships. A part of him missed those days.
He’d bought the St. Connal’s Pub off of his uncle, moving into the large apartment over the bar with an inquisitive five-year-old boy, both of them ready to take on the world. Or at least that’s what he told Declan. The truth was he needed to settle down, and the two-story brick building in an old, established neighborhood was just where he felt they belonged. The St. Con was a piece of Keller history, belonging to the family since the 1930s, and now more than ever, Levi felt the weight of its legacy on his shoulders.
“You know, for a pile of bricks and wood, you’re not too bad-looking, old man,” he said to the building sitting on the corner, the pub’s intersection-facing door open in welcome to anyone passing by. The af
ternoon shift sounded like it was doing well—a bit of laughter tumbling out onto the street and the delicious scent of beef pies beginning to fight its way through the afternoon air. Cocking his head, Levi turned toward the garage attached to the back of the building and smiled. “Been a while since I’ve seen you on two feet, cousin. Should have come out and said hey to the kid. About time he met you again.”
He caught Ellis’s scent as soon as they came out the security door. At first, he didn’t quite believe his cousin was lurking about. The last he’d heard from the family was Ellis was no longer curled up inside of his wolf form. But making his way out into the world wasn’t something Levi expected Ellis to do, not so soon. Not after… everything he’d gone through.
“Last thing the kid needed,” Ellis growled. His voice sounded rough, torn around the edges and lacking the lightness of humor Levi always associated with his older cousin. “Came begging for favors. Didn’t want to… muddy things up.”
“Okay, I can see that.” A reunion would have meant catching up and then Declan again not wanting to leave. Levi nodded, then jerked his head toward the apartment’s entrance. “You hungry? I can toss together a dinner. Not on the job tonight.”
Ellis studied the wrought iron security gate guarding the place’s front steps and stoop as if it were an oracle and he could only ask it one question. His gaze shifted, settling on the mudroom and its chaos beyond the open front door, then a quick glance at the curved stairs beyond that, the warm honey-oak steps leading up into the apartment. Something flickered across Ellis’s strong face, turning any softness in his features to stone, and for a moment, Levi wondered if his cousin was even aware he was there.
Like most of the Keller men, they shared a strong genetic stamp. Broad-shouldered and lean-hipped, Ellis had at least twenty pounds of muscle on Levi’s honed brawn, and his gaze was just as heavy—an ice-flecked cold sweep of constant movement, catching on any changes in his environment with each turn. When they were kids, Levi and Ellis’s younger brother, Gibson, haunted Ellis’s heels, barely hiding their hero worship for him and some of the other Keller clan.
Ellis coming home, broken and caught in his wolf form, shattered the clan into pieces. Some suggested putting the eldest of the cousin pack down like a dog infected with rampant distemper, while others spat at the suggestion. The schism happened in ripples, the divide between families and kin growing as angry words and resentment over Ellis’s treatment made the rounds. Levi landed on the side of letting Ellis be who he needed to be, refusing the family space at St. Con’s to discuss the issue on the pub’s neutral grounds. He’d taken a stand against his kin, refusing to fall prey to traditions instead of honoring blood and family. In the end, sides were taken and lines were drawn. He distanced himself from men and women he admired and loved, feeling the loss of their presence in his life keenly during the holidays or during times when he felt alone.
Now the furred wedge himself had shown up at Levi’s front door, asking for a favor.
The raspy cough of an ill-timed motorcycle turned both their heads, and Levi’s hackles rose despite being hidden deep inside his human form. If Ellis was a hauntingly familiar and welcome scent, the scruffy man in road-rashed leathers and denim cutting around the pub’s corner turned the air foul. Ellis’s wariness rose, his face closing up once again, a granite hardness shaping his expression into solemn disapproval. Levi didn’t blame him one bit. Even if Ellis didn’t know Charlie Granger was a low-ranking go-between for the Los Lobos MC and probably would stab his own mother for a can of piss-water beer, Charlie’s odor of desperate neediness was strong enough to turn a man’s stomach. He tried masking it with bravado and tough words, barely hiding his rage at the world behind violent threats and intimidating stares, but Granger wasn’t the first bootlicker he’d dealt with and probably wouldn’t be the last.
All part and parcel of being the owner of the St. Con’s and a Peacekeeper.
The rattling bike came to rest facing the wrong direction, a tiny aggressive flip-of-the-finger Granger seemed to get a kick out of. Planting his feet down on the asphalt, he made a great show of taking off his aviators and giving Ellis the once-over. Up close, he actually smelled, more sweat and soil with an after-tang of grease and stale booze. A fringe of stringy blond hair poked out from under his black turtle-shell helmet—the barest concession to California’s riding laws—and his eyebrows were a crawling mess of coarse hair, battling one another for the bridge of his flat, broad nose. Dirt held a firm grip on the large pores dotting Charlie’s fleshy cheeks, and a straggle of hairs dotted his chin in a vague attempt at a goatee.
Curling his lip, Charlie finally spat out, “You should move along, asshole. Keller and I have to talk some business.”
“Which asshole?” Ellis cocked his head, looking around. It was good to see Ellis’s arrogant smirk form, and Levi chuckled, shaking his head when Charlie’s face flushed red. “Which Keller? Looks like at least one asshole and two Kellers.”
Before Charlie could bristle up into his best bantam flourish, Levi cut him off. “What do you want, Granger? The meet’s not until this weekend, and I’ve already laid out for both clubs about what’s going to happen and when. Is Reilly balking and he couldn’t come down here himself to talk to me?”
At the mention of his club’s leader, Charlie turned even redder, swallowing hard before speaking. “No, I just figured I was in the area, so I’d come by and make sure Paolo got what he wanted in the deal. Because you know, I’m his right-hand guy, so I’m here to take a look around. It’s my business to—”
“So, Reilly didn’t send you?” Levi glanced up at the sky briefly, as if pleading with the heavens. “Deal is, none of you come around until Friday night when the meet happens. And even then, there’s only going to be three of you on each side. That’s the rules, Granger. Always have been. What you guys do until then isn’t any of my business, but come seven o’clock Friday night, you’ll be under my roof, under my rules. Showing up here only pisses on what’s already been agreed on. So if Reilly thinks otherwise, I can call—”
“How about if I punch the asshole next to you in the face, and we can see what I’ve got to think?” Charlie leaned forward, his meaty hand clenched into a tight fist. “Then I’ll start in on you.”
Levi had to give Charlie points for bravery, or maybe just the depth of his stupidity. He was about to respond when Ellis bent slightly forward and bared his teeth, growing out his canines just like Declan had a little while before. Controlling the shifting of their forms was a sign of strength in their kind, and the delicate, gentle manipulation of growing vicious fangs in a human jaw made Charlie suck in his breath.
Snapping his teeth at the rider, Ellis said quite clearly, “Go ahead. Try it. When I’m done, I’ll leave your hands so they can figure out who you were from your fingerprints.”
The struggle in Ellis’s voice lacquered his threat with a deep menace, his throaty growl more like a fighting wolf than an angry man. Levi braced himself, instincts warning him a member of his family was in danger, but he held himself back and let Charlie sift through his options before stepping in.
“Go away, Granger,” Levi finally said, letting Charlie off the hook. “I won’t tell Reilly you came by and nearly fucked this all up, and you get to keep your nose. Because Ellis here likes cartilage the best. And spinal cords. Bones are just something to bite through to get to the good stuff.”
Ellis gave another wicked-wolf grin and nearly purred at Charlie when he pulled the bike away. They watched the motorcycle jerk and sway up the street, nearly hitting the curb as he took the far corner too tightly.
“Grandpa teach you that? Or your dad?” Levi asked, rocking back on his heels.
“Your dad. Then Grandpa came around all hush-hush, telling me not to tell Grandma.” Ellis shrugged. “Haven’t yet.”
“Who do you think taught Grandpa?” Levi smirked at Ellis’s rough laugh. “Sorry about that. Sometimes people with the smallest dicks have to fle
x them to make sure they’re still there.”
“Los Lobos? Kind of… stupidly obvious.”
“Yeah,” Levi replied. “They’re not the most imaginative people.”
“Who was that asshole? And why?” Ellis grumbled. “You’re doing a meet for him and who?”
“Not him. Paolo Reilly from Los Lobos and the Vikings’ leader, Tom Wheeler,” Levi answered. “Lobos are moving into the Yosemite area, and the Vikings are already there. Reilly says he just wants to homestead, but no one believes him. Wheeler’s already gone after a couple of the LL riders and Paolo’s retaliated. I guess they figured they’d give St. Con’s a shot before they try to wipe each other off the face of the Earth. Meet’s on Friday. After that, they’re on their own. Now, if you’re not hungry and aren’t looking for a place to crash, what can I do you for, cousin?”
“Looking for a bike.” Ellis shuffled back away from the curb and moved closer to the building. Levi didn’t like the shadows in Ellis’s warm eyes or the strain in his voice. Freed of his wolf form, his cousin was running from something, maybe even himself. His next words confirmed it. “I need to get far from here. Gibson’s… great, but I need to run. For a bit. At least. Hoping you can help, but I don’t have—”
“If you’re going to say you don’t got the money for a bike, I’m going to give you that punch in the face Charlie couldn’t pull off. Your coin’s no good here, El. You’ve done enough for me in the past. Least I can do for you now.” Levi slapped his broad cousin on the shoulder and pushed him toward the double-wide garage attached to the back of the pub. “Come on and let me show you what I’ve got, including a Softail Deluxe I just finished bringing back up. Asshole who owned it laid it down in front of an old pickup, so I got it cheap. She ain’t pretty, mostly primer, but she runs like she’s got a fire under her. And I’m thinking she’s just about your size.”
