Gray Back Alpha Bear (2 page)

“Are you crying?”

“No, I just have pollen in both of my eyes.” Gia laughed thickly when Willa obviously didn’t believe her. “I screwed up so badly. Creed’s going to hate me.”

“No, he won’t. He’s strong and smart and level-headed, and we’ll figure this out, okay?” Willa patted her knee. “You’ll see.”

And for the first time since that damning first positive pregnancy test, Gia felt a little better.

“Who even fights for fourth in a crew?” Creed Barnett yelled. “Huh?” He shook his head and glared at Easton and Jason as they covered their shredded, bloody bodies with the extra clothes Creed kept in the back of his truck because his crew apparently couldn’t stop fighting for one fucking shift.

Easton and Jason had a stupid fight about who was better trained on the processor. Seriously? “You’ve been brawling since Willa was declared second, and this shit has to stop. At least at work! Season started six days ago. Six! And we haven’t made it through a single shift without someone bleeding. Now, I’ve looked at the Ashe Crew, the Boarlander Crew… Hell, I’ve talked to Kong! No one is having this kind of problem with their animals.”

“Maybe you should bring Willa up here to kick Easton’s ass,” Clinton said with that obnoxious smile Creed wanted to bear-claw-slap off his face.

“Say another word right now,” Creed growled, jamming his finger at the joker, “and I’ll literally kill you.”

Jason, at least, had the good sense to avoid his eye contact as he buttoned up a blue flannel shirt. Easton was looking around at everyone as if he couldn’t understand what he’d done wrong, and Matt was taking a piss off the side of the landing as if he didn’t give two shits that Creed was on the verge of a Change to kick all their asses.

Most of the time, he liked being alpha, but lately, these problem bears he’d initiated into the Gray Backs were driving him insane.

Another day on the landing preparing timber to transport to the saw mill in Saratoga, another day of missing the already low numbers his boss, Damon Daye, had challenged them with.

“Get in the truck.” His disappointment in his crew was bottomless right now.

Jason, Easton, and Clinton climbed into the back of his gunmetal gray, jacked-up Ford while Matt zipped up his pants and climbed in the passenger’s seat.

The roar of the engine drowned out the snarl in Creed’s throat. They didn’t get it. He owed Damon.
Owed
him. But all he ever did was let the old dragon down. Damon owned these mountains and had hired the crews to help clear the dead, beetle-infested lumber off his land. But the fighting hurt their target numbers. Demolished them, really, and already the Gray Backs were working with a smaller crew. Ashe Crew had nine on their landing at any given time. The Boarlanders were a tree-cutting crew, but they had seven. And here he was trying to juggle four assholes who didn’t give a shit about lumber numbers.

Creed loved his crew, but right now, he wanted to wring their necks. Easton especially, who apparently couldn’t help but fight with anyone who even looked at him wrong.

When Creed slammed his palm against the wheel, Matt murmured, “Easy, boss bear. You smell like fur.” Matt rolled down the window and leaned as far away as he could, his eyes flashing silver. “I’d appreciate it if you didn’t Change in your truck while I’m in here.”

Creed inhaled deeply and gritted his teeth so hard his jaw ached. Matt was right. Changing right now wouldn’t do anyone any good.

When he was calm enough to ease up on the strangle hold he had on the steering wheel, he sighed and asked, “But really, who fights for fourth rank in a crew?”

Matt chuckled and shook his head. “We knew it was going to be this way, Creed. Who else would take them into a crew and not kill them within the first year? Any other alpha would’ve put them down by now. Best you stop comparing us to the other crews. Up on that landing, we’ll always be C team.”

“Bullshit. We don’t have to be. You all work hard when you aren’t challenging each other.”

“Then put Easton up on the processor.”

“So he can use the power of a machine to chuck a log down the hill when he gets pissed off?”

“Mmm,” Matt grunted, looking disturbed. “That’s true. He could find a way to kill us with the skyline, too.”

“I can hear you, assholes,” Easton said from the bed of the truck.

“Do you think he’d feel guilty if he actually did manage to kill any of us?” Matt asked, ignoring Easton.

“Yes,” Easton answered. “I think.”

“Awesome,” Creed muttered, turning down a switchback toward the Grayland Mobile Park. At least he’d feel bad about it. Maybe. “I should’ve let Willa finish you off,” Creed said over his shoulder. “So far I’ve seen zero improvement.”

Easton narrowed his blazing green eyes through the back window, then looked away over the cliff the road was edging.

“He tries more around Willa,” Matt said, resting his elbow on the open window. “Maybe that’s the solution. Bring her up to the landing while we work.”

“Maybe,” Creed muttered, though he couldn’t see it.

Easton was marginally less psychotic around Willa, yes, but he was still a beast to handle and ready to fight. Yesterday, he’d fought Clinton just for popping off about Willa’s small boobs. Clinton had called them “innie belly buttons” or some shit. It had been funny, and Willa cracked up, but Easton lost it.

Willa wasn’t the solution for the problems he had in socializing Easton.

She was a balm.

“Is Damon visiting today?” Matt asked, leaning forward in his seat and staring at something out the front window.

“I don’t think so.”

“Then why is there a Mercedes parked in front of our trailers?”

Damn it all, Matt was right. The black luxury car stuck out like a sore thumb parked on the gravel road in front of their tiny homes. Crap. Did Damon own a Mercedes? Normally, his driver, Mason, chauffeured him around in a Town Car.

Fan-fuckin-tastic, just what he needed today—to talk numbers with Damon and disappoint him all over again.

But when he pulled closer, Willa came out of the screened-in porch she shared with her mate, Matt, and behind her sauntered a sexy ghost from his past. Holy hell, it was Gia. Creed’s heart thumped erratically behind his ribcage as he parked his truck in front of his house. Excitement flared through him. Fuck, yes. She was probably in town visiting Willa, and he was going to get his dick stroked. Maybe that’s what his problem was lately. He hadn’t gotten any since that drunken night with Gia. Hadn’t wanted any, really, but now Gia was about to fix all his problems.

Creed threw open his door, determined to keep Gia safe from his crew of village idiots. “Easton, you go on,” he said, pointing to the trail in the tree line that would lead Beaston to his wilderness trailer den.

“But…I want to say hi to Willa.”

“Now,” Creed gritted out, allowing steel into his order.

Easton’s eyes blazed that inhuman green color that said his bear was pushing, but he spat and limped toward the trees.

“Bombshell!” Jason crowed, jogging over to Willa and her friend.

Gia’s face fell as if the word stung, and Creed stifled a growl. Gia wasn’t like the other bombshells. She was sweeter, not cut-throat like Brittney and Kara had been. He’d always hated when Willa linked Gia’s name to the trio she called “the bombshells.” Gia was more.

Creed cuffed Jason in the back of the head and wrapped Gia up in a hug that lifted her off the ground. She made a shocked sound, but he didn’t care. Damn, it was good to see her. He thought he’d never see her again, and now here she was in his trailer park.

“How long are you in town for?” he asked, nipping her neck. She’d liked that when they’d hooked up in the back of his truck the night he’d met her.

“Well…” Gia hesitated and slid her arms around his shoulders. She looked down at him with those soft brown eyes he hadn’t been able to get out of his head for five months. “That all depends on you.”

“On me?” He cocked his head and studied her. Gia’s face had filled out a little, and she was thicker around the middle. Even her arms felt like they’d lost that bony, starved look the real bombshells had boasted. Fuck, she looked even better than he remembered. “Damn, woman. You’re a sight for sore eyes.”

“Creed, put her down,” Willa said in a low, growly voice. Her eyes had gone green—the color of her maker’s eyes. The color of Easton’s.

He did, gently, but Gia didn’t seem uncomfortable with his affectionate greeting. “What’s your problem, Second?”

“You need to be easy with her.”

Creed looked back and forth between Willa and Gia.

“What’s going on?” Matt asked from behind Creed.

“Can we talk?” Gia asked in a whisper, as if her throat was closing over words she didn’t want to say.

Creed’s heart rate kicked up again. Something was wrong. Willa had said to be easy with her. Maybe she was sick. Maybe she was here to beg him to Turn her so she could survive whatever was eating her up. Oh God, he couldn’t Turn anyone. Wouldn’t hurt them like that. Especially not Gia. Sensitive Gia with her heart too big. A bear would rip her up from the inside out. She wasn’t strong like Willa. But if she was sick…

“Yeah,” he said, twitching his head toward his trailer. “We can talk in my place.”

Jason and Clinton made to follow, but he stilled them with his hand. “No. Stay out here.”

He grabbed Gia’s hand because it felt right. Because after all this time apart, it felt like no time had passed between them. Because he liked touching her, and right now, it was the only thing keeping his unraveling bear from splitting his skin.

“Tell me fast,” he said, pulling her through the side door of his trailer. “Just lay it on me. What’s wrong with you?”

Gia froze, a look of confusion rippling across her face. Today, she was wearing her hair in a messy blob on top of her head, strands of her brunette hair streaming down the sides as if she’d fixed it in a hurry. She was so fucking beautiful. He brushed a lock of it away from her forehead and cupped her cheeks. “Are you sick?”

“Kind of?”

He shook his head, searching her scared eyes. From here, he could see little gold flecks in them. “What does ‘kind of’ mean? What are you sick from?”

She scrunched up her face. “Don’t freak out because I don’t need anything from you, and I’m not asking you to be involved if you are really against it. I just need help, and you’re the only one I can think of to answer my questions—”

“Gia, Gia, hold up. Slow down. What are you talking about?”

With a sigh, she eased away from his touch and pulled her sweater over her head. Underneath, she wore a skin tight T-shirt that clung to the graceful curve of her belly.

No. Creed backed up and ran into the coffee table, horror making it hard to breathe. “Gia, tell me that’s not what I think it is.”

She shrank away, pressing her back against the front door and looking devastated. “I’m pregnant.”

“But it’s not mine. I can’t have babies. I shouldn’t. I can’t.” He shook his head back and forth. This couldn’t be happening. “We used a condom!”

“And it broke!” Gia was crying now. Tears slipped down her cheeks, and her breath came in short pants. “Don’t you remember?”

Remember? He’d been drunk as a skunk, but fuck, that sounded familiar. “It’s not mine.”

“It is.”

Her voice rang clear as a bell, and with such honesty, he stopped his retreat around the coffee table.

Gia’s soft brown eyes pleaded for understanding. “I haven’t been with anyone but you in two years.”

Creed ran a hand through his hair as his heart ripped to shreds. He could barely control his crew, and allowing Willa up here had gotten her Turned and almost killed, but this was so much worse.

He wasn’t supposed to have a baby. Ever.

“I have to go,” he rushed out.

“But…we should talk about it,” she said, her voice coming out as small as mouse. And that right there was another problem. Gia wasn’t Willa, able to handle the psychotic fuckers who made up his crew. Gia was too soft. Horrified, he looked down at her stomach, swelling with his child. He’d screwed up this woman’s entire life and the life of the child, too.

Gia was standing between him and the door, so he took off through his bedroom and headed for the exit that led out to his porch.

“Creed! I need help. I have nowhere else to go!”

“Well, you can’t stay here, Gia. You aren’t safe here.” Creed turned and leveled her a look. “Neither is that thing you’re carrying.”

He blasted through the door to the soundtrack of Gia’s agony. That thing? Why had he said that? He was
that thing
, too. Didn’t matter. It was best if she hated him and moved on.

He was no good.

He was a bad man, a bad bear.

No kid of Creed’s would have a chance if he was in its life.

Gia and her baby were much better off without him.

A strangled noise wrenched from Gia’s throat when the sound of Creed’s truck engine roared to life. The gravel spraying across his trailer as he peeled away felt like bullets to her heart.

She hadn’t expected him to take the news easily, but this? Calling her child a
thing
and telling her to leave? She cradled her stomach. It wasn’t big yet, mostly she looked like she’d eaten a big meal, but this baby was hers, and she’d fought harder to keep it than anyone knew or would ever understand.

The horror in Creed’s dark eyes when he looked at her stomach had gutted her. Gia sank to her knees on the faux wood floors as a sob clawed its way up the back of her throat. Now what was she going to do? Mom and Dad had disowned her for choosing to have the child, her friends had abandoned her, and now the father of her child wanted nothing to do with her. Five months ago, she’d been at the peak of her life and hadn’t even known it. Now, her body was being battered as she hit every rock on the way down to her bottom.

“Well, that was unfortunate,” Willa said from the doorway. She crossed her arms and glared out the open door where the sound of Creed’s truck was now disappearing. “Did I say he was strong and level-headed? I meant dumbass and fuck-for-brains. Do you want the camper or a trailer of your own?”

“Wh-what?” Gia asked in a broken voice.

“Well, if Creed ain’t gonna take care of ya, then I will, boo. I still have my camper. It’s parked behind Matt and my trailer. Or I can get you your very own deluxe, two bedroom, two bath, thirty-five year young trailer.”

“But Creed said I can’t stay here.”

“Let me worry about your baby daddy and his rules.” Willa ratcheted up her dark eyebrows. “Pick your mansion, G. I have to get this shit in motion before Creed gets back.”

“Oh. Trailer?”

“Yeah, thata girl. You’re gonna be a trailer park princess now. Gets me all choked up. You’ve come so far.”

Gia snorted a surprised laugh, shocked that Willa was somehow making her feel better. “Am I going to stay in your trailer?”

“Not for long. Come on. I have some people I want you to meet.”

Gia stood on wobbly legs and stumbled after Willa. The little tornado’s spiky pigtails bobbed with each step until she reached her silver Tacoma and threw the door open.

Gia checked on Peanut Butter, who was lying on the front porch with his legs flopped up and his dick in the air, panting, but happy looking. Okay then.

As she slid into the passenger seat, Gia asked, “Who am I going to meet?”

Willa smiled cheerfully. “The Ashe Crew.”

“Wait.
The
Ashe Crew?” Gia tried to keep her cool while she buckled her seatbelt. She had been a self-declared shifter groupie all through college. Had even signed up to get alerts when a new shifter registered to the public. She’d researched and joined fan clubs and harbored a slight obsession about hot shifters like other girls her age had with singers and movie stars they liked. That was how she’d met Creed, by traveling to Saratoga with Willa and the bombshells for a werebear diddle hunt. Brittney and Kara had wanted to sleep with Matt Barns, but it had been Creed who had turned Gia’s head. Of course she knew who the Ashe Crew was. Rumor was they harbored a dragon.

“You’re fan-girling out right now, aren’t you?” Willa asked through a smirk as she pulled out of Grayland Mobile Park.

“I’m trying not to.”

“Okay, well keep your cool when you meet them, and remember they are just people.”

“I look like crap,” Gia said, sniffling and patting her mussed messy bun.

“They won’t care, G. They’re trailer park werebears, remember? And they’re awesome. They won’t judge.”

“But my eyes are all puffy.” Gia pulled down the sun visor mirror and patted her blotchy cheeks. That didn’t help at all.

Willa shook her head and rolled her eyes. She was right. Gia pushed the mirror back into place and leaned back into the seat. How she looked wasn’t important here. The important thing was that her whole life was falling apart around her like a crumbling, ancient building.

“Willa?”

“Mmm hmm?” her friend asked distractedly as she watched the road and poked the radio dials for a station at the same time.

“Thanks for what you said back there. About helping me with the baby? This isn’t your problem, but…well…it means a lot that you’re risking getting in trouble for me.”

“And Willamena Junior—as I have magnanimously decided to allow you to name the baby after me. And don’t worry about it. That’s what sheroes do.” Willa slid her a wink and then gasped as “Highway to Hell” came on through the speakers. Turning it up to a deafening level, Willa belted out the chorus off-key.

Gia laughed and shook her head. How Willa was being so calm about everything, she didn’t know.

“Roll down your window,” Willa yelled over the blaring music.

“Why?”

“Just do it.”

Gia rolled it down and gave her a now-what look.

“Now put your fingers out there and feel the wind.”

“It’s cold,” Gia complained. She seriously regretted leaving her big sweater on the living room floor of Creed’s house.

“Complaints will get you nowhere out here. Do it.”

Gia obeyed and put her hand out the window, then made a graceful rolling motion with her palm.

“Do you feel that?” Willa asked.

“Yeah, it stings.” Because it was October in the mountains of Wyoming and freezing already.

“You know what that means?” Willa called over the music.

“What?”

“It means you’re alive.”

Gia stared at Willa and huffed a breath, then dragged her attention to her hand out the window as she allowed the wind to flow between her fingers. She got what Willa was saying. Her world had been rocked by the news that she was expecting a child—a shifter cub—and the backlash that followed had been rough, but she was okay. She was still upright, and for now, that would have to be enough.

“It’s beautiful up here, isn’t it?” Willa asked.

Gia watched the Lodge pole pines passing. Thanks to the evergreens, it was still lush here, unlike in Minden. Back home, the leaves were falling, exposing craggy branches and a cold landscape, but here in the mountains, everything still looked alive. She inhaled deeply, and the crisp pine scent that had seemed so overwhelming earlier filled her aching soul like a remedy.

Creed had failed her, and the burn of that would last for always, but Willa was a pretty good consolation prize.

“Remember the night we spent in my treehouse and made that blood pact to take the road trip?” she asked.

Willa turned down the radio and nodded, her bright read ponytails whipping this way and that. “Yeah, you all put my hand in a bowl of warm water and made me pee my pants while I was sleeping.”

“I didn’t do that! Brittney and Kara got me, too! I only wet mine a little, though. You know why Brittney did that, right?”

“No.”

“Because she wet her bed until she was ten.”

“She did not!”

“I swear she did,” Gia said, giggling. “She made me pinky promise not to tell, but I think that’s why she played pranks like that. Because of her own insecurities.”

“Oooh, Gia, you bad girl. You broke a pinky promise. Maybe you’ll make a good Gray Back after all.”

“I’m not going to be a Gray Back. I’m just here to lay low until I can figure out my next move.”

“Mmm hmm.”

Willa didn’t sound convinced, but let her speculate. After the way Creed had hurt her, Gia wasn’t interested in mooching a life here. She wasn’t interested in mooching anything. She just needed a place to get back on her feet. A temporary home with shifters capable of teaching her how to raise her child safely, and then she’d be on her way.

Gia was no Gray Back.

Never would be.

****

Creed threw back another shot of cheap whiskey and pressed the tiny glass to his forehead to feel the coolness against his growing headache. At least Sammy’s Bar was quiet, thank God. It was more than he could hope for in the trailer park.

One drunken night had ruined three lives—his, Gia’s, and the baby’s.

If she knew how broken he really was, she wouldn’t have come back here asking for help. She would’ve hidden the baby away and never let him know the child existed. If she knew how damaged he was, she would’ve never slept with him in the first place.

Fuck, but he’d been careful! A fresh wave of anger blasted through him. He always used a condom—always. And then this happened? What was the fucking point of all the safe sex if he knocked a woman up, anyway? No, not just any woman. Gia. He felt nauseous. She was too good for him, too good for this place, and too good to be doing this alone. He was an anchor tied around her waist, sinking her beneath her potential.

“Bar’s closing in an hour,” Kong’s rich baritone sounded behind him. The giant gorilla shifter grabbed Creed’s shoulders and squeezed until his bones cracked before he sat down in the stool beside him. “Think it’s time to sober up?”

“I’d rather not.” Ever again. Creed gestured to the bartender for another round.

“I’ll have the same,” Kong told the blonde with the painted red lips as she poured Creed another shot of the burning liquor. “You want to talk about it?”

Creed waited until the bartender was finished and had sauntered down the bar to chat with a trio of good ol’ boys who sounded three sheets to the wind with their rampant slurring.

With a miserable sigh, Creed admitted, “I’m going to be a dad.”

Kong’s dark eyes went round, and a slow smile spread across his face. He gripped Creed’s shoulder and shook him slowly. “Congratulations, man! Fuck yeah, I’ll toast to that.” He ignored Creed’s glare and
tinked
his shot glass against his, then tilted his head back and slammed the drink. “I can tell by the way you’re scowling that you think your life is over.” Kong twisted the glass in his hands on the bar top. “Did you know in my culture, babies are revered, as well as the women who bear those children? It is a great honor if a woman chooses you and her spirit accepts your seed. A child is never a bad thing, Creed. A child is a gift.”

“A gift given to the wrong man. Kong, my mother is a psychopath, I have no father, and I couldn’t manage to please a single foster parent into keeping me. I aged out of the system with no healthy parental relationship to draw experience from. I’m the least qualified person I can name to father a child.”

“And how’d that feel?”

“How’d what feel?” Creed muttered.

“Not having a parent stick around for you?”

Oh, he got where Kong was going with this. “Fuck off.”

“You gonna do to that kid what was done to you?” Kong’s eye ticked. “I don’t think so. Because the Creed I know would make a great father. The Creed I know put together a crew of grizzly shifters no one would touch and is making it work.”

Creed snorted. If Kong spent one whole day with the Gray Backs, he’d know that was bullshit.

“No, it’s true. I know it can’t be easy, but you haven’t put a single bear down yet. You’ve been patient and kept your crew together when they should’ve never worked. And you’ve done that for years. That’s not just a strong bear who can do that, Creed. That’s a strong man. Don’t tell me you’d be shite at fatherhood. You’ve gathered the misfits and given them a home. Your kid would be lucky to call you dad.” Kong snatched the shot from in front of Creed and tossed it back. With a hiss for the burn, he turned to Creed once again. “You know what your woman is doing right now? She’s growing a child.
Your
child, and it’s fuckin’ hard work, and it’s emotional, and she’s struggling and sick feeling. You’re stuck on
you
being scared to be a parent, but guess what? This is terrifying for her. That baby in her stomach? He or she is moving around, keeping its momma up at nights, pressing against her bladder, her ribs, the nerves in her back. That baby has a heartbeat.
Bum-bum, bum-bum.
Like yours. That baby has your blood running through its veins—the blood of a good alpha. That kid’s fuckin’ lucky to have you. Now get your head out of your ass and go take care of your woman, or she’ll leave you, and you won’t have the chance to know your kid. And then your life, and all you do, would mean nothing.” Kong stood and tossed a wad of cash onto the counter. “Oh, and Creed? Congratulations to you and your crew. Because like it or not, that kid—your kid—is a little Gray Back.” Kong dipped his head once and strode for a set of pool tables in the back where his crew of Lowlanders were playing eight ball.

“Fuck,” Creed said on a breath.

Kong was right.