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He met the eyes of the bartender with suspicion. The man grinned and shrugged. “You might need something stronger,” he said. “It can be quite the hit as the bonds settle in.”
No shit, Ryder thought. “Top shelf,” he said. “The card’s good for it.”
“So it seems,” the bartender agreed. He reached for a bottle of Maker’s Mark bourbon and poured Ryder a glass. “Drink up.”
Ryder hesitated. There could be more challenges. This was when a new Alpha was most vulnerable. He looked around the room. No one seemed to be working themselves up to a challenge. He could count on Benny and Titus to keep any sneak attacks off of him.
He leaned back against the bar, always a good spot to survey the room. Jessie was still guarding the door; he wondered why. Benny was directing cleanup. A couple of men went out the back door — after tarps, Ryder assumed.
His head hurt. Was he getting a headache? He’d had them after they’d carried his barely alive body out of Mosul. He hated them. Headaches were worse than any other pain — it made your brain feel foggy, and you couldn’t think clearly. He squinted. Why were the lights so bright in here?
“Easy,” the bartender said softly. “You need to breathe. Let your shoulders relax. You’re among pack now.”
Ryder snorted. “I’m not sure that’s all that reassuring,” he said dryly. “I don’t suppose you’ve got some aspirin stashed under the bar, do you?”
Benny had decided the men could clean up the mess unsupervised and was heading his way. He frowned at that last comment. “How bad?” he asked. He perched on a barstool and watched the crowd too.
“I’ll live,” Ryder said, although it was getting worse. The bartender rummaged around under the bar and came up with a sample strip of aspirin. Ryder took three and washed it down with bourbon. Was this from the pack bonds? “How many pack members are there?” he muttered. “I feel like they’re all pounding on my brain.”
“Roughly 700 or so, since John started taking in all those young men,” the bartender answered. “I’m Duncan McKenzie, by the way, John’s older brother. Just so you know.”
“Didn’t poison my drink, did you?” Ryder took another gulp of it.
“Nope,” Duncan McKenzie said. “John always had delusions of grandeur, and this isn’t the first time he’s gotten played by someone more powerful. But we’re heading into perilous times. We can’t have an Alpha who thinks he’s a player on the world stage when he can barely look after his own pack.”
Duncan McKenzie looked out at the men who were scrubbing the floor. “I’d mourn the loss of a brother, except we haven’t been close in over a century,” he said finally. “He was a stubborn, bull-headed, son of a bitch. It needed to be done, and not a moment too soon. You’ve got your work cut out for you, though.”
Ryder snorted. The two bodies were being carried out in those horrid blue tarps. He missed the old gray-green ones, even if they always had a musty smell to them. He glanced at Duncan McKenzie, and then back to the room. “Tomorrow. Tomorrow you can buy me breakfast and explain that.”
Jessie came up to him, and he slid his arm around her. He felt better for her presence. And then he realized that was literally true. The physical contact with his mate was helping his headache.
“I vaguely recall you saying something about calling the pack?” Ryder murmured in her ear.
She looked at him askance. “You may not like it,” she said tentatively. “But I eased my barrier with the pack, and suggested they come. And bring food. Because no one should eat the food at Last Chance, right?”
Ryder chuckled, and looked at Benny. “We off your script yet?” Benny looked a little green at the notion of a pack potluck in the Last Chance.
“We went off script when we ended up here,” Benny said. He laughed, then. “No plan lasts the first engagement. All of the pack? You taking a leaf out of Margarite’s book?”
Jessie grinned. “Worked for her, didn’t it? Besides, I’m hungry.”
“Going to get crowded if 700 people show up,” Ryder observed.
The first women showed up shortly afterwards, and they were bearing food. Jessie fixed him a plate, her eyes dancing with amusement as she served him. Ryder rolled his eyes, and then fell to eating. He cleaned the plate and cleaned a second one too. The food was good, although he’d never been a picky eater.
No children came, and there were none of the young shifter men —Chen’s recruits — either. No, these were Penticton people. More men who weren’t at the top of the pack, and women from all levels. He just watched them, content to eat, and to let Jessie take care of him. She’d massaged the back of his neck and shoulders, and it had eased the headache a bit. But he still felt like one of those erector sets he’d had as a kid —pieces snapping into place with almost audible clicks.
Duncan McKenzie kept his glass full, and he sipped it gratefully. Enough of it and he might actually begin to let his guard down. Benny and Duncan were comparing notes in low voices. He couldn’t quite hear what they were saying. Well, Benny would tell him soon enough. He trusted his brother to build an agenda for the days to come.
Titus sat at his table, matching him bourbon for bourbon. Not that it had any effect on him. Ryder had seen him consume a gallon of old rotgut homebrew, and not even blink. “Do you know these people?” Ryder asked.
Titus rocked his hand to say maybe so. “Familiar faces, but no names,” he replied. “Don’t worry about that yet. You’ve got time.”
Jessie flinched at that sentence. He’d noticed it before. He made a mental note to ask her when they had some privacy. It seemed like an innocuous thing — shifters said ita lot. Because they did have time. Time to take things slowly and do them right.
Doesn’t seem like such a good thing when you’re trapped in the Alpha’s house, and your family advises you to be patient — you’ve got time.
Ryder stared at Jessie. They’d what? He reached out and pulled her onto his lap. She protested a bit, but he just held her, comforting her. Gradually she softened against him.
