Between a Bear and a Hard Place(12)

“Where are you?” he grumbled. “How long can it possibly take one bear to drive from Santa Barbara to Reno?”

Shooting a glance at his watch – because he insisted on using an old, Swiss watch that had been working for about sixty years – Draven counted down. “Eight hours, nineteen minutes. Should’ve been here ten minutes ago. At least I’m waiting on the one that’s been driving for more than three months.”

He thought back with a grin, and a dry laugh. Three months seemed like the blink of an eye to someone his age. He’d seen everything come, and go; crest and fall. His clan, his family, his past and his future, all swallowed up by greed and experimentation in the name of progress. Bitter, nasty taste that word left in his mouth... but it was a vile, foul taste that he was going to cleanse.

If nothing else, before he keeled over dead, Draven was going to make sure the small pack of Broken Pine bears, who were once the strongest clan in the Appalachians, at least had a chance to keep going.

And if he happened to find out what happened to the rest of the clan along the way? Well, that’d be just fine, too.

But that was a long way off; anymore it seemed like the pipe dream of a dying old man. Saving the world held no interest for him – he’d tried that. The only thing that mattered to Draven anymore was his clan. His family.

Rogue. King. Jill. They were all he had left. At least until he found the rest of them.

In the distance, something rumbled so heavily that it broke through the muffling dirt cloud and made Draven’s fine-tuned, perfectly trained ears tingle. He chuckled under his breath, took one last drag on his Camel, and rolled the paper tube between his fingers, extinguishing the flame before he stuck the butt in a Zip-Lock bag and stuffed it in his pocket.

The engine thumped so heavily Draven felt it in his chest as the bike sped underneath. He turned in the opposite direction, watching the vehicle make a comically illegal U-turn off of the highway, and then around the embankment.

He shook his head as the driver dismounted, gently laid the motorcycle on the ground, and crouched down before crawling out of sight.

“Someday he’ll learn that you probably shouldn’t do that when there are stoplights around. Or police,” he laughed under his breath. He considered another smoke, but replaced the pack after eyeing it for a moment.

“Why can’t you just meet me at the Denny’s or something?” the rugged, husky voice behind him wasn’t exactly familiar. He left the clan on his self-given mission long before either of the Broken Pine alphas came of age. Then again, it sounded so much like his dead brother’s voice that it was hard to mistake.

“Rogue,” Draven said, curling his lips into a smile. Maybe I will have that smoke after all. He fished out the packet again, and took one with his fingers. He offered the pack to Rogue, who curled an eyebrow and pursed his lips.

“Really? I haven’t seen anyone smoke a cigarette since Jill made us drive around Santa Barbara Community College for an afternoon while she had a meeting,” Rogue said. Draven smiled, then let himself chuckle as he lit up. “It’s amazing how much you have in common with eighteen year olds. You should get some of those shorts that barely cover your ass.”

He was joking, because he always did. But Rogue was as serious as he was deadly. Draven knew he couldn’t mince words, couldn’t fool his nephew. In a way it was frustrating, but really it just made him proud.

“I... don’t think that’d be the best idea.” Draven finally turned, and extended a hand. “Tan lines, and all. Bears take forever to get suntanned.”

Rogue clasped the hand, and then pulled his uncle in for a tight, uncharacteristic, and slightly painful hug. “I’m glad you’re alive,” the younger bear said, his voice still ragged, his breathing still heavy.

“Why wouldn’t I be?”

“Figured after what you pulled, with the helicopter hijacking, then killing the experimental subject, and the daring escape from Broken Pine territory that you’d have been hunted down and turned into a rug on some old man’s floor by now.”

Almost on cue, lights from a passing helicopter caught both men’s attention.

Sensing his nephew’s worry, Draven patted him on the shoulder. “Medivac,” he said. “They fly low. Probably taking some car crash victim back to Reno. Although out here, it could be an exploded meth lab just as easy.”

Rogue stuffed his hands deep into the pocket on the front of his hoodie.

“Speaking of college kids,” Draven said. “I thought you were more the flannel type.”

Rogue scoffed a laugh. “Jill,” he said, nodding slowly. Jill Appleton, mate to both Broken Pine alphas – because there are always two alphas and always one mate shared between them – had arranged for the clan to take up residence in Santa Barbara, following the escape a season before. “She wants me to blend in better.”