The Lunam Ceremony (Book One) (25 page)

“I left to protect you!” I hear desperation in her tone. “I left so you would be the strong alpha female I couldn’t be. So you would learn to make decisions with your head and not your heart.”

I feel like I think too much with my head and not enough with my heart. “I am thinking with my head, mom. The baby will mean nothing to Dillan.”

“You’re wrong, Kalysia. The baby will be everything to him.” Layla’s words send a shiver down my spine.

“You alright in there?” Bud clears his throat form the hall. “I got some lunch waitin’ for ya.”

I cover the receiver with my hand. “Yeah, I’ll be out in a sec.”

I hear Bud shuffle away from the door and put the phone back to my ear. I missed whatever Layla was saying. “I gotta go, Mom. I’ll call you again soon. I love you.” I click the phone off and shove it in my pocket.

I play back Dillan’s words from last night.
I guess I wanted to see you.
He doesn’t mean it. He can’t mean it. If he did, then what does that say about our relationship? At least Monte’s other conquests were results of rule seventy-five, a rule that was set up to protect the pack, not to secure power for one man. Now that Layla knows what Lowell is up to, I’m sure there will be consequences. At least I know one thing—she will have my back. She will protect me, even if she wants to kill me right now.

“There you are,” Bud says as he stands behind the bar, tending to a couple of patrons at the other end. “My wife, Sissy, insisted we feed you before sending you into the snow. This is her famous pulled pork sandwich.” He gestures to the plate in front me. “She won’t take no for an answer.”

Luckily, I’m famished. I pick up the sandwich and take a bite. The barbeque sauce is sweet and smoky, just the way I like it.

“Whadya think?” He leans on the bar with a confident grin.

I give him a thumbs-up. “It’s perfect.”

“It’s an old family recipe,” Bud says and places a bottle on the bar in front of me. It reads
Willis’s West Coast BBQ Sauce
. “You can take that bottle home with ya.” He winks. “Tell all your friends,” he says and tips his hat like a cowboy in an old western movie.

I laugh with my mouth full of food and start to choke.

Bud sets a tall glass of water on the bar in front me. “This will wash it down nicely. I would offer you a beer, but the snows comin’ down good now. You’ll need all your wits about ya when you get back on the road. How many more stops you got?” Bud wipes the bar down with a rag then tosses it over his shoulder.

I gulp down the water and wipe my mouth with a napkin. “You were my last delivery for the day.”

“Saved the best for last, huh?”

“I guess so.” I drink the last of my water and stand up. “I should get going. Thank your wife for the sandwich.”

Bud meets me at the end of the bar and walks me to the door. “You tell that rep of yours if this stuff sells like he thinks it will, you can add us to your regular route on one condition.” He opens the door and a blast of cold knocks me back. “I get to see your pretty face come delivery day?”

I tap Bud on the arm. “You’re a married man.”

“Happily married,” a female voice calls from the back.

“She’s going to get me tonight for that one!” he whoops and slaps his hands together.

I zip up my coat and step outside. My boots crunch in the fresh snow. “It was nice to meet you, Bud. I look forward to next time.”

“Likewise.” He tilts his hat. “Now, you drive safe. The highway is just up past the light; you’ll see the sign for eighty-nine south on the left.”

“Got it!” I high knee it back to the truck. The windshield is blanketed in snow. I hop in and crank the heater. Even the cold air blowing from the vents is warmer than the air outside. I pull my phone from my pocket and plug it into the charger dangling from the dash. The wipers swipe the windshield, and I see Bud standing in the doorway. I don’t like having an audience; just knowing he’s watching makes me nervous. I put the truck in reverse and push softly on the gas, moving straight back. When I put the truck in drive and push the gas, the back end sways to the side. “Whoa!”

Bud comes running out, with no coat, his arms flailing in the snow. “Feather it,” he calls out.

I give him a thumbs-up. I forgot the bed is empty now and much lighter. I downshift the four-wheel drive and try the gas again. All four tires spin and I move forward. I got this.

I wave to Bud one last time before I turn out of the parking lot. I’ve never driven in snow; the flurries fly at the windshield in 3D. I’m disoriented for a few blocks. It takes some concentration to look beyond the mesmerizing vortex of white flakes swirling in my face. The blue and white highway marker is half covered in snow. I make out the number eight and half of a nine. This must be the left Bud told me to take. I veer onto the highway and point the truck towards home.

As soon as I gain my bearings I remember what I’m going home to. Will he be back in our cabin waiting for me? What do I say? Part of me hopes he’s angry about my leaving the camp alone; this will distract us from what is really on our minds. What we’re really upset about. I check the trip counter on the dash. I’ve only gone fifteen miles in half an hour. At this rate it will take me three hours to get home, and that’s if highway fifty is clear. The turn-off should be coming up any minute now. I look at the road markers and none of them look familiar. In fact, I haven’t seen a single sign for Tahoe City or highway fifty. The snow is coming down even harder now. The wipers can’t move fast enough. I see a blurred sign up ahead. I slow to a stop to read it. “Highway forty-nine?” I flip my hazard lights on and pull to the side. I grab the map from the floor and open it up. I trace my finger from Truckee to Tahoe, no highway forty-nine. My eyes drift above Truckee; I find the fork where forty-nine meets eighty-nine north. Shit. I’ve just driven half an hour in the wrong direction.

I put my blinker on and look around, the road is empty. I crank the wheel to the left and push the gas slowly. I don’t want to get stuck in the snow. “Come on, baby,” I chant to the truck as it eases forward. Then suddenly the back tire lifts and comes crashing down. What the hell was that? I jump out of the truck and run around the back. A piece of rebar protrudes out of the snow, and my tire is quickly deflating. “NO!” My voice doesn’t even echo because the snow is falling in sheets, insulating the air. Even if I could change a tire, I wouldn’t be able to in this weather. I run back to the truck and pick up my phone. Who am I going to call?

Layla will freak out if I tell her I am broken down on the highway. Calling Monte almost guarantees he will tell Layla and possibly even Dillan. The only working phone is at the brew house, and Dillan probably isn’t there to answer it. It isn’t like Monte or Layla or even Dillan can come to my rescue. I’m on my own. I’m more than capable of calling a tow truck. I tap four-one-one into my phone and wait for an operator to pick up. The line clicks and dies. The snow must be distorting my cell service. Great. I know I saw some buildings a half mile or so back. Maybe I can use a phone there. I look out the back window and see a pair of headlights heading my way. I can flag the driver down and ask for help. Layla’s voice rings in my ears.
Never get in a car with strangers.
It’s good advice for a ten-year-old. I’m eighteen now, and I’m an alpha wolf. I can handle myself. I think. The headlights slow as they approach the back of the truck, and I slink down in my seat. Some alpha. I grab a bottle of beer from one of the cases and place it beside me. It’s not the best weapon, but it’s better than nothing. The headlights belong to a truck. It pauses behind me, then slowly pulls away. Oh no. I sit up and roll the window down. “Wait!” I wave my arm out the window. The truck stops in front of me, and I see the empty flatbed. It’s a tow truck.

The driver jumps out in his yellow snow suit and jogs to my window. He looks like Kenny from
South Park
in his snow goggles.

“Looks like I found you just in time,” he yells over the snow. “You headed to Quincy?” He points north.

“No, I’m sort of lost.”

“You can’t really be sort of lost. Either you know where you’re going or you don’t.”

“I was looking for highway eight-nine south.” I hold up the map.

“Well, you found it, its right’s there.” He points to the other side of the street.

He’s got jokes. “I mean, I made a wrong turn back in Truckee. I’m headed towards Tahoe.”

“Yeah, you’re totally lost then.” He is all teeth and goggles when he smiles. “You also have a flat tire.”

“Thank you for stating the obvious.” I lift an eyebrow at him. “Can you fix it?”

“Not out here, but I can tow you back to town and get it fixed. The only problem is they just closed eighty-nine between here and Truckee. I’m headed home, to Quincy, before they decide to close the whole damn thing.”

“I need to get to Tahoe today.” I look at the clock on the dash, it’s already fifteen past four. “Do you know if they’ll open it back up soon?”

Goggles shakes his head. “It’s not likely. It’s pointless to get trucks out here to clear the road when it’s coming down like this. They would rather keep people like you off the road.”

I don’t know what to do. I look around the cab of the truck. I can’t just stay here. Dillan is going to kill me, if this crazy tow truck driver doesn’t do it for him.

“What’s it going to be?” He shivers and claps his hands together. “I need to stay ahead of Caltrans or else we’re both stuck.”

“Ok, I guess I’m going north.” I roll the window up and put the beer in my pocket.

I pull on my gloves and jump out of the truck. My slides on the icy pavement and I start to fall.

“Careful.” He wraps his arm around my waist and sets me straight again. “My truck is unlocked and warm. Go get in. This will just take me a sec.”

“Thanks,” I say and walk to his truck. I open the door and jump in. The heater is on full blast. I turn the vent to my feet and pull my gloves off. The radio on the dash crackles and a male voice calls out a series of numbers. Then he calls a name. “Jase, you there?”

I hear Goggles reply on his handheld. “Jase here, what’s up, Luck?”

The voice asks for Jase’s location. He confirms the roads are closing and suggests he hurry back. “Lacy will strangle you if you miss her birthday.”

“Yeah, yeah. I’m picking up a stray and heading back now.” I hear a low hum and see the back of the truck tilting like a draw bridge.

“Oh yeah,” the voice says. “Male or female?”

I grip the bottle in my pocket and look out the back window to see how Goggles answers. “Quit being a douche,” he reprimands the asshole on the other end of the line.

“Aw, she must be hot. You always get protective when their hot.”

The humming starts again and I see the truck being lifted onto the flatbed. I’m annoyed that the guys are having this conversation about me. But at least Goggles/Jase didn’t reply. Hopefully that means he’s a nice guy.

“All loaded, heading in.” The radio clicks off. I sit back and release the death grip on my beer bottle. Just when I start to relax, the radio crackles. “She’s hot, Jase out.” The door flies open and Jase hops in the driver’s seat. “You ready?”

I give him a nod and look straight ahead. So much for being a nice guy.

“I knew it!” The voice laughs over the radio.

Jase jumps in to turn it down. “Sorry about that,” he apologizes.

I shrug and keep my eyes straight ahead with my hand wrapped around the bottle in my pocket.

Jase pulls onto the road and we head north, away from camp, away from Dillan and Cassie.