“You’re certain you want to do this?” The hesitant question came from the Grey Wolf packmaster himself. Maverick and the other elite warriors stood beside Malcolm, prepared for his final send-off. The sun shone high over the mountaintops, and a golden glow had taken over the Montana foothills. The last of the winter’s snow had melted only a few days prior, and the air felt damp with morning dew. Malcolm and Trixie had rolled Bo’s chopper out of the garage for its virgin voyage early this morning, and now his art on the full gas tank and the chrome gleamed in the sunlight, ready to go and on display.
“I’m certain,” Malcolm answered, passing the packmaster his Stetson. He wouldn’t need it where he was headed. Not anymore.
“I understand.” Maverick’s lips pulled tight with disappointment. Not his but the pack’s.
Malcolm knew his now-former packmaster was happy for him. The other wolf drew Malcolm into a brotherly thump of a hug, and Malcolm returned the gesture in kind.
Once the heat of their final battle with the vampires had calmed, the pack had waded through the bloodsuckers’ records regarding their brief interlude with the Triple S. Time and some coaxed (i.e., bribed) file digging by Blaze had eventually shown Trixie had been telling the truth all along. She hadn’t crossed them, even if she’d intended to out of fear for her life and his, though Malcolm had never doubted her. As a result, Maverick had decided that Malcolm would be allowed to stay, if he wanted, even with Trixie, though the pack would never fully trust her.
But home wasn’t here. Home was where he planned to rest his head with Trixie. The pack would never welcome her with open arms, though they tolerated her now that they knew she wasn’t a threat, but he was eager for the two of them to create a home of their own—in the apartment above the side-by-side speakeasy and custom bike shop they planned to open not far southwest of Detroit.
He wasn’t joining the Rock City MC wolf shifters, despite their invitation, though Dom, Rigs, and the other nomads did intend to ride out east beside him and Trixie, having stayed at Wolf Pack Run for a handful of months. Trixie had insisted it was good for bar business to have a pack nearby, even if that pack wasn’t his.
He’d given her the money from his savings to start her dream of operating her own place, of course, mixed with a bit of the tips she’d stored away from both Boss and the IRS. All the years spent working Wolf Pack Run and spending so little had paid off in the end, in getting to see Trixie happy and filled with a sense of newfound purpose. Him too. He’d been eager to put his executioner days behind. It’d been the right decision for them both.
Trixie kept insisting she was going to pay him back, that she never wanted to be in another man’s debt, but he’d told her he wouldn’t hear of it. It was a gift, not a loan. She didn’t owe him anything. Besides, he was more wolf than man, not like a human. He’d finally accepted that, embraced it. He’d keep his word, keep her safe.
Trixie leaned against the side of the chopper where she and the other riders were waiting for him. She’d damned near begged him to get a sidecar for Dumplin’ to ride in, but finally, they’d both agreed that Dumplin’ would ride in the front seat of Trixie’s car, which Dani had volunteered to drive behind them. She’d managed to make it through detoxing from the vamp blood okay and was working hard to recover, to heal. She’d said the open road might do her some good. She needed to get away from the West, and Malcolm had known Trixie didn’t have it in her to refuse a friend. She’d do anything for the people she loved, the ones she let in and trusted, the small circle of people she cared for.
The trunk and back seat of the old beater were stuffed full with their shared handful of belongings. Dumplin’ let out a bark from the front seat, where the window was rolled down. Dani sat in the driver’s seat beside him, smiling at them.
It wasn’t much, but it was theirs.
Trixie lowered her Hollywood sunglasses and peered at him. “You gonna draw this out or you ready to hit the road, sweetheart?”
He loved it when she called him that. Malcolm drew her into his arms, claiming her mouth with his. He kissed her with his whole soul, every broken and scarred part of him she’d help make whole again. Trixie sighed against his lips, going soft in his arms. When they pulled back and her amber eyes met his, there wasn’t anything cold and callous about them. Instead, they were full of hope, joy, and sunshine.
Sunshine that only made the visible freckles on her cheeks more apparent.
Trixie pulled back a little, giving him room to swing a long leg over the seat of Bo’s bike. Malcolm settled into the motorcycle saddle before Trixie hoisted herself up and over onto the back seat with ease thanks to the flat-heeled biker boots she wore. She wrapped her arms around him as he tested the throttle, revving the engine.
An echo of farewell howls sounded from the depths of the forest.
Trixie squeezed Malcolm’s shoulder as he nudged up the kickstand with his boot, drawing his attention.
“Before we go, I have something I want to give you,” she whispered against his ear. She wiggled behind him a bit, retrieving something from the pocket of her jeans, but the feel of her breasts pressed against his back made him growl with arousal.
A moment later, she passed two small cards over his shoulder to him. One plastic and one paper. A Michigan state driver’s license with his picture on it and a social security card. New fake IDs.
“You said I was your pack,” she whispered against his ear over the rumble of the motorcycle’s engine. “I figured that meant your name needed to be Beauregard. I had to use some of Boss’s old contacts, but they assured me your case had long since gone cold so they didn’t think you needed to be worried about running from the human law.”
Malcolm ran the gloved leather of his thumb over the name on the ID. Her name that she’d given him.
“It suits you better than Grey ever did anyway.”
The gratitude, joy, and love he felt for her was unlike any he’d ever known. She’d made him whole, complete, given him a place in her world, stood alongside him, and that was more than he ever could have asked for.
“I love you,” he growled to her over the sound of his bike and the wind. His eyes flashed to his wolf from the wild strength of his emotion.
Malcolm felt her smile where she rested her head on his shoulder, arms wrapped around him. “I love you, too,” she whispered. “Now let’s ride, cowboy.”