Island Stripe Pride - Chapter 13: Chapter 13

It was dark out, but Alex could see perfectly fine in the silvery light coming from the three-quarter filled moon directly overhead.
“The Sunset Inn. The perfect beach getaway where you’ll leave with only the fondest memories and a killer tan. My ass. Probably leave with bedbugs and the need for a week’s worth of antibiotics,” he growled his displeasure, tossing the cheesy brochure aside.
What the actual fuck was his Neta thinking sending him to some flea ridden roach motel in the Jersey shore? Alex had stayed in actual palaces. He’d dined with kings and queens. Had homes in London, Paris, Rome, the Isle of Sky, and his own personal island in the Caribbean. Not to mention his usual residence, a condo with an unparalleled view of Central Park West.
He wasn’t a snob exactly. But his life was nothing to scoff at. The neon pink stucco nightmare of a hotel with the hideous blue roof seemed to be mocking him from its place on the corner of Ocean Boulevard.
He looked down at the crumbled bit of propaganda on the cracked sidewalk and snarled. Still, he wasn’t a litterbug. Leaning over, he grabbed the bit of paper once more and looked for a trash can.
There was a proper bite in the air that night, and he shivered unconsciously although Shifters rarely felt the cold. The fuck? He shook his head. Must be something else giving his tiger the willies. And no wonder. He stopped and looked at the atrocious sign.
Huge and neon. Of course it was, he snarled again. The Sunset Inn logo had an orange circle surrounding the hotel’s name. He could only imagine some marketing genius drew the thing up to represent the sun. The three wavy lines on either side were its rays, no doubt. It was supposed to be in various shades of orange, red, and yellow, but half of them were out, leaving what appeared to be a pointless arrow sticking out of the circle.
The Sunset Inn of Maccon City, New Jersey, was a serious downgrade from the villa on the Italian Riviera where he’d planned on spending the spring. Maybe he shouldn’t have remarked on the Nari’s recent weight gain, after all, he wondered with a shake of his head.
Alex wasn’t an asshole or anything. The comment that she looked healthy was meant to be a compliment to the young, expectant mother. He couldn’t help it if his eyes wandered to her suddenly increased breast size for half a second. Besides, Dean had already punched him for that one.
And he’d apologized profusely. Violet was a lovely, understanding woman. Not at all like the Alpha, or as Tiger’s called their leader, the Neta of the . Dean had not been impressed.
“Fuck,” he muttered and shook his leg after stepping into some dubious sludge on the pavement.
He should’ve changed his shoes, he thought while carefully avoiding the pile of refuse that, upon further investigation, had spilled over the mouth of the trash bin just outside the pool gate.
At least that was properly locked. But alas, he’d have to pocket the brochure for now. It was ten o’clock at night, and the pool sign stated it closed at nine.
Alex wasn’t usually such a candy-ass about his clothing or where he hung his hat, but this felt like a demotion to him. Not that he’d ever heard of a Beta being demoted. Then again, there was that one unfortunate Tiger in the Maverick Pride who’d gone after his Neta’s mate.
That asshole deserved what he got. Alex was nothing like him. He believed in loyalty, and the . He also believed in Dean and Violet Romero, and everything they stood for.
Fine. He was Tiger enough to admit he was being a big fucking baby about this whole thing. What could he say?
He did not like the beach, the water, or the sand in New Jersey. And he didn’t like dingy little seaside motels. The boardwalk was quiet this time of year, but in another month it would be a riot of colors and lights and noises. He couldn’t forget the noises.
Grrr.
Where the hell was everyone? He wondered. Ten wasn’t late, was it? Maybe not for Manhattan, but out here in the boonies, it sure as fuck was.
Once again, he allowed his anger to roll through him, but it deflated when he saw the junker parked in the spot reserved for the owner. He’d been sent there to help, and should have arrived hours ago, but he’d been unavoidably detained.
Well, that wasn’t technically true. After he’d gone to the bank, Alex had waited half an hour for the current owner to show up. When M. Flint failed to arrive, Alex had been more than pissed off.
Impressing his need to wrap things up quickly to the bank manager was easy enough. The sniveling little man allowed him to sign the papers, buying out the past-due mortgage, and thereby, taking possession of the charming hotel he was currently snarling at. Afterwards, Alex went out for some drinks.
Maccon City. How the hell did I wind up here? For fuck’s sake.
Yes, it was a cute town for beach lovers, which he was not. Great for families, which he didn’t have. And there was a whole campy horror movie vibe going on this late at night. Broken neon signs, crumbling stucco, the scent of beachy mold, and neglect in the air. When he got a hold of M. Flint, he was going to give that guy a piece of his mind. Right before he tossed him out on his ass, with his Neta’s blessing he might add.
He frowned, looking around to gather as much evidence as he could with his enhanced night vision. Tigers were excellent hunters, after all, and their sight was legendary.
Alex took in the sand dunes across the small street that gave way to a pathway for beach goers staying at the hotel. Neglected, but fixable, he thought. What was more interesting were the two empty rundown lots next to the property. One directly to the left, which was bordered by the woods on one side. And another directly behind the hotel.
Hmm. If the lots were on the auction block, he’d see to it that ISP had first dibs. Once he was done with this property, the little hotel would be unrecognizable, and he wanted to have the option to expand. Yes, he’d definitely have to look into that Tomorrow.
The Tiger in him chuffed sleepily, and Alex stifled a yawn. He still couldn’t believe it, but he might as well get used to the idea. The Beta of the Island Stripe Tiger Pride was scheduled to be live in the heart of the Macconwood Wolf Pack’s territory for the next few months.
At least the Alpha wasn’t a dick. Alex had met Rafe Maccon a time or two, and the man was more than affable. He had a quiet power that exuded from his pores. Big and muscular like most Shifters, Rafe was descended from the MacContire.
The Wolf was a legend back in Ireland, and Alex had listened to the tales from members of the Greyback Pack over on Tyrone County, Ireland. ISP Inc had offices in the territory, and Alex was fond of the local Inn where older Wolves gathered to drink and tell tales of their heroes and myths.
How the legendary Wolf had come to allow his son to flee Ireland to wind up here was unknown to Alex. But he supposed that story was something he could ferret out of locals. One of the only aspects of his stay in Maccon City that had any appeal.
Manhattan was a crowded, busy, bustling place to live, and there, Dean Romero was King of Shifters and Alex his right-hand man. But here. Well, Alex wasn’t entirely sure what he was anymore. There were a shit-ton of Wolves, for sure. But how would a Tiger fair in a small town where he had to keep his inner self a secret?
Supposedly normals weren’t exactly in the know, but Alex had his doubts. Supernaturals outnumbered normals three to one in the resort town that made the bulk of its money off the tourists who flocked there every summer.
Tourists, he snorted at the word. Like his family had been when he was a cub. Okay, fine. So maybe he didn’t hate it entirely. There was that summer he rode every rollercoaster and tilt-a-whirl ten times each without getting even slightly nauseous after his cousin dared him.
Still, he resented the assignment all the same. Surely, Dean had other people, less important people, he could have sent here?
Grrr. Waste of freaking time.
It had been years since Alex had spent any significant amount of time in the South Jersey town, but he still had acquaintances there. It was hard to ignore the busiest Shifter town in the Eastern coast.
The Thirsty Dog was still the most hopping place in town, and he’d run into a crowd of friendly Wolves and Bears. Some he knew, some he didn’t.
Not that it mattered. After polishing off a few gold-label bottles of Bite, his favorite artisan whiskey crafted by local Werewolf Mason Lane, Alex tried his hand at darts. Then pool. Then some computer trivia thingy that he sucked royally at, but he had fun downing shots poured by the pretty and available waitstaff if the phone numbers he’d had stuffed into his pockets were any indication.
The women had been willing, but for some reason Alex had simply smiled and left. Alone.
And what the fuck was up with that? He growled again. The effects of the whiskey had long since worn off, but Alex felt out of sorts.
Anxious even.