Page 1 of Bearing North
1
ORSON
So this is Alaska.
Orson pulled up in front of an unimpressive building at the end of a busy Anchorage road, easing the car into the space for the CEO.
He honestly wondered if Peter had set his itinerary up on purpose to get him here exhausted and bleary-eyed for his first day of work.
But the trip, a long-ass plane flight with four connections and then a rental car straight to the security office from the airport, certainly gave him time to think aboutwhyhe was here.
He was disgraced.
Alaska was where his big brothers could send him to get him out of their hair.It’ll teach you responsibility,Theo said when he assigned him the job.It’ll keep you out of trouble, Peter said.It’ll make you someone else’s problem, Baxter added. Axel just laughed, and Hunter ruffled his hair like he was thirteen.
Grizzly Protection Services had just bought out an established security firm with a good reputation to expand into the forty-ninth state. Orson’s sole responsibility was to take a desk job and try not to shame the family name by running it into the ground. It was already in the capable hands of one Alex Vex, who had a reputation for being a cutthroat negotiator, a skilled fighter, and a respected community figure. Getting her to accept a second-in-command position instead of leaving to build a new business in competition would be Orson’s biggest hurdle, but he had a big budget to work with.
Under its old name, Snafu River Security had won several business awards, and recently negotiated a major contract to protect the Alaska Pipeline itself—eight hundred miles of massive piping from the north oilfields to the south coast.
All Orson had to do wasnotbe his usual disaster and let things succeed without him.
And he didn’twantto be his usual disaster.
But he also didn’t want to be put in a box markedAlaskato stay out of trouble.
He needed to prove he could be afunctionalpart of a team. He wasn’t willing to be sidelined. This was his chance to confirm that he wasn’t theleastof his brothers, even if he was the youngest and most prone to disaster. (Honestly, the fishpond incident was not even a little bit his fault. And the flooded New York office was a complete accident. No one had pinned the golf cart thing on him, even if hewasstrongly suspected.)
He pulled down the car visor and frowned at his reflection in the mirror before getting out. He didn’t look like a kid anymore; he had an honest-to-god beard now. He’d shaved clean up until a month ago and was happy it hadn’t come in all patchy. He could finally grow real facial hair and maybe the new Alaska branch of Grizzly Protection Services wouldn’t call himBaby BearorCub,which his brothers never let him forget was the meaning of his name, despite the fact that he was heading towards his thirtieth birthday.
He looked likeNew Orson. He wanted to come in and be a leader, not a loser. He was determined to be a real boss, not just a figurehead.
He just had to find out how to do that. What would Theo do? Or Baxter? Growl a lot, probably. Yell at people and make all the right things happen.
He gave a test growl.
Weak, Orson. Really weak.
The second growl was better. More convincing.Manlier.He tugged on his short beard and practiced again.
What else did his older brothers do so successfully? Grunt. They grunted alot.
Orson usually filled in conversations with jokes and quips, but jokes and quips were exactly what had gotten him sent to Alaska.
No jokes. He wasn’t Orson the Comedian anymore. He was Orson the Gruff. He was Orson the Commanding. Orson the Not-a-Screwup. These people wouldn’t know any better. He’d keep his mouth shut and his eyes open and pretend he knew what he was doing.
I got this,he told himself. He was going to walk into that office with his chin up and a convincing grizzly growl in his chest and he’d show them exactly who their new boss was. He wasNew Orson.
I got this.
His bear gave a rumble of interest in his head as Orson got out of the car and went to the front door.Hedidn’t seem even slightly fazed by their disgrace, and he was insisting thatthiswas where they belonged.
Alaska?Orson asked him skeptically.
Here,his bear said firmly.Now.The magical shifter instinct that guided his bear half was often frustrating to Orson, vague and unhelpful more than it was actually useful.Heremight mean Anchorage, Alaska, or possibly this exact square of concrete sidewalk.Nowmight mean this week or a split second that Orson was going to miss by blinking.
Downtown Anchorage was windy and smelled like saltwater. There was more city here than Orson had feared, but less than he’d hoped, with a few tall buildings and no skyscrapers. Blue mountains hemmed the town, and gray clouds overhead threatened rain. The office, which appeared to be residing in an old auto shop, still had the Snafu River branding of the old business over the door. The Grizzly Protection Services logo was taped in the window.
Orson opened the door with his newfound bluster and stomped in, slamming it behind him.
