“You remember my father?” Ric asked.
Dee looked at the door and at the older wolf glowering at her. “Oh.” She looked at the door again. Then Ric’s father. “Oh, Lord.”
Although Dee didn’t like Ric’s father, she still didn’t want to go beating him up with doors. That was rude and her momma would expect more from her. Especially when Dee was sleeping with the man’s son.
“Mr. Van Holtz, I’m very—”
Before she could finish her apology, the wolf stormed past her, practically shoving her into the door she’d battered him with.
She leaned out into the hallway, calling after him, “I’m real sorry. I can assure you it was an accident.”
“Like your birth?”
That came from Wen-dell—she always made sure to enunciate the last part of his name since it seemed to piss him off so much. But as she turned to tell him exactly what she thought of his birth, she saw that there was no point. Because she didn’t have the chance.
Ric had reached out and caught his brother by the throat with his left hand, yanking him forward, and took hold of Wendell’s arm with his right, pulling it back. “Apologize,” Ric told him, looking more pissed off than Dee had ever seen him. Even the time he threw that zebra hoof at her—long story—he didn’t look that angry.
“Fuck yo—”
Ric unleashed his claws, burying them in his brother’s throat, blood dripping over his hand and onto the floor. “Apologize,” the wolf told his brother calmly. “And do it nicely.”
“Sorry!” Wendell managed to get out. Then Ric shoved him forward and right into the hallway. The wolf slammed into the opposite wall, his head leaving a dent in the drywall.
“Get out of my restaurant,” Ric told him, his voice even, not raised at all. “You can return when you’ve learned some manners.”
Ric turned away and walked toward the desk. So he missed his brother unleashing his own claws and coming for him from behind like some untrustworthy feline. But Dee silently stepped in front of Wendell, her bowie knife out. She waved it once and softly said, “Uh-uh.”
The worthless wolf pulled back. Maybe he was willing to take his brother on, but not her. Then again, Dee was doing him a favor. This pissed off, Ric would tear the idiot’s throat out, but that wouldn’t sit right with him. He’d never forgive himself and Dee wasn’t going to have that.
She motioned Wendell away with a tilt of her head. He went, shoving aside the crew members who’d come into the hall to watch Ric slap him around. Nope. Wendell wouldn’t be forgiving this bit of embarrassment anytime soon.
Hearing Ric moving behind her, she quickly slid her blade back in its sheath and turned.
He was just facing her. “Sorry about that,” he said and she had to laugh.
“Darlin’, that’s Thanksgiving dinner over at my Uncle Bubba’s house.”
“I know you need to talk to me, but can you give me five minutes?”
“Sure.” She started to step out but he walked past her and into the hallway. She went back into the office, rested her butt on the desk, and waited.
Arden got the quick scoop from her Aunt Adelle, who’d heard it from the sous-chef, who’d gotten it from the garde-manger, who’d seen it himself! And Arden had to say she was entertained and immensely proud of her cousin! Mostly because as much as she adored Ric, she loathed her cousin Wendell in equal parts. He was more weasel than wolf, in her opinion.
Tragically, she couldn’t stay around and gossip more about the whole thing. She had to get to class unless she wanted to spend her life showing people their tables and taking complaints. Although it was a great way for a twenty-year-old to make sixty grand a year, get her tuition for her Ivy League tech school paid in full, and have flexible hours, so she wouldn’t bitch about it too much.
She charged around a corner, her arm reaching out to hail a cab, when someone caught her and yanked her back.
“Hey!” she screeched, ready to fight like a full-human first, then unleash claws if necessary. But it wasn’t anything to be worried about. Just Wendell.
“If this is about Ric—” she began, trying not to giggle at the claw marks on his neck.
“I don’t give a shit about him. I want to know about Stein.”
“What about him?”
“Why is he back?”
“I don’t know.” She tried to walk off, but Wendell yanked her back again. “Hey! Get off me!”
“Then answer my question.”
“Why do you think? He owes money to somebody.”
“From Vegas?”
“Atlantic City. There. Happy now?”
“Ecstatic.” He pushed her away. “Let me know when you grow tits, cuz. Maybe I’ll hook you up with one of my boys then.”
“Like you actually have friends, dickwad.” Then Arden caught her cab and headed to class.
CHAPTER 15
When Ric wasn’t back in five minutes, Dee went looking for him. She actually had somewhere to be and she was only giving him a heads-up on what she, Malone, and Desiree were doing.
Dee stuck her head in the kitchen. “Where’s Ric?” she asked the room.
“In the alley,” one of the cooks told her.
Dee headed to the door that led to the alley and stepped outside. Ric was at the far end of the alley where it was blocked off by a brick wall that was attached to the restaurant and the deli next door. He had his back to her, his body hunched over.
Dee moved up silently behind him, curious to see what he was doing all huddled into a corner like that. When she stood right behind him, she went up on her toes a bit and peeked over his shoulder. A brow went up and she relaxed back to the flat feet she was born with—and waited. Because she knew she wouldn’t have to wait too long.
Ric froze, knowing she was right behind him. Knowing she was watching him do what he hadn’t done in two and a half years. But after those six months of patches and nicotine-tinged chewing gum until he’d gone cold turkey for two years—Ric was right back where he’d been.
He clenched the cigarette he’d bummed off a full-human from the deli next door tight between his lips, the engraved gold lighter he hadn’t used in more than two years clutched between his hands as he tried to get the goddamn thing to light. Knowing he couldn’t avoid her forever, Ric slowly turned and faced Dee-Ann. She had her arms folded over her chest, a smirk on those perfect lips, and one brow raised while she waited for him to say something.
“Look,” he immediately began to argue around the precious, precious stick of death he had gripped between his lips. “I’m not going to sit here and explain why I need this. I . . . I just need this, okay?”
“Uh-huh.”
Since she didn’t say anything else, he tried again to get his lighter to work. He shook it a few times, praying there was a little lighter fluid left at the bottom. Finally, he had flame and he brought it close to the cigarette. His mistake was looking again at Dee-Ann. Her expression hadn’t changed. She wasn’t shaking her head or “tsk-tsking” him. She wasn’t trying to grab the cigarette out of his mouth, or bursting into tears, or telling him how disappointed she was in him. But she wasn’t walking away either, or telling him to “do as ya like,” or pretending he wasn’t smoking and getting on with whatever it was she needed to discuss with him.
No. Dee-Ann didn’t do any of that. She simply watched, smirked, and waited.
Waited for him to realize he was making a huge mistake.
Although Ric knew all the reasons it was bad to smoke, he’d given it up two and half years ago for one reason and one reason only—it fucked with his taste buds. Something that, as a chef, he couldn’t afford. He also knew if he started again now, he’d probably never stop. Quitting was too painful a process, too time consuming, and the reason for why he’d begun smoking in the first place would never go away. At least not anytime soon.
He’d been fifteen when he started, somehow managing to keep it a secret among scent-prone wolf shifters until, when he was sevente
en, his mother found his pack when she’d picked up his school jacket to hang it in the closet. He remembered how angry she’d been, how hurt, but he knew she kind of understood it, too. At the time, it was the only way Ric had of dealing with his father. The tobacco soothed his nerves, cleared his mind, settled his spirit, and allowed him to make it through nightly dinners with Alder and Wendell. Ric had only stopped when he knew it was putting his cooking career at risk and, more importantly, he was no longer living with his father and brother.
Ric closed the lighter and pulled the cigarette out of his mouth.
“I hate you,” he muttered.
“I know.” She took the cigarette from his hand. “A nonfiltered wolf, I see.”
“I took whatever Joey at the deli had. I was desperate.”
“Is this about Wendell?”
“Hardly. He was rude. He’s lucky Adelle didn’t hear him. She would have torn his hair out.”
“Then it’s the old wolf. Why was he here?”
“I have no idea.”
“Okay then.”
“It isn’t that he was here that’s the problem, Dee.”
“It’s his presence on this planet?”
Ric finally smiled. “Well . . . yes. Plus some other stuff that I can’t get into.”
“Understood. We’re from enemy Packs, so you can’t go around telling me your precious enemy Pack secrets.”
“Now you’re making me feel stupid.”
Dee chuckled. “Not my intent.” She glanced back at the door. “This doesn’t have to do with that scruffy, homeless wolf you had roaming your apartment the other morning?”
“He’s not homeless . . . anymore. He’s sleeping on the couch of my saucier. And although I doubt Stein has anything to do with what happened today, I’m sure my father will use him against me somehow.”
“His name’s Stein?”
“At least it’s just one name.”
She grinned. “Look at you trying to sweet talk me.”
Ric flinched. “Sorry. Unnecessary roughness.”
“Not where I come from.”
“Stein’s my cousin. I hired him to mop the floors and wash dishes.”
“What’s wrong with that? You’re supposed to watch out for your kin.”
“Not when your kin has been shoved out of the Pack. And it’s not like the kid didn’t deserve that shove. He did.”
She stepped closer. “How bad could this get for you?”
“That depends. If Stein never screws up again, takes this opportunity to become the best chef that has ever walked the earth, and he manages to make this world a better place for everyone throughout the universe—maybe my father will let this go before he’s on his deathbed. If the kid screws up even once . . .” Ric shrugged. “Well, I’ve always wanted to open up a little bistro in Soho. Now this could be my chance.”
“Seems a lot of trouble to let a kid wash dishes.”
“He needs the work, Dee. Really needs it. And from what I can tell, he can’t drop any lower at this point. Not without some real effort. I can’t just turn him away. I at least have to give him one more chance to ruin everything for both of us.”
“Now see?” she asked and Ric realized that they were so close that all Ric had to do was lean in another inch or so and he’d be kissing her. “What am I supposed to do with a wolf that’s just so dang nice?”
“Get naked with me in the office? General manager won’t be in for a couple of hours.”
“You have no idea how much I really want to, but I can’t. I only came here to give you a heads-up what I’ve got going on tonight with Desiree and Malone.”
“You and your damn work ethic.”
“It’s a flaw. I know.” She petted his cheek, stepping into him until their bodies were flush. “You gonna be all right?”
“After seeing you slam my father’s head with that door?”
“That was an accident . . . so maybe you shouldn’t smile about it.”
“Can’t help it.” He kissed her, feeling nothing but hope at the way her body kind of melted into his. When they finally stopped, Ric pressed his forehead against hers and closed his eyes. The She-wolf let him stay that way for several minutes until his soul had calmed, his desire to shift and run until he hit Jersey throttling down to a tolerable hum of awareness.
“Come back to my place when you’re done,” he told her.
“All right.”
He stepped away from her, knowing he had to let her go. “Come inside and tell me what’s going on first and I’ll give you a set of keys for my apartment.” Something he’d forgotten to do earlier.
She smirked. “Keys? What do I need keys for?”
“So you can at least pretend you’re not breaking and entering?”
“If you’re going to be particular about it.”
Laughing, Ric headed to the alley door. “Come on.”
“Yeah. Give me a minute.”
“Sure.”
Ric reached for the door but stopped and faced Dee again. He returned to her side and stared at her.
She blinked. “What?”
“Dee-Ann,” he told her, “it’s me.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“Do I really need to call your mother about this?”
She snarled at him. “Sometimes you are just mean!” She slapped the cigarette back into his hand. “How did you know anyway?”
“I could see it in your eyes when I came back over. This cigarette was going down. How long?” he asked and she knew what he meant.
“Since I got home from the Marines and Momma caught me smoking behind the barn. She slapped that cigarette from my hand and threatened bodily harm on her only child—all while crying.”
“It was the crying, wasn’t it?”
“Of course it was the crying. There’s some things I simply can’t tolerate. Wild dog howling, zebra, Teacup”—Ric threw his hands up at that—“and seeing my momma cry.”
“Since my mother also would be destroyed by her youngest taking up smoking again, we’ll make a deal.” Ric crumpled the cigarette in his hands until it was nothing but bits of paper and tobacco. “If we think about starting up again, we’ll call each other.”
“And chat about it like girlfriends?”
“Only after we talk about what Prada is coming out with in their latest fall shoe line.” When she only stared at him, Ric quickly added, “I’m kidding. I’m kidding. I don’t wear Prada. They make my ankles look fat.”
She turned away from him, walking to the door.
“I saw that smile, Dee-Ann. You can’t hide it from me.”
CHAPTER 16
T hey’d handpicked their teams. Three from each group, the people they most trusted when it came to skill set and the ability to keep their mouths shut. Plus, the order was they were to call no one. Not their mate, their best friend, their mom. No one.
Only the three supervisors who’d put the team together knew anything and they weren’t telling even their own bosses.
Using a tip from Desiree’s ASPCA contact, they’d come to this warehouse out in an industrial area on Long Island, not far from Malone’s home off the Meadowbrook State Parkway. Something that annoyed the She-tiger immensely.
It was nearly ten by the time they parked their vehicles and made their way down the street, keeping to the shadows. The felines took to the roofs; the grizzly, wolf, and coyote that Dee brought stayed close to her; and the three cops—two wolves and a fox because she was such a dog person—Desiree had rounded up circled behind the warehouse to come in the back way.
Dee, Malone, and Desiree went toward the front. Dee would admit she’d been a little worried about bringing Desiree along. She was the only full-human among them, but once she had her bulletproof vest on and more weapons than seemed authorized by the NYPD, Dee stopped worrying. The girl was a Marine down to her toes and that’s all Dee needed to know.
Using hand signals, Dee motioned for Desiree to head left, Malone right.
She went straight for the front door, still using the shadows. She could hear the cheers and yelling coming from the other side, but it didn’t block out the howls, roars, and whimpers. She was a few feet from the building when the door opened.
Dee dashed off to the side as a man walked out, already reaching for his zipper so he could unleash and piss in the first bush or open car window he could find. Dee waited until he’d passed her before she grabbed him from behind, twisting his head and snapping his neck. She pulled the body back and dropped him off to the side. She went back into the shadows and inched up to one of the windows, working hard to peer through all the dirt. She saw about fifty full-humans making up the bloodthirsty viewing crowd and another fifteen armed men, keeping everyone in control. They all surrounded a makeshift pit where a fight raged between what appeared to be a feline hybrid and a canine mix.
Standing by a set of stairs that led to the roof were two more men. One was counting the entry money and another was watching him, smoking a cigar. And she knew that was the one she wanted.
Deciding she’d seen enough, Dee crouched low and indicated with hand signals what they were about to face. Both females nodded, and Dee moved in front of the door. It opened again, an armed male coming out this time. She caught him by the face, shoving him back into the building. She raised her automatic weapon and shot through him. Most of the audience bolted for the back door—where Desiree’s team waited. So Dee wished them good luck on that.
Using the man in her arms as a shield for the bullets coming at her, Dee pulled back a few feet until she could drop the corpse and dive behind a bench. She cleared out the empty clip and slammed in a fresh one. She heard more gunfire and knew Malone and Desiree had made it into the room. Taking a breath, she came up, firing the entire way.
The money man and cigar guy grabbed the cash and ran up the stairs.
“Malone!” Dee yelled, catching a fist that was swinging at her face and twisting until the arm attached to it broke in several places, the full-human going down screaming. “Stairs! Go!”