Malone moved and Dee slammed her booted foot into the face of the male at her feet just to stop all that damn screaming. The fact that she’d probably killed him in the process didn’t worry her much. Not after seeing all the hybrid bodies piled in a corner.
“Dee!” Desiree called out. “Back up Malone! Go!”
Dee ran for the stairs, ducking as shots flashed past her. She hit the bottom step and charged up. When she got to the second floor, there were more men coming toward her. She fired and kept running, jumping over their bodies and hitting the next set of stairs. It was quieter on this floor, but she scented the presence of full-humans as she headed to the next flight of stairs. She had her foot on the bottom step when a hand caught her from behind. She turned and slashed down and across with her knife, cutting through skull, an eye, nose, lips, straight through a jaw. Then she was away and up the stairs. She saw a door that led out to the roof and Dee yanked it open and went through.
The felines were holding their own against another group of men, one of them going fist to fist with Malone. Honestly ... Malone and the brawling.
Dee stepped out onto the roof, raising her weapon to start shooting anyone who didn’t naturally have fangs when she realized someone was behind her. She spun and a brawny hand caught her weapon, lifting it up. The other hand punched her in the face a few times, forcing her up against the wall. Her automatic weapon was snatched from her hands and her face was hit again. She blinked, shaking her head, ignoring her broken nose and possibly readjusted cheekbones.
The full-human male, clearly a steroid user, tossed aside her weapon and came back to batter her face a little more. Dee blocked his fists with her arms and kicked at his leg. But she missed his knee, hitting his overdeveloped thigh. It hurt him, but only enough to piss him off. He backhanded her across the face, sending her flipping across the roof. When she managed to get to her hands and feet, he was there, kicking her in the gut. Dee rolled with it, but realized too late she was near the edge of the roof. She landed on the ledge, half of her dangling into nothing.
The man reached for her, grabbing hold of her vest and lifting her up. Dee unleashed her claws and ripped them into the man’s head. He screamed and she dug in deeper, then outward, trying to tear his face off.
He fought her, swinging at her, and finally flinging her away and over the side, but Dee still clung to him. He screamed, trying to pull her claws from his face while she dangled several floors off the ground.
Dee held on but the blood was making it easier for him to pull her away from his irreparably damaged flesh, his hands gripping her wrists. He was almost free, her claws nearly out, when Malone landed on the man’s back, her own military issue knife ramming into the base of his neck, again and again.
Whatever steroid this asshole was taking, he wasn’t going down easy. Even spouting blood from a major artery, he still fought two She-predators like a demon, holding on to one of Dee’s wrists with one hand and reaching back for Malone with the other. He flipped Malone over and out. But after releasing her own blade, Malone grabbed a healthy amount of the bastard’s hair and held on.
Dee now had at least one arm free and she grabbed hold of her bowie, sticking it into the man’s neck and yanking it from ear to ear. His eyes glazed over and he lurched forward.
Still holding her knife, Dee caught hold of the ledge while Malone scrambled back over the man’s body and onto the roof. The man spilled forward and went sailing—but he still had a death grip on Dee’s other wrist. She screamed when the weight of the big bastard nearly tore her arm out of its socket.
Malone snatched the knife from Dee and reached over, sawing at the man’s hand until she’d cut through flesh, muscle, sinew, and bone. His body dropped and Malone reached for her, but as she lowered her body to get a good grip on Dee’s waist, Dee saw another man behind the feline, his gun raised. One of Malone’s team was near, but she’d never reach the man before he got a shot off. With her right arm unusable at the moment since it wasn’t in its socket, and the other the only thing holding her onto the ledge, Dee did the one thing she could think of. She grabbed Malone around the back of her neck with her fangs and yanked her off the ledge like a momma-wolf would her cub.
Roaring, Malone dangled from Dee’s mouth, unaware of the gunshots that had nearly blown the back of her head off.
Malone slapped one of those big tiger claws against Dee’s throat and was seconds from ripping in and down when big bear arms reached over and caught hold of them both. With a good pull, he dragged both She-predators back over the ledge and then got between them when the fists began to fly.
“Aren’t you both too old for this?” he asked as only a twenty-something male could stupidly ask two fighting females sliding down the dark edge of thirty-five.
“Ow!” he yelped. “What are you hitting me for?”
Dez MacDermot put her gun away and caught hold of the man Dee-Ann had told her was probably the one in charge.
She yanked him up and into a chair and handcuffed him to it.
“I want a lawyer,” he said and Dez could only laugh at him.
“Oh, baby. Don’t you realize you’re past lawyers?” She let out a sigh. “I’ve had to adjust a lot of my beliefs in order to do this job, but it’s the price I pay to take care of those I love. Now it’s the price you’ll pay.”
“You trying to scare me, cop? You trying to convince me you’re gonna actually do something to me?”
“Me? Probably not. I don’t have the stomach for that. But my partners do.”
Dez walked to the door and opened it, letting in the woman Dee had asked for help. A woman Dez loathed—and to be honest, feared. But Dez was beginning to realize more and more that they were all in this together. Yes, even with the hyena whose Clan had once tried to kill her.
“I’d like to introduce you to Gina Brutale.” Dez motioned to the giggling females behind her. “These are her cousins. At least . . . some of them. Now, you can tell me what I want to know or I can let Gina have some fun.”
“Is that supposed to scare me?” He looked Gina over. She was her usual big-haired, gum-popping self in too-tight designer clothes, so he didn’t seem too impressed. But Dez had learned the day Mace Llewellyn walked back into her life never to let someone’s looks fool her.
“It should,” Dez told him honestly. “And if it doesn’t, it will.” She stepped back and let Gina walk up to him. She kneeled in front of him, between his spread legs.
“Hi. I’m Gina. I’m here to hurt you until you tell the cop what she wants to know. I’m not here because I owe anybody anything or because I am doing this for high moral reasons. To be honest, I could give a shit what happens to hybrids. But I will do this . . . for fun.” She laid her hands on his thighs and leaned in, sniffing him like a good meal. “I like to have fun. My Clan calls me the fun-time girl.”
She moved in closer, brushing her head against his chin. “Let me show you how much fun I can be.”
When it started, Dez focused on the floor. Too bad she couldn’t block out the screaming.
“Are you sure?” Cella asked the leopard she’d handpicked for this gig tonight. “I mean really really sure.”
“I’m sure. Barb is sure. We all saw it.”
“Great.” Letting out a sigh, Cella walked over to Smith. She was pressed up against one of the trucks, the young grizzly trying to find the right way to put her arm back in its socket.
Unable to watch a second more of the bear fumbling along, Cella pushed him aside and took Smith’s arm.
“The team told me,” she said, feeling around Smith’s shoulder, “you saved my ass back there.”
Wincing from the pain, Smith said, “You saved mine.”
“Yeah, but I’m better than you.”
The She-wolf grinned. “Is that what your lord god Satan tells you during your feline rituals?”
Cella sneered, but forced herself to say, “Anyway . . . thank you.”
“Same here.”
??
?Ready?”
“As ready as I’ll—goddamnitmotherfuckerbastardgoddamnit!”
Cella grinned. “Now . . . that wasn’t so bad, was it?”
“Bitch.”
“Whore.”
The door to the warehouse opened and MacDermot walked out.
“Well?” Smith asked.
MacDermot held up a slip of paper. “Names. Two. I have addresses and—”
“Let’s hit ’em tonight,” Cella suggested, taking the paper from the full-human. “It’s not even eleven yet.”
“Or we could get back to it tomorrow,” MacDermot tried.
“Or we can get it done tonight.” Cella motioned to Smith. “She’s up for it.”
“She’s a machine,” MacDermot countered. “Besides, I’m sure these people will be there tomorrow.”
“Tonight,” Cella pushed, not wanting to take the chance. “We do this tonight. Just the three of us, and we’ll be done in no time.”
“All right. But first we’re getting coffee from that diner we passed.” MacDermot went off to release her team and Cella faced Smith. She was still rubbing her shoulder. “You are up for this, right?”
“I’m a machine.”
“I’m sure MacDermot didn’t mean that literally.”
“Thanks.” Smith held her hand out and Cella put the paper with the names on it in her palm.
“Anyone you know?”
“Nope.”
“Good. Makes it a little easier when they’re not friends.” Cella motioned to the warehouse. “Do you want me to call in a cleanup team for this?”
“Nah. Brutale’s Clan will take care of it.”
Cella shook her head and walked around the truck to the driver’s door. “Hyenas. They’ll just eat anything won’t they?”
“That’s what’s great about them.”
CHAPTER 17
R ic woke up at his desk. He’d come home from the restaurant and had dived right back into the books Uncle Van had sent him. He continued to check and double-check numbers but he knew it was a waste, and he was only putting off the inevitable call to his cousin, but he was desperate. Hoping to find anything that could turn this around.
Packing up all the paperwork, he put it in his standing safe. Yawning and scratching his head, he headed to his bedroom but stopped outside the guest room. He sniffed the door before easing it open. He didn’t know when she’d come in, but he was glad to see her back and safe, even if she wasn’t in his bed.
Knowing Dee, she probably assumed it was rude to get into his bed without receiving a direct invitation. He’d have to let her know she had a standing invite from now until forever.
Gazing at her stretched out facedown and naked on the bed, he could easily see what she’d been through that night. Bruises and cuts littered her body, the worst bruising on her shoulder. All those angry reds, purples, and blacks against pale white skin suggested that particular area had been through hell and back.
Ric stripped naked and got on the bed with her. He wrapped his arms around her waist and pulled her in tight against him, making sure to avoid her damaged shoulder. She snarled at him in her sleep anyway, but he kissed her neck and said, “It’s Ric.”
Dee settled down then and slept comfortably in his arms while Ric stared at the wall across the room and tried to figure out what he’d do next about his father. Because he honestly had no idea.
Dee-Ann woke up alone, although Ric’s scent still surrounded her. Rubbing her eyes with her fists, she sat up and stretched long and hard. Her body still hurt some, but nothing she couldn’t tolerate. Especially after those first few minutes of dawn when she’d felt Ric gently kissing her scars and stroking her bruises. The horniest wolf she knew, but she didn’t mind because he always made her feel so damn good.
Leaving the bedroom, she headed to the kitchen. In the stove, she found a plate filled with bacon, ham, eggs, and toast. With a small smile, she reached for it, until she heard a noise coming from the opposite hallway.
Still naked, she followed the sound and ended up in front of Ric’s home office. Head tilting to the side, she watched his brother, Wen-dell, trying to open the safe there. A safe he wouldn’t get open anytime soon, if he knew about safes. Dammont safes were developed and built by wolves out of East Texas. No one was getting into that safe without the combination or a small thermonuclear device. Whether Wen-dell simply didn’t know safes or he was so desperate he had to try, Dee-Ann simply didn’t care.
All she knew was that he was trying to steal from his own brother and that’s all she had to know. There were some lines one just didn’t cross with family. At least not with her around.
She stood behind him, watching him fumble with the lock, getting more and more frustrated, for at least five minutes before he finally realized that she—or someone—stood right behind him.
The wolf spun around, fangs and claws unleashed, and Dee punched him in the face. His body slammed back into the safe and she moved in, punching him in the gut and kidneys until he was bent over at the waist. That’s when she kneed him in the jaw.
Once he was out cold, Dee caught him by the hair and dragged him out of the office, down the hallway, to the front door. It opened while she was reaching for the knob. An older She-wolf stood there, eyes wide in surprise.
“Uh . . . you must be Dee-Ann,” she said.
“Yes’m.”
“I’m Mrs. Marshall. Ulrich’s housekeeper.”
“Mrs. Marshall. Nice to meet you.”
“Um . . . he told me you might be here until you get a place of your own. I’m not . . . uh . . . interrupting anything, am I?”
“No, ma’am. Just taking out some trash.”
“Ah. Mr. Dell. Yes. You’re right.” She pointed at the end of the hallway beside the elevator. “The garbage chute is right down there. You might have to push a bit to get his shoulders through, but you look strong enough.”
“Thank you kindly.”
Dee walked past the She-wolf and dragged the just-waking wolf down the hallway. By the time his eyes opened fully, Dee had most of his body in the chute.
“Wait—” he began, but Dee slapped her hand against his forehead and gave one last shove, sending him screaming down to the pits of hell—or more likely a Dumpster.
Wiping her hands against each other, she walked back into the apartment, closing the door.
“Clothes, missy,” Mrs. Marshall told her. “You can’t walk around a kitchen naked. It’s tacky.”
“Yes’m.”
“And you better wash those hands, too, before you eat.”
“Yes’m.”
“And you can call me Mrs. M. like Ulrich does.”
Or . . . just ma’am. Whatever worked. “Yes’m.”
“Well, don’t just stand there, girl. Move like you have purpose.”
Dee ambled off to the bedroom to get a fresh set of clothes.
Lock MacRyrie opened his eyes when he caught the first whiff of coffee. He snarled at the wolf grinning down at him.
“Good morning, sunshine.”
“Where’s Gwen?”
“Work. I saw her on the way out. She wanted me to give you her love. Would you like the kiss, too?”
Lock turned over and pulled the covers over his head. No matter how many times he changed the locks on his door, getting stronger and more expensive models, nothing seemed to stop the wolves from getting into his apartment when they felt like it.
“Up. Up,” Ric coaxed. “Time to face the day.”
“Go away or I’m killing you.”
“I need advice, old friend. There’s my French toast in it for you.”
“I don’t want French toast. I want sleep.”
“Bacon? Eggs? All fresh and made by loving hands.”
“Shut up.” He pulled the covers back and glared at his childhood friend. “You’re getting so weird these days.”
“You have no idea.”
And something in Ric’s voice had Lock dragging his exhausted ass out o
f bed and into the shower.
By the time he walked out of his bedroom in a pair of jeans, the table was set and Ric was putting out his plate of food. The man’s timing had always been impeccable.
Sitting down at the table, Lock reached for a slice of bacon. “So what’s up? And this better not be more crazy shit about Dee-Ann.”
“No. It’s not about Dee-Ann.”
“Good.”
“We’re sleeping together, but that’s not why I’m here.”
Lock threw the half-eaten strip of bacon onto his plate. “You’re sleeping with her?”
“Figuratively and literally. But that’s not why I’m here.”
“I don’t care that’s not why you’re here. You can’t sleep with Dee.”
“Too late.”
“And when she’s done, you’ll let her go or are you going to do that annoying wolf thing you guys do? Where you keep trying to get them to be yours with flowers, chocolates, deer carcasses, and all that goddamn howling outside their window? Kind of like stalking but less threatening because you’re only partially human. Because I know for a fact that Dee hates when guys of any breed or species does stuff like that and she doesn’t respond to it well.”
“I’ll worry about that when we stop sleeping together.”
“You’re an idiot,” Lock snarled, picking up another piece of bacon.
“So you enjoy telling me when it comes to Dee-Ann. Now can I get on with it?”
“What could be worse than you stupidly sleeping with Dee-Ann Smith?”
“My father stealing money from the Pack?”
Lock raised his gaze to his friend’s, the pair staring at each other. Finally, Lock admitted, “Yep . . . that wins.”
“Morning, Dee!”
Dee stopped mid pull-up, gritting her teeth.
“Aren’t you going to say ‘hi’ back?”
Dee let out a breath and lowered her legs, releasing her grip on the pull-up bar and dropping to the ground. She came to the Group’s in-house gym so she could work out in peace. So she could get in tune with her body while letting her mind work other issues out in the quiet and sanctity of the one place everyone knew she’d kill them as soon as look at them if they got on her dang nerves—a fail-safe she simply didn’t have at the bigger but busier gym at the sports center.