Big Bad Beast

  “Yeah. Sure.” She walked off and Dee looked at Abby. “Get me a phone, would you, Abby?”

  Abby barked and ran off. A few minutes later she returned with a phone, dropping it into Dee’s lap. Dee quickly punched in a number and waited for the connection.

  After what became a brunch had been devoured and the guests went off to do their own things until dinner time, Ric went back to his kitchen and got to work on the just-delivered meats. Stein stayed out of his way, mostly working outside getting the industrial-grade equipment scrubbed clean and set up for the next bout of summer grilling.

  Ric didn’t know why his cousin was avoiding him. For once the problem had very little to do with Stein, even if the means of getting to Ric had come through him. It was simply too easy to blame the kid, for the fact remained that if his father hadn’t used those polars, he’d have found something else. Something with more skill at getting to Ric. In a way, Ric was grateful to Stein. His father could have easily found himself a Dee-Ann type who’d have left Ric disabled and bleeding to death behind a closed Long Island dress shop.

  Deciding to put it out of his mind for the moment, because he refused to let his father do what he did so well—ruin his holiday weekends—Ric finished seasoning the turkey legs he hadn’t ordered but thought he might have fun experimenting with and turned toward the four stoves he’d had built into his kitchen when he’d purchased the house. He debated whether he wanted to roast the turkey legs or grill them or—ooh!—fry them, when he realized Dee-Ann was with him in the kitchen, cleaning and preparing the vegetables. And, it occurred to him, she had been there for a while. She even wore one of the bandanas over her hair, knowing how he’d have lost his mind if her hair was swinging free in his hair-free-zone kitchen.

  She looked up from the green beans and blinked. “What?”

  Ric shrugged. “Just glad you’re here.”

  She returned his smile. “Me, too.”

  “I’m especially glad you’re wearing that bikini.” He stepped closer and tugged at the cutoffs she wore over her bikini bottoms. “Although these aren’t really necessary.” And yet Dee still managed to wear them the sexiest way possible, the top button undone, the zipper halfway down to give him a peek at those black bikini bottoms. As Stein had remarked to Ric at one point the day before while he’d watched Smith She-wolves walk past his grill and head toward the pool, “There’s definitely a benefit to having Southern sensibilities around, cousin.”

  Very true.

  “There are children around. Don’t want to ruin ’em for all other females.”

  “Good point.”

  She took hold of his T-shirt and tugged him closer. Ric pressed his mouth against hers but he didn’t manage to get very far.

  “I’m hungry,” a cat whined, standing on the other side of the kitchen island. “Dinner ready yet?”

  Ric glared at Mitch Shaw. “I just fed you a couple of hours ago.”

  “Why do you wolves always say that to me like it’s supposed to mean something?”

  “Is there more food?” Brendon Shaw yelled from outside.

  “No!” Mitch yelled back. “He’s in here making out with Dee instead of feeding us!”

  And if Ric had been a half-second slower, Mitch Shaw would have been wearing that eight-inch chef’s knife Dee had aimed at his face.

  Dee had to admit she was impressed by how Ric ran these mass barbecues with lots of breeds and personalities involved. Several barbecue pits worth of meat could lead to all sorts of trouble when dealing with so many predators, but he had been smart from the beginning and drafted Lock, Novikov, and Bobby Ray to manage the food. Then he let the wild dogs feed their kids first, ignoring the whining and roaring from the lions who had woken from their deathlike slumber as soon as someone yelled out, “Food’s on!”

  Once the kids were taken care of, he set up lines for the buffet, but had already pulled out a couple of slabs of ribs just for Mitch and Brendon. While the pair downed that, the rest of them were able to get their food without much of a fuss. Something Dee was sure all concerned appreciated.

  Two hours later, there was barely any food left and the pool area was filled with well-fed shifters enjoying the night as small lights automatically popped on around the property.

  Like her mother and her mother’s mother, Dee-Ann had made sure everyone else had eaten before she went back to the buffet to get her own. There wasn’t much left to choose from and she sighed a little, picking up one of the few clean plates stacked at the corner of the table.

  “Your food is inside, Dee,” Jessie Ann told her, taking the plate away while a group of wild dogs and Blayne helped clean up.

  “Sorry?”

  “Ric made you a plate. It’s in the kitchen somewhere.”

  “Probably in the oven,” Blayne piped in, expertly stacking up dirty plates and platters.

  “All right. Thanks.” Dee started to walk off, heading back to the kitchen, but she stopped and asked, “You know where Ric went?”

  “Check the roof,” Blayne told her.

  Dee went to the kitchen. Stein sat at the kitchen table with his head resting on his arms. The poor thing had had a hell of day, hadn’t he? Beaten up by polars and made to cook for demanding lions. He’d come through it like a trooper, though.

  “You all right?” Dee asked while she found her plate of food right where Blayne had told her it would be.

  “I’m all right. Just exhausted.”

  “You did a nice job this weekend. Taking care of all these people. And the food was great.”

  “That was mostly Ric. He’s an amazing chef.”

  “You will be, too.”

  Stein slowly sat up. “How do you know that?”

  “I know that because I know your cousin. He wouldn’t bother pushing you like he does if he didn’t think you had the talent to back it up.”

  “Really?”

  “Really.”

  “Thanks.”

  She shrugged and gathered together a fork, knife, and cloth napkin.

  “And if you have any more problems with those bears, you let me know. All right?”

  “Sure.”

  “But no more gambling, or I’m liable to get ornery. Understand?”

  “I understand, but it’s not that easy.”

  “Make it that easy. Because you won’t like it if I get ornery, son.”

  “I’m sensing that.”

  “Keep sensin’ it.”

  Dee tucked a bottle of imported beer into the back pocket of her jean shorts and took her plate up several flights of stairs until she reached the stairway and small door that led to the roof.

  Van Holtz sat Indian–style on the roof’s balcony, an empty plate next to his crossed legs, a bottle of wine and a half-empty wineglass near his knee. A small insulated bag sat behind him. He was mid-yawn when she stepped out and she debated going back out again to give him some much needed peace but he saw her first—and smiled. Moving over a bit, he patted the empty space next to him.

  Feeling more welcome than she ever had before, and with only a simple gesture, Dee sat in the spot he indicated. She placed her plate down and pulled the bottle of beer out of her back pocket. She suddenly wished she’d brought a bottle opener since using her front fangs seemed the height of tacky, something her mother had always told her and something Dee had always ignored.

  “Let me see that,” Ric said, spotting her dilemma. He took the bottle and popped off the top using his claws. “Adelle taught me that.” He handed the bottle back to her. “She worked a few summers in the hardcore seafood restaurants out here.”

  “Thanks,” Dee said, retrieving the bottle from him and taking a quick sip. “And why would she do that?”

  “Experience. A lot of us worked in different restaurants when we were younger, to get a feel for not being in a Van Holtz kitchen.”

  “Was it tough?”

  “Not really. You keep taking jobs at restaurants with the worst reputations in the city or state
, thinking there has to be somewhere more abusive than working with your own family—then you find out you’re wrong. You’ll never work any place tougher than a Van Holtz kitchen.”

  Dee took her first bite of a beef rib, the meat falling off the bone, the tenderness of it literally melting in her mouth, and she could only reply, “Shut up, suffer, and learn from your kin, Van Holtz, ’cause this is amazing.”

  Ric laughed. “I’m glad you like it. Your beans were a big hit, by the way. Who knew you could sauté?”

  “Told you I wasn’t helpless in the kitchen.”

  “Everyone says that. Then they end up crying in a corner.”

  Ric sat back with his wine and let Dee finish her food. Like most predators, she ate quickly, always worried someone was going to steal her meat from her and drag it up a tree out of her reach. But when she leaned back, licking the last remnants of barbecue seasoning off her fingers rather than using her napkin, he knew he’d made a damn good meal.

  “You do have a way with meat,” she finally said, leaning back with her palms flat behind her, her long legs stretched out and crossed at the ankles.

  “I know that’s a compliment, but it still sounds . . . weird.”

  She smiled and Ric felt himself melting.

  No. Not melting. There could be no melting around Dee-Ann Smith. Especially when he should be angry with her because she couldn’t keep her damn mouth shut.

  “Uncle Van called me.”

  “Did he?” She laughed when Ric scowled at her. “What, Ric? Did you think I wouldn’t find out? That I wouldn’t tell him what I knew? You could have gotten killed today.” Then she softly added, “I could have also handled this myself, but I didn’t.”

  “You could have at least waited until after the holiday before you told him.”

  “Could do lots of things—often don’t.”

  “I don’t know what that means, but I’m heading to Washington tomorrow to meet with him.”

  “Good.”

  “You’re coming with me.”

  “Can’t. Got some killin’ to do.”

  “If you mean my father—no,” he said simply. “If you mean Missy Llewellyn—no.”

  “You’re ruining all my fun.”

  “I’m cruel that way. We wait until we talk to Uncle Van.”

  “He ain’t my Alpha.”

  “No. He’s just the man who signs your checks. He’s your boss. And mine.”

  “Fine. We’re not flying coach, though, are we?” She hated being stuck in those tiny seats with nowhere for her long legs to go.

  Ric gawked at her, making her think she’d started speaking in tongues like old Great Aunt Delilah used to do during church services.

  “A commercial plane? Me?”

  Dee laughed outright. “Foolish me. Thinking we might have to sully ourselves on a commercial flight like all those normal people.”

  “That’s an insane way of thinking, Dee-Ann, and completely unacceptable when you’re with me.”

  “I’ll keep that in mind.” She glanced around at the empty plates. “You ready to head back down?”

  “And miss the best part?”

  “Best part?” She figured he meant to get her naked up here— not that she’d complain if he did—but off in the distance near the park they’d been at the day before, explosions sounded and fireworks exploded in the sky overhead.

  The guests below reacted with cheers and applause—although some of the dogs yipped nervously and the pups squealed.

  “See?” Ric asked, grinning at her. “Best part.”

  “Absolutely. Although if I’d known there’d be a show, I’d have brought us some dessert so we could eat something sweet and watch.”

  “Ye of little faith, Miss Smith.” Ric reached into the small insulated bag he’d brought with him. He pulled out small plates, placing one beside her and the other in front of himself. On each he placed four graham crackers and two very large marshmallows.

  “Aren’t we supposed to melt these?” she asked, more tickled than she’d ever been before.

  “I’ve always loathed the idea of picking up random sticks that were in the dirt and sticking them through clean food. Besides, I’m relatively certain I don’t want to build a fire up here. So no melting.”

  Lord, the man was just so logical. And it was just so . . . cute.

  “And the best part . . .” He reached back into the bag and pulled out two bars of Hershey milk chocolate. She appreciated the fact that he didn’t try to use that expensive, snooty chocolate the wild dogs preferred. He’d gone with an all-American favorite and since it was Fourth of July with all that “rockets’ red glare” overhead, it only seemed right.

  He handed her the still-wrapped candy and she took it, her fingers grazing against his—and that’s when they both froze, the immediate recognition sending a shiver of absolute pleasure down Dee’s spine.

  She looked into his eyes, eyes that were suddenly more familiar than they’d been only an hour ago and she saw the same thing there that she felt.

  “Thank you kindly,” she whispered and they smiled at the same time.

  “I told Uncle Van I’d be the one to feed you,” Ric sighed out.

  “Pardon?”

  “Nothing.” Ric’s hand slipped behind the back of her neck and pulled her closer. “Nothing at all.” He kissed her, the fireworks display completely forgotten, and Dee knew in that moment that her daddy would finally have to accept a few things: She’d never be a doctor or lawyer, chances were that killing was as much a family business as her momma’s pie shops, and that his only baby girl would forever be in love with a Van Holtz.

  CHAPTER 27

  Van opened his front door and let out a little sigh. “Dee-Ann.”

  “Mr. Van Holtz.”

  “How are you?”

  “Feelin’ pretty fine.”

  “Is Ric with you?”

  “He’s around.” They gazed at each other and Van knew what he saw: that the cold, bloodthirsty, deadly spawn of Eggie Ray Smith loved Van’s favorite cousin.

  Why, oh, why, did these things happen to him?

  “Would you like to come in?” he finally—and grudgingly—asked.

  “Thank you kindly.”

  She stepped inside, those dog-yellow eyes taking everything in. “Nice digs.”

  He nearly shuddered. “Thank you.”

  Ric stepped through the doorway, carrying two small duffle bags.

  “Uncle Van!”

  Grinning, feeling pure joy at seeing his cousin alive and well, Van hugged the kid right off his feet.

  “I’m so glad to see you, Ric.”

  “I’m glad to see you, too.”

  Van released him and took a step back. “You’re all right?”

  Ric’s gaze moved across the hallway floor to the She-wolf wandering along, studying the pictures on the walls. “I’m doing great.”

  Van’s eyes crossed. “You’re such an idiot.”

  Ric grinned. “I love you, too, Uncle Van.”

  Dee went around a corner, wondering if there was a bathroom nearby, and came face-to-face with a full-human female. She had ice blue eyes and curly dark brown hair that had streaks of grey throughout. The hair was thick and she wore it on top of her head in a loose ponytail. They gazed at each other for several long seconds until the female asked, “Are you doing that on purpose? With your eyes?”

  “No, ma’am. Born this way. Just like my daddy.”

  “Really? Fascinating. And your height? Is that normal for your kind or are you freakishly built?”

  “Irene,” Niles Van Holtz said from behind Dee.

  “What? I didn’t ask for a blood sample this time.”

  “Dee-Ann Smith, this is my wife, Irene Conridge-Van Holtz.”

  “Ma’am.”

  “You’re a Smith?” She studied Dee a little more. “I thought they were to be killed on sight,” she said to her husband.

  “Irene.”

  “Why do I keep hearing that
tone?” She looked at Dee. “Was I offensive to you?”

  “Not so’s I’d notice.”

  “See?” she smirked. “Not so’s she’d notice.” Dee chuckled and watched the female move around her. “Ulrich?”

  “Hi, Aunt Irene.”

  The full-human opened her arms to Ric and he swept her up, hugging her tight. “I’m so glad to see you.”

  “And you.”

  He placed her carefully on her feet, kissed her cheek.

  “You look very good,” she told him. “Your excellent bone structure will help ensure that you’re extremely attractive well into your sixties. Perhaps even your seventies.”

  He winked at Dee. “Did you hear that?”

  “I’m standing right here.”

  “Oh,” the full-human said. “Are you two sexually involved?”

  “And we’re done,” Niles Van Holtz announced, catching the hand of his mate and pulling her to his side. “Ric, why don’t you show Dee-Ann your room . . . since I guess you two will be sharing. And meet me in my office after you get settled.”

  “Okay.” Ric took Dee’s hand, openly claiming her in front of the Alpha of her Pack’s fiercest enemies, and pulled her toward a big set of marble stairs. They walked up the steps and met an older teenage female coming down. She was pretty, had her daddy’s face but her momma’s eyes. Cold like her momma’s eyes, too.

  “Ulrich.”

  “Ulva.” He kissed the girl’s cheek. “How are you doing?”

  “Well. I head to Oxford in the fall.”

  “Oxford? No restaurant time for you then, huh?”

  “Not necessary. I received a full scholarship.” She glanced at Dee and Ric introduced them.

  “Nice to meet’cha,” Dee said.

  “Yes,” the girl replied.

  “Uncle Ric!” Dee heard young boys scream down the second-floor hallway and Ric ran up the stairs to meet them, leaving Dee alone with Niles Van Holtz’s only daughter.

  They stared at each other until Dee finally warned her, “You ain’t ready for me yet, little girl.”

  “I believe you’re right,” she admitted. “But from what I’ve heard about you, I’m surmising I should endeavor to have you as an ally rather than an enemy.”