Big Bad Beast

  “You can stay at my place,” he offered, hoping to look innocent and helpful rather than lustful and desperate.

  “No, but thank you kindly. I’ll crash at Rory Reed’s tonight. He’s staying at Brendon Shaw’s hotel with the rest of the Pack, so he’s got room service and a real comfortable couch.”

  “But my place has me and my waffles with blueberries.”

  “I can’t keep living off you, Van Holtz.”

  “It’s not living off me if you’re going to be my wife anyway.”

  Turning around and walking backward, she said, “Huh?”

  Ric decided this wasn’t the time. “Nothing. Have a good night, Dee-Ann.”

  “You, too.” She turned back around and quickly faded into the shadows. “And thanks for dinner.”

  He sighed, thinking about another lonely night in his bed. “Anytime.”

  CHAPTER 4

  R ory Lee Reed was lying in his bed, wondering how much longer he’d have to sit here and hold this full-human female, when—finally!—his bedroom door slowly creaked open.

  The full-human raised her head from his chest and, in a panicked whisper, “Rory . . .” She tapped his shoulder. “Rory. Wake up!”

  He pretended to come awake, and looked across the room at Dee-Ann. She stood in his doorway, one denim-clad leg crossed over the other, Big Betty—the name he and his brothers had given her bowie knife—in one hand while she cleaned under the fingernails of the other.

  “Dee . . . Dee-Ann? What are you doing here?”

  “Came for my man,” she growled low and turned her head a bit so the early morning light made the yellow of her eyes stand out that much more. And, if he didn’t know her, he’d be terrified.

  Heh.

  “You told me you were single,” the full-human accused.

  “Uh . . . well . . .”

  “It doesn’t matter,” she said quickly and Rory stopped just short of rolling his eyes. She was one of those.

  “You need to roll up out of here, darlin’,” Dee explained in a slow drawl. “Before I start gettin’ cranky.”

  “Rory’s with me now,” the full-human told Dee. “I’m sorry if that hurts, but that’s the way it is.”

  Dee’s eyes flicked over to his and without saying a word, he begged, Please don’t leave me. Please don’t leave me.

  They’d only been on three dates! Three dates that led to one night of solid, entertaining sex. But, as was the way with some of these full-humans, that was sometimes enough.

  His daddy had warned him. Warned him but good. “Stay away from the full-humans, boy. They’re clingy and don’t know when to walk away. They’ll put up a fight.”

  Of course, that warning came when Rory was sixteen. He was now thirty-five and, he just decided at this moment, way too old for this shit. By the time his daddy was his age, he had a mate, four healthy pups, and a decent business to keep them all going. And what his father hadn’t needed at the age of thirty-five was his best friend trying to help him get rid of his latest conquest . . . who wasn’t much of a conquest anyway. She’d practically dived into his bed.

  “You gonna take care of our six kids, too?” Dee asked.

  Six? Good Lord.

  The full-human blinked. “Six?”

  Tapping her knife against the tip of each finger, Dee named each imaginary offspring. “There’s Benny Ray, Johnny James, Jackie Duke, Juney Peach”—Juney Peach?—“Sadie Mae, and Sassy. She’s gonna be our pageant queen, ain’t she, Rory Lee?”

  “You have six children?” the full-human demanded.

  “And each one gets child support,” Dee added. “A real good amount, too. And with the oldest only seven . . . that’s a whole bunch of years of financial care he owes us. Ain’t that right, Rory Lee?”

  Rory stared at the full-human and answered, “I take care of my kids.”

  The poor room service waiter looked absolutely terrified when an hysterically laughing Rory answered the door. And with Dee on the couch laughing so hard she had tears, he placed the tray, got the signature from Rory, and took off.

  “Juney Peach?”

  Arms around her stomach, Dee replied, “Couldn’t use names of my kin. Didn’t know if she’d met them or not.”

  Dropping on the couch across from her, Rory shook his head. “That’s it, Dee-Ann. I’m not doing it anymore.”

  Wiping tears from her eyes, Dee-Ann sat up. “Not that again,” she sighed. “You always say that and I always end up rescuing your ass the morning after from clingy full-humans.”

  “I’m thinking it’s time for me to settle down. I got a good job. The Pack’s in a secure place.” He looked her up and down. “You busy?”

  “Oh, that’s nice.”

  “You’re not still waiting for love are you?”

  “When was I ever—”

  “Third grade. ‘Rory. One day I’m gonna find true luuuuuuvvv. ’ ”

  “I never said that.”

  “Mind like a steel trap. Trust me, darlin’. You said it. Meant it, too.”

  “I meant lots of things when I was in third grade. So did you. If I recall, you were gonna be ‘president of this here United States.’ ”

  “I still could be.”

  “That’s all we need. A Reed in the White House.”

  “I’d make you my Secretary of Defense.”

  “You’d better.” Dee glanced at her watch. “Shit. I gotta eat and get out of here.”

  “Work?”

  “I’m working with KZS now.”

  Rory laughed. “Kitty, Inc.? Have fun with that.”

  “More like watch my back.”

  “If you’re worried, why are you—”

  “Too much to explain. Not in the mood.” She dug into her bacon and waffles and no, it wasn’t nearly as good as Ric’s.

  “Call me if you need something. Things are kind of quiet right now at the office, so I have time.”

  “Everything all right?”

  “Things have definitely slowed down, but we are still getting more work than most agencies. I think things will pick up when Bobby Ray’s back at the office full time.”

  “He’s not?”

  “Spending time with his pup.”

  Dee wasn’t surprised by that. Wolf males often invested as much time in their pups as the females.

  “What about Mace?”

  “He’s got the name that gets the wealthy in, but his personality . . . we’re better with Bobby Ray handling that end.”

  “You do it. Until Bobby Ray gets back.”

  “Me? Why me?”

  “You’re as smooth as Bobby Ray, and don’t pretend you’re not. At least don’t pretend to me.”

  Dee glanced at her watch again, shoveled the rest of the food into her mouth, followed by a few gulps of scalding hot coffee.

  “All right. Gotta go.”

  “See ya.”

  Dee left her friend’s hotel room and headed out. She wasn’t looking forward to this day, but the faster she could get it over with, the quicker she could be done with Marcella Malone.

  Ric was on his computer, playing with his money in his home office, when Mrs. M. walked in. She’d been Ric’s housekeeper for years and she always took good care of him. She was older now, though, and only worked three days a week, but that was okay with Ric. When one found good staff, especially staff that made the best soda bread and brisket this side of Ireland, one remained flexible.

  “Your mother’s here.”

  Ric looked up from his financial reports and he knew he was frowning.

  “Are you too busy?” she asked.

  “No. No, of course not. Just give me a minute.”

  “Of course.”

  Ric piled together all the paperwork and put it away in his big safe. It wasn’t that he didn’t trust his mother, but if she was coming to see him, unannounced, it most likely involved his father. And Ric would rather that she didn’t see anything his father would feel the need to drag out of her. His mother was not a v
ery good liar and his father always knew when she was hiding something.

  He was back at his desk when Jennifer Van Holtz walked in.

  “Ulrich.”

  “Mom.” He came around his desk and kissed both her cheeks. “You look wonderful.”

  “Thank you.”

  He held a seat for her and she sat down. Rather than return to his own chair, he rested his backside against his desk and smiled at her. “So what brings you here?”

  When she twisted her hands in her lap and looked away, Ric answered for her. “Dad?”

  “Well,” she began, “you two have never gotten along and he thought it might be better coming from me.”

  “What might be better?”

  “You know your father has always wanted to try his hand at something a little different.”

  “Like being a coroner?”

  First she looked stern, then she gave a little laugh. “I meant with his restaurants.”

  “That’s down to Uncle Van.” But why Alder Van Holtz would want to change the theme of their restaurants when they were doing so well, Ric didn’t know. To quote Dee-Ann, “If it ain’t broke, leave it the hell alone.”

  “He knows that. But nothing can stop him from doing something on his own.”

  “Absolutely.”

  Ric did all sorts of things on his own and Uncle Van never once complained, which he appreciated.

  “And he has some backers already who are more than willing to invest in a new restaurant.”

  “A new restaurant? Now?” In this economy? Ric was just grateful the Van Holtz Steak House and Fine Dining chain was doing so well despite everything else that was going on. But shifters did like their “natural” foods, as they called it. Polars wanted their seal blubber, lions wanted their gazelle legs, wolves wanted their deer marrow. . . .

  “I know it sounds very challenging. He understands that, but he’s really got some great ideas and plans—”

  “But?”

  “He could use another backer.”

  “Preferably his son, who he probably won’t bother paying back because he wants to believe that my money is his money?”

  “Ulrich—”

  “Mom.” He crouched in front of her and took her small hands into his own. “I know you want to help him, and maybe he’s got the best idea for a new restaurant chain that will make him a ton of money. And maybe it would be something I’d love to invest in . . . if I trusted him. I don’t trust him.”

  “He’s your father.”

  “He hates me.”

  “That’s not true.”

  “Mom.” Ric laughed. “Come on. You sent me to Uncle Van’s every summer rather than risk me spending days home alone with just him and Wendell while you were out. Probably because you were afraid of what he’d do while you were gone.”

  She snatched her hands back from his and stood, stepping away from her son. “Ulrich Van Holtz! That is a horrible thing to say about your own father.”

  Ric stood, shrugged. “But not exactly inaccurate.”

  Dee walked into the Group offices cafeteria and immediately noticed how quickly all conversation stopped.

  “What now?” she asked the room.

  One of the coyote weapons technicians, with his legs up on one of the tables, grinned at her and asked, “You’re working with KZS?”

  “Yeah. And?”

  “You? You?”

  “What’s that supposed to mean? I work with the worthless, lazy evil felines around here all the time. It don’t make me no nevermind.”

  “Perhaps,” one of the cheetahs sweetly suggested, “referring to felines as lazy and evil—”

  “Don’t forget worthless,” Dee reminded her with a smile.

  “Right. Perhaps . . . that might suggest that you, of all beings on this planet, shouldn’t be working with the pro-feline, noncanine-fan Katzenhaft members.”

  “But why? When I’m willing to overlook y’all’s flaws and annoying feline habits?”

  “This isn’t just some feline,” a sloth bear pointed out over canine laughter. “This is Bare Knuckles Malone. She used to play with the Nevada Slammers before she came out here. She ranks third in all-time penalty minutes behind The Marauder and that polar bear who tore off a hyena’s jaw with his teeth.”

  Dee sweetly crossed her hands over her upper chest. “Are y’all worried about me?”

  “No,” the entire room kicked back, making Dee laugh until that hand slammed down on her shoulder, nearly ripping it out of her socket.

  “Smith,” Malone said, smiling.

  “Malone.” Dee glanced at the hand gripping her shoulder. “You wanna keep those fingers, feline?”

  “You wanna take your best shot, backwoods?”

  “Wait, wait,” a male wolf injected. “Don’t do this . . .” He stood. “Until we pull the tables back.”

  Blayne Thorpe wiggled her cute little butt out from under the restaurant’s kitchen sink. “All done!”

  Ric finished up the eggs, bacon, and toast, and placed it on the counter where Blayne would have her late breakfast.

  “Thanks for getting here so quick,” he said, before wiping down his pans. “We’re completely booked for lunch and dinner, so a backed-up sink would have killed us.”

  “No problem.” Blayne scrubbed her hands clean before hopping up on a stool and enjoying her food while watching Ric’s crew get ready for their lunch service. She managed to light up the room without being intrusive. It was definitely a gift, especially in a busy restaurant kitchen.

  “So,” she asked, “are you going to give your dad the money?”

  Ric rested his elbows on the counter and his chin on his raised fists. “No, which is going to irritate him.”

  “But don’t you have to give him what he wants when he asks for it? Isn’t that Pack rules or something?”

  “Not unless you no longer want to have a Pack.” Although Blayne was half wolf, her father hadn’t been part of the Pack since she’d been born. The Magnus Pack Alphas—like most wolf Packs at the time and some still today—refused to let him stay if he insisted on keeping Blayne. So she had little experience with Pack law. She did, however, have a great father. Moody, a tad terse, but he loved his daughter. Ric briefly wondered what that was like—to know your father loved you. “Due to the opposable-thumb flaw all shifters have, you take a huge risk that they might leave the Pack if you attempt to abscond with their money.”

  “Aaaah. I forgot about the opposable-thumb flaw.” She held up her hands, wiggled her thumbs. “Damn these thumbs. Damn them!”

  Ric laughed, so glad now that he’d had sink problems. Blayne always had a way of getting his mind off . . . well, pretty much everything.

  “So here’s my plan,” she said, pouring herself more orange juice. “July Fourth is coming up and I’m thinking about getting Bo to throw a party for all my friends. Doesn’t that sound great?”

  “Why would you do that to us, Blayne?” Ric asked honestly. “You know we love you and you abuse that by trying to force us to spend time with that cretin.”

  “He is not a cretin. He’s misunderstood!”

  “I’m surprised his knuckles aren’t dragging on the ground and that he can create whole sentences with subject-verb agreement.”

  She shook her finger in his face. “I will make you and Lock and Bo get along. Nothing will stop me from making you three the best of friends!”

  “You mean besides my and Lock’s moral outrage on Novikov’s existence on this very planet? Allowed to breathe our precious air?”

  Blayne’s lips twisted briefly before she asked, “Can’t you just say you find him annoying?”

  “I find Lock’s insistence I don’t put enough honey in my honey glaze annoying. I find Novikov offensive and barbaric.”

  Blayne let out a big sigh. “Yeah . . . so does everyone.”

  “But everyone loves you,” he reminded her.

  “Of course, they do. I’m Blayne.” She grinned. “They can’t fight
my charm.”

  At that point, they both started laughing and it took them forever to stop.

  They had each other in a headlock when the front desk admin, Charlene, walked into the cafeteria. “Dee-Ann!”

  “What?”

  “Detective MacDermot’s here. And you know there’s no interspecies fighting allowed on Group territory.”

  Dee and Malone immediately separated and Dee said, “We weren’t fightin’. Right, Malone?”

  “Right. We were . . . training.”

  Charlene folded her arms over her chest. “Training? Really?”

  “I’m hearin’ tone,” Dee warned. She motioned to the door with a tilt of her head and headed out of the cafeteria. “Where’s MacDermot?”

  “Waiting out front for you—and you did hear tone,” Charlene called after her.

  Dee was passing one of the training rooms when Malone caught the sleeve of her denim jacket. “You’re gettin’ them kinda young, Smith.” Malone motioned to the young hybrids getting trained in hand-to-hand combat.

  “Those are kids we’ve been finding around town.”

  “Shouldn’t you take them to social services or something?”

  “They’re hybrids.”

  “All of them?”

  “Yep.”

  “Were they all used for fighting?”

  “Just a couple. Like that girl sitting in the corner, glaring at us through the glass?”

  “Yeah.”

  “That’s Hannah.”

  Malone glanced at Dee. “You brought her back? ’Cause she looks a little . . .”

  “Dead inside?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Didn’t have much choice. Couldn’t handle the whining.”

  “She whines?”

  “Not her, but a teacup poodle.”

  “Canines have teacup poodle shifters now?”

  Dee was about to answer, then realized it was a stupid conversation, and instead just walked away. She went out the front doors and immediately smiled. “Who is that handsome cat?” she asked, reaching down to pick up the young cub who’d charged into her legs.

  She tossed Marcus Llewellyn high in the air, loving the laughter she got from him.