May and Danny removed the children from Smitty’s body and sent them to their rooms to start packing. Sabina sat Smitty down at the kitchen table while Phil pulled waffles out of the warmer. May filled up two glasses, one with milk and one with orange juice. Sabina brought him coffee.
“Kind of got this down to a science,” Smitty noted as he clung to the coffee mug like his life depended on it.
“So many kids,” Jess said, “we have no choice.”
Jess poured herself a mug of coffee, and as she placed the pot back in the machine, she said, “I’m going upstairs to pack. When I come down, you’ll be gone.” She patted his cheek. “See ya.”
One stubby Russian finger poked him in the head. “How did you screw up? Are you slow?”
“Don’t poke my head.”
“Don’t pick on him.” May topped off his coffee. “I’m sure it’s just a misunderstanding.”
“No, Jess is quite sure he is fool. And I think I agree with her.”
“Why are y’all picking on me?”
“Because,” Phil snapped, “if you screw this up, we’re stuck with Sherman Landry or an equivalent.” Phil glared at him. “That is unacceptable to me.”
“Sorry I’m screwing up your life.”
“Just get it right.” Danny let out a deep breath. “You’ve got one more shot here. We’re going to our Long Island house.”
“And?”
“Marissa Shaw’s property butts ours. Do the math, hillbilly,” Phil snarled between clenched teeth.
“That’ll work,” May said with that constant cheerfulness. It was annoying. “You can ‘accidentally’ meet up with us at some point.” She winked at him.
“I’ll see what I can do.”
“You better,” Phil bit out. “Because if I have to deal with Landry on a regular basis, there will be hell to pay.”
“Mornin’, sunshine.”
Brendon, dressed in only a towel and fresh from his shower, slowly turned away from his kitchen sink and faced the man who had quickly become the bane of his existence. His sister had been right, it seemed. She said you take on one Packmate, you take on them all. Now, nearly every day, he found some wolf wandering around his home, eating his food, watching his TV—and he wouldn’t even discuss the bathtub incident.
“Why are you here?”
Smitty held up a bowl of plain yogurt. “I was hungry.”
“This is a hotel. You can get room service. In another room. Even better, another hotel—in another state.”
“True enough. True enough. But I do have a question for you.”
Brendon took a deep, cleansing breath. “Okay.”
“Your sister has property near the Kuznetsov Pack’s, right?”
“The one out on Long Island?”
“Yeah.”
“Yeah. So?”
“Any plans for this weekend?”
Brendon folded his arms in front of his chest, his patience sprinting out of the room. “Spit it out, canine.”
“Thought we could bring the Pack there, maybe Mace and Dez, since we have this long weekend coming up. Make it a family thing.”
“And you want to take them to the property that just happens to butt up against your girlfriend’s Pack’s?”
“She’s not my girlfriend.”
Yet.
Brendon had been there. He knew the possessive look in the man’s eye. Poor idiot. He had no idea. None. But Smitty had given Brendon’s boneheaded brother a job that kept him in New York and out of trouble. More important, Smitty had brought him Ronnie Lee. For that alone he owed the man, although under torture he’d never admit that out loud. “All right, little puppy, we can go. Besides, it’ll be fun watching her ignore you.”
“That’s real kind of you, hoss.”
“Well, ya know…” Brendon grinned. “I do try.”
Chapter 23
Jess loved this. Loved coming to this place. To this sanctuary. To relax and be at peace.
“So you gonna marry this guy?”
Jess sighed loud and long. Of course, when you brought the pups along, one risked the whole sanctuary thing.
“Why,” Jess asked while sitting on the front porch of the Long Island Pack house staring out at the woods dusted in snow, “must you ruin my weekend with your incessant questions?”
“I asked one.” Johnny sat down in a chair next to her, a cup of hot chocolate in his hands. “After what Kristan told me and now seeing him in your apartment, I was just wondering—”
“Kristan was supposed to keep her mouth shut.”
“Yeah, good luck with that.”
“And you didn’t see anything.” Jess took Johnny’s hot chocolate and sipped it. “So what are you wondering anyway?”
“If you marry this guy—”
“I’m not going to marry him.”
“—will that change the whole adoption thing?”
Jess turned in her chair and stared at Johnny. And she kept staring until the boy twisted uncomfortably in his chair. “What?”
“See this?” Jess pointed at her face. “This is my unhappy expression.”
Johnny’s lips turned up a bit at the corners. “Your unhappy expression?”
“Yes, this is the expression I get when I’m unhappy.”
“Oh. And you’re unhappy because…”
“Because you actually think that some man, any man, could make me change any of my decisions. I didn’t know you saw me as such a wuss.”
“I don’t. It’s just…” Johnny shrugged. “My mom changed her whole life over a guy, and she was one of the toughest women I knew.”
“She was also seventeen when she had you. I’m thirty-two. Big difference, kid.”
Johnny smiled. “I guess you don’t get all this by being a wuss, huh?”
“Nope.”
Jess happily breathed in the fresh air. “Might as well suck it up, Johnny. As I told you before, you’re stuck with us.”
“Right. Like the Mafia.” Seventeen this weekend but still a smart-ass kid as far as Jess was concerned. “So am I going to go hunting this weekend with the others? Or are you still gonna treat me like a pup who hasn’t cut his teeth?”
Jess placed her feet up on the railing and relaxed back. “We’ll see. The Stark Clan is here this weekend too.”
“So?”
“Those hyenas tend to come on our territory unasked.”
“Hence the fistfight at the grocery store.”
“They started it. And it wasn’t a fistfight—it was a shoving match.” Jess handed the mug back to Johnny. “No marshmallows?”
“I don’t like marshmallows.”
“Philistine.”
“Fascist.”
The pair stared off into the surrounding woods. It snowed all last night and now the entire property had a healthy bit of snow for them to enjoy. Jess had every intention of snowboarding this weekend. She’d completely recovered, physically and emotionally, from her ugly run-in with that rutting male elk last year.
Good thing wild dogs were fast runners.
Smitty did really well until the young cub climbed up onto his shoulders and bit into the back of his head. Slowly, he faced Ronnie Lee, who seemed engrossed in a gossip magazine.
“Ow,” he said.
Ronnie Lee glanced at him, but her eyes widened when she saw Brendon Shaw’s son trying to turn him into a meal.
“Oh, crap!” She tossed the magazine, pulled herself to her knees on the couch, and grabbed the cub off Smitty’s head. “Erik! We discussed this. Wolves are not for eating.”
When she pulled him away, Erik screamed and fought to get back to Smitty.
“I think he likes you.”
Smitty held his arms out. “Give him here.”
Before Ronnie could do anything, Erik charged back over to him, slamming his small body right into his chest.
Smiling, Ronnie said, “Kids love you.”
“It must be my charm.”
Unprompted, the cub in his la
p began to howl. Loudly.
Ronnie placed her hand over Erik’s mouth. “Shush!” she ordered in a loud whisper. “I told you not to do that when your daddy’s in the house.”
“Ronnie Lee, what have you been teachin’ this cat?”
She shook her head. “Nothin’.”
“Ronnie Lee…”
Ronnie grabbed her magazine and settled back into the couch, ignoring his chastising tone. “So what’s your grand plan here, Bobby Ray?”
“My grand plan?”
“To trap you a wild dog this weekend. That is why we’re here, isn’t it?”
“Lord, Ronnie Lee. I don’t know. I don’t know what I’m doing.”
She turned on the couch to face him, pulling her feet up so her toes grazed his thigh. Neither was too surprised when Erik grabbed them. For a toddler, he already seemed to have quite a few fetishes. “What do you mean?”
“I mean, one second I’m thinking, ‘She’s mine. She’s always been mine and I’m taking her.’ Then the next I think, ‘She’s not strong enough. Not to be part of the Smiths’.”
“You don’t know that, Smitty.”
“When I went after that bear, she hid behind a tree.”
Ronnie snorted. “I would have hid behind a tree unless you needed me.”
“No, you wouldn’t.”
“Smitty, every female in Smithtown knows—you never get between a Smith male and a regular fight. Ever. Sounds to me she was smart. Not weak. I won’t say it’s easy being part of the Smiths. But if she’s the right girl for you, neither of you may have a choice.”
“I know that.”
“I do have to say, she’s grown up real pretty, Bobby Ray.”
“That she has.”
“Pretty and still innocent enough to shame the angels.”
Smitty smirked. “Not all that innocent.”
“Why, Bobby Ray Smith, you’re gonna make me blush—Ow! Erik! That’s my toe, boy. Watch those teeth.”
As wolf, Sissy Mae sauntered into the room, the females behind her. She yipped at Ronnie Lee and motioned to the door with her head.
“Y’all go on now.” Smitty pulled Erik off Ronnie Lee’s feet. “I’ll watch Erik.”
“Are you sure?” She raised her eyebrows, letting him know she could still talk but not saying it because then Sissy Mae would demand to know what they were talking about. And even worse, she’d try to “help.” Nothing worse than Sissy Mae trying to help. She’d thought she’d helped last night when she sent him to Jessie’s apartment.
“Go. I’ll hunt tomorrow.”
“Thanks, darlin’.” She kissed his cheek and walked over to the door, opening it and letting the other She-wolves out. Then she shifted, shook off her clothes, and followed them outside.
“You sure are good with cats—for a canine.”
Dez sat down on the couch opposite Smitty, her son asleep in her arms.
“Not as good as you, my sweet Dez.”
“Well, darlin’, you lack the equipment for that.”
He laughed and the boy in his arms laughed with him.
Smitty looked down at the toddler in his lap and grinned at him. “You really are cute for a Shaw, ain’tcha?”
In response, the boy threw back his head and howled again. Seemed he liked doing that a lot.
Unfortunately, the snarl of rage behind him suggested to Smitty that Brendon Shaw did not agree.
Smitty smiled up at the male lion standing behind the couch—seething. “Hey, Shaw. Nice house you’ve got here.”
Arms crossed over that massive chest, the lion looked down his nose at Smitty as only a cat could. “What else have you taught my son? How to chase his tail? Lick his ass?”
“Nah, I stuck with the cat basics. Park lazy ass under tree, sleep twenty hours, eat all the food after the females do all the hunting, take a few minutes to roar, then sleep another twenty hours.”
When the cat flashed those fangs, Smitty was smart enough to shut the hell up even while Dez burst out laughing.
Sitting out here on the porch, staring at the snow, Jess asked Johnny her usual litany of questions. How was school? Did he like it? Was he getting along better with the other pups? Did he need new boots? A new violin? Exactly how much did those Stradivarius ones cost? And how exactly did he get past the killer orc on level fifteen without having the plus-twelve dexterity magick armor?
She really never stopped talking, his Jess. Of course, none of them did. Even the males talked—constantly. Johnny liked his quiet time. He liked to sit and think. Just be. He didn’t think the wild dogs had it in them to just be. They either slept or talked. No in between for the wild dogs.
But they were his, weren’t they? His family now. His Pack. True, when he shifted he was already about two times bigger than the biggest wild dog, but that didn’t change what he knew.
He was home.
Johnny turned to the woman he’d come to quietly care so much about, silently debating whether he should actually tell Jess that when she suddenly sat up straight in her chair. Her eyes scanned the woods; her ears twitched.
She’d heard something she didn’t like. Wild dogs had killer hearing. They should. When shifted, they had the biggest ears imaginable considering their slight size.
Jess growled, her gaze locked on the forest in front of them. “I want you inside, Johnny.”
Christ. He was seventeen tomorrow. Maybe it was time to start treating him like an adult. “Yeah, but—”
“Now!”
Startled by Jess’s yell, Johnny headed into the house. As he went in, a majority of the Pack adults ran out, already shifted. The adults who stayed behind shifted and stood on the porch or directly in front of the house. A few took up positions in the back.
Johnny knelt on the couch with the other pups and watched through the big picture window as the adults charged off into the woods.
“Someone,” Kristan muttered next to him—smelling delightful as always—“is going to get their ass kicked.”
Sissy Mae got her teeth in the deer’s neck and flipped over, taking the animal with her. Ronnie Lee wrapped her jaw around the throat and crushed the windpipe. It eventually stopped moving, and the She-wolves settled down to enjoy an early lunch.
They didn’t plan to linger. They’d crossed into wild-dog territory, and although Sissy didn’t really worry, she still knew in her gut that her brother had come here for another shot at Jessie Ann. She wouldn’t ruin that by embarrassing the dogs on their own property.
So when Ronnie Lee lifted her head and scented the air, Sissy assumed it was the dogs coming to investigate. But then she caught the scent, too, and heard the sound. That laugh-howl. Her head snapped up and she saw them come out of the trees. Not a full Clan, only about ten, but enough to cause a problem. She snarled and the She-wolves left off their meal, surrounding it. The hyenas came for the food. But they’d have to fight for it. Sissy Mae Smith didn’t give up her kills to anybody.
She stepped forward and snarled, and the hyenas dodged in and out, making that annoying sound that set her nerves on edge. They were looking for a way past the wolves to get to the deer. Sissy glanced at one of the younger She-wolves and sent her off to round up the males.
Focusing back on the hyenas, Sissy pulled her lips back, baring her fangs. One of the hyenas danced close and Sissy leaped forward, her teeth just grazing the hyena’s jaw. It jumped back, surprised by the aggression but not ready to back off yet.
But before the hyena could make another move, wild dogs burst out of the trees from the other side.
Sissy watched in fascination as Jessie Ann’s Pack went after a breed more than twice the wild dogs’ size. And hyenas had jaws that could easily crush bone.
Even more surprising, the hyenas ran off. Maybe because they were on dog territory. Maybe because there were only ten of them or they were a weak Clan. Whatever.
Once the hyenas disappeared back into the woods, the wild-dog Pack turned to Sissy and her She-wolves. Hhhm. Thi
s could prove awkward. But, again, she’d respect her brother and let this alone. Sissy looked back and guesstimated the territorial line between the dogs’ property and Shaw’s was about three miles. No big deal, they’d make that without any—
The bark cut off her thought and she turned around to see that the dogs had moved closer, barking constantly and moving out in a circle around them.
If she were human, she would have laughed. The hyenas may have run off, but not the wolves. Smith wolves didn’t run. They’d leave, but they wouldn’t run. She nodded her head, letting the dogs know without words that her Pack would leave of its own accord. No reason to make this nasty.
Jessie Ann stepped forward; her eyes locked on Sissy’s. She snarled, baring her fangs. In that split second Sissy realized Jessie Ann was unbelievably pissed off that the wolves dared to cross territorial lines.
Refusing to believe Jessie Ann would be stupid enough to challenge her, Sissy gave a warning growl. Warning Jessie Ann not to even try it. Not to even think it. She sucker punched Sissy once, but that wouldn’t happen again.
Sissy motioned to Ronnie Lee, who took several steps back before turning completely around and trotting off, the other She-wolves right behind her. Sissy growled and barked one last time before she turned and slowly followed after her She-wolves. Once again, Smith wolves didn’t run. Besides, she only had to get to the territorial line between the dogs’ and Shaw’s properties.
That’s exactly what she kept thinking as she came in sight of that territorial line. Then Jessie Ann Ward dug painfully sharp fangs into Sissy’s left thigh and flung her nose over tail back into dog territory.
Smitty laughed as Shaw backed away from Ricky Lee and the moonshine-filled Mason jar.
“Keep that crap away from me!”
“Now don’t go turnin’ into a big pussy. Drink up, boy!” Ricky Lee winked at Smitty. “Trust me, Bobby Ray. We’ll turn this Yankee into a good ol’ Southern boy in no time.”
“Hell you will!” Shaw laughed.
Watching the Reed boys torture Ronnie Lee’s mate, Smitty debated about whether to get some food from the fridge or go take a nap. A good sleep often did wonders when he needed to figure out a problem. But before he could do either, the scent hit him first.