“It don’t work for you?”
“Uptown, Fifth Avenue, and Park Avenue belong to the Van Holtzs. The Bronx and Harlem are split up between the Vega Pride and the Armstrong bears. But Downtown belongs to the Smiths now.”
“And?”
“And I don’t want you here. I don’t want you on my territory. I don’t want you near my territory. And I can assure you the Van Holtzs, the Vegas, and the Armstrongs ain’t gonna want you on theirs.”
“They don’t know—”
“They do now.”
Walt took a step back in shock. “You son of a bitch.”
“Now, now. Let’s not get nasty.”
“We’re family.”
Bobby Ray stood to his full height, a good four inches over Walt’s, and casually walked over to him.
“I wouldn’t let my brothers come here either. Only them I’d hurt. So you’re getting off lucky.”
“I’ll need some time to—”
“No. Tickets are bought. Sissy took care of all that. Think of it as my Pack’s gift to yours. All you gotta do is head on over to JFK and you’ll be back in Birmingham before the stores close.”
He wouldn’t let the bastard push him around. No way. He wasn’t nine years old anymore.
“Look, Bobby Ray, we’re taking care of some other business first and—”
That big hand wrapped around his neck, shoving him back into the wall. His teeth rattled and his spine ached. Walt felt claws dig into the skin of his throat, and they kept digging until blood trickled down to Walt’s collarbone.
“Since you’ve never been known as a bright boy, I’ll say this one more time. You get your ass and your Pack’s ass to JFK airport within the next hour or I’ll hunt you down again and then I won’t be so nice. Do you understand me, boy?”
Walt stared at him, trying to think of any way out of this. He needed that money. He needed it more than anyone realized.
Bobby Ray didn’t say another word. He let his claws do the talking for him. When Walt felt one claw get dangerously close to a major artery, he turned his eyes away—since he couldn’t move his neck—and relaxed back. Submissive.
“Good.” Bobby Ray wiped his blood-covered hands on Walt’s yellow sweatshirt. “Now you tell your momma I said hi.”
Bobby Ray Smith turned and walked out the door. He didn’t even feel threatened enough not to turn his back on Walt. The ultimate insult.
Two minutes later, while he was trying to wipe the blood off his neck and chest, Polly June stormed in.
“Why did I see Bobby Ray Smith leaving here?”
“That bastard came here to push me out.”
“What?”
“Telling me he didn’t want our Pack on his territory.”
“Really?”
It was the tone his mate had. Not fear—something else. “What?”
“I’m just wondering why I saw that dog sitting up in his truck like she owned the damn thing.”
“Which dog?”
“Jessica Ann Ward. I figured you’d convinced her to come here and bring us the money.”
“She hung up on me. I was going to call back later after she let it all sink in. Are you sure it was her?”
“Yeah, it was her. I wondered why she’d parked three blocks away. And I wouldn’t have seen her if I hadn’t gone up the block to that little store on the corner.”
Walt slammed down the blood-stained cloth in his hands. “Where’s the rest of the Pack?”
“They’re still at the store getting some junk food and tequila.”
“Did you find the kid?”
“Yup, found all of ’em. They’re at this real fancy hotel in the city.”
“Good. Now get my momma on the phone.”
“I don’t understand. Why don’t we need to pay them any money?”
“Because y’all be paying them until Kristan turns eighteen. This was a better way to go.”
“The ol’ ‘get out of my territory’ move?”
“Yeah. You forget. There’s a hierarchy among the Smiths. I have the Smith name. Walt doesn’t. And if he messes with me, he’ll not only be messing with all the Smiths, he’ll be messing with all the Packs connected to us. The Reeds. The Lewis Pack out of Smithville. The Evans.” He shrugged. “Marty.”
Jess laughed. “God, we don’t want that.”
“Trust me. You don’t. Leaving you and your Pack out of this altogether was the best thing.”
“Okay.” She had no problem with that logic. The less involved her Pack, the better for Kristan in the long run.
“Thanks for this, Smitty. I mean it.”
“Anytime, darlin’.” He took her hand, holding it gently in his. “Now let’s talk about us.”
“Okay.”
“I’ve been thinking long and hard on this.” Christ, again with the thinking! “And I know what I need to do.”
“And that is?” she asked, her heart pounding in her chest, praying he’d figured it out. Praying he’d get it right.
“Court ya proper.”
And there went her heart, plummeting to earth, through the floor of his truck, and into hell.
“Court me?”
“Yeah, proper Smith courtin’. It’s just what you deserve. Proper dates, an official announcement about us to all the Smiths. We’ll just take this slow and easy until we both know it’s the right time.”
“You…you…bastard!” Jess snatched her hand away.
“What? What’s wrong?”
“That’s what I deserve? That? You know what? The biggest mistake I ever made was falling in love with your hick ass.”
“Jessie Ann—”
“No, we’re done. I’m done. Done, done, done. I’m cutting you out of my heart. Because you don’t deserve me.”
“Now you’re making me angry.”
“Really? That’s fascinating.”
“If you’d just talk to me—”
“I’m done talking.”
“Jessie…” he warned through gritted teeth.
She stared straight ahead, the book gripped tightly in her hands. “Unless you want me to shift right here, and start pissing all over this lovely interior, including the dashboard, you’ll…stop…talking.”
Both hands tight on the wheel, Smitty focused back on the road. She’d made him mad but, as always, not nearly mad enough. And if she couldn’t make that happen, they had no business being together in the first place.
Chapter 28
Smitty barely stopped himself from snatching the keycards from the poor woman at the front desk. He had no idea what he looked like, but after three minutes, her hand started to shake and she couldn’t get him through the check-in process fast enough. He stormed away from the desk and toward the elevators, brushing past his sister and Ronnie Lee as he stalked toward the elevators.
“Bobby Ray, wait.”
“Leave me be, Sissy.”
He slammed his fist against the elevator button and the doors smoothly slid open. He walked inside and his sister’s hand slapped against the frame. “There’s something I need to—”
He barked and snapped at her fingers, almost taking them off, and his sister jumped back about ten feet. The doors closed and he hit the button for his floor.
He couldn’t believe it. Couldn’t believe her. What the hell did she want from him anyway? He’d offered her a proper Smith courting. He risked abuse at every family reunion for that, but he was willing to do it. For her! And what does she do? She throws it back in his face like it meant nothing.
She also had the nerve to be angry at him. She won’t tell him what’s wrong. Won’t tell him why she’s so mad. And doesn’t want him to mark her. But while she’s fighting him, in the same goddamn conversation, she admits she loves him.
“That’s it,” he snarled to himself. “That is goddamn it.” He’d throw his crap into his room; then he’d find that little gal and he’d find out exactly what the hell was going on. He’d hit the end of his leash, and she’d dam
n well know it.
Smitty opened the door to the hotel room he’d gotten himself so he could be near the crazy woman he loved while his team secured the wild-dog’s den and tossed his bags and jacket inside.
Busy kicking the sleeve of his jacket away from the door so he could close it and go search out Jessie, for the first time in his entire life, Smitty never saw it coming. Didn’t scent it. Didn’t hear it.
He just never saw it—or him—coming.
“Boy.”
At the gruff words, Smitty froze.
“So your sister called and said you’re fucking up your life again. And why does this not surprise me? You were always a little bit dumber than the others.”
Smitty closed his eyes and thought of all the wonderful ways he’d eviscerate his baby sister, before turning to face Bubba Ray Smith. His daddy.
Jess stood on the corner on the far side of the hotel and seethed. She didn’t even need her coat she was so goddamn mad. Courting her? And what? Dinners? Dancing? Dates? What in all holy hell led him to believe she wanted to be courted?
She needed to score some chocolate. She needed it so goddamn bad she might actually shut down a Godiva store at this point.
She looked up the street. There has to be a goddamn chocolate store somewhere on this street. Or maybe inside. But Bobby Ray was inside. No, she’d have to go find it down the street or freeze to death trying.
But before Jess could take a step, before she could hope to make a run for it, a voice behind her froze her in her tracks.
“Well, well, well. Jessie Ann Ward. As I live and breathe.”
Jess closed her eyes. No, no, no. Anyone but this. Smitty. Sissy Mae. Even Big-Boned Bertha. But not her.
“I’m not gonna bite, suga. You can turn around.”
She did—and faced Smitty’s momma. Janie Mae Lewis, originally of the Lewis Pack out of Smithville, North Carolina. Built like a first-string linebacker for the Dallas Cowboys and quite beautiful, the female smoked a rolled cigarette and stared at Jess through the smoke. Smitty had gotten his mother’s eyes. Only hers were harder. Colder. Even Sissy’s eyes weren’t that cold.
“Miss Janie…I…uh…”
“Lord, stop your stuttering, girl.” She smiled…sort of. “I always did make you nervous. The dog in you just wants to run away, don’t it?”
She was right. Where Jess ran from the other She-pups because they’d outnumbered her and she’d gotten tired of getting her ass kicked, she outright avoided Miss Janie. Even though the female had never been anything but polite and somewhat kind, there’d always been something about her—that lone lioness separated from the Pride because she threatened the others’ cubs.
“My, my. Jessie Ann Ward. Look at you.” She took a long drag on her dwindling cigarette. “You’ve always been adorable but now…” She smiled…sort of. “I wasn’t surprised to hear my youngest boy locked on to you. He’d always had a mighty hunger for little Jessie. Went out of his way to protect you, course it always backfired. Set some of them girls against you somethin’ fierce knowin’ he wanted you and not them. At least he didn’t want them for the long haul. Just a quick fuck in the back of that old pickup truck he used to drive. But you were special. He wanted to give you much more than that.”
Oh, God. Please make her stop. But she knew Miss Janie wouldn’t stop until Miss Janie was damn good and ready.
“Daddy.”
“Boy.”
Must he continue to call him that? The older four at least had adequate nicknames—“Stupid,” “Idiot,” “Fuckhead,” and Smitty’s personal favorite, “Shit for Brains.” But Smitty always remained “Boy.”
“So is it true?” his daddy grumbled.
“Is what true?”
“That you’re too much of a pussy to take your woman? To take what’s yours?”
The old man had been saying that to him since the day Smitty had graciously—at least he’d thought it gracious—let Rory Reed take his Big Wheel. He knew he’d get it back, but he didn’t see a point in dragging the boy off it and beating him to death for spending more than five minutes on the damn thing. But his daddy had a fit. Calling him weak and telling him, “What? You’re too scared to take it, you big pussy?” Yes. Every seven-year-old boy should be called “pussy.”
Smitty didn’t “take it” because the Reeds were like family. Especially with Sissy Mae and Ronnie Lee being thick as thieves. But reason and logic meant nothing to Bubba Smith. Never had, never will.
“Exactly how do you think you’ll grow this Pack when you don’t even have the guts to claim your woman? Do you think them Reed boys will let you lead when they know they can take it from you at any time?”
Smitty had two options here: tear his father’s throat out and do twenty-five to life in a state-run prison like his Uncle Eustice, or spend the rest of the day arguing with the man for no reason.
As Smitty wondered how tough Sing Sing prison could really be, it suddenly occurred to him that he did have a third option. An option he’d never tried before.
“I don’t have to explain a damn thing to you.”
His father stared at him blandly. “What?”
“You heard me. I don’t have to explain anything to you. I don’t answer to you. Or anyone. This is my Pack. My woman. I can handle this any damn way I please. So you need to move your fat ass out of my way.”
Smitty didn’t wait for his father to do that; instead, he calmly walked around him, heading toward the elevators. Even as he felt rage, he also felt like he’d turned a corner. Like now everything in his life was different.
He needed to find Jessie Ann. He needed to find her now.
“You know, boy,” his father said behind him and Smitty didn’t stop to hear the old coot out, “it’s about time you figured that out. I guess the Navy smarted you up some, huh?”
Smitty didn’t turn around until he got on the elevator. His father still stood there, watching him. Then, the old wolf grinned at him and winked before ambling away.
The doors closed and Smitty snarled, “Bastard!” Completely terrifying the rich couple standing next to him.
The older female dropped her cigarette to the ground and pulled out papers and tobacco to roll another.
Not knowing what else to say, Jess went with polite. “And how are you doing, Miss Janie?”
“Can’t complain. Not that anyone would listen if I did.”
“And you’re just visiting? Here to see Bobby Ray and Sissy?”
“Darlin’,” she said on an annoyed sigh, “must we really stand around in this cold bullshittin’ each other. I am so not in the mood.” A surprisingly dainty tongue lashed out and swiped along the paper before she sealed it. “We both know why I’m here.”
“Uh…we do?”
Those cold wolf eyes sized Jess up in a heartbeat. “I thought by now you would have gotten my boy to mark you. What exactly are you waitin’ for?”
Feeling her temper—and that desire to throw things at Miss Janie’s big, fat head—sliding out of her, Jess said softly, “I am so positive this isn’t your business.”
“All my sons are my business, little girl. Don’t you forget it.”
“Smitty’s taking his time,” Jess finally answered in the face of those cold wolf eyes daring her for a challenge. “Apparently he’s not big on rushing.”
Miss Janie gave one of those sorta-smiles. “No, he’s not. He likes to think. Likes to plan, my boy does. Still…”
Jess looked up as a plume of smoke hit her dead in the face. Bitch.
“Still?” Jess asked around several coughs.
“Everyone thinks the Smith males are all the same, but they’re not.” Miss Janie leaned back against the brick wall of the hotel. “Each of my boys is different. And the same with Bubba and his brothers.”
There went that sorta-smile again. “But even the slowest movin’ wolf don’t wanna hunt some prey that’s just sittin’ there starin’ at him. Waitin’ for him to notice her. Sure, he’ll eat it. Bu
t it won’t be half as satisfying as the one he has to chase over miles of untouched land, until he runs her down.”
Jess blinked. “All right then.”
“I can tell ya what my boy’s planning ’cause I do know him so well.” She took another long drag on her cigarette, knowing she had a rapt audience. “You see he’ll wanna do it right. This is Jessie Ann we’re talking about after all. Sweet little innocent with her big dumb dog eyes, just beggin’ for someone to scratch her belly.”
“Hey.”
“His biggest worry will be scaring you off. He never wants to see regret in those big brown eyes. That’s probably why he’s taking so long. Fighting his instincts. Fighting his own needs. Maybe he even thought about courtin’ you. Like that’ll go down well with the family. But it won’t matter ’cause it’s you. But to get this movin’, he’ll suck up enough until you accept his apology, and then today, tomorrow…next year…when he thinks the time is right, he’ll take you to a real nice hotel. Some place he can’t afford, but he’ll put it on his card. He’ll make sure there are clean sheets and champagne. Flowers, if you’ve a mind for that. Or chocolates, if that’s more your style. He’ll take ya nice and sweet on those clean sheets. And that’ll be your life for the next forty or fifty years. Nice and sweet and oh-so-clean.”
If I set myself on fire…would she stop talking?
Besides, Jess already knew this. She’d known this from the beginning.
“I don’t know you all that well, but I do know dogs. And dogs like it rough and tumble just like the wolves, unless you’re one of those prissy little pillow dogs. If that’s the case, maybe he’ll put some bows in your hair and give you a pink studded collar.” She laughed at her own joke and didn’t seem to mind that Jess didn’t.
“Look at this.” Miss Janie finally said, tugging her down jacket off her shoulder and pulling her thick pink cableknit sweater aside, revealing an age-old wound. Flesh that had been torn and ripped, more than once based on the healed-over scars on top of scars. “That first time, when he made me his, bastard nearly tore my shoulder out. Best night of my life, though. And we’ve repeated that night—often.”