“If you’re once again talking about our future offspring, I already told you that as long as they understand schedules and time management and focus . . . we’ll be fine.” He locked those cold, dead eyes on Ricky Reed. “Where are they?”
“I’ll show you.”
“You will?” Paul asked, trying to ignore the fact his voice broke.
“Just go along with this,” the wolf said again before heading down the hallway.
Paul looked at Jackie and Irene. Both females shrugged and, not knowing what else to do, followed after the wolf and the two unstable-looking hybrids.
Their children were in the living room arguing. Paul had left them that way more than an hour ago, and it didn’t seem as if much had changed except that Toni had joined the fray.
She was standing next to a dry-erase board that had a very large claw mark ripped through it.
“This,” Toni said, pointing at the dry-erase board, “was not helpful, Oriana.”
Paul’s fifteen-year-old baby girl had started shifting her entire body at fourteen and was now learning to control that power, which meant that she liked to whip her claws out at the slightest provocation.
“You always side with Kyle and Troy,” Oriana accused. “I’m sick of it.”
“I do not always side with them.”
“No,” Kyle corrected, “she always sides with Cooper and Cherise.”
“Why are you even here, Cooper?” Troy demanded.
Raising his hands and dropping them, Cooper asked, “What are you attacking me for? I’ve been trying to help you little bastards.”
“Well, good job, big head.”
Cooper’s eyes narrowed and he took several steps toward Troy, but Toni caught his arm and held him back. It was a rare thing to see Cooper’s temper, but Kyle and Troy always managed to get that anger out of him.
Ricky Reed stepped forward and said, “Toni, I brought you and your kin some help.”
Toni looked over and her eyes widened at the sight of Bo Novikov. Then Kyle perked up and said, “Mr. Novikov! Are you here to pose for me?”
“No!” Novikov and Toni said simultaneously.
Toni focused on the large hybrid. “What are you doing here?”
“Reed’s idiot brother called me—”
“I do have a name, hoss.”
“—and said you needed help with schedules and organization.”
“But don’t you have practice?”
“Malone canceled it for tonight, which meant my other option was another thrilling dinner with a bunch of never-shutting-up wild dogs.”
“They love you!” Blayne said with a huge grin.
Novikov glanced at his fiancée and back at Toni. “See what I mean?”
“Hi, Toni!” the wolfdog cheered.
“Oh.” Toni frowned. “Hi, um . . .”
The wolfdog’s smile slowly faded. “Blayne. Blayne Thorpe.”
“Uh-huh.”
“We just met this morning?”
“Uh-huh.”
She tried again. “Bo’s fiancée?”
“Oh. Right. Bane.”
“Blayne.”
“Right.” Toni turned back to Novikov. “So you’re here to help?”
“What makes you think you can help us?” Troy asked, sounding particularly snobby. “I mean you’re just a sports guy, right? You’re like Oriana . . . only with skates.”
“Physique wise, though,” Kyle pointed out, “he is perfection.” When everyone stared at him, Kyle added, “Perfect for a sculptor like me.”
“Okay.”
Novikov walked over and stood next to Toni so that he towered in front of the kids. He was like a giant wall.
“What I am, small child I can easily crush with one hand, is the best hockey player in the States. Not one of the best. I’m the best. And I ensure I stay the best with focus, determination, and a willingness to destroy anyone who tries to get my puck. What ensures that I stay on point with all that I have to do in a day is maintaining my schedule and organizing my life. That’s my fiancée, Blayne.” He pointed over at Blayne, but she was still staring at Toni. “She’s all over the place. Schedules mean nothing to her. She writes lists but she doesn’t follow them. That’s probably why she’s a plumber.”
That’s when he had Blayne’s full attention. “I like being a plumber.”
“But you’re not the best plumber.”
“I’m one of the best plumbers in the Manhattan area.”
He looked back at Paul’s children. “One of the best,” he repeated. “See what I mean?”
“But you can help us, right?” Kyle asked.
“I will help you. It’s the least I can do for your sister.”
“For Toni?” Troy briefly studied his sister. “What do you owe her?”
“I’m the best in the States. And she’s going to help me get to Russia to prove that I’m the best in the world.” He looked at Toni and, for the first time since walking into their home, the hybrid smiled. It didn’t make him look any more approachable or nicer but it still helped . . . a little. “Right, Toni?”
Toni swallowed and, with a sigh, nodded her head. “Yeah. That’s right.”
“Then you better get going.”
“Are you sure you want to do this?” Toni asked. “They’re really horrible children.”
“Where’s the loyalty?” Kyle demanded.
“They’re not horrible,” Novikov corrected. “They’re just determined. I understand determined. I can handle determined. What I can’t handle is telling me my wedding will start around three o’clock.”
“Are you still bringing that up?” Blayne snarled.
“Yes!”
“You’ll need a new dry-erase board,” Toni pointed out.
“I don’t like dry-erase boards.” He looked at the kids. “Can anyone tell me why?”
Kyle raised his hand and when Novikov pointed at him, he answered, “Because they can be erased?”
“Exactly. There’s no permanence. But I saw an office supply store a few blocks away. Let’s go get those giant Post-it notes that we can stick to the walls. Actually, let’s get an array of sizes of Post-its. In different colors. And multicolor permanent markers. Permanent. Not erasable. That way we can color-code things permanently. I like color-coding.” He pointed at the twins, Freddy, and Dennis. “These very small ones will stay here. I won’t be responsible for their safety. But I’ll take these three with me.” He pointed at Oriana, Kyle, and Troy. “I can tell they’ll be the most trouble during this process.” Yet that didn’t seem to bother him.
“Can I come?” Blayne asked.
“No. You’ll wander the aisles and want to buy things that aren’t needed for this process. But I will pick you up a couple of those giant Butterfingers that they sell at the cash register.”
Blayne grinned. “Okay!”
“You three,” Novikov ordered. “Let’s go.”
And for the first time Paul could think of, his three middle children got to their feet and followed after someone without question. It boggled his mind.
“Where are you going?” Jackie asked Toni.
“Russia. To negotiate with bears.”
“Don’t worry, though,” Ricky Reed told them, putting his arm around Toni’s shoulders. “I’m going with her to protect her.”
“Because Russian bears love wolves so much?”
The wolf grinned. “Mr. Parker, is that what you Yankees call sarcasm?”
Livy Kowalski walked into the living room. “Your bag is packed and ready to go,” she told Toni. “Your limo is waiting outside.”
“Yeah, but—”
“No buts, canine. Just go. You need to do this.”
“She’s right,” Paul said, moving to stand in front of his daughter and taking her hands in his. “Is this part of your job, baby?”
“It is.”
“Then you have to go.”
“Or I could quit.”
“Let me ask you this . . . do yo
u want to quit? And before you answer, I’m not asking if you think you should quit or if you think your siblings want you to quit. I’m asking you if you want to quit?”
Toni was silent for a long moment before she replied, “I don’t think so. At least not yet.”
“Then go get your plane and do your job.”
“And you guys?”
“We’ll be fine. I promise.” He leaned down and kissed her cheek. “I love you, baby.”
“I love you, too, Dad.”
“And be careful.”
“Yes, sir.”
Toni headed out, stopping to hug her mother and Irene. She motioned for Cooper to follow her.
Ricky Reed nodded at Paul. “I’ll protect her with my life, sir.”
“You better,” Paul told him plainly. “Because I will kill you if anything happens to my daughter. And I mean anything.”
“I understand, sir.” And Paul believed him, which was surprising because Paul rarely believed wolves unless it was Niles Van Holtz.
Jackie faced Paul once the kids were down the hall and at the door, saying their good-byes to Toni. “We’re letting our daughter go off to negotiate with bears?”
“No. We’re letting our daughter go off and be an adult. It’s time, Jack. You know that.”
“I know. I know.”
He wrapped his arms around his mate and hugged her tight. “Of all our kids, she’s the one I know can handle herself in any situation. So don’t worry.”
“Okay.”
They held each other for a bit until Jackie asked, “Where’s that dog you insist on keeping around?”
“I like that dog. She’s the only one in the family who doesn’t talk back.”
“Excuse me.” Blayne, who Paul hadn’t realized was still in the room, smiled and gave a little wave. “Your dog is under the couch.”
Still holding on to each other, Paul and Jackie leaned over a little so they could look under the couch.
“Huh,” Jackie said. “She sure is.”
“That’s kind of Bo’s fault,” Blayne explained. “He scares regular dogs. He doesn’t mean to, of course, but there’s no helping it.”
Paul shook his head. “That’s fine. It’s not a—”
“I’m really excited he’ll be spending some time with your kids,” Blayne went on, cutting Paul off but somehow not being rude about it. She just seemed to have all this energy that simply could not be contained. “I plan to have a whole busload of kids myself, and he needs to learn how to deal with children without making them cry or hide or scream hysterically.”
Jackie tensed in Paul’s arms, so he held his mate a little tighter, keeping her in place.
“He’s such a great guy, but no one ever sees it because, ya know, the glower and all is off putting, but that’s just his focus. But now that I’ve met your kids, I see you guys totally understand that. What’s it like having so many prodigies in one family?”
“Well—” Paul began.
“Although I don’t know if they’ll all be like Bo. I’m honestly terrified they’ll all be like me. I’m not sure how he’ll handle that. But this is a good start, don’t cha think? Let him deal with kids just like himself and then I can ease him into more . . . challenging children. Yeah. That’s a good plan.”
“O—”
“Anyway, it’s really nice of you guys to let us stay here. We’ll just sleep on the couch. Don’t worry”—she grinned and winked—“no hanky-panky while we’re here.”
Paul held Jackie even tighter. “You’re staying here?”
“Oh, yeah. I thought maybe a day for this thing but after meeting your kids and realizing how much like Bo they are . . . you’re looking at a minimum of a two-day but more likely a three-day ordeal to get them all to agree. But according to Ricky Lee, most classes and whatever don’t really start until next Monday, so that’s enough time. I wouldn’t worry.” She stepped closer. “I just have to say you two are such a cute couple and I think we’re going to be such great friends!”
Paul’s grip on his mate at this point was so tight, he was surprised he hadn’t broken any of her ribs. But he had to take the risk because Jack hated people who, in her words, “chatter on.” And holy hell could this wolfdog chatter! And too much chatter meant that every once in a while, Jackie started swinging, and Paul really didn’t want to have to listen to the whining that would inevitably arrive come practice time once Jack’s knuckles started to swell. It was really hard to play violin when one’s knuckles swelled.
“While we’re waiting for Bo to come back with the kids,” Blayne went on, “would you like to go get some coffee or—”
Irene suddenly took hold of Blayne’s forearm, gripping her tight. Like Paul, Irene knew how to read Jack like a book. It helped them work together to keep her calm. “Come with me,” Irene ordered.
“Where to?” Blayne innocently asked.
“Any place where we can intelligently discuss why your fiancé is so freakishly large and inhuman looking. Was he subject to radiation while in his mother’s womb?”
Jackie snorted a laugh and quickly buried her face against Paul’s neck while Paul bit the inside of his cheek hard so he didn’t laugh.
Blayne stopped walking right outside the living room and frowned at Irene. “Wait . . . what?”
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
Nothing like a nearly fourteen-hour flight to make a girl miserable.
Even though flying on Madra Airlines meant that Toni and the wolf could stretch their legs out since the plane was designed with Russian and Alaskan bears in mind. They also got to choose between entrees like cow, gazelle, buffalo, zebra; and for the polars, whale and seal blubber.
Other than that, it was still the same, excruciatingly long flight it always was whether a shifter-run flight or full-human.
Dropping her bag to the ground, Toni took a long, much-needed stretch, then did an allover shake.
Once done with that, Toni pulled out the itinerary from the back pocket of her jeans.
“Okay. Now we need to get to . . .” Toni’s words faded out when she sensed someone standing in front of her. Slowly, she raised her gaze up and up and up some more to the male standing in front of her.
“Hi ya,” he said, and smiled at her.
“Hello.”
“I’m Vic Barinov.”
“Hey, Vic,” Ricky said, holding out his hand and shaking.
“Ricky Lee. Long time.” He motioned with his head. “Let’s go. I’ve got a car waiting for us. It’ll take us to a private airstrip.”
Toni looked down at the itinerary. “But we’re taking the Trans Siberian Ex—”
“That’s changed,” Barinov told them. “You don’t want to be caught on a train if there’s a problem.”
Toni, completely confused, shook her head. “I don’t . . . I mean . . .” She looked at the two males watching her. “What I’m trying to say is . . . you both know I’m only going to negotiate a deal between our hockey team and the Russians’, right? It’s not like I’m Double O-Seven, trying to set up an arms deal.”
A low rumble rolled out of Barinov while Ricky just grinned at her.
“Ain’t she cute?” the wolf asked.
“Very. Let’s go.”
Great. Another male ignoring her.
“Who is that guy?” she asked Ricky.
“That’s Vic Barinov.”
“I know his name, Ricky Lee. Who, and for that matter, what is he? Because he’s not just some security guy.”
“He’s a former Marine or Navy SEAL. Something like that. Born and raised in the States, but his parents were born and raised here in Russia. His daddy’s Kamchatka grizzly and his momma’s Siberian tiger.”
“He’s our protection.”
“Trust me, darlin’”—Ricky laughed, putting his arm around her shoulders—“that boy ain’t gonna cause any problems if it means he’ll have to deal with Dee-Ann Smith for even two seconds.”
Toni thought about that as they headed toward
the exit, pushing past tourists and locals rushing to their flights. And Toni realized . . . Ricky was absolutely right. No one wanted to deal with Dee-Ann if they didn’t have to.
Devon “Junior” Barton had been on Iowa’s Death Row for more than ten years. He’d started out with life, but after killing a couple of fellow inmates, he earned a cell on death row. Not that he cared. Junior didn’t care about much. He hadn’t cared about the addicts he’d sold drugs to. He hadn’t cared about the dealers he’d hired that, when they’d cheated him, he’d beaten to death with pipes. He definitely hadn’t cared when he’d strangled the life out of his third wife or that his daughter had been watching when he’d done it.
Junior Barton didn’t care about much. What was the point? He did get bored a lot, but there were always those who wanted to save him. The religious ones who wanted to save his soul—they were always fun to torment. And the ones who just wanted to save his life because they thought the death penalty was wrong. And, when he was really bored, he could write his daughter and with just a few well-placed words, turn her life into a flashback nightmare that sent her screaming to her therapist.
It really didn’t matter to him; it was all just a game.
So when that really big C.O. suddenly appeared at his cell and told him he had visitors at one in the morning . . . Junior didn’t really care. He’d assumed it was time for a beating from the guards, but this particular guard—a big black guy named Gowan—didn’t spend much time around the others. He didn’t speak much in general and most of the other inmates gave him a wide berth. The crazy ones never threw shit at him when they flipped out, and the dangerous ones never tried to cut him or gouge out an eye. There were other big, black guards at this prison, but this particular one . . . he was different.
So when Gowan kept walking until they reached the same room where Junior had met that priest he knew he could easily make fall in love with him, he began to wonder what was going on. And he wondered if it would be something fun.
“Sit,” Gowan ordered. He was an abrupt kind of guy but never rude. He didn’t get enjoyment out of torturing inmates like some of the other guards. He just did his job.
Junior sat down at the long table and waited for Gowan to shackle him to one of the metal legs, but he didn’t. That was the strangest thing of all because everyone knew that if Junior had the slightest chance, he’d cut a bitch. Cut a face right off . . . and had. A doctor that was helping him after a fight. She’d been kind of pretty, too, but not anymore. Not once he was done with her.