Besides, Dee had always prided herself on being able to overlook someone being an annoying little twit for the fact that they had a genuine skill or two that Dee could use.
And, after less than an hour, Blayne had the troublemaking, “always looking for a scam to perpetrate” hybrids sitting on the floor, in a circle, and staring at her like she was a goddess.
Yeah. The girl had a way. She’d won over bears, antisocial hybrid teens, and even the most hated male in shifter sports. Dee had no idea how Blayne did it but she knew true skills when she saw them.
“So you going to pay her for this gig or just use her humanity against her?”
Dee snorted. “She sure does have y’all fooled.”
“What does that mean?”
“She told me she wasn’t doin’ shit without pay. Apparently good quality hair products—honey-infused was the term she used—don’t come cheap.”
Lock laughed and Dee felt better hearing it. She normally didn’t give a shit when people hated her. But Lock MacRyrie wasn’t just anybody, was he? Good friends you could trust, not easy to come by.
“We’re not going to have this issue again, are we, Dee?” Lock finally asked her, and Dee knew that question had been coming.
“Nah.”
“Good. You don’t want me cranky.”
There was truth to that.
“So what are you planning to do with these kids anyway? Start your own little hybrid army?” he joked. But when Dee only stared at him, Lock shook his head. “Forget I asked. Just… forget.”
“Will do, hoss.”
Lock’s phone chimed and he pulled it out of his pocket. He glanced at the screen, smirked. “Novikov is still looking for Blayne.” He shut his phone off and put it back in his pocket.
“You gonna do the man like that?”
He folded his arms over his chest again. “Damn right I am. Bet it wouldn’t take much to convince Blayne to spend the night at our apartment, either. You know, so the girls can rebond.”
“And everybody says I’m a bitch.”
“Yeah, but with you they mean literally.”
Blayne slipped past the two former Marines chatting amiably by the room she’d just been in.
Following her nose, Blayne headed down the hallway and out a back door. It led to a gorgeous hot house, filled with beautiful flowers and plants. She walked down one of the rows until she found what she was looking for.
The sow sat on the floor, her back against the wall, her scarred forearms resting on her raised knees. She had a pretty face that she was trying to hide under brown and gold hair with black tips, and a powerfully built body. Almost six-three, she wore a white T-shirt and loose blue jeans along with All-Star canvas high tops on large feet. Yet even with her size, she looked like any freshman kid in college—except for the scars. So many scars.
Blayne dropped into the empty space beside the sow. “How are you holding up?” she asked.
“Fine.”
“I’m Blayne.”
“Hannah.”
“Nice to meet you, Hannah. They’re treating you okay, right?”
“They haven’t threatened to put me down yet, if that’s what you’re asking.”
“Actually, yeah. That’s what I was asking.”
Blayne’s candid answer had the sow finally looking at her.
“They were planning to put us down?”
“Pretty much.”
“But you stopped them. Why?”
“They have an excuse to put you down today, they have an excuse to put me down tomorrow. Besides, all hybrids are in this together. We have to watch out for each other. God knows, no one else will.”
The sow relaxed her head back against the wall, her gaze moving around the room. “How long do I have to stay here?”
“As long as you want. Or as little. I won’t let them force you into anything.”
“And you have that much power?”
“I do right now.” Blayne grinned. “Let’s enjoy it while it lasts.”
Hannah didn’t smile, but she scowled a little less. It reminded Blayne of Bo. Maybe it was a bear thing.
“Dee says you’re nineteen, making you the oldest within the group she’s training.”
“Yeah. So?”
“So if you don’t want to stay here full-time, you can crash at my place. It’s not big but it’s cute and, right now, extremely clean.”
“You’re not worried about having me in your apartment? The fighting dog?”
Blayne raised a finger. “The fighting dog-bear.” Blayne grinned again. “Which sounds much cooler than bear-dog, don’tcha think?”
“Sure. Right. Whatever.”
“Anyway, a place to stay and a job if you need it.”
“A job? Doing what?”
“Plumbing.”
“Plumbing? You want me to be a plumber?”
“My, my, how snobby we sound. There’s nothing wrong with being a plumber. It’s good and usually steady work, good money, and I can make sure you have time to come here every day to train.”
“Train to do what exactly? When I ask they don’t really answer me.”
“Train you to take care of yourself without forcing you to wear a muzzle twenty-four hours a day or worrying you’re going to dismember people with your teeth.”
“Thank you,” she said with a heavy dose of sarcasm. “That was very nice.”
“I’m known for being nice, but in this instance, I went for honest. I want you to start having some choices, Hannah. You can’t do that if I’m lying to you.”
“You don’t even know me. Don’t know anything about me.”
“Yet. I don’t know anything about you yet. But I plan to learn all about you. And, when you’re happy and calm, and all is right in your world, we’ll talk about you becoming a blocker for my derby team.”
“Because it’s logical to put me back into violent situations I have no control over.”
Again with that sarcasm. “Well, when you put it like that, it just sounds all sorts of wrong.”
“Explain to me why I kind of like you.”
“Because I’m charming and sweet and endearing. Plus I have this award-winning smile.” Blayne hit the sow with a grin, and even though Hannah immediately turned away, Blayne knew what she saw from the hybrid in that brief second—a smile. Or a snarl.
To be honest, Blayne sometimes had a hard time telling the difference.
It was almost seven in the morning when Bo snatched open his front door before Sami could get the key in the lock. She blinked up at him. “You’re back!”
“Where have you been?” he demanded.
“Nowhere,” she immediately answered, but Sander who came in behind her carried new, expensive suitcases that had the initials GCA etched into brass nameplates. Something told Bo nothing in those cases actually belonged to the foxes. “I heard you had some trouble and ended up back in Ursus County.”
“It’s a long story. But I need you two to track down somebody.”
“Who?” She took the slip of paper Bo handed her. “Lachlan MacRyrie? Isn’t he one of your teammates?”
“Yeah. But his number traces back to a PO box in Jersey. I can’t track the fucker’s address down.”
“How hard can that be?”
“He’s ex-Unit.”
“Ohhh. Gotcha.”
She walked into his living room, dropping into one of the club chairs, her feet up on the ottoman. “I’ll see what I can find out.” When Bo scowled at her, she dug her phone out of the top of her boot. “Now. I’ll find out now.”
Sander dived onto the couch, immediately going to sleep; and Sami began to dial numbers. “So does this guy owe you money or something?”
“He has my wolfdog. I want my wolfdog!”
“Okay. Okay. Control the mane. It’s sprawling across your shoulders. Just give me a couple of minutes.” She grinned. “I know some people.”
Bo already knew that.
Sami waited patiently while,
he assumed, the phone rang on the other end. She looked him over a few times, finally asking, “Any messages from home?”
“Your mother sends her love and details on an incoming shipment of emeralds, which I wasn’t going to tell you about”—he glared at the emerald choker she had on—“but I see we’re a little past that now.”
She shrugged, the fingers of her free hand running over the priceless jewels she wore with jeans and a T-shirt. “Foxes love the sparkle.”
And for the first time in twelve hours, Bo laughed.
Unable to continue sleeping with two females giggling hysterically in his bathroom, Lock headed to his kitchen. Coffee. He needed coffee.
He was walking through his hallway, heading toward his kitchen when he caught a scent, stopping him in his tracks. He focused on the door at the end of the hallway, blinking when the industrial strength door he’d had installed was torn off at the hinges.
The slightly larger bear-cat hybrid walked into his house like he’d been invited. “Where is she?” Novikov demanded.
“And a happy morning to you, too.”
The hybrid stormed up to Lock, scowling the entire way. When he stood in front of him, the bastard slammed his forehead into Lock’s, knocking the grizzly back a foot or two. Lock shook his head, trying to get the ringing out of his ears. Once he’d done that, he butted the idiot back.
They had each other in mutual headlocks by the time a hearty laugh floated from the bedroom. Novikov threw Lock off and followed the sound.
Wiping the blood from his jaw and nose, Lock grinned.
Okay, yeah. Sometimes…I am a dick.
He found her in a bedroom with Gwen. And the sight wasn’t nearly as interesting as it probably sounded since Blayne was stretched out, stomach down on the bed, reading a magazine and Gwen was sitting on the floor painting her toenails.
Scenting that this was the room Blayne spent the night in, he stormed over to the bed and began picking up the magazines she had laying all over the bed, the floor. Everywhere!
“How can you live like this?” he demanded. “This isn’t even your house!”
Without even looking up from the copy of Mademoiselle, “This is how you say hello to me?”
“You’re lucky I don’t wring your scrawny chicken neck. You couldn’t call? Check in? Something?”
“I thought about doing that… then I forgot… then I remembered… then I forgot again.” She shrugged, still focused on her magazine. “I figured I’d see you today or something.”
Unsure of what the hell was going on, Bo looked over at Gwen. She shrugged, looking as confused as Bo felt.
Not sure how to handle this situation, he handled it as his uncle would. He dropped the pile of magazines he’d picked up back on the floor, grabbed the base of the frame of the bed, and flipped Blayne’s cute ass right off it.
“Hey!” she squealed.
Bo dropped the bed. “See ya,” he said, and walked out the door.
“You’re leaving?” she yelled after him.
“Yes!” he yelled back. “I’m leaving, Lady Spoiled Brat of Spoiled-Bradington. Have a good life!”
Bo was near the front… hole—the door was still in the hallway, the grizzly trying to figure out how to get it back on—when he heard feet run up behind him and felt something small, cruel, and heartless land on his back.
“You,” she accused, “are so rude!”
Bo stopped walking. “I’m rude? I am rude?”
“You heard me.”
Reaching behind him, he caught Blayne by the ass and swung her off his back. She squealed again until he placed her safely on her feet.
“You left me!” he accused. “You left me and didn’t even bother calling me!”
“You knew I was with Gwen.” She sounded so reasonable, like he was the out-of-control one.
“Nope. I can’t do this.” He took a step to walk around her, but she stepped in front of him, blocking his exit. He tried to ignore the fact she only had on a big Philly Eagles jersey and thick socks, her hair in two ponytails. She looked adorable and it wasn’t fair. It was not fair at all!
“You can’t do what?”
“Put up with you.”
“Put up with me? I didn’t know I was such a chore.”
“What time is it?” he asked.
“Well, since I still can’t get this goddamn watch off…” she muttered before looking at it. “Nine thirty.”
“Right. And the first game of the Cup finals less than a week away. And what am I doing, Blayne? What am I doing at nine thirty in the morning before Cup finals?”
“Uh…”
“Well?”
“Looking for me?”
“Do you think I’d be looking for you if I weren’t worried about you? Because I hadn’t heard from you? Because I hadn’t heard from anyone?”
“I needed some time to think, okay? And I didn’t know if I was supposed to go back to your place or my place or if I was being kind of presumptuous thinking either way. I figured a night apart would do us both some good.”
“You’re thinking too much again.”
With her eyes downcast, the toes of her right foot pushed into the floor, she countered, “Maybe I am, but you could have called me.”
“Well, since I have your cell phone”—he threw that on the floor—“and you weren’t home to pick up your landline, the wild dogs didn’t know where you were, and Van Holtz and MacRyrie ignored my calls, I’m not exactly sure how I was supposed to call you.”
She cringed a little. “Okay. You have a point.”
“Thanks. I’m glad you think I have a point. I’ve gotta go.” He grabbed Blayne around the waist and lifted her out of his way, then he walked out. He was at the elevator when she cut in front of him, blocking the exit with her arms outstretched.
“I’m sorry,” she yelped. “Okay? I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry!”
“You’re making me crazy!”
“I know!” She took a breath. “I know. I’m not trying to drive you crazy.”
“Not trying but succeeding nicely. Now move.”
“You’re going to end it because I’m unreliable, flaky, and often thoughtless?” She stopped, blinking hard. Her shoulders slumped. “Wait. I’d actually end it for those reasons.”
The last thing he wanted to do was end it with this impossible woman, but he wasn’t one of those guys who enjoyed constant drama in his life. It was distracting, and he couldn’t afford ridiculous distractions. Instead of saying that, though, he said, “Let’s talk about it later.”
Ice time. He needed ice time and twenty miles on the treadmill at fifty miles an hour to make him feel better. It would clear his head.
He pressed the elevator button and stepped inside when the doors opened. Blayne stood there, watching him. Seeing that wounded look on her face was killing him, but he didn’t know what else to do at this moment. They were really different, but he knew that wouldn’t matter if they both worked together to make their relationship perfect. But he would not subject himself to one of those relationships where only one person was doing all the work. Life was simply too short for that kind of misery.
“I promise I’ll call you later,” he said, punching the button for the first floor.
She nodded, stepped back. “Oh.” She leaned over and pulled out a piece of paper from the top of her sock. “If you’re looking for me later,” she said, handing him the slip, the old elevator slowly closing. “Here’s my schedule.” She gave a little chuckle. “I promised to do a bunch of stuff for Jess over the next couple of days before she brings the baby home, so I took your advice and wrote it all down.”
She gave one more wave and the doors closed, shutting her out.
Bo unfolded the sheet and stared at the lined notebook paper. She had a list of twenty things with lots of scratch-outs, that was in no particular or discernable order, written in bright purple ink, except for the important stuff that was in red, and random notes written in the margins.
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And, at the bottom of the page she’d doodled two hearts. One had the initials G.O. and L.MR., and between the initials she’d drawn one of those honey containers shaped like a bear. The other heart had B.T. and B.N. and between them she’d drawn a seal, which she’d scratched out and replaced with a plus symbol instead.
The elevator doors opened on the first floor and Van Holtz was waiting there with several bags of groceries in his hands.
“Oh. You,” he said. He started to walk in and, without thinking, simply reacting, Bo shoved him back out of the elevator by his head and hit the elevator button again.
“You asshole!” Bo heard as the doors closed.
Blayne sat at Lock’s kitchen table, her chin in her hands.
“I’m sorry, Blayne,” Lock said, putting a bottle of water in front of her. “I should have told you he’d been trying to track you down.”
“It’s okay.” Blayne could be the bigger person here because she had Gwenie.
“It is not okay!” Gwen slugged her fiance’s arm. “Not okay at all. You need to talk to Novikov and straighten this out.”
“Isn’t there something else I can do? Anything else?” Lock begged.
“No!”
Usually Blayne would try and stop the argument and soothe the hurt feelings, but she wasn’t in the mood. She was miserable. And had no one to blame for it but herself. But what could she say? She’d panicked. Panicked because for once she had a reliable, smart, non-sociopath as a boyfriend. Not a gentleman caller, but a boyfriend. And he loved her—despite her many fuck-ups.
To be honest, once she realized all that—panicking was her only option.
“Giving me your list”—a voice said from the kitchen doorway—“makes it impossible for you to actually use your list, unless you made a copy. Which I’m doubting.”