The Mane Event

  Mace watched his beautiful sister. She took after their mother. He took after his father. And they got along about as well as that pair did.

  “Did you?”

  Missy glared at him. “Of course I didn’t!”

  “Just checking. I know how cranky you can get.”

  “You’re enjoying this, aren’t you.”

  “As a matter of fact—”

  “You have no idea what’s going on.”

  Something in his sister’s tone made him stop. Something tired…and scared.

  “You’re right. So why don’t you explain it to me.”

  Missy began rubbing her temples. A sure sign her stress level just hit a new high. “I don’t know. I think someone’s trying to take over the Pride. Force the males out.”

  “You’re telling me lions shot Petrov?”

  “I said I don’t know.”

  “Clearly.”

  An unspoken rule among shifters—never fight against another shifter with anything but your fangs, claws, and hunting skills. One of the reasons few lions shed a tear over the loss of the Withell Pride a few months back. Using poison on your claws? Tasteless.

  “You sure it’s not hyenas? I know I’ve been away for a while, but you can’t tell me you’re getting along with them.”

  Missy sniffed. “Hardly.” No. He didn’t think things had changed that much. Not when Missy still sported a scar on her back from a childhood fight with a hyena. They were the only shifters Mace knew of born with their fangs and the belief that everything around them existed simply to be their prey.

  “Just be careful, Mason. If some other males are planning to take over, I’m not sure if they’ll see you as a threat or not.”

  Males always left the Pride they were born to, but since the Llewellyns were one of the “civilized” Prides that traded their males out, his existence created a bit of a problem and a threat to outsiders trying to claim his sisters and cousins as their own. With his money and name, the Pride could get three higher-level males for him.

  Of course, that particular thought made him want to retch.

  Although, Mace really wasn’t worried. He learned a long time ago how to survive without the Pride. He’d been the hunter and the hunted. Trapped in the middle of firefights with seemingly no way out. He’d killed. Humans. To protect his men and himself. His days of pampering had disappeared as soon as he went off to the Naval Academy.

  But his sister’s concern almost made him feel like he didn’t hate her. Almost.

  “So what do you want me to do?”

  “Nothing at the moment. Just keep breathing.”

  “And then what?”

  “I don’t know yet. I don’t want some renegade males trying to take over this Pride. Sherry had two cubs last month by Petrov.” Missy shuddered. “I’d hate to think what they’d do if they got in.”

  He didn’t want to ask the next question, but his stupid sense of duty and loyalty wouldn’t allow him to do any less. “Do you need me to stay here?”

  “No. Shaw and Reynolds won’t stand for it, and I don’t need you three snarling at each other over breakfast. Besides, we have some important people coming over for a holiday banquet tomorrow. And since I know you won’t clean yourself up for it—”

  Mace held up his hand. “A simple ‘no’ really would have answered my question.”

  “Where will you stay? And don’t say your apartment. It won’t be safe.”

  He wanted to say “between Dez’s thighs,” but that would simply set his sister off again.

  “Actually a buddy of mine from the navy is coming to town. He and his Pack are staying here for the holidays. I can crash with them for a while.” He looked up to find his sister staring at him in horror. “Is there a problem?”

  “Did you say Pack?”

  “Yes.”

  “You’re friends with a…a…dog?”

  “He prefers wolf, but yeah, I am.” He actually considered Smitty his brother. They’d saved each other’s life on more than one occasion.

  “But…you can’t be friends with him.”

  In theory, maybe. They were Pack and Pride, dog and cat; he and Smitty should be the worst of enemies. Especially with the Pack-Pride war that had been going on for decades. But the military created strange bedfellows. Guys who had to rely on each other for their survival. Smitty was and always would be one of his best buds. Even if Mace caught him on more than one occasion licking his own balls.

  “You know the funny thing is, Missy, I’m really not asking your fucking permission.”

  “Don’t you dare curse at me, Mason! I’m not one of your military cohorts or that slut from the Bronx.” Mace looked back up at the ceiling. Five minutes with his sister and he felt twelve years old again.

  “Now,” she continued, “are you at least going to come over for Christmas? I have a gift for you.”

  Mace glanced around Missy’s office. There wasn’t one sign that in five days the world would be celebrating Christmas. It could easily be the middle of August for all the decorations that his sister had up.

  “Are you even celebrating Christmas?”

  “Don’t be smart. The living room is quite decorated. I just don’t like tinsel and things in my office.”

  He didn’t even have to ask to know that his sisters hired someone to decorate their living room. No way would the Pride’s females lower themselves to something as middle class as putting up a Christmas tree.

  “We’ll have to see. I may be busy.”

  His sister’s gold eyes narrowed. “Not with that woman.”

  If he were lucky, Christmas day his cock would be so far inside Dez MacDermot, going anywhere would be a physical impossibility.

  But to his sister, he shrugged. “You never know…”

  Dez cringed as her boss slammed his door closed. But before she could walk away, he snatched it open again. “And I better not see your ass until after the New Year!” He slammed it again.

  Dez glared at Bukowski as she headed back to her desk. “I didn’t even do anything.”

  “You did ask her if she killed Petrov. I think your exact words were, ‘You whacked him, didn’t you? You sadistic bitch.’”

  “Sadistic heifer. And it was just a question.”

  “Uh-huh. Well, your ‘question’ now has you on a lovely vacation until after the holidays.”

  “Still doesn’t seem fair.”

  “Maybe not.” Bukowski threw himself into his desk chair. “But your dad is the one who golfs with the lieutenant every couple of weeks. Whatcha wanna bet he went on and on about his poor baby working every holiday?”

  Who knew bringing her dad to an NYPD function would cause all this trouble? She introduced him to her lieutenant, and once the men found out they were both veteran Marines, they got along like a house on fire. Then they started golfing several times a month with some other Marines. Dez knew it would only be a matter of time before her father found out that she really didn’t have to work during the holidays. With her seniority and vacation time, she could take the entire month of December off.

  But Dez worked the holidays for a reason. Because anything had to be better than another Christmas with her sisters. There were just so many times a woman could hear she was a failure with men and in her career before it really started to hurt.

  Dez flopped herself into her chair and glowered at a wall. The current situation did not bring her happiness.

  “So what are you going to do?”

  She glanced at Bukowski, then back at the wall covered in “wanted” flyers. “Pretend it didn’t happen.”

  Her partner chuckled. “Good luck with that.”

  Dez turned her chair around and glanced at the Petrov file sitting on her desk. She examined the picture attached to it. Petrov had been a handsome man, no doubt about that. But nowhere close to Mace.

  Closing the file, Dez glanced up briefly when she heard someone settle into the chair on the other side of her desk. When big feet propped
up on the vast amount of paperwork in front of her, she looked back up.

  Yeah, that sure was Mace Llewellyn staring at her from the other side of her desk. Just staring. Like he used to. Like he knew where she’d buried the bodies of all her goldfish after their unfortunate “accidents” or what she did with her sisters’ toothbrushes on more than one occasion. The all-knowing, all-seeing Mace stare, and it still made her crazy.

  She raised an eyebrow. “Why are you here?”

  He mockingly gave her the raised eyebrow back. “You never gave me an answer.”

  “Yeah. I did. In fact, my exact words were ‘no’.”

  “Yes, but I’ve chosen to ignore that until I hear what I want.”

  Dez laughed. “Jesus, Mace. You really haven’t changed all that much, have ya? You’re still…you.”

  “Are you talking about my bountiful charisma and overwhelming charm?”

  Okay. The hysterical girl-giggling had to stop. A mature woman of thirty-six, she had a divorce under her belt and a healthy mortgage. Acting like the football team captain asked her out to the prom was not, in any way, remotely mature.

  “Mace—” Dez stopped and looked around the room. Yeah, she had every idiot’s attention. “Don’t you people have something to do?”

  As one, “No.”

  She growled and looked back at Mace. She blamed him for what would certainly be hours, maybe even days, of precinct gossip. “Mace. I can’t go out with you.”

  “If you’re worried arresting my sister will come between us—really, that’s not a problem. I’m pretty sure it will bind us tighter together. Besides, we made plans…involving Missy’s desk.”

  “You know I was only torturing your sister.”

  “So you were just using me?” He actually sounded wounded. “Like a whore?”

  “Mace…” She stopped and rubbed her eyes. Of all the places he could be doing this, her precinct should not be one of them.

  “You’re doing it again.”

  “Doing what?”

  “Trying to make me crazy.”

  The look he gave her was pure predatory male. “I like you crazy.”

  Christ, did he just growl that?

  After all these years, Mace still worked her in all the best parts. Making her feel uncomfortably warm…and seriously wet.

  Flash-flood warning wet.

  Her desk phone rang. She should have been grateful for the distraction from Mace, but she grimaced instead. She did not look forward to this.

  Apparently afraid she wouldn’t get the phone herself, Bukowski reached around Mace and picked up the receiver.

  “Detective MacDermot’s desk. Well hi, Mrs. MacDermot, how are you?”

  She held her hand out. “Gimme the phone, you—” She bit back the curse she had at the ready. It took her years to beat that Bronx girl out of her system. She wasn’t about to let her loose again. Especially in front of the one person she still wanted to impress.

  Bukowski tossed the receiver to her. She caught it and brought the phone to her ear. “Hello?”

  “Hi, baby.”

  “Hiya, Ma.”

  “So, I hear you’re available for dinner on Christmas.”

  Jesus Christ, did the lieutenant have her father on speed dial or something?

  “Well—”

  “Don’t you dare lie to me, Desiree MacDermot!” The acid tone that still made her cringe zipped across the line. “Dinner will be at six. Bring pie. Love ya.” Her mother hung up. As always, the woman was short and to the point.

  Dez dropped the phone back in its cradle. This Christmas had gone to hell fast.

  She looked up and saw gold eyes staring at her. Actually, they were devouring her.

  Holy shit.

  The woman was fucking gorgeous.

  “Don’t look at me like that, Mace.”

  He dropped his feet to the floor. “Like what?”

  “You know like what.”

  He leaned on the desk, his chin resting in the palm of his hand, and he waited. Waited for her to realize they would be together.

  “What, Mace? What?”

  “I’m waiting on you.”

  “Don’t bother.” She casually waved him off. “Apparently I’ve gotta go buy pie.”

  She sounded so despondent, he couldn’t help but smile. “Not a big fan of the holidays?” He’d have to work with her on that. He loved Christmas but had never been able to really celebrate it with his own family. He really wanted Dez to enjoy Christmas as much as he did. Right now, however, she looked like a puppy that got her tennis ball taken away.

  “The whole season breaks me out in a rash. I usually work during the holidays, but now, because of your sister, I’ve gotta deal with them.”

  “Them?”

  “The family.”

  He understood her pain. Of course, his sisters weren’t about to demand his presence to anything, especially if there might be a chance he’d end up embarrassing them. And since Mace went out of his way to embarrass them that would be a damn good worry.

  “Oh God. I gotta go shopping now.” She buried that beautiful face in her hands. “I hate holiday shopping.”

  “You know what? I gotta go shopping too. We should go together.”

  She started to drag her hand through her hair, then abruptly stopped. She shook her hand out and crossed her arms in front of her chest. “Have you always been this pushy?”

  “I’ll buy you a hot chocolate.”

  He watched her fight that amazing smile. “Go away, Mace.”

  “You’re going to leave me to the tender mercies of these cruel New York streets? All alone? On Christmas? No family?” He sighed, giving her his best “sad look.” He’d perfected it over the years with quite a few sympathetic barhooks. “Missy doesn’t want me around for her big Christmas banquet tomorrow. She says I’ll embarrass her in front of all her friends.”

  Dez damn near growled in anger. “You’re her brother. How could she do that to you?” Yes! He had her. At least…well…he did have her.

  “Hey, hoss.” Bobby Ray Smith, also called Smitty by his closest friends and the entire United States Navy, grabbed a chair from one of the other desks, pulled it up next to his, and sat down. “They do have some beautiful women in this city.” Why, oh why, did he meet with Smitty first before coming here? Cause you’re a dumb ass, Llewellyn.

  Smitty suddenly caught sight of Dez. And like the dog he, literally, was…“Well,” he stated with that slow easy grin that got him more pussy than either of them would ever be able to count. “Hello, darlin’.”

  The two shook hands, and Mace had the overwhelming desire to rip Smitty’s arm from his socket.

  Dez caught sight of the anchor tattoo on Smitty’s forearm. “Navy?”

  “Yup. Got out a few months ago.” Smitty’s slow drawl seemed more annoying than usual. “And Mace got out yesterday. Huh, hoss?”

  Mace nodded.

  “Navy, Mace?” She actually sounded disappointed.

  “Now darlin’, what’s wrong with the Navy?” Smitty still hadn’t let her hand go. Suddenly Mace hated his best friend.

  “Nothing. Except it will never be the Marines.”

  Dez pulled her hand away as the men glanced at each other.

  “You were a Marine?”

  Dez glared at him. “You don’t have to sound so shocked, Mace. And I wasn’t just a Marine. I was an MP, baby. Sergeant MacDermot when I discharged.”

  Smitty gave that damn charming smile. “He was commander. I made lieutenant. We were SEALs together.” Normally, Mace would have no problem with Smitty dropping that bit of information. Amazing how much sex that little admission would get them. But he didn’t want the flea-bitten bastard making his moves on Dez.

  “Wow.” Dez seemed less than interested. “That’s really impressive. Bet that line got you a lot of oral sex too, huh?”

  Smitty blinked. “You think I’m lyin’?”

  “No. Not at all.” Dez shrugged. “I just don’t care,
uh…”

  “Bobby Ray Smith. But you can call me Smitty.”

  “Of course you’re Smitty. Because everybody in the military has a friend named Smitty.” The two smiled at each other. Nope, Mace didn’t like this one goddamn bit.

  “So…” Dez glanced at Mace with one raised eyebrow. “Smitty, are you enjoying our fair city?”

  “Oh yeah. You know, Mace is taking good care of me and my kin.”

  “Kin?”

  Uh-oh.

  “Family.”

  “Oh?” Another glance at Mace. “Your family is here. And do they get along with Mace too?”

  Mace had to look at Smitty for that himself. He always sensed that most of the Pack barely tolerated him.

  He should have known, though. Being Southern, Smitty would never say anything anyone would consider cruel in front of strangers.

  “Oh yeah! My momma says Mace is her sixth son.”

  “Really?”

  “My sister’s with me too, and she loves her some Mace.”

  “Does she now?” Dez turned to Mace. Boy, did she look annoyed. “You haven’t changed one bit, Llewellyn.”

  He leaned back, crossing his arms in front of his chest. “I never said I had.”

  “But you did lie to me?”

  “No. Missy really doesn’t want me to come to her banquet. I simply don’t give a shit.”

  “And if that happens to play on my sympathies, you conniving bastard?”

  “I know what I want, Dez. You know how I am about that. Remember the Ring Dings?”

  She pushed her hands through her hair. He kept frustrating her. Good. “We are not discussing the Ring Dings, Mace. Christ, we are too old for this. I’m too old for this.”

  “So, say you’ll come out to dinner with me and then I’ll stop.”

  “No.”

  “I refuse to hear that.”

  She turned to Smitty. “You tell him, Smitty. Tell him I said ‘no’.”

  Smitty gazed at her. “You sure have some pretty eyes, darlin’.”

  Dez looked startled, then she beamed. “You are as bad as he is.”

  Mace realized in that second the two of them were having a “moment.” Well, that’s not acceptable.

  “Jesus, Dez. What’s that?”