Big Bad Beast

CHAPTER 12

Ric sat at his desk. He was completely alone in his apartment now. His cousin was gone and so was Dee-Ann. Her scent still lingered in his place, though, and he liked it. Probably more than he should since he had no idea what would come of all this. But he was willing to fight for her. She might not realize she was perfect for him, but he knew she was. They just fit together like a really odd puzzle no one could figure out.

But he could think about that later. Right now, he had to focus on something else.

Getting out several pencils and a notepad from his desk drawer, Ric opened the package his Uncle Van had sent him to review and got to work. And the deeper he got into the Van Holtz books, the worse it got.

Dee-Ann stopped by the Group office first and checked in. She also looked in on the young hybrids that currently called the Group office their home. Every day the hybrid pups, cubs, and kits she’d found and brought in received all sorts of training, from basic hand-to-hand combat techniques to learning how to manage their bodies when they shifted. A challenge for a few of them whose DNA mix created something brand new and different. When they weren’t getting training, they were in classes that would hopefully let most, if not all, of them get their high school diplomas. The only one who’d already graduated high school was Hannah, but whether she’d end up going to college or not, Dee didn’t know. The girl didn’t talk much.

And then there was little Abby. How many months had she been part of the Group and she still refused to shift from her animal form to her human one? They only found out her name because they discovered it written on the girls’ bathroom mirror. And in the beginning, because she had a tendency to be destructive, Dee had placed her with the Kuznetsov wild dog Pack. Jessie Ann was her cousin-in-law and her dog Pack was tolerant of mixed breeds. It had worked out well, but then Abby started showing up at the Group’s office, still in her animal form, roaming the halls, begging for food, generally pretending to be the office mascot. It was weird. Then again, so was Abby.

Yet it was all working out, and Dee was just glad to have these kids off the streets. They deserved better than to be going through trash and sleeping under overpasses. Of course, every kid deserved that, but she could only do what she could do. And what she could do was help her own.

“Everything all right here?” she asked Charlene. The fox liked to check in on the hybrids throughout the day and Dee appreciated that.

“Pretty much. They’re getting used to being here, I think. A few have started talking about what to do after they graduate from high school or get their GED. I think most of them will stay on when they hit eighteen.” She glanced at Dee. “They kind of worship you.”

Startled, Dee could only manage a, “Huh?”

“Gonna play that game, eh? Okay. Fine.”

Ignoring those comments, Dee asked, “Hannah?”

Charlene blew out a breath. “Yeah . . . Hannah.”

They’d rescued the pretty but scarred bear-canine hybrid with the brown eyes, brown hair with black tips, and nearly six-three height at one of the illegal fight training centers they’d shut down outside of Ursus County. Dee had wanted to put Hannah down then and there. She’d seemed so . . . empty. The pitbull no one trusted because she’d been in one too many fights. But Teacup had begged and pleaded and all the other shit she liked to do to make Dee-Ann’s life hell. Now they had Hannah here and no one would go near her, even the Unit vets who’d seen it all.

Dee grimaced. “That bad?”

“It’s not like she does anything, ya know? She doesn’t get into fights or threaten anyone. Not like you.”

Dee briefly pursed her lips. “Thanks.”

“But she scares everybody. She’s a scowler. A silent scowler.”

“Yeah, but . . . so am I.”

“It’s different. We know you’ll kill if you have to and you’ll do it without remorse. But so will half the breeds in the Group. But Hannah . . . I think she’s fighting so hard not to be who and what she is—she’s so afraid of it—that she comes off as just downright terrifying. Because you never know what’s going to finally set her off. What’s going to really make her snap her bolt.”

“I don’t know what will either. But I’m not ready to give up on her yet.”

“Because you think she can change? Or because you don’t want to hear Blayne Thorpe’s hysterical crying . . . again?”

“I’m leaving,” Dee said.

“You mean running away from the conversation because you refuse to admit you kind of like Blayne?”

Dee stopped and glared at the bite-sized fox.

“Just kidding,” Charlene said, backing away. “Just kidding.”

Dee left the office and walked into the diner down the street. She spotted Malone and Desiree at a table in the back. They were both eating breakfast. Desiree had a newspaper folded up for easy reading while she ate an egg white omelet. Malone was reading a full-human hockey magazine and downing waffles, toast, bacon, ham, and eggs. They weren’t speaking to each other and didn’t look up when Dee sat down.

“Sorry I’m late.”

“No problem. We haven’t been here long.” Desiree pushed a coffee cup and a carafe over to her. “You want breakfast?”

“Nah. Already ate.” Dee poured herself a hot cup of coffee and took a sip. It was definitely what she needed. “What’s the plan?”

Desiree shrugged. “We could investigate a few more of the property owners.”

“Yeah,” Malone said, “but I really think that’s going to be a waste of time. Why would the ones who own the property put themselves at risk by having the fights there? So far, all the properties have been owned by those who haven’t touched them in some time.”

Desiree poured herself more coffee. “You know what it feels like to me? A real F-U to us. To the ones trying to stop this. And to the ones who own the property.”

“What makes you think that?”

“Well, it reminds me of the time right after we were married when Mace got his sister to let us use her summer house in the Hamptons. She kept saying we had free rein of the house—but we weren’t allowed to go in her bedroom. Stay away from her bedroom because it was her private sanctuary, even though she only stayed there for a few weeks in the summer with her entire Pride.”

Malone grinned. “You fucked on that woman’s bed, didn’t you?”

“Like bunnies. Because the more she said ‘don’t,’ the more we did. And that’s what using these properties says to me. ‘F-U ’cause I can do what I want.’ ”

“We need to find the money,” Dee repeated the words of the NYPD sow who’d put them on this. “They have to be getting the money somewhere.”

“Yeah,” Malone said, “but does it really take that much startup money to run a dogfight?”

“This ain’t no dogfight, Malone. They’ve gotta transport these people, house them, feed ’em, and it ain’t like feeding some pit you keep in your backyard. Plus, you didn’t see the office we took down back in February when they went after Blayne. It rivaled Group offices. That’s serious money. And that’s what we need to find.”

“Then we need to find a fight.”

“I don’t know about y’all, but the last three we got a line on were closed down by the time we got there.”

Malone and Desiree nodded, silently agreeing they’d had the same problem.

“So someone’s warning them when to get out.”

“You think our people—”

“No, no.” Dee shook her head. “I’m not saying we’ve got anyone on our teams rattin’ us out. But there’s always chatter. One of us talks to another to another . . . until it ends up in someone’s lap.”

Malone leaned in a little closer. “But you do think the money is coming from our kind?”

“Don’t you? And something tells me KZS thinks either some if not all of that money is cat money. Otherwise, why else would y’all get involved?”

“You haven’t changed, Smith. You’d love to put this on us,” Malone accused.

“I’d love to put this on the ones doing it. I don’t expect much from the full-humans—no offense, Desiree”—Desiree shrugged, ate more toast—“but I do expect a lot from my own. If it’s one of us behind this, I wanna know. I don’t care what species or breed.”

Malone nodded. “I feel the same way. So does my boss.”

“Good. So we need to track down a fight and we need to be quiet about it. We keep it among the three of us, pull a team at the last minute, and no one says anything to anybody until we’re done. Sound good?”

“So how do we find a fight?”

“I’ve got a contact.” Desiree pulled out her cell phone. “He works with the ASPCA.” When Dee and Malone only frowned, she added, “His thing is shutting down regular dogfights. But I’m guessing he’s got a line on one of the other types without even realizing it.”

Ric dropped into a chair in his Aunt Adelle’s kitchen and announced with little preamble, “I am so screwed.”

Adelle, who’d left the setting up for lunch service in the hands of her sous-chef so she could “get up when I damn well feel like it,” placed a cup of coffee in front of Ric and kissed the top of his head. “All right, darling cousin. Tell me what’s going on.”

“I don’t think I can.”

Adelle sat down at the wood table that Lock had built for her a couple of years ago and studied the small pile of cinnamon buns she had on a plate in front of her. “Is this about your father?”

“Maybe.”

“Because he’s stealing from the business?”

Ric gaped at his aunt. “You know?”

“Who do you think told Van?” She sipped her coffee. “You might as well accept the fact that your father’s a scumbag.”

“Adelle!”

“What? Am I lying?”

Ric put his head on the table and sighed into it, “No.”

“Why are you so upset?”

“He’s my father.”

“Only genetically.”

Ric looked up at his older cousin.

“Look,” she argued, “we all realized a long time ago that you were an at-risk pup. So Van and my brothers all decided to quietly raise you themselves. You were such a smart child, we knew your father would feel threatened.”

“Dad always said you guys babied me.”

Adelle placed her cup down on the table—hard. “First off, we never babied you. Not killing you while you slept is not babying you, Ulrich. No matter what your father may have told you. We, as a Pack, decided to raise you. Properly. And, as a humble She-wolf, I’m happy to say that we did a wonderful job.”

Laughing, Ric sat up. “Unbelievably humble. The world is filled with humble chefs.”

“Exactly. Now”—she picked up a cinnamon bun, waved it in the air—“you’ve got two choices, young man.”

“Two choices about what?”

“Spending July Fourth weekend with your father and the Pack at the Macon River Falls house or—”

“I could set myself on fire.”

“That is not the second option.”

“Well, anything but go to another disastrous holiday weekend with my father.”

“If you don’t go,” she teased, “who will apologize for your father’s fuck-ups? You can’t expect me to do it.”

“Second option, Adelle?” Ric pushed.

“You attend the children’s hospital charity ball after the Fourth as the Van Holtz representative. I think Van donated something like forty thousand this year.”

Ric hated charity events, but he realized he could invite Dee as his date—then he just as quickly realized she’d turn him down. But still, anything was better than ruining his holiday weekend by spending it with his father. He’d rather sit home alone, watching the fireworks on TV.

“Charity ball.”

Adelle nodded. “That’s what I thought. I’ll let Van know.”

Ric watched her bite into her cinnamon bun and admitted, “Mom came to me the other day . . . asking for money for Dad.”

“You better have said no.”

“I did,” he confessed. “I did . . . but maybe I should have—”

“No, Ric.”

“But—”

“No.”

“But maybe if I invest in this ridiculous restaurant idea he has, I can . . .”

“What? Undo your father’s decision to steal from his own Pack? Do you really think that by giving that man money, you’ll be changing anything?”

Ric shrugged, because he really didn’t know the answer to that question. Or did he?

“It won’t,” Adelle told him flatly. “And you know that, Ric. Without me telling you.”

“Yes,” he forced himself to admit. “I know. But I’ll go over the books one more time before I say anything to Uncle Van. Make sure I didn’t miss anything.”

“You didn’t.”

“I want to make sure.”

“Fine. But it won’t change anything, Ric. You simply can’t rescue everybody.” She eyed him. “And that includes idiot young pups who thought they’d be high rollers in Vegas.”

“Atlantic City,” he corrected her, knowing she was complaining about seeing Stein washing dishes at the restaurant.

“Whatever. I can’t believe you gave that brat a job.”

“You didn’t see what the bears did to him.”

“I don’t care what the bears did to him.”

“Adelle.”

“He probably deserved it.”

“Adelle.”

“He gave me the finger when he left. I should have taken that finger and shoved it up his—”

“Adelle!”

“What do you mean no?”

Halfway through her lunch burger, Dee looked up from her plate and across the diner booth to her cousin Sissy Mae and Sissy Mae’s second in command, Ronnie Lee. While Sissy stared at her, Dee continued to chew her food and stare back.

“Well?” Sissy pushed.

Dee swallowed her food, wiped her mouth, and replied, “What do I mean no about what?”

“About July Fourth weekend.”

“What about it?”

“We’re all going to Bren’s house in Macon River Falls.”

“Yeah?”

“And I invited you to come.”

“Yeah?”

“And you said no.”

“Well, Sissy Mae, that’s the beauty of the invite—you can turn it down.”

Her cousin’s eyes narrowed and Dee could already see this was not going to be an easy conversation, which she found mighty irritating since she’d gotten off early. With Desiree, Malone, and Dee using their contacts to track down a hybrid fight, there was nothing to do but wait. Desiree had headed home to her son, Malone back to the KZS office that was in some secret location no one was supposed to know about—they were in Queens and had been for the last forty years—and Dee had wanted a nice, quiet lunch at her favorite diner with nothing but a burger, extra crispy fries, and one of her favorite Agatha Christie books. She liked ol’ Aggie. True, the mysteries and the scandalous activities of some of the characters may seem tame by today’s standards, but Dee enjoyed the simplicity and straight-forwardness of the stories. She got enough bloodbaths from her daily work, she didn’t need it in her leisure reading.

“That’s true,” her cousin said, “you can turn down my generous offer—”

“How is it your generous offer when it’s Brendon’s house?”

“—but you shouldn’t turn it down.”

“Why?”

Sissy sighed, long and loud. Like the weight of the world rested on those big She-wolf shoulders. “Dee-Ann, darlin’, I am trying to make you more part of the Pack.”

“I am part of the Pack.”

“True, but you don’t act like you’re part of the Pack.”

“I’m there when you need me. What more do you want?” Dee caught the wrist of the She-wolf reaching from behind her to grab a fry off her plate. “Do you wanna keep this hand, Dolly Mae?”

Her young cousin, a new recruit to the New York Pack, said, “I just wanted a fry, Dee-Ann.”

“I just wanted to eat in peace. Don’t look like that’s gonna happen either.”

“Can’t you share?” Sissy asked her.

“No.” She released her cousin’s wrist, ignoring her when she began to rub it. These weak sub-adults. Grow a spine already. “Look, when I became part of this Pack, Bobby Ray promised me that I wouldn’t be hemmed in.” She glanced around at the group of She-wolves now surrounding her. Some in the booth behind Sissy and Ronnie, some standing next to the table, and some in the booth behind her. Like Dolly Mae . . . who was still trying to get her fries. “I’m feelin’ hemmed.”

“No one’s trying to hem you in,” Sissy argued. “God forbid anyone try and hem in Dee-Ann Smith. But you can’t bond with your Pack if you’re not part of it.”

“I’m part of it. You need me, I’m there. Otherwise, don’t bother me.”

“Dee-Ann . . .” Sissy began. But, sick of Dolly Mae and her sneaky fingers, Dee caught hold of her hand and gripped it until she heard bones crack . . . and break. The She-wolf whimpered, sounding all sorts of pitiful until Dee flung her hand away.

Slowly, she looked back at her cousin. “You were sayin’, Sissy Mae?”

Another dramatic sigh, accompanied with a sad head shake. “See?” she asked. “You need my help more than you ever realize.”

Dee picked up her book. “Actually, what I need is for you to fuck—”

“Lunch!” Ronnie Lee cut in. “We haven’t had lunch yet.” She motioned to the waitress. “Let’s get lunch since we’re already here. You don’t mind if we join you, do you, Dee-Ann?”

“Well—”

“Good!”

One of Ronnie Lee’s cousins snatched Dee’s book from her hand. “Watcha readin’?”

“Reading’s boring,” another cousin complained. “Why read it when you can just watch it on TV?”

Dee crossed her eyes and resigned herself to “Pack time” as her momma always liked to call it. Of course, when she would say “Pack time,” Dee’s daddy would follow that up with a walk to his favorite shotgun followed by his favorite saying, “Guess it’s time to start the killin’.”

If only . . .

Ric walked into his kitchen an hour after lunch service had ended. Adelle was finishing out her shift and laughing at something Stein said while the kid pulled a couple of sizzling steaks from the grill. Standing behind him, arms crossed over his chest, Ric waited until the kid turned around—and fell back against the ovens.

“Uh . . . Ric. Hi. Uh . . . I was just . . . uh . . . making something to eat for Adelle.” Ric stared at Stein, but didn’t say anything. It was a trick he learned from Dee-Ann and he’d found it was quite effective. Kind of like now.

“She said it was okay . . . and I thought she needed something to eat after all that time working.... It was so busy in here . . . and everyone did a great job . . . and . . . and . . .” Stein winced. “My head’s hot.”

Ric finally spoke, “Because it’s resting against one of the oven doors.”

Stein stood tall, pulling his head away and shaking it. Good thing the door wasn’t open—he’d probably have fallen in. “Oh. Right.”

Ric glanced at the still-sizzling steaks on that single long plate. “That’s all for Adelle?”

Stein looked at the plate and back up at Ric. “Yeah. Sure. All for Adelle.”

“Then give it to her and get back to work. Those dishes won’t clean themselves.”

“Right. Absolutely.” He put the plate on the counter and scurried back to his sink full of dishes.

Going over the tickets from the lunch run, Adelle shook her head and laughed a little. “You’re being awfully hard on him.”

“I know.” Ric grabbed two forks and two steak knives and maneuvered the plate between them. “You said yourself he deserves worse.”

“From me. You’re the nice one.” She put her paperwork aside and took the fork and knife handed to her. They both cut off a piece of steak and took a bite. They chewed and gazed at each other.

Finally, Adelle announced, “That’s amazing.”

“Ssssh. Don’t tell him.”

“I mean . . . amazing.”

“Keep your voice down. I’m not done with him yet. No matter”—he took another bite of steak and groaned—“how damn good this is.”

They continued to eat in silence for several more minutes until Adelle asked, “So explain to me why you had a naked Dee-Ann Smith running around your apartment this morning?”

Ric somehow managed to swallow his food without choking on it and answered, “Uh . . . no reason?”

“What is it with you and Van and the weird-eyed girls?”

“Dee’s eyes aren’t weird. They gorgeous. I call them canine gold.”

“You always were an odd but self-contained child, Ulrich.”

“I love her,” he admitted. “I have since I met her.”

“I’m not even going to argue with you about this because the Van Holtz men have the most disturbing taste in women since our first known ancestor, Eberulf the Goat Killer married Himiltrud the Hideous. And clearly you’re no different.”

Ric thought on that a moment and then asked, “Our first ancestor was a goat killer?”

“Ulrich . . . the man had to eat.”

Dee spit the liquid back in the bottle and glared at Rory Lee. “What is this?”

“Non-alcoholic beer.”

“You dare give this to me?”

“That’s all they have.” Rory sat back in the booth of the karaoke bar they were in and asked, “Why are you here again?”

“Because my cousin’s torturing me.”

“Sometimes you have to pretend to be part of the Pack, darlin’. So when you’re old and grey, they won’t rip your throat out because you’re toothless.”

“That’s lovely. Thank you.”

He leaned in a bit and sniffed her. “You’ve got strange wolf on you.” His eyes narrowed. “Who you been fuckin’?”

“Rory Lee Reed! You speak to me proper!”

“All right.” He lowered his voice several octaves and said, “Who you been fuckin’?”

Dee grinned. “Ric Van Holtz.”

“Really?”

“Yeah, but don’t tell.”

“Why? You ashamed?”

“Nope. Just seems more dirty that way.”

“You and your dirty fetish.”

“Can’t help it . . . turns me on.”

“Ew.”

“Besides,” Dee went on, “you can’t tell anyone because once Ronnie Lee knows everyone will know.”

“Including your daddy.”

“And Ric is just so damn pretty, it would be a right shame to see him all . . .”

“Eviscerated?”

She sighed. “You do know how Daddy likes to eviscerate.”

“He does have a skill.”

“A man has to know his strengths.”

“So do you like him?”

Frowning, “I love Daddy.”

“Not him. Van Holtz. Do you like Van Holtz?”

“Oh.” Dee thought a moment, then answered, “Yep.”

“And?” he pushed.

“And what?”

“Ain’t ya gonna gush about him or somethin’?”

“Gush? Who the hell do you think you’re talking to?”

“Sorry. For a minute there I thought you were a girl, but then I remembered that you’re just sleeping with one.”

“Don’t be jealous ’cause you don’t look like a supermodel, too. Not everybody can be that pretty.”

They focused on the stage and Dee demanded, “What in hell are we listening to?”

“A lion male singing ‘Sweet Home Alabama.’ ”

“Ya see?” she asked her friend. “Daddy was right.”

And together they said, “Time to start the killin’.”