Big Bad Beast

CHAPTER 14

“Someone just got laid.”

Dee froze in her tracks, her hand on the plain front door that led into the Group office. Slowly, she turned and faced Malone and Desiree.

“She appears freshly laid to me,” Desiree said, grinning. “It’s the walk.”

“The ‘I just got laid walk.’ ” Malone nodded. “Yep. Saw that, too.”

Dee-Ann moved away from the door and over to the two females she was currently forced to work with. “Is there a reason y’all are here?” she asked.

“Avoidance,” Desiree observed. “Must be kind of serious.”

“So are we getting a name, Smith? Or is it just some poor loser wolf from whatever backwoods coughed you up?”

Dee was in Malone’s face, the two snarling at each other, but without fangs since they were on the street in the full view of God and everybody.

“Cut it out,” Desiree sighed. “We’ve got a line on a fight. And I don’t mean you two.”

Stepping back, Dee gave one last bark at Malone before focusing on Desiree. “Where and when?” she asked, already looking forward to hurting some people who deserved it. Not that Malone didn’t deserve a good beating, but Dee couldn’t really get away with it at the moment, so beating someone else would have to do . . . for now.

Ric was busy changing into his black sweats, black T-shirt, and black chef’s coat when his cousin Arden entered the employee locker room.

She smiled at the others getting changed for the dinner service and she walked up to Ric. She placed her hand on his shoulder and he came down a bit so she could whisper in his ear. “Did you know your father’s here?” she asked.

Ric briefly closed his eyes. “No. Did he ask for me?”

“No. Just went to the manager’s office and started going through the papers there. Do you want me to get Adelle?”

“Don’t.” She’d only make it worse in her attempt to protect Ric. “I’ll go see him.”

“Okay. Dell is with him.”

That made Ric snarl. Wendell. Ric’s brother. He liked to be called Dell because he hated his name—which meant that Ric called him Wendell at every given opportunity.

Ric finished changing, wrapped a black bandana around his hair since he felt the same way about chef hats as he felt about chef clogs, and headed to the general manager’s office.

His father sat at the small desk, scanning papers, his small round glasses perched on the end of his nose. At the four-drawer file cabinet stood his older brother, Wendell, searching through all the folders. What they were looking for, Ric could only guess.

“Dad,” Ric said to his father and to his brother, “Wendell.”

His brother scowled. “It’s Dell.”

Ric closed the door behind him and leaned against it. “What can I do for you two?”

His father glanced at him over his glasses. He was a singularly fussy wolf, with his receding hairline, pinched features, and too-small eyes. Blayne called those eyes beady and she was right.

Among the American Van Holtzes, there were two kinds of wolves: The fussy, smaller East Coast wolves who kept their territories safe by being extremely sneaky and devious with absolutely no regard for what the long-term effects of their actions might be; and the bigger, more direct, but much meaner West Coast wolves that kept their territories by tearing apart anything that tried to take what they believed belonged to the Pack.

Yet Ric represented neither side, taking after his mother who hailed from a small Pack located in the Colorado Rockies. He got what his father referred to as his “pretty girl” looks and “weak nature” from “that side of the bloodline.”

Ric, however, didn’t believe he had a weak nature. Having a soul didn’t make one weak and he felt his father knew this because he only pushed his son but so far. Then again, that could have a lot to do with his Uncle Van. Because Adelle had been right. Niles Van Holtz had always done his best to protect his young cousin from Alder. For every attempt his father made to break Ric down, Uncle Van was right there to build Ric right back up. It had meant a lot to him growing up and both men knew now that if push ever came to shove, Ric’s loyalty would always be with his Uncle Van. Always.

Something else his father resented Ric for, but really, what did the man expect?

“You’re paying Fortelli too much for the fish.” He raised a recent invoice and slammed it on the desk. Pulled out another invoice. “And the seal meat.”

Ric didn’t reply. He simply did that thing he did when his father got like this. He “went away.” He just thought of something else. Something more pleasant or more interesting or more anything than the old bastard muttering at him in that fussy tone about something Ric didn’t control—that’s why they had a general manager—and knew wasn’t true anyway.

Instead, he thought about Dee. Gorgeous, sexy Dee. She wouldn’t be easy to make his own. Dee-Ann Smith would be a challenge for any wolf, but for Ric especially because he was a Van Holtz. It was rumored that Smiths warned their pups away from Van Holtzes from birth and something told Ric that Dee’s father had definitely been one of those. Of course, that wouldn’t stop Ric from trying. Just because the bone he wanted was on the other side of the fence didn’t mean he would ever stop trying to get over, around, or under that fence until he got what he wanted.

A rather antiquated reference to the well-known Van Holtz determination, but still true today.

“What are you smiling at?”

Ric looked up and realized his father was standing in front of him, Wendell on his right. Not the best position for any wolf to be in.

“Nothing. Is there anything else?”

His father stepped closer, studying him from behind those small round glasses. “Are you sure there’s nothing you want to tell me about . . . son?”

Ric shook his head. “No, sir.”

Another step closer, Wendell moving in from the other side. “Really?” Another step. “Not even about what I saw washing the dishes not more than twenty minutes ago?”

Damn. So concerned over those bloody books, Ric had completely forgotten about Stein.

“I don’t see what there is to discuss.”

“Is that right?”

“I have full discretion on whom I hire and whom I don’t.”

“Have you forgotten what he did? Why he was removed from the Pack? From the family?”

Christ, his father made it sound like they’d had a tumor surgically removed before it got too big. Stein was a lot of things, but not something to be coldly and callously excised from those he knew and loved. And not only that, but talk about the pot calling out the kettle. At least Stein had his youth as an excuse to stealing from his Pack. What was Alder’s excuse?

“I’ve forgotten nothing,” Ric replied simply.

“And?” his father pushed.

Ric shrugged. He wouldn’t elaborate. He wouldn’t argue this any further. There was no point. Besides, it was when Ric was trying to defend himself that Alder Van Holtz went in for the kill. He could do with words what many could do with knives or claws. Even Uncle Van didn’t go toe-to-toe with Alder when it came to words. In fact, the only one among them brave enough? Van’s wife, Aunt Irene. One of the many reasons Ric adored her like the moon.

“And nothing.”

By now, Alder was only a few inches from his youngest offspring. “Do you really think,” he whispered, “that your precious Uncle Van will keep running to your rescue, boy? You’re not a pup anymore.”

“No. I’m not. And that’s why I’m telling you to get the hell out of my restaurant.”

His father smiled, seeing some opening that Ric was unaware of. Mind scrambling, Ric tried to figure out what he could have missed, what he could have said that gave the bastard a way in for the kill. While he did, he prepared himself for the blow. Not a physical one. That he could handle and if it came, it would be from his brother. No. This would not be physical, but it would do much worse damage.

“Listen to me, Ulrich,” his father said, still smiling, “I—”

The door swung open, slamming into the back of Alder’s head and pushing him into Ric’s arms.

“Ric, you in here? We need to talk, supermodel.”

Dee-Ann stepped into the room, her eyes catching sight of Wendell. “Are you supposed to be in here?” she demanded.

“Are you?” Wendell shot back.

“Yeah.”

The comeback was so calm and simple that Wendell had absolutely no response. It was amazing.

“Dee-Ann?”

She looked around the door. “There you are.”

Ric helped his father back to a standing position. Not because he wanted to, but because he wanted the man out of his arms.

“You remember my father?” Ric asked.

Dee looked at the door and at the older wolf glowering at her. “Oh.” She looked at the door again. Then Ric’s father. “Oh, Lord.”

Although Dee didn’t like Ric’s father, she still didn’t want to go beating him up with doors. That was rude and her momma would expect more from her. Especially when Dee was sleeping with the man’s son.

“Mr. Van Holtz, I’m very—”

Before she could finish her apology, the wolf stormed past her, practically shoving her into the door she’d battered him with.

She leaned out into the hallway, calling after him, “I’m real sorry. I can assure you it was an accident.”

“Like your birth?”

That came from Wen-dell—she always made sure to enunciate the last part of his name since it seemed to piss him off so much. But as she turned to tell him exactly what she thought of his birth, she saw that there was no point. Because she didn’t have the chance.

Ric had reached out and caught his brother by the throat with his left hand, yanking him forward, and took hold of Wendell’s arm with his right, pulling it back. “Apologize,” Ric told him, looking more pissed off than Dee had ever seen him. Even the time he threw that zebra hoof at her—long story—he didn’t look that angry.

“Fuck yo—”

Ric unleashed his claws, burying them in his brother’s throat, blood dripping over his hand and onto the floor. “Apologize,” the wolf told his brother calmly. “And do it nicely.”

“Sorry!” Wendell managed to get out. Then Ric shoved him forward and right into the hallway. The wolf slammed into the opposite wall, his head leaving a dent in the drywall.

“Get out of my restaurant,” Ric told him, his voice even, not raised at all. “You can return when you’ve learned some manners.”

Ric turned away and walked toward the desk. So he missed his brother unleashing his own claws and coming for him from behind like some untrustworthy feline. But Dee silently stepped in front of Wendell, her bowie knife out. She waved it once and softly said, “Uh-uh.”

The worthless wolf pulled back. Maybe he was willing to take his brother on, but not her. Then again, Dee was doing him a favor. This pissed off, Ric would tear the idiot’s throat out, but that wouldn’t sit right with him. He’d never forgive himself and Dee wasn’t going to have that.

She motioned Wendell away with a tilt of her head. He went, shoving aside the crew members who’d come into the hall to watch Ric slap him around. Nope. Wendell wouldn’t be forgiving this bit of embarrassment anytime soon.

Hearing Ric moving behind her, she quickly slid her blade back in its sheath and turned.

He was just facing her. “Sorry about that,” he said and she had to laugh.

“Darlin’, that’s Thanksgiving dinner over at my Uncle Bubba’s house.”

“I know you need to talk to me, but can you give me five minutes?”

“Sure.” She started to step out but he walked past her and into the hallway. She went back into the office, rested her butt on the desk, and waited.

Arden got the quick scoop from her Aunt Adelle, who’d heard it from the sous-chef, who’d gotten it from the garde-manger, who’d seen it himself! And Arden had to say she was entertained and immensely proud of her cousin! Mostly because as much as she adored Ric, she loathed her cousin Wendell in equal parts. He was more weasel than wolf, in her opinion.

Tragically, she couldn’t stay around and gossip more about the whole thing. She had to get to class unless she wanted to spend her life showing people their tables and taking complaints. Although it was a great way for a twenty-year-old to make sixty grand a year, get her tuition for her Ivy League tech school paid in full, and have flexible hours, so she wouldn’t bitch about it too much.

She charged around a corner, her arm reaching out to hail a cab, when someone caught her and yanked her back.

“Hey!” she screeched, ready to fight like a full-human first, then unleash claws if necessary. But it wasn’t anything to be worried about. Just Wendell.

“If this is about Ric—” she began, trying not to giggle at the claw marks on his neck.

“I don’t give a shit about him. I want to know about Stein.”

“What about him?”

“Why is he back?”

“I don’t know.” She tried to walk off, but Wendell yanked her back again. “Hey! Get off me!”

“Then answer my question.”

“Why do you think? He owes money to somebody.”

“From Vegas?”

“Atlantic City. There. Happy now?”

“Ecstatic.” He pushed her away. “Let me know when you grow tits, cuz. Maybe I’ll hook you up with one of my boys then.”

“Like you actually have friends, dickwad.” Then Arden caught her cab and headed to class.