Big Bad Beast

CHAPTER 15

When Ric wasn’t back in five minutes, Dee went looking for him. She actually had somewhere to be and she was only giving him a heads-up on what she, Malone, and Desiree were doing.

Dee stuck her head in the kitchen. “Where’s Ric?” she asked the room.

“In the alley,” one of the cooks told her.

Dee headed to the door that led to the alley and stepped outside. Ric was at the far end of the alley where it was blocked off by a brick wall that was attached to the restaurant and the deli next door. He had his back to her, his body hunched over.

Dee moved up silently behind him, curious to see what he was doing all huddled into a corner like that. When she stood right behind him, she went up on her toes a bit and peeked over his shoulder. A brow went up and she relaxed back to the flat feet she was born with—and waited. Because she knew she wouldn’t have to wait too long.

Ric froze, knowing she was right behind him. Knowing she was watching him do what he hadn’t done in two and a half years. But after those six months of patches and nicotine-tinged chewing gum until he’d gone cold turkey for two years—Ric was right back where he’d been.

He clenched the cigarette he’d bummed off a full-human from the deli next door tight between his lips, the engraved gold lighter he hadn’t used in more than two years clutched between his hands as he tried to get the goddamn thing to light. Knowing he couldn’t avoid her forever, Ric slowly turned and faced Dee-Ann. She had her arms folded over her chest, a smirk on those perfect lips, and one brow raised while she waited for him to say something.

“Look,” he immediately began to argue around the precious, precious stick of death he had gripped between his lips. “I’m not going to sit here and explain why I need this. I . . . I just need this, okay?”

“Uh-huh.”

Since she didn’t say anything else, he tried again to get his lighter to work. He shook it a few times, praying there was a little lighter fluid left at the bottom. Finally, he had flame and he brought it close to the cigarette. His mistake was looking again at Dee-Ann. Her expression hadn’t changed. She wasn’t shaking her head or “tsk-tsking” him. She wasn’t trying to grab the cigarette out of his mouth, or bursting into tears, or telling him how disappointed she was in him. But she wasn’t walking away either, or telling him to “do as ya like,” or pretending he wasn’t smoking and getting on with whatever it was she needed to discuss with him.

No. Dee-Ann didn’t do any of that. She simply watched, smirked, and waited.

Waited for him to realize he was making a huge mistake.

Although Ric knew all the reasons it was bad to smoke, he’d given it up two and half years ago for one reason and one reason only—it fucked with his taste buds. Something that, as a chef, he couldn’t afford. He also knew if he started again now, he’d probably never stop. Quitting was too painful a process, too time consuming, and the reason for why he’d begun smoking in the first place would never go away. At least not anytime soon.

He’d been fifteen when he started, somehow managing to keep it a secret among scent-prone wolf shifters until, when he was seventeen, his mother found his pack when she’d picked up his school jacket to hang it in the closet. He remembered how angry she’d been, how hurt, but he knew she kind of understood it, too. At the time, it was the only way Ric had of dealing with his father. The tobacco soothed his nerves, cleared his mind, settled his spirit, and allowed him to make it through nightly dinners with Alder and Wendell. Ric had only stopped when he knew it was putting his cooking career at risk and, more importantly, he was no longer living with his father and brother.

Ric closed the lighter and pulled the cigarette out of his mouth.

“I hate you,” he muttered.

“I know.” She took the cigarette from his hand. “A nonfiltered wolf, I see.”

“I took whatever Joey at the deli had. I was desperate.”

“Is this about Wendell?”

“Hardly. He was rude. He’s lucky Adelle didn’t hear him. She would have torn his hair out.”

“Then it’s the old wolf. Why was he here?”

“I have no idea.”

“Okay then.”

“It isn’t that he was here that’s the problem, Dee.”

“It’s his presence on this planet?”

Ric finally smiled. “Well . . . yes. Plus some other stuff that I can’t get into.”

“Understood. We’re from enemy Packs, so you can’t go around telling me your precious enemy Pack secrets.”

“Now you’re making me feel stupid.”

Dee chuckled. “Not my intent.” She glanced back at the door. “This doesn’t have to do with that scruffy, homeless wolf you had roaming your apartment the other morning?”

“He’s not homeless . . . anymore. He’s sleeping on the couch of my saucier. And although I doubt Stein has anything to do with what happened today, I’m sure my father will use him against me somehow.”

“His name’s Stein?”

“At least it’s just one name.”

She grinned. “Look at you trying to sweet talk me.”

Ric flinched. “Sorry. Unnecessary roughness.”

“Not where I come from.”

“Stein’s my cousin. I hired him to mop the floors and wash dishes.”

“What’s wrong with that? You’re supposed to watch out for your kin.”

“Not when your kin has been shoved out of the Pack. And it’s not like the kid didn’t deserve that shove. He did.”

She stepped closer. “How bad could this get for you?”

“That depends. If Stein never screws up again, takes this opportunity to become the best chef that has ever walked the earth, and he manages to make this world a better place for everyone throughout the universe—maybe my father will let this go before he’s on his deathbed. If the kid screws up even once . . .” Ric shrugged. “Well, I’ve always wanted to open up a little bistro in Soho. Now this could be my chance.”

“Seems a lot of trouble to let a kid wash dishes.”

“He needs the work, Dee. Really needs it. And from what I can tell, he can’t drop any lower at this point. Not without some real effort. I can’t just turn him away. I at least have to give him one more chance to ruin everything for both of us.”

“Now see?” she asked and Ric realized that they were so close that all Ric had to do was lean in another inch or so and he’d be kissing her. “What am I supposed to do with a wolf that’s just so dang nice?”

“Get naked with me in the office? General manager won’t be in for a couple of hours.”

“You have no idea how much I really want to, but I can’t. I only came here to give you a heads-up what I’ve got going on tonight with Desiree and Malone.”

“You and your damn work ethic.”

“It’s a flaw. I know.” She petted his cheek, stepping into him until their bodies were flush. “You gonna be all right?”

“After seeing you slam my father’s head with that door?”

“That was an accident . . . so maybe you shouldn’t smile about it.”

“Can’t help it.” He kissed her, feeling nothing but hope at the way her body kind of melted into his. When they finally stopped, Ric pressed his forehead against hers and closed his eyes. The She-wolf let him stay that way for several minutes until his soul had calmed, his desire to shift and run until he hit Jersey throttling down to a tolerable hum of awareness.

“Come back to my place when you’re done,” he told her.

“All right.”

He stepped away from her, knowing he had to let her go. “Come inside and tell me what’s going on first and I’ll give you a set of keys for my apartment.” Something he’d forgotten to do earlier.

She smirked. “Keys? What do I need keys for?”

“So you can at least pretend you’re not breaking and entering?”

“If you’re going to be particular about it.”

Laughing, Ric headed to the alley door. “Come on.”

“Yeah. Give me a minute.”

“Sure.”

Ric reached for the door but stopped and faced Dee again. He returned to her side and stared at her.

She blinked. “What?”

“Dee-Ann,” he told her, “it’s me.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Do I really need to call your mother about this?”

She snarled at him. “Sometimes you are just mean!” She slapped the cigarette back into his hand. “How did you know anyway?”

“I could see it in your eyes when I came back over. This cigarette was going down. How long?” he asked and she knew what he meant.

“Since I got home from the Marines and Momma caught me smoking behind the barn. She slapped that cigarette from my hand and threatened bodily harm on her only child—all while crying.”

“It was the crying, wasn’t it?”

“Of course it was the crying. There’s some things I simply can’t tolerate. Wild dog howling, zebra, Teacup”—Ric threw his hands up at that—“and seeing my momma cry.”

“Since my mother also would be destroyed by her youngest taking up smoking again, we’ll make a deal.” Ric crumpled the cigarette in his hands until it was nothing but bits of paper and tobacco. “If we think about starting up again, we’ll call each other.”

“And chat about it like girlfriends?”

“Only after we talk about what Prada is coming out with in their latest fall shoe line.” When she only stared at him, Ric quickly added, “I’m kidding. I’m kidding. I don’t wear Prada. They make my ankles look fat.”

She turned away from him, walking to the door.

“I saw that smile, Dee-Ann. You can’t hide it from me.”