Big Bad Beast

CHAPTER 17

Ric woke up at his desk. He’d come home from the restaurant and had dived right back into the books Uncle Van had sent him. He continued to check and double-check numbers but he knew it was a waste, and he was only putting off the inevitable call to his cousin, but he was desperate. Hoping to find anything that could turn this around.

Packing up all the paperwork, he put it in his standing safe. Yawning and scratching his head, he headed to his bedroom but stopped outside the guest room. He sniffed the door before easing it open. He didn’t know when she’d come in, but he was glad to see her back and safe, even if she wasn’t in his bed.

Knowing Dee, she probably assumed it was rude to get into his bed without receiving a direct invitation. He’d have to let her know she had a standing invite from now until forever.

Gazing at her stretched out facedown and naked on the bed, he could easily see what she’d been through that night. Bruises and cuts littered her body, the worst bruising on her shoulder. All those angry reds, purples, and blacks against pale white skin suggested that particular area had been through hell and back.

Ric stripped naked and got on the bed with her. He wrapped his arms around her waist and pulled her in tight against him, making sure to avoid her damaged shoulder. She snarled at him in her sleep anyway, but he kissed her neck and said, “It’s Ric.”

Dee settled down then and slept comfortably in his arms while Ric stared at the wall across the room and tried to figure out what he’d do next about his father. Because he honestly had no idea.

Dee-Ann woke up alone, although Ric’s scent still surrounded her. Rubbing her eyes with her fists, she sat up and stretched long and hard. Her body still hurt some, but nothing she couldn’t tolerate. Especially after those first few minutes of dawn when she’d felt Ric gently kissing her scars and stroking her bruises. The horniest wolf she knew, but she didn’t mind because he always made her feel so damn good.

Leaving the bedroom, she headed to the kitchen. In the stove, she found a plate filled with bacon, ham, eggs, and toast. With a small smile, she reached for it, until she heard a noise coming from the opposite hallway.

Still naked, she followed the sound and ended up in front of Ric’s home office. Head tilting to the side, she watched his brother, Wen-dell, trying to open the safe there. A safe he wouldn’t get open anytime soon, if he knew about safes. Dammont safes were developed and built by wolves out of East Texas. No one was getting into that safe without the combination or a small thermonuclear device. Whether Wen-dell simply didn’t know safes or he was so desperate he had to try, Dee-Ann simply didn’t care.

All she knew was that he was trying to steal from his own brother and that’s all she had to know. There were some lines one just didn’t cross with family. At least not with her around.

She stood behind him, watching him fumble with the lock, getting more and more frustrated, for at least five minutes before he finally realized that she—or someone—stood right behind him.

The wolf spun around, fangs and claws unleashed, and Dee punched him in the face. His body slammed back into the safe and she moved in, punching him in the gut and kidneys until he was bent over at the waist. That’s when she kneed him in the jaw.

Once he was out cold, Dee caught him by the hair and dragged him out of the office, down the hallway, to the front door. It opened while she was reaching for the knob. An older She-wolf stood there, eyes wide in surprise.

“Uh . . . you must be Dee-Ann,” she said.

“Yes’m.”

“I’m Mrs. Marshall. Ulrich’s housekeeper.”

“Mrs. Marshall. Nice to meet you.”

“Um . . . he told me you might be here until you get a place of your own. I’m not . . . uh . . . interrupting anything, am I?”

“No, ma’am. Just taking out some trash.”

“Ah. Mr. Dell. Yes. You’re right.” She pointed at the end of the hallway beside the elevator. “The garbage chute is right down there. You might have to push a bit to get his shoulders through, but you look strong enough.”

“Thank you kindly.”

Dee walked past the She-wolf and dragged the just-waking wolf down the hallway. By the time his eyes opened fully, Dee had most of his body in the chute.

“Wait—” he began, but Dee slapped her hand against his forehead and gave one last shove, sending him screaming down to the pits of hell—or more likely a Dumpster.

Wiping her hands against each other, she walked back into the apartment, closing the door.

“Clothes, missy,” Mrs. Marshall told her. “You can’t walk around a kitchen naked. It’s tacky.”

“Yes’m.”

“And you better wash those hands, too, before you eat.”

“Yes’m.”

“And you can call me Mrs. M. like Ulrich does.”

Or . . . just ma’am. Whatever worked. “Yes’m.”

“Well, don’t just stand there, girl. Move like you have purpose.”

Dee ambled off to the bedroom to get a fresh set of clothes.

Lock MacRyrie opened his eyes when he caught the first whiff of coffee. He snarled at the wolf grinning down at him.

“Good morning, sunshine.”

“Where’s Gwen?”

“Work. I saw her on the way out. She wanted me to give you her love. Would you like the kiss, too?”

Lock turned over and pulled the covers over his head. No matter how many times he changed the locks on his door, getting stronger and more expensive models, nothing seemed to stop the wolves from getting into his apartment when they felt like it.

“Up. Up,” Ric coaxed. “Time to face the day.”

“Go away or I’m killing you.”

“I need advice, old friend. There’s my French toast in it for you.”

“I don’t want French toast. I want sleep.”

“Bacon? Eggs? All fresh and made by loving hands.”

“Shut up.” He pulled the covers back and glared at his childhood friend. “You’re getting so weird these days.”

“You have no idea.”

And something in Ric’s voice had Lock dragging his exhausted ass out of bed and into the shower.

By the time he walked out of his bedroom in a pair of jeans, the table was set and Ric was putting out his plate of food. The man’s timing had always been impeccable.

Sitting down at the table, Lock reached for a slice of bacon. “So what’s up? And this better not be more crazy shit about Dee-Ann.”

“No. It’s not about Dee-Ann.”

“Good.”

“We’re sleeping together, but that’s not why I’m here.”

Lock threw the half-eaten strip of bacon onto his plate. “You’re sleeping with her?”

“Figuratively and literally. But that’s not why I’m here.”

“I don’t care that’s not why you’re here. You can’t sleep with Dee.”

“Too late.”

“And when she’s done, you’ll let her go or are you going to do that annoying wolf thing you guys do? Where you keep trying to get them to be yours with flowers, chocolates, deer carcasses, and all that goddamn howling outside their window? Kind of like stalking but less threatening because you’re only partially human. Because I know for a fact that Dee hates when guys of any breed or species does stuff like that and she doesn’t respond to it well.”

“I’ll worry about that when we stop sleeping together.”

“You’re an idiot,” Lock snarled, picking up another piece of bacon.

“So you enjoy telling me when it comes to Dee-Ann. Now can I get on with it?”

“What could be worse than you stupidly sleeping with Dee-Ann Smith?”

“My father stealing money from the Pack?”

Lock raised his gaze to his friend’s, the pair staring at each other. Finally, Lock admitted, “Yep . . . that wins.”

“Morning, Dee!”

Dee stopped mid pull-up, gritting her teeth.

“Aren’t you going to say ‘hi’ back?”

Dee let out a breath and lowered her legs, releasing her grip on the pull-up bar and dropping to the ground. She came to the Group’s in-house gym so she could work out in peace. So she could get in tune with her body while letting her mind work other issues out in the quiet and sanctity of the one place everyone knew she’d kill them as soon as look at them if they got on her dang nerves—a fail-safe she simply didn’t have at the bigger but busier gym at the sports center.

Unfortunately, there was one part-time employee of the Group who didn’t seem to understand the word “boundaries.”

With a sigh, she faced the wolfdog. “Morning, Teacup.”

A few months back they’d given Blayne a part-time job at the Group. She had two roles: help the young hybrids that Dee had picked up off the streets to acclimate to life in a normal society, and teach them how to fight with knives. Because as much as the wolfdog irritated her last nerve, Dee had to admit the truth—the girl had some skills. Plus, she talked the language of the hybrid, which could be frighteningly off-kilter. Just like Blayne.

Teacup held out a sheaf of papers. “Evaluations.”

Dee took the files and quickly flipped through them. “Well?”

“What we’ve both been saying. Most are doing well, but a few . . .”

“Hannah?”

Teacup grimaced. “Okay. She’s a little resistant to . . . everyone. I’m working with her, though,” she added quickly.

“I know, Blayne.” Dee always used the woman’s real name when they discussed business. It was proper. “But she makes the higher-ups nervous.”

“Why? Because she’s broody and stares and snarls and snaps when anyone gets too close?” Her nose crinkled a little. “Now that I think about it . . . that might make me nervous, too.” She shook her head and stood tall. “Nope. Not ready to give up on her yet. Hannah’s young. Lots of potential. And, oh, my God, she’s so smart!”

“She can also rip a man’s heart out of his chest with her bare hands.”

“Well, who can’t do that?”

Dee shoved the papers back at Blayne. “You want her to stay, you deal with her.”

“I was thinking, though . . . it might be good if you stepped in as her mentor.”

“Why?”

She blinked. “What do you mean why?”

“I mean why.”

“Shouldn’t you just feel, like, honored that I’m asking you?”

“No.”

“Asking you to take her under your wing and—”

“No.”

“But—”

“I let her live. That means my good-deed job is done.”

“Please, Dee-Ann.”

“Forget it.”

The wolfdog’s bottom lip began to tremble, her eyes welling with tears, but those tears seemed to be a siren song for bears because as soon as Teacup turned them on, every bear from miles around came to her aid. This time it was a grizzly, polar, and a sloth. And they were all glaring at Dee. She hadn’t even lunged at Blayne yet.

Yet.

“Problem, Blayne?” the polar asked, brown eyes glaring at Dee from under one giant white uni-brow.

Bursting into hysterical sobs, Blayne turned and buried her face in the seven-nine polar’s . . . well, stomach since she didn’t reach his chest.

“Jesus Christ, Dee-Ann! What did you do to her now?” the polar demanded.

“Well, I started off by minding my own business. You should try it.”

The grizzly sow pushed her shoulder. “Why are you so mean to her?” she wanted to know.

“ ’Cause it makes me smile. And if you touch me again, I’ll destroy every nerve that allows you to walk upright.”

“Touch you again? You mean like this?”

The sow reached for her but a hand caught hold of the sow’s wrist and bent it back.

“Now, now. No need for everyone to get testy.”

Malone released the sow and stepped next to Dee, Desiree on the other side of her. It had been a long time since Dee had felt she had some backup during these day-to-day office dramas. It was nice.

“Problem, Dee?” Desiree asked, folding her arms across her chest so her light jacket opened up enough that everyone could see the .45 she had holstered on her hip.

“No, no,” Blayne said quickly, suddenly able to get control of her torrent of tears. “It’s no problem. Everything is fine.”

“You sure, Blayne?” the polar asked.

“Positive. Thanks, guys.”

With a little jaw popping in warning, the bears walked off and Blayne faced Dee again. “This is so not over. I will bend you to my will.”

“Sometimes I look at you,” Dee stated flatly, “and I just want to pull your little head off and play basketball with it.”

“You are so mean,” Teacup snapped, storming off before Dee could bother not arguing with her.

“You are kind of mean, Smith,” Malone told Dee.

“There’s no ‘kind of’ about it. I just am.”

Desiree grinned. “And yet you sound so proud.”

“Girl’s gotta know her strengths.” Dee cracked her neck. “What’s on the schedule?” Although the previous evening’s raid had gone well and they’d dug up a little more info from the ones they’d gone to see right after, they still had a ways to go until they tracked down the money and the ones truly responsible.

“We’re on hold for a few hours.”

Malone looked around the training room. “Since we are, you up for a little training session, canine?”

“What kind of train—”

Dee’s words were cut off by Malone’s fist slamming into her face.

Desiree stepped back. “On that note, I think I’m going to go take a nap in the sleep room you guys have. You two have fun. Let me know when it’s time to go.”

Dee touched her nose. “You never know how to act, do ya, Malone?”

The She-tiger shrugged. “It depends on who you talk to.”

“Do you really think your father would steal from his Pack to open his own restaurant?”

“I think he’d steal from a sleeping baby to open his own restaurant.”

“Why?”

“He wants to prove he’s better than Uncle Van, which is stupid. Because no one is better than Uncle Van.”

“You still have that six-year-old’s love of him, don’t you?”

“He taught me how to butcher my first gazelle, how to pick up chicks that are way dumb compared to Aunt Irene, and how to not get beaten by the French chef you’re working for. These are things that I can never forget.”

“You going to tell him?”

“I can do that. Adelle thinks I should do that. Or I can just give my father the money so he won’t need the Pack’s money, or I can replace the money he stole.”

“Because you suddenly owe your father any of that?”

“Maybe I’m a son desperate for his father’s love.”

“You don’t even like your father.”

Ric grimaced. “I know. I really don’t. I really don’t like him at all. That makes me a bad person, doesn’t it?”

“No. It means you’ve got good wolf instincts. And to be really honest with you, Ric, no one likes your dad. I don’t think your dad likes your dad.”

Leaning back in his chair, Ric admitted, “I have to tell Uncle Van, don’t I?”

“Let me ask you this . . . do you feel you have to tell Van because you’re afraid of what will happen to you if you don’t? Or do you have to tell him because you love and respect the man and your Pack?”

“I’ve never been afraid of Uncle Van.” But, when he was younger and weaker, he had been afraid of his father. And as much as he wanted to love him, he didn’t.

“Then you know what you have to do. And you’ll be doing it because it’s the right thing. No matter what your father will accuse you of—you’ll be doing what’s right.”

Feeling a weight lift, Ric said, “Thanks, man. That really helps.”

“I’m a bear, tiny wolf man. We’re all about the wisdom.”

“Really? Then tell me how to make Dee-Ann Smith mine forever.”

“Dude,” Lock laughed, “that’s never going to happen.”

“Thank you, wise bear.”

The grizzly shrugged. “Just trying to help.”