Big Bad Beast

CHAPTER 18

Ric walked into the Group office. He felt better after getting Lock’s perspective and now he needed to get some office work done before he made that call, using the three-hour time difference between New York and the West Coast as an excuse to delay the inevitable.

“Morning, Charlene.” He stopped by the front desk and took the mail from the perky fox admin, who always had a smile. “Everything going all right?”

“Yep. We have visitors, though. Detective MacDermot and Marcella Malone of KZS.”

“Any problems?”

“Don’t think so. They’re in one of the training rooms.”

“Good. Thanks.”

Knowing that Dee-Ann hated to be interrupted during her workout, Ric headed straight for his office. As soon as he stepped inside, he knew that the She-wolf had been there. Her scent still lingered and she’d left a report on his desk, along with a note.

We need to talk.—Dee

Vividly remembering the last twenty minutes of his conversation with Lock: Let’s face it, you’ll never hold on to Dee, so when she dumps you—which will be way sooner than later—just accept it. You’ll be better off and live longer, Ric couldn’t shake the feeling he had, in fact, been dumped. Already. Talk about not giving a guy a chance.

Annoyed and with no intention of listening to the bear’s advice on this particular subject, Ric crumpled up the note and tossed it into the trash can. That’s when he saw little Abby Vega dancing outside his office, her little wolfdog or wolf-coyote—to be honest, they hadn’t been able to tell specifically what she was and no one could get close enough to find out by scent or blood tests—feet prancing.

“Hi, Abby. You okay?” Did she need a walk? God, he hoped not. That would just be beyond the realm of weird.

She barked, ran away, charged back, barked.

He remembered to have patience and decided not to tell her to cut the crap, shift already, and tell him what she wanted him to know. “Do you need me to see something?” he asked, tempted to add “Lassie” to the end of that.

She nodded and started off again.

Ric followed Abby down several hallways until they reached the room with the training ring where Group members practiced hand-to-hand combat.

Unfortunately, Ric couldn’t really see what was going on. It seemed that everyone in the Group had stuffed themselves inside or at the big windows that looked in.

Abby crouched down and crawled on the floor, but Ric wasn’t about to do that. He had his dignity. Instead, he pushed his way in, ignoring the snarls, growls, and nips that followed.

The fist slammed into Dee’s throat and she dropped to her knees. Malone moved on her, swinging at her again, but Dee caught her arm, yanked the She-tiger in, and turned her, dropping her to the mat. She then pushed her knee into Malone’s chest and twisted her arm up and away from her body.

While Dee was trying to get Malone to submit, she heard a soft throat clear and looked up into pretty brown eyes glaring at her from under scowling brows.

Shit.

Her grip loosened on Malone’s arm and the She-tiger brought up her leg and slammed her knee into the upper part of Dee’s back, sending her crashing into the ropes of the ring, which had her flying back and right into Malone’s waiting fist.

That was pretty much the last thing Dee remembered for quite a bit until Malone slapped her and yelled, “Wake up, Smith!”

Dee opened her eyes. “Thank you very much,” she snapped.

“You let that pretty face distract you. Mistake number one.” She handed Dee a damp cloth to wipe the blood off. “Would it make you feel better if I said you almost had me?”

Taking her time, Dee sat up. When she felt stable, she reached out and cuffed the side of Malone’s head.

“Hey!”

“Help me up.”

Malone gripped her arm and yanked Dee to her feet.

“Can you stand on your own?”

“Yeah.”

Malone released her and Dee immediately held up a finger. “Don’t hit me again.”

Malone lowered her fist and grinned. “I’m glad to see you’re still the toughest canine I’ve ever met. Still not feline, though. Ya gotta work on your finesse, Smith.”

“Here’s your finesse,” she offered, raising her middle finger while she searched the thinning crowd now that the fight was over. She didn’t see Ric, so she went between the ropes and jumped down.

“Hey,” Malone called out. “You want me to come along and help you smooth things over with your boss?”

“He’s my supervisor and I can’t blame you for everything if you’re standing right beside me, now can I?”

“Excellent point.” Malone, still in the mood to tussle, held out her arms. “Anybody else up for a little—”

A male tiger leaped into the ring and Malone shook her head. “Forget it.”

“Oh, come on. You and me, let’s go for it.”

Still wiping her face with the cloth, Dee made her way to Ric’s office. She found him behind his desk, seething.

“I know what you’re thinking—” she began.

“What part of ‘make this work’ were you not clear on?” he asked, sitting back in his fancy office chair, fingers interlacing over his flat stomach.

Dee walked up to the desk. “It’s not what you think.”

“You two weren’t beating the hell out of each other in the ring on Group territory?”

“All right, it is what you think, but it wasn’t done viciously or anything. We’re actually getting along. Wouldn’t say we’re friends, but after I fell off that building last night she—”

Ric held his hand up. “You fell off a building?”

“Sorta rolled off the ledge, but I didn’t hit the ground or anything ’cause I had hold of—”

“Stop.” The wolf shook his head. “If I don’t know exactly what you do to get done what you do, I can’t be freaked out by it, now can I?”

“That’s how my momma gets through the day.”

“Then that’s what we’ll do.”

Dee frowned. “Is something else wrong?”

“No.” He gazed at her. “Do you think there’s something wrong?”

“Other than you acting weird? No.”

“Then I guess nothing’s wrong.” He focused on his computer and she got the feeling she’d just been dismissed.

Deciding it would be better to talk to Ric when he wasn’t being such a snobby prick about a friendly little brawl in the middle of the office, Dee stepped away from the desk, but she caught sight of a single crumpled paper in the otherwise empty trash can. She reached in and pulled it out when she realized it was the note she’d left for him.

“You’re throwing out my notes now?”

“I have a wonderfully intact mind,” he told her, not looking away from his computer screen. “I would have remembered to discuss whatever issues you may have at a later date. When it was convenient for me.”

Shocked, Dee demanded, “What is your problem, Van Holtz?”

“I don’t have a problem,” he said while typing on his keyboard. “I simply thought we were going to keep personal issues out of the office.”

“Yeah, but I thought you’d want to know right quick if I found your brother trying to break into that big ol’ safe you’ve got in your office.”

Ric spun his chair around to face her. “Wait. What?”

“I caught your brother trying to get into your safe. Since he didn’t seem to have the combination, I’m assuming he was breaking in.”

Van Holtz blinked. “Oh. Oh. Oh!” He sat up, arms on his desk, back straight. “Oh. Right. You’re absolutely right. He shouldn’t have been anywhere near my apartment. In fact, I banned him from there because he insulted Lock. So . . . good job.”

Dee studied him. “That was a lot of ‘ohs,’ Van Holtz.”

“No. Just . . . you know.”

Dee looked at her note, straightening out the crumpled paper. She read it again and raised her eyes to the wolf. She’d never been one to write wordy notes but this one, if taken out of context . . . “Did you think I was—”

“No.”

He answered so quick, she knew. “You did, didn’t you?”

“Okay, I misread it. Can we let it go?”

“Not really.” Not when he was blushing and just twenty dang levels of cute!

“Look, I made a mistake. Okay? It happens. Let’s just not talk about it.”

“Like it’ll be that easy.” Dee slammed his office door and locked it, then faced him.

“What are you doing?”

“I think we need to clear some things up,” she said, ambling back over to his desk.

“Not necessary. Nothing to clarify. I say we forget it ever happened. Can’t we forget?”

Dee moved around the desk and over to Ric, straddling his thighs with her legs until she dropped right into his lap.

“Nah.”

He squirmed a little in the chair. “Well, can you do this while not sitting on my lap?”

She gazed down at his lap. “You gettin’ hard, Ulrich?”

“You’re sitting in my lap, Dee-Ann. Smelling all sweaty and bloody—of course, I’m getting hard.”

“Then I’ll make this quick, just so we’re clear. I don’t end things with people by leaving notes, sending texts, or shootin’ someone an e-mail. Instead I—”

“Shoot them once in the back of the head?”

“You’ve been talking to MacRyrie, I see, and it was a paint-ball gun I used on that cheetah. He survived.”

This wasn’t remotely fair. She wore only a sports bra, workout shorts, and sneakers. Her hands had been taped up for the fight and still had Malone’s blood on them. Her hair was drenched in sweat and her multitude of scars were shiny bright and silver against her damp flesh.

Honestly . . . he could only handle so much!

And Dee-Ann Smith knew it, too. She knew what she was doing to him, pressing her hands against his shoulders and kind of pinning him against the chair, making him feel all vulnerable and helpless.

Evil sex sorceress!

“Trust me, darlin’,” she said low, “when this thing is over between us, I’ll let you know, in person. Like a woman. Not like some frightened little girl leaving bullshit little notes. And if you’re not sure . . . ask me.”

“If I ask, are you positive you won’t run?”

“I only run when police are involved . . . or I’m out of ammo.”

“That’s perfectly fair.”

“Glad you think so,” she murmured, then slowly leaned in and sniffed his neck. “Lord, you smell good.”

Ric groaned. “Dee, we can’t do this here.”

“Why not?”

“It’s the office and we’re two highly trained professionals who don’t screw in the office.”

“You were all ready to screw me in your restaurant office.”

“The restaurant is mine. This place belongs to the Group. Plus, I don’t have condoms just lying around for impromptu chair sex with horny, sweaty She-wolves who are driving me wild.”

She pressed her lips against his neck, her tongue making little figure eights against his skin. “Guess we’ll have to come up with something else to do as highly trained professionals.”

Forcing himself to put his hands on her shoulders, Ric pushed her back—and God, it had to be the hardest thing he’d ever done—and said, “We’ll have to come up with something else tonight. Not here.”

“You don’t want anyone to know about us?”

“I really don’t care who knows. But there’s such a thing as decorum and standard operating procedure, which I’m pretty sure doesn’t include sex on my desk.”

“What about in your kitchen?”

“Never in my restaurant kitchen. Hygiene. But all bets are off at my house. We just have to make sure to clean up before Mrs. M. shows up for work.”

“Okay. Okay. I got it.” She stood and if his cock had hands, it would have wrung his neck by now for letting her get away.

While Dee walked to the door and he tried to get control of his baser urges, Ric said, “Wait. When you caught Wendell . . . what did he say to you?”

Dee stopped in front of his desk and slowly faced him. “Nothing,” she said after a long moment, which worried him.

“Dee-Ann . . . what happened?” If his brother had touched her . . .

“I, uh . . . kind of beat the hell out of him.”

“Pardon?”

“Look,” she explained, “among the Smiths, there are just some things you don’t do to your own kin. You don’t steal a wolf’s ’shine, his vehicle, his She-wolf, unless she ain’t marked proper and she wants to go, or his money. I figured that’s what he was trying to get to so I . . . punched him a few times and kicked him in the face and, uh . . .” She cleared her throat. “I shoved him down the garbage chute. Your Mrs. M. showed me where it was.”

“Just tell me one thing, Dee-Ann”—Ric’s hand gripped his desk—“were you . . . naked?”

Now it was Dee’s turn to feel embarrassed. Lord, her cheeks were hot! She wasn’t sure she’d ever blushed before. Then again, she was willing to bet that rich, cultured Ulrich Van Holtz had never had one of his overnight guests shove his brother down a garbage chute. She could only hope her momma never heard of it.

“Lord love you, Dee-Ann,” her mother would exclaim. “Must you be so much like your daddy?”

“Were you, Dee-Ann?” Ric pushed.

“Well . . . you know I ain’t one for puttin’ on clothes first thing. I was hungry so I got up and—”

He was up and around his desk like a shot. When he caught hold of her arm, she thought for sure he was going to toss her out and tell her he didn’t want to see her again. But instead he grabbed her other arm and pushed her until her ass hit his desk. Taking his hand he swiped everything off except his computer and shoved her back against the polished wood.

“Uh . . . Ric?”

Busy pulling down her shorts, he stopped and asked, “You locked the office door, right?”

“Yeah, but—”

“Good.”

Her shorts and panties went flying and suddenly Dee had a tongue between her legs.

“I thought”—her eyes crossed—“no foolin’ around in the office?”

His tongue danced across her clit before he lifted his head and answered, “Do you know how often I’ve daydreamed about shoving my brother down that garbage chute? I’ve also thought about throwing him into a moving plane propeller, but I know that would be really wrong.”

“And first-degree murder.”

“Right. But you . . . you shoved him down the chute. And you did it for me.”

“Because he shouldn’t steal from his kin.”

Ric laughed and there was a touch of bitterness to it. “He doesn’t have a great role model for that. But I was lucky enough to have Uncle Van.” The bitterness faded and the grin returned. “And now I’m lucky enough to have you.”

“Hope you’re not thinking about making this permanent, Van Holtz,” she warned.

“Is this where you tell me you don’t do permanent?”

“No. This is where I tell you that I like you too much to think of you being buried in a shallow grave behind my momma’s house. Because that’s what’s going to happen if my daddy finds out a Van Holtz is messin’ with his only baby girl.”

Big hands with incredibly talented fingers stroked down her thighs. “Guess it’s too bad I think you’re worth the risk.”

“You go up against my daddy, Van Holtz, you won’t win.”

“I know.” He slid his arms under her legs and dragged her to the edge of the desk, spreading her thighs wide. “That’s why I’m going to have to be a little . . .”

Her eyes narrowed. “Wily?”

“Like I said, Uncle Van’s my role model—and the man is good at wily.”

Then his grin disappeared between her legs and Dee didn’t have the strength to stop a superbly talented tongue from giving her the best head ever.

Dez sat at the red light, waiting for it to change so they could head into Jersey. Malone sat in the passenger seat and Dee-Ann was in the back. Janis Joplin’s “Me and Bobby McGee” was playing on the radio while the sun began to set for the night.

At first, Dez thought Cella was humming along with the radio. She had a nice voice, too, throaty and mellow. She usually sang along with all the old rock songs. Anything from the sixties and up.

But when Cella turned her head and looked at her, Dez realized Cella wasn’t the one humming along to “Me and Bobby McGee.”

Dee-Ann had her long legs stretched out across the backseat of the black SUV; the blade she kept on her at all times held casually in her hand, her gaze focused out the window—and she hummed along with Janis.

The light changed and Dez moved forward, heading to their job for the night, and wondering what could make someone like Dee-Ann Smith hum.