Big Bad Beast

CHAPTER 19

Dan Phillips of South Jersey was nearly asleep when he felt that weight pressing down on his chest, that blade against his throat.

His eyes shot open and in the blackness of the night, he could see nothing but those shiny eyes. The eyes of an animal.

He opened his mouth to scream but a soft “Hush, now,” stopped the words in his throat.

Beside him lay his wife, sleeping peacefully, blissfully unaware that something was on top of him with a knife to his throat.

It leaned in close and whispered against Dan’s ear. “The only reason I haven’t killed you yet is because you don’t really know what you’re helping to fund. So I’m going to give you one chance to save your life and keep what seems to be a happy family from mourning the loss of their daddy. Understand?”

He nodded.

“The name of the client that provides money to the Connecticut Animal Rescue Foundation?”

That’s what it wanted to know? About the goddamn animal rescue that a bunch of rich do-gooders invested money in?

He gave the name and he felt whatever was on top of him stiffen in surprise. Then it said, “Thank you kindly” and was gone.

It didn’t need to tell him not to say anything to anyone or not to call the police. It didn’t have to. He knew if he ever said a word to anyone, it would be back—and he’d be dead.

Cella was stretched out on the hood of the SUV, staring up at the stars. “Are you sure you heard him correctly?”

“There ain’t nothin’ wrong with my hearing, Malone. I know what I heard.”

Fuck, this was bad. Very bad. And the two females resting against the SUV knew that already.

“Well?” Smith demanded. “Anyone have any bright ideas?”

MacDermot walked a few steps away from the SUV and suddenly yelled out, “Fuck! Fuck!”

Cella sat up. “Let’s all calm the hell down.”

“How do you expect me to calm down?” MacDermot asked. “I mean, seriously? This is bad.”

“For all of us,” Cella reminded her. “With what I found out and Smith . . . this is bad for all of us. But we knew some serious money had to be behind this.”

“Yeah,” Smith said, “but this? Did you know?”

Cella scowled at the wolf. “What are you accusing me for?”

“Stop,” MacDermot ordered them. “We’re not going to turn on each other now.”

“So what do we do?”

Smith pushed away from the SUV. “I’ll handle it.”

“No—” But Smith was already moving toward the back of the SUV.

Cella and MacDermot went after her. “You can’t do this without authorization,” MacDermot reminded her.

“Fuck authorization.”

She unlocked the trunk, but Cella slammed her hand over it. “You’re not doing this, Dee-Ann. Not without authorization.”

“And you really think we’re going to get that?”

Cella nodded. “Yeah. I think we’ll get it. But only if we handle this right.”

“And what’s the right way to handle this?”

“To let our bosses do it. Not us.”

“Why not us?”

She decided to be honest. “You”—she pointed at Dee-Ann—“kill at the slightest provocation. I hit for no other reason than I feel like it. And MacDermot is rude and abrasive.” Cella put her arms around each woman’s shoulders and hugged them in tight. “Oh, my God! I just realized. I love you guys!”

“You’re touchin’ me,” Dee-Ann complained.

“Yeah, but at least this time it’s not ’cause I’m hitting you.”

“Only ’cause my back’s not turned.”

MacDermot laughed. “She’s got a point, Malone.”