Big Bad Beast

CHAPTER 21

Dee had been right. He never made it to the phone, but it didn’t matter because KZS got in touch with Van themselves. And, at four a.m., a conference call came in for Ric involving Van, the head of the KZS Victoria Löwe, and the sow who ran the NYPD shifter unit, Lynsey Gentry. It was a two-hour conversation that basically ended with his cousin telling them all to, “Take the weekend. We’ll discuss on Tuesday.”

At first, Ric didn’t know why Tuesday, then he remembered that it was July Fourth weekend in another day. And that his father was throwing that big Pack get-together at the Macon River Falls house. An event Ric had already told his mother he wouldn’t be attending. These days she didn’t even bother to argue—she knew his not attending was for the best. Now, though, he was doubly grateful he wasn’t going after he finally called Van earlier in the day and not only confirmed what Van and the other cousins already knew, but he also revealed how much deeper Alder’s thieving actually went. It would, eventually, get back to Alder about Ric’s involvement in his exposure as a thief and betrayer of his Pack, and Ric knew that would be a dark day indeed.

And because of all that, Ric did make sure to call his Uncle Van back after the conference call ended and give him the heads-up that Dee-Ann had found Wendell trying to break into his safe, probably trying to find out how much Ric knew. Van’s response to that information had been . . . surprising.

“Dee-Ann Smith was in your apartment?”

“She’s always in my apartment. She comes and goes as she likes.”

“And she just happened to be there in the early morning?”

“Well, she’s been staying here until she gets a new place to live.”

“Uh-huh.”

Ric mentally shrugged. “Okay. Fine. I’m sleeping with her.”

“Have you lost your mind?”

“No.” And then, just to irritate, “But I have lost my heart.”

“You idiot.”

“I love you, too, Uncle Van.”

“She’s a Smith.”

“She’s amazing. And cute.”

“There is nothing cute about Dee-Ann Smith. What is wrong with you?”

“What can I say? There’s just something about her. I think she’s—”

“Don’t say it.”

“—the one.”

“Christ, you said it. What is wrong with my people? You’re all running around, looking for ‘the one.’ ”

“I wasn’t looking for her. She just sort of appeared. In Lock’s hallway. I knew then. And you said Aunt Irene is ‘the one.’ ”

“That was luck on her part. That she found me.”

“Then I guess I’m lucky.”

“Okay.” He could imagine his cousin trying to find a different way to approach this. “And what does she say?”

“She mentioned something about her father and a shallow grave with me in it but . . . I think I can win him over, too.”

“You cannot win over Eggie Smith. There is no winning over Eggie Smith.”

“But you told me yourself that I’m charming.”

“You’re also an idiot.”

Ric grinned. “But a charming idiot.”

His cousin hung up on him then, never having patience for his in-love brethren, and Ric finally returned to his bed.

He smiled, seeing Dee-Ann in it. She—and the gun and knife she had under her pillow—fit in perfectly. Ric just didn’t know why no one else seemed to see it. Except Blayne. Blayne saw it, but she seemed to be the only one. Not that it mattered, though. The only one who mattered was Dee-Ann and he was more than willing to work with her on this.

Ric eased into the bed and across it—it was a really big bed—until he was able to snuggle up close to Dee-Ann. He put his arms around her and held her tight.

His eyes were closing, moments from falling asleep when the bear-sized queen bed with its titanium frame—possibly one of the heaviest beds in the world—briefly went up, then crashed back to the floor. Both Ric and Dee pulled their guns, Ric’s from a holster he’d had built directly into the mattress for easy access; and Dee’s from under her pillow. They aimed directly at the foot of the bed, their fingers on the triggers, rounds already in the chambers.

Yet the bear-lion hybrid at the end of the bed showed no fear. He gazed at them as only “The Marauder” Novikov could and said, “I need to borrow a house.”

Did the mutt have any idea how close he’d been to getting shot? Dee had armor-piercing rounds in her gun that were strong enough to go through bear hide.

“You want what?” Ric asked. Poor thing. He’d been up for hours and had just gotten back into bed a few minutes ago. And her exhaustion must have been bone deep for her not to have scented Novikov before he even got into the house. That was definitely not like her at all.

“I need to borrow a house. I know you have several locally.”

“What do you want a house for?”

“Why do you care?”

Dee’s finger tightened on the trigger, her lips pulling back over her fangs. But Ric made her lower the gun, his hand firm against hers, pressing it down onto the bed.

“You have your own houses,” Ric argued. “One with a seal farm.”

“Not around here. And Blayne wants a party.”

“What’s wrong with your apartment? It’s massive.”

“And?”

“Do it there,” Ric reasoned.

“I don’t want people around my stuff.”

“But you want them around mine?”

“I don’t care about yours.”

Dee was reaching for her bowie knife then when Ric pinned her to the bed with his body.

“Why don’t I make this easy for both of us? Instead of turning my home over to you, I’ll just pull something together for all of us.”

“Here?” Novikov looked around the bedroom. “It’s kind of boring here.”

Dee had nearly gotten free of Ric’s grasp by that point, but he caught her in his arms and held her tight. The fact that they were both naked, Dee’s fangs bared and her claws out, while these two strange idiots were still talking like they were having tea and cakes did fascinate the part of her brain not busy trying to kill Bo Novikov.

“It wouldn’t be here. I have my own place out on the Island. Near the beach.”

“Shifter friendly or do I have to keep my fangs in?”

“Shifter friendly, but very exclusive. Lots of room in the house, too, so we’ll all be quite comfortable. There’s even a park and beach nearby. I also have an Olympic-sized pool right in my back—”

“That’ll work.” And Dee had a feeling the hybrid would never leave the pool once he got there.

“Excellent. I’ll get everything organized from my end and e-mail you later in the day.” Ric motioned to the door with his chin. “Now go away. And if you took the door off the hinges to get in here—put it back.”

“You’re not training this morning?” Novikov asked.

Ric yanked Dee back to his lap before she could bury her knife in the hybrid’s throat and snapped, “Novikov!”

“It was just a question.”

Novikov lumbered out as silently as he’d appeared and Dee relaxed back into Ric’s chest. “You should have let me kill him.”

“I need him for the team. It’s the price I’m forced to pay.” Ric brushed the hair off her neck and kissed her throat. “It would make this weekend tolerable if you came with me.”

“I’ll probably have work.”

“Doubtful. And I’ll make sure you don’t get anything thrown at you at the eleventh hour.”

“That don’t seem fair.”

“I don’t care about fair. I care about you relaxing with me on Long Island.”

“With Teacup and Mr. Fussy Pants?”

Ric laughed. “Can I call Novikov that forever?”

“Be my guest.”

“Plus Lock and Gwen will be there.”

“Gwen hates me,” she reminded him.

“Don’t be narcissistic. She hates everyone.”

“You have a point.”

“Besides, when was the last time you had a little vacation from killing stuff?”

“When I left the Marines and before I got this job.”

“But you were staying with your parents—so is that really a vacation?”

Dee shrugged. “I enjoyed it.”

Ric held her tighter. “Come with me.”

Feeling real regret, Dee admitted, “You know I can’t. I gotta be with the Pack.”

“You’re going to Tennessee?”

“Nah. Just to the Shaw house, with the Shaw brothers, my cousins, the New York Smith Pack, and the Kuznetsov Pack. It’ll be hell on earth but . . . it’s family.”

Still holding Dee, Ric moved them both closer to the side of the bed until he could reach his cell phone. He speed dialed someone and smiled at her while he waited for the other end to pick up.

“Morning, Jessica.” He’d called Bobby Ray’s mate and Alpha of the Kuznetsov wild dog Pack? Good Lord, but the man played dirty. “It’s Ric. How are you? Great. Great. Listen, I know this is last minute, but how would you like to come out to my house on the Island for the July Fourth weekend? Uh-huh. Well, you can bring anyone you’d like. I understand, though, if you’d rather spend the weekend with the Shaw brothers. Watching them eat . . . and sleep. That is when they’re not ordering everyone around because it’s their property or they’re snoring while you try to get the baby to sl—oh? Really. Are you sure? That will be wonderful. Blayne, Lock, and Gwen will be there, too. Yes. And the lunkhead, but I’m sure he’ll practically live in the pool, so it’s not like you’ll have to communicate with him in any way. I’m not being mean. I thought everyone called him lunkhead. It’s so fitting,” he finished on a murmur. “All right. Yes. Bring anyone who wants to come. There’s more than enough room. Just send me a list later today so I can get enough food. Great. See you then.”

Ric disconnected the call and grinned at her. “See? Now no excuses.”

She pressed her hand against his forearm and looked into his eyes. “Exactly how big is this house you bought?”

He kissed her shoulder before replying, “Pretty big.”

Holding his son in his arms, Mace Llewellyn tried to stop scowling when Ulrich Van Holtz opened his front door. Of course, anytime Missy was involved, scowling always seemed to be involved.

The wolf waved him in with his hand before covering the mouthpiece of the phone he had to his ear with his fingers. “Give me a moment, Mace. I’m ordering meat.”

Okay. “No problem.”

“No,” Van Holtz said into his phone. “I’ll need more sea lion than that. Do you have the steaks?” He pointed down the hallway. “Go on into the living room. I won’t be long.”

Mace walked down the hallway and into the living room, stopping short right at the entrance when he spotted Dee-Ann Smith sitting on the floor in cutoff shorts and a tank top, cleaning her guns. He knew Dee-Ann worked for Van Holtz and the Group but . . . she seemed awfully comfortable.

“Dee-Ann?”

“Hey, Mace,” she said, not looking up from methodically using a chamber brush to clean the barrel of a .45.

“What are you doing?”

“Cleaning my guns.”

Mace had forgotten that he was dealing with Dee-Ann. One of the more literal females he’d known over the years. “I mean, what are you doing in Ulrich Van Holtz’s apartment?”

“Cleaning my guns.”

At that point he decided to let it go. It took too much energy to care.

“Watcha got there, Llewellyn?” Dee-Ann asked, squinting up at Marcus and smiling.

“A spoiled brat who clearly needs more time around males. Or you know . . . you.”

Dee chuckled and got to her feet, wiping her hands off on a cloth. “How would this spoiled brat like some ice cream?”

Marcus hissed at Mace and swatted at him, trying to get him to let go. “Stop doing that!”

“You male cats. Ornery ain’t even the word for it.” She took Marcus from Mace. “Come on, handsome. Let’s get you some fancy, overpriced ice cream.” She walked out of the room as Van Holtz walked in.

“I’ll have you know, Miss Smith, that gelato is superb.”

“Overpriced!” she shot back.

Van Holtz motioned for Mace to sit on one of the couches, but he stopped when he walked around them, seeing the pile of guns spread out on a rather thin cloth laid over his rug.

“Isn’t that the rug you picked up at the charity auction a couple of years ago?” Mace asked.

“Yes.”

“The one for six figures?”

“It’s a one-of-kind original from the eighteenth century.”

“Then you definitely want gun oil on it.”

“I’d yell and throw my hands up dramatically, but she’ll just tell me I paid too much.”

Mace sat down on a couch. “My sister.”

Van Holtz nodded and sat across from him. “Nothing’s been decided yet.”

“You can’t believe my sister had anything to do with this. This is Missy Llewellyn we’re talking about.”

“I made sure to point that out. And I can assure you that we’re going to investigate this thoroughly before we make any final decisions.” Van Holtz leaned back on the couch, raising his foot and resting it on the opposite knee. Mace didn’t think he’d ever seen the rich wolf looking so casual except when he was cooking. Worn jeans, bare feet, and a Cathedral High School Lacrosse T-shirt. They’d gone to the same school, although Mace had been a few years ahead of him. He remembered Van Holtz’s older brother, though. What an asshole that guy was, and he hadn’t changed much. But they didn’t seem alike at all.

“Just promise me you won’t . . . do anything until you talk to me.”

“If she’s done this, Mace—”

“She hasn’t. But if she’s caught up in it somehow—just talk to me. My sister is a lot of things, but she’s my sister. Understand?”

“I do. And you are married to one of our top people on the case.”

Mace gave a little snort. “Considering how well they got along in school . . . you better be the one to give me a heads-up.”

“I will. I’ll also ask that you not discuss this with the other members of your Pride.”

“They’re not my Pride. Haven’t been since I turned eighteen and refused to be bartered off like cheap garbage. But Missy is still blood. She’s still Marcus’s aunt. I can’t forget that.”

“I won’t either. You have my word.”

“Thanks.” Mace got to his feet and walked into the hallway, where Dee-Ann and Marcus almost collided with him. He gazed at the pair and finally asked, “Was there a problem?”

Dee-Ann shook her head. “No. Why?”

“No reason.” He took his son, making sure to keep the child’s face far away from him since he didn’t want to be covered in chocolate gelato the way Dee was. The kid had to be the sloppiest eater on the planet and yet every female, including Desiree, let him get away with it.

Mace took the cone Marcus held—ignoring the way his son latched on to his arm like it was a chicken bone, tiny teeth trying to dig into human flesh—and headed to the door.

“Have a good weekend,” Van Holtz told him.

“You, too.” The door closed behind him and Mace headed to the elevator. Once inside, he held the cone up for his son so he would unleash his hold on him and lick the cone instead.

“I don’t know what allure you have for women,” Mace told the little brat, “but I’m guessing it has a lot to do with the minimane you’ve got going on.”

“Cute kid,” Dee-Ann told Ric when the door closed. “I like the hair.”

“He likes you.”

“I’m guessing that like his father, he likes anything with tits.”

Ric stepped closer and licked the melted chocolate gelato off Dee-Ann’s nose. “Yum.”

“Was Mace here about Missy?”

“Of course. She’s his sister.”

“True, but she doesn’t deserve it. Don’t even think she wrote him when he was stationed overseas and he spent most holidays in Smithtown with Bobby Ray.”

“It’s still his sister and that’s all that matters to him.” Ric slipped his arm around her waist. “Are you packed?”

“Packed?”

“For the weekend away. You’re still coming?”

“Not much choice now that everyone in the New York Pack is coming. They all want to see your house.”

“I got the list from Jess. I had to up my zebra and gazelle meat since the lion males are coming as well. But you’re still coming, aren’t you?”

“If you’re still sure.”

“Why wouldn’t I be?”

“Sissy and Ronnie are going to be there. They’ll see us together. Trust me when I say records will be broken gettin’ that information back to Tennessee.”

“So?”

She petted his cheek. “I’ll miss you when you’re gone.”

“You know, your father might actually like me.”

And Ric tried not to take it personally when she burst out laughing and went back to cleaning her guns on his expensive, eighteenth-century rug.