Big Bad Beast

CHAPTER 22

“So what do you think?” Ric asked her.

Studying Ric’s “recent purchase,” Dee could only say, “Seems more a . . . resort than a house.”

“Why would you say that? Because of the guest houses?”

“And the multiple tennis courts, the nearby lake. All you’re missing is a gift shop and one of your restaurants.”

“It’s a Pack house. Where a large number of wolves can relax and enjoy a weekend away from the bustling city. Or, as in our case, a large number of random shifters who should probably never be in the same place at the same time, getting on each other’s nerves for an entire weekend until someone ends up mauled and whining.”

To prove that point, MacRyrie lumbered up to them, the grizzly grinning. “This place is great, Ric.”

“Thanks.”

“I brought you a house-warming gift.”

Ric glanced down. “Cats?”

“Huh?”

“Your hands, my friend.”

MacRyrie looked down at his big hands. “Oh, gosh! I did it again. Sorry, guys.” He dropped Brendon and Mitchell Shaw, the two lions slamming hard to the ground. “Let me show you what I made you.”

The grizzly went back to his truck and returned with a coffee table made entirely of wood, created by MacRyrie himself. Dee knew the man had some skills but damn . . . he was really good.

He plopped the table down, forcing the lions on the ground to flatten themselves to the grass so that they weren’t hit on the head.

“What do you think?”

“It’s gorgeous, Lock. Thank you.”

“It’s nothing.” But the bear’s wide smile told Dee he’d put a lot of work into it.

“I think it will look perfect in the main living room,” Ric added.

“There’s a main living room?” Dee asked.

“Don’t judge.”

“I’ll take it in.” The grizzly picked it up and headed into the house, carrying the table under one arm.

Dee glanced at Ric. “That thing weighs about a hundred pounds, doesn’t it?”

“Probably more. I have him place the furniture he gives me and then I never touch it again. I don’t want to strain my back.”

More cars, SUVs, and trucks pulled up into the long winding road that led up to the Long Island property.

“Guess I better get inside.” He kissed Dee’s cheek. It was a sweet kiss, but still managed to make her heart beat just a little faster. “I hope you’ll relax this weekend.”

“Do I have to wear shoes?” she asked.

Ric shook his head. “Not if you don’t want to.”

“Then relaxing should be easy enough.”

“Good.” Ric walked inside his home, and Dee watched him, thinking about following him. Maybe dragging him into the nearest bedroom for a few minutes before everybody showed up.

But Ric had barely stepped inside the big house before Sissy Mae and Ronnie Lee were standing beside her.

“You and Van Holtz?” Sissy asked.

“Yeah.” Dee-Ann faced her younger cousin and Alpha Female. “And?”

“Nothing. Ulrich Van Holtz just seems . . .”

“Out of my league?”

“I was gonna say he just seems smaller than what you usually go for. And much more pleasant.”

“At least he’s not dragging himself off the ground after getting slapped around by a grizzly.”

Brushing dirt off his T-shirt and shorts as he got to his feet, Mitch Shaw snapped, “He didn’t slap us around. That bear’s dangerous and unstable. And shouldn’t be around my delicate baby sister!” he yelled as Gwen walked past with her duffle bag.

“Let it go already,” she shot back.

Dee reached around and grabbed Ronnie Lee’s hand—the hand holding the phone—and squeezed.

“Ow!” Ronnie Lee yelped. “Ow, ow, ow, ow, ow, ow, ow, ow-ow-ow! ”

“Who you callin’, Ronnie Lee?”

“No one!”

Dee squeezed tighter. “Who you callin’, Ronnie Lee?”

“Just my momma. To say hi!”

“Let’s not do that, okay?” Dee waited until she heard metal bend and some bones crack before she released Ronnie’s hand. “That all right with you, Sissy Mae?”

“A day not talking to my mother is like a day of sunshine and sweet tea.”

“Good.” Dee faced Ronnie. “That all right with you, Ronnie Lee?” The wolf glared up at her from the spot on the ground where Ronnie had dropped to her knees.

“Yes,” the She-wolf hissed. “But you could have just told me not to call.”

“I could have also twisted your arms outta their sockets. Figured this was friendlier. Now y’all have yourselves a great time.” Dee went into Ric’s SUV and grabbed one of the cases of overpriced wine he’d brought with him and headed into the house.

Ric rubbed his forehead with both hands. When Novikov had said he was going to be arriving at the house a few hours before anyone else, Ric simply assumed the man was going to get in some pool time before he had to fight the swamp-cat lions for space. But he was realizing that Bold Novikov was much more diabolical than that.

The seven-one hybrid stood proudly in front of the chart he’d written out on several giant Post-Its that he’d stuck to the wall. The wall Ric had designated for the Jackson Pollack he’d purchased a few years back. He briefly wondered whether Novikov would have still put his precious chart up there if the Pollack had already been in place.

“Now,” the hybrid went on, “as you see, I’ve assigned rooms to everyone on your attendance list, keeping the Smith wolves in close proximity to the dogs, with Bobby Ray Smith and Jessica Ward-Smith in the room set up between them. Plus, this one also had an attached room they could put their baby in.” He’d written out each person’s name on smaller pieces of sticky paper and carefully placed them in the rooms he’d meticulously drawn out. To be honest, Ric hadn’t seen house specifications so expertly drawn outside a set of government-official blueprints.

“I was really thinking people could just pick their own rooms,” Ric tried to suggest.

Blue eyes narrowed. “But I have a chart.”

“Yes. You do. With colored legend and arrows and, of course, illustrations of each breed.”

“I always feel that visuals help.” He held up a stack of sheets. “I also made accompanying flyers for everyone.”

Ric’s hands curled into fists. “Yet the idea is that everyone can come here and just relax. Unburdened by rules and regulations as long as everyone keeps the Viking-like pillaging to a minimum.”

Novikov pointed at the wall. “But I have a chart.”

“And a lovely chart it is. Truly. Beautiful. But it seems like a lot of work for you. Wouldn’t you rather lounge in the pool for . . . you know . . . ever?”

“I have schedules for pool use.” Novikov stuck another giant Post-It onto the wall. “That way we can all get a proper amount of pool time without actually infringing on each other’s space.” Then Novikov added. “You don’t have to thank me for that.”

Before Ric could tell the man how much he wasn’t going to thank him for that, Lock walked up to him. “Your cousin’s here.”

“Specifics, Lachlan.” Since he had hundreds of cousins worldwide.

“Stein.”

Finally! “Stein!” Ric yelled out.

His younger cousin walked into the room, looking comfortable and summer-ready in baggy swim shorts, an Hawaiian shirt, and a ridiculous straw hat.

“Cousin! Man, this weekend is just what I need.” He slapped Ric on the back. “Thanks so much for inviting me.”

Ric stared at him, just gazed until the kid finally got it.

“I’m here as slave labor, aren’t I?”

“Kitchen. Meat. Chicken. Clean, strip, debone, season. Now.”

“But can’t I—”

“Move!”

Shoulders slumping, the kid wandered off to find the kitchen.

“What fantasy world is he living in?” Ric wanted to know.

Lock motioned to Novikov’s charts and schedules. “What is this?”

“These are the sleeping arrangements. As you can see, I placed you here in room 4B.”

“The rooms are numbered?”

“They are now. White duct tape.”

Ric gritted his teeth. “You put white duct tape on my mahogany, hand-crafted doors?”

“This place is huge, Van Holtz. You don’t want your guests getting lost.”

Ric went for Novikov’s throat but Lock held him in place with an arm around his shoulders. “What’s that?” Lock asked the hybrid.

“That’s the pool schedule. I also have a tennis court schedule and basketball court schedule.”

“Pool schedule?” Lock laughed. “You don’t think that’s going to work, do you?”

“Of course, it will. I wrote it out. In pen.”

But to prove the ineffectiveness of his theory, two lion males tore down the stairs, made a mad dash through the house, tearing off clothes as they went, and crashing into each other, Ric’s furniture, and the walls, screaming, “Pooooooool!”

“Wait!” Novikov yelled, running after them. “There’s a schedule! Your time isn’t for another three hours!”

And like that, Ric’s anger vanished, replaced by laughter.

“Come on,” he said to Lock. “Let’s go torture Stein by telling him he’s doing everything wrong even when he’s not.”

“Excellent plan.”

Lock walked off and Ric began to follow, but stopped long enough to return to the chart and move Novikov’s precisely placed people all over the place, separating couples from each other, their children, and spreading them out randomly so breeds and species were all sorts of mixed.

Laughing harder, he headed toward the kitchen, already deciding he didn’t like the way Stein deboned those damn chickens.

Yeah. It was going to be a great weekend!

Dee headed into the house from a side door after spending a couple of hours in the pool with her Pack and kin. As she passed through, she saw that the Shaw brothers had moved from lounging next to the pool to lounging in the living room, both of them sprawled over Van Holtz’s furniture like the big, lazy beasts they were. In fact, Mitchell might actually be drooling. Shaking her head, disgusted, she walked down the hallway toward the kitchen.

“Dee,” she heard behind her, but Dee kept walking. “Dee. Dee-Ann. Dee-Ann. Deeeeeeee-Annnnnnnn.”

Eyes closed, Dee stopped, took a breath, before she faced Teacup. “Yeah?” Dee gritted her teeth when the wolfdog hugged her. “Why are you touching me?”

“Because you’re really a wonderful person and maybe the world thinks you’re just a heartless killer, but I think you’re the best. The best!”

Dee looked over the wolfdog’s head at the small group of hybrid pups and cubs that she’d invited to come here this weekend. The rest of the Group’s hybrid kids had plans with their foster families, but this bunch, including Hannah, had no one. So, yeah, Dee had invited them all to attend after talking it over with Ric. It wasn’t a big deal. Why did Teacup insist on making everything a goshdarn big deal?

“Get her off me,” she told Hannah.

“Why me?”

“Get her off.”

Sighing, the bear-canine hybrid took hold of Blayne’s waist and pulled until she’d finally released Dee.

“Go find rooms,” she told them all. “Anything that doesn’t already have someone’s bags in it. I don’t want to hear any damn arguing over it either.”

The kids took off, running up the stairs, someone yelling, “But did you look at the chart?” from somewhere in the house. Dee didn’t know who and she didn’t care.

“You want to play tennis with me?” Blayne asked.

Good Lord, the woman had so much energy. Dee had seen her taking a run around the property, disappearing for several hours. She’d probably run ten, maybe even twenty miles, and now, standing in Van Holtz’s marble hallway, sweat pouring from every pore onto the man’s floor, she didn’t want to shower and pass out like the cats. She wanted to play tennis. Freak.

“Nope,” Dee told her, turning away. “Don’t want to play tennis.”

Blayne cut in front of her. “How about a swim? Or basketball? There’s a basketball court, too.”

Dee caught hold of Blayne’s nose between the knuckles of two of her fingers. “What is it I just said?”

“You said no. You said no! Ow! Let me go, you Amazon!”

Twisting the nose she held a little more, Dee pushed Blayne down the hallway until they reached the kitchen. Using Blayne’s body, Dee shoved open the large swinging door and stalked in.

The wild dogs sitting around the kitchen table, eating more chocolate than was probably good for them, looked up at her, eyes wide.

“What did I tell you people when you arrived? What did I say to you? My exact words?”

“Keep the wolfdog away from me,” they all repeated back to her. All except Jessie Ann, who was too busy giggling around a mouthful of dark chocolate brownies. At least Dee guessed the brownies were dark chocolate. Bobby Ray’s woman had a real thing for dark chocolate. It couldn’t be normal.

“And yet what is she doing?”

“Annoying you?” one of the wild dogs asked.

“Yes. Annoying me.” She shoved Teacup away from her. “Don’t annoy me!”

“But I just wanted to show you how much we love and care and—”

Ric appeared beside Blayne and shoved a piece of chocolate cake into her mouth. “Isn’t that delicious, Blayne? Enjoy.” He grabbed Dee’s wrist and dragged her toward the back of the house, stopping long enough to glare at a busy Stein, who’d stopped butchering something to wipe his forehead.

“What?”

“Get to work.”

“I was just—”

“Don’t argue!” Ric pulled her out of the kitchen, through the mud room, and out the back door.

“Why do you keep torturing that poor boy?”

Ric stopped and faced her. “You ask me that after you had Blayne’s nose in a Dee-lock?”

“She’s annoying. Stein is working his ass off.”

“And he’ll continue to do so. There’s no easy way back into the Van Holtz Pack. And if I’m going to make a good case to get him back in, he’ll need to prove to me that he deserves it.”

Dee smirked. “Look at you, Van Holtz. Trying to sweet talk me.”

MacRyrie walked out of the house, carrying a baseball bat.

“Is that for Novikov?” Ric asked, sounding way too hopeful.

“No. Wanted to see if anyone was up for a little softball game.”

Dee folded her arms over her chest. “You? Playing softball? This isn’t your idea, is it, MacRyrie?”

Because MacRyrie was a lousy liar, he looked past Dee and asked, “Why would you ask me that?”

Dee glanced over at the kitchen window and saw Blayne and the wild dogs duck for cover. Snarling, Dee snapped, “Teacup!”

“Oh, come on, Dee,” Ric argued teasingly. “How bad could a little game of softball between friends be?”