Big Bad Beast

CHAPTER 26

Dee walked into the kitchen from the back door. She had sand between her toes and in her bathing suit and she couldn’t wait to rinse it all off. But she immediately stopped and watched the wild dog females and Blayne busy cleaning up a battered Stein.

“What happened?” she asked, wondering if Ric had met up with those hyenas again. Hannah had gone with him and was now quietly making dough—why is she making dough?—in a small corner in the kitchen while the rest of the females fawned over Stein.

“Nothing,” Stein lied. “Everything is cool.”

“Where’s Ric?”

“Went upstairs to get more bandages.” He glanced around at the other females. “I should go to the bathroom. Ric will have a fit if I get blood on his kitchen floor.”

Dee-Ann headed out into the hall and to the stairs. Ric was coming down with a first aid kit and they met at the last step.

“Are you all right?”

“I’m fine.” He kissed her cheek and she smelled gun powder on him. “But glad I’m home.”

“What happened?”

“Nothing. Just Stein’s past catching up to him. Don’t worry.” He smiled and she didn’t believe it for a second. “I handled it and his debt’s taken care of. They won’t be bothering him anymore.” He headed toward his kitchen. “Let me get the kid out of my kitchen and patched up and I’ll make you breakfast.”

“Sounds good.”

Dee went upstairs to the bedroom she shared with Ric and tracked down the gun he’d used. It was a tacky, gold-plated one that Van Holtz would never buy on his own. She returned the weapon to its hiding place and took a quick shower to get all that sand off. Slipping on the bikini she’d told Ric about and a pair of cutoff shorts as well, she headed back downstairs. Stopping briefly to gape at a first-floor bathroom filled with females—now including her cousins and Ronnie Lee—and one young Van Holtz, all trying to wipe up a little blood and put ice on a few bruises, Dee returned to the kitchen. Ric was busy at the sink with his back turned to Dee, so Dee paused briefly and gazed at Hannah until the sub-adult female looked up from what she was doing. Once Dee had her attention, she left the kitchen, went out the back, and over to the far side of the house out of Ric’s line of vision from the kitchen windows.

She found a bench to sit on and waited—she was very good at waiting—until Hannah found her and sat down beside her.

“Well?”

Hannah’s flour-covered hands twisted in her lap, flecks of biscuit dough still clinging to the tips of her fingers. She also wore one of Ric’s bandanas wrapped around her dark brown hair with the black tips.

“We got back to the SUV after shopping and Stein was gone. Ric sent me and Abby back to the farmer’s market.” Abby appeared in front of them, sitting back on her haunches and patiently watching them. “I remembered what you said about not helping and he’d been pleasant enough to me without all that pressure to be happy I get from Blayne.” She took a breath. “So Abby and I followed from the roofs. And we saw that Stein had been grabbed by some bears. Polars, I think.” She shrugged. “I’m still learning all the breeds and everything. The people who raised me before I was snatched are full-human.” She rubbed her forehead with the back of her hand. “Ric handled himself really well. Really put a hurt on those guys. Shot one in the kneecaps when he wouldn’t talk. I didn’t think he would. He was so polite the whole time.”

Dee kept her smile to herself, real proud of Ric at this moment, and waited for Hannah to continue.

“There was something about Stein owing them money. I didn’t understand much of that. But someone bought out the debt and then paid more so that they’d hurt Ric. Hurt him bad.”

“Kill him?”

“No. Just hurt him. A lot.”

Dee nodded, understanding. “Anything else?”

“No.”

Abby barked and Hannah added, “Well, Ric said something to Stein about his father.”

Dee turned her head away, briefly closed her eyes.

“I’m not sure I understood all that, either. And he seemed so calm or whatever. I don’t know how true it was.”

“Thank you, Hannah. I appreciate you telling me.”

“Like I said, Ric’s been nice to me without the pressure.”

Dee did smile at that. “I know exactly what you mean.”

“I thought he’d tell you all this himself, though. You two seem kind of . . . close, or whatever.”

“We are, but Ric didn’t want me to use one of my father’s favorite expressions. ‘Time to start the killin’.’ ”

Hannah nodded. “Yeah. I don’t see Mr. Van Holtz being much of a ‘killin’ ’ type of guy. He was so polite during the whole thing. Never once raised his voice.”

“Yeah. That’s Ric.” She motioned Hannah back to the house. “Go on now. And no one needs to know about this conversation. Understand?”

“Yeah. Sure.” She walked off and Dee looked at Abby. “Get me a phone, would you, Abby?”

Abby barked and ran off. A few minutes later she returned with a phone, dropping it into Dee’s lap. Dee quickly punched in a number and waited for the connection.

After what became a brunch had been devoured and the guests went off to do their own things until dinner time, Ric went back to his kitchen and got to work on the just-delivered meats. Stein stayed out of his way, mostly working outside getting the industrial-grade equipment scrubbed clean and set up for the next bout of summer grilling.

Ric didn’t know why his cousin was avoiding him. For once the problem had very little to do with Stein, even if the means of getting to Ric had come through him. It was simply too easy to blame the kid, for the fact remained that if his father hadn’t used those polars, he’d have found something else. Something with more skill at getting to Ric. In a way, Ric was grateful to Stein. His father could have easily found himself a Dee-Ann type who’d have left Ric disabled and bleeding to death behind a closed Long Island dress shop.

Deciding to put it out of his mind for the moment, because he refused to let his father do what he did so well—ruin his holiday weekends—Ric finished seasoning the turkey legs he hadn’t ordered but thought he might have fun experimenting with and turned toward the four stoves he’d had built into his kitchen when he’d purchased the house. He debated whether he wanted to roast the turkey legs or grill them or—ooh!—fry them, when he realized Dee-Ann was with him in the kitchen, cleaning and preparing the vegetables. And, it occurred to him, she had been there for a while. She even wore one of the bandanas over her hair, knowing how he’d have lost his mind if her hair was swinging free in his hair-free-zone kitchen.

She looked up from the green beans and blinked. “What?”

Ric shrugged. “Just glad you’re here.”

She returned his smile. “Me, too.”

“I’m especially glad you’re wearing that bikini.” He stepped closer and tugged at the cutoffs she wore over her bikini bottoms. “Although these aren’t really necessary.” And yet Dee still managed to wear them the sexiest way possible, the top button undone, the zipper halfway down to give him a peek at those black bikini bottoms. As Stein had remarked to Ric at one point the day before while he’d watched Smith She-wolves walk past his grill and head toward the pool, “There’s definitely a benefit to having Southern sensibilities around, cousin.”

Very true.

“There are children around. Don’t want to ruin ’em for all other females.”

“Good point.”

She took hold of his T-shirt and tugged him closer. Ric pressed his mouth against hers but he didn’t manage to get very far.

“I’m hungry,” a cat whined, standing on the other side of the kitchen island. “Dinner ready yet?”

Ric glared at Mitch Shaw. “I just fed you a couple of hours ago.”

“Why do you wolves always say that to me like it’s supposed to mean something?”

“Is there more food?” Brendon Shaw yelled from outside.

“No!” Mitch yelled back. “He’s in here making out with Dee instead of feeding us!”

And if Ric had been a half-second slower, Mitch Shaw would have been wearing that eight-inch chef’s knife Dee had aimed at his face.

Dee had to admit she was impressed by how Ric ran these mass barbecues with lots of breeds and personalities involved. Several barbecue pits worth of meat could lead to all sorts of trouble when dealing with so many predators, but he had been smart from the beginning and drafted Lock, Novikov, and Bobby Ray to manage the food. Then he let the wild dogs feed their kids first, ignoring the whining and roaring from the lions who had woken from their deathlike slumber as soon as someone yelled out, “Food’s on!”

Once the kids were taken care of, he set up lines for the buffet, but had already pulled out a couple of slabs of ribs just for Mitch and Brendon. While the pair downed that, the rest of them were able to get their food without much of a fuss. Something Dee was sure all concerned appreciated.

Two hours later, there was barely any food left and the pool area was filled with well-fed shifters enjoying the night as small lights automatically popped on around the property.

Like her mother and her mother’s mother, Dee-Ann had made sure everyone else had eaten before she went back to the buffet to get her own. There wasn’t much left to choose from and she sighed a little, picking up one of the few clean plates stacked at the corner of the table.

“Your food is inside, Dee,” Jessie Ann told her, taking the plate away while a group of wild dogs and Blayne helped clean up.

“Sorry?”

“Ric made you a plate. It’s in the kitchen somewhere.”

“Probably in the oven,” Blayne piped in, expertly stacking up dirty plates and platters.

“All right. Thanks.” Dee started to walk off, heading back to the kitchen, but she stopped and asked, “You know where Ric went?”

“Check the roof,” Blayne told her.

Dee went to the kitchen. Stein sat at the kitchen table with his head resting on his arms. The poor thing had had a hell of day, hadn’t he? Beaten up by polars and made to cook for demanding lions. He’d come through it like a trooper, though.

“You all right?” Dee asked while she found her plate of food right where Blayne had told her it would be.

“I’m all right. Just exhausted.”

“You did a nice job this weekend. Taking care of all these people. And the food was great.”

“That was mostly Ric. He’s an amazing chef.”

“You will be, too.”

Stein slowly sat up. “How do you know that?”

“I know that because I know your cousin. He wouldn’t bother pushing you like he does if he didn’t think you had the talent to back it up.”

“Really?”

“Really.”

“Thanks.”

She shrugged and gathered together a fork, knife, and cloth napkin.

“And if you have any more problems with those bears, you let me know. All right?”

“Sure.”

“But no more gambling, or I’m liable to get ornery. Understand?”

“I understand, but it’s not that easy.”

“Make it that easy. Because you won’t like it if I get ornery, son.”

“I’m sensing that.”

“Keep sensin’ it.”

Dee tucked a bottle of imported beer into the back pocket of her jean shorts and took her plate up several flights of stairs until she reached the stairway and small door that led to the roof.

Van Holtz sat Indian–style on the roof’s balcony, an empty plate next to his crossed legs, a bottle of wine and a half-empty wineglass near his knee. A small insulated bag sat behind him. He was mid-yawn when she stepped out and she debated going back out again to give him some much needed peace but he saw her first—and smiled. Moving over a bit, he patted the empty space next to him.

Feeling more welcome than she ever had before, and with only a simple gesture, Dee sat in the spot he indicated. She placed her plate down and pulled the bottle of beer out of her back pocket. She suddenly wished she’d brought a bottle opener since using her front fangs seemed the height of tacky, something her mother had always told her and something Dee had always ignored.

“Let me see that,” Ric said, spotting her dilemma. He took the bottle and popped off the top using his claws. “Adelle taught me that.” He handed the bottle back to her. “She worked a few summers in the hardcore seafood restaurants out here.”

“Thanks,” Dee said, retrieving the bottle from him and taking a quick sip. “And why would she do that?”

“Experience. A lot of us worked in different restaurants when we were younger, to get a feel for not being in a Van Holtz kitchen.”

“Was it tough?”

“Not really. You keep taking jobs at restaurants with the worst reputations in the city or state, thinking there has to be somewhere more abusive than working with your own family—then you find out you’re wrong. You’ll never work any place tougher than a Van Holtz kitchen.”

Dee took her first bite of a beef rib, the meat falling off the bone, the tenderness of it literally melting in her mouth, and she could only reply, “Shut up, suffer, and learn from your kin, Van Holtz, ’cause this is amazing.”

Ric laughed. “I’m glad you like it. Your beans were a big hit, by the way. Who knew you could sauté?”

“Told you I wasn’t helpless in the kitchen.”

“Everyone says that. Then they end up crying in a corner.”

Ric sat back with his wine and let Dee finish her food. Like most predators, she ate quickly, always worried someone was going to steal her meat from her and drag it up a tree out of her reach. But when she leaned back, licking the last remnants of barbecue seasoning off her fingers rather than using her napkin, he knew he’d made a damn good meal.

“You do have a way with meat,” she finally said, leaning back with her palms flat behind her, her long legs stretched out and crossed at the ankles.

“I know that’s a compliment, but it still sounds . . . weird.”

She smiled and Ric felt himself melting.

No. Not melting. There could be no melting around Dee-Ann Smith. Especially when he should be angry with her because she couldn’t keep her damn mouth shut.

“Uncle Van called me.”

“Did he?” She laughed when Ric scowled at her. “What, Ric? Did you think I wouldn’t find out? That I wouldn’t tell him what I knew? You could have gotten killed today.” Then she softly added, “I could have also handled this myself, but I didn’t.”

“You could have at least waited until after the holiday before you told him.”

“Could do lots of things—often don’t.”

“I don’t know what that means, but I’m heading to Washington tomorrow to meet with him.”

“Good.”

“You’re coming with me.”

“Can’t. Got some killin’ to do.”

“If you mean my father—no,” he said simply. “If you mean Missy Llewellyn—no.”

“You’re ruining all my fun.”

“I’m cruel that way. We wait until we talk to Uncle Van.”

“He ain’t my Alpha.”

“No. He’s just the man who signs your checks. He’s your boss. And mine.”

“Fine. We’re not flying coach, though, are we?” She hated being stuck in those tiny seats with nowhere for her long legs to go.

Ric gawked at her, making her think she’d started speaking in tongues like old Great Aunt Delilah used to do during church services.

“A commercial plane? Me?”

Dee laughed outright. “Foolish me. Thinking we might have to sully ourselves on a commercial flight like all those normal people.”

“That’s an insane way of thinking, Dee-Ann, and completely unacceptable when you’re with me.”

“I’ll keep that in mind.” She glanced around at the empty plates. “You ready to head back down?”

“And miss the best part?”

“Best part?” She figured he meant to get her naked up here— not that she’d complain if he did—but off in the distance near the park they’d been at the day before, explosions sounded and fireworks exploded in the sky overhead.

The guests below reacted with cheers and applause—although some of the dogs yipped nervously and the pups squealed.

“See?” Ric asked, grinning at her. “Best part.”

“Absolutely. Although if I’d known there’d be a show, I’d have brought us some dessert so we could eat something sweet and watch.”

“Ye of little faith, Miss Smith.” Ric reached into the small insulated bag he’d brought with him. He pulled out small plates, placing one beside her and the other in front of himself. On each he placed four graham crackers and two very large marshmallows.

“Aren’t we supposed to melt these?” she asked, more tickled than she’d ever been before.

“I’ve always loathed the idea of picking up random sticks that were in the dirt and sticking them through clean food. Besides, I’m relatively certain I don’t want to build a fire up here. So no melting.”

Lord, the man was just so logical. And it was just so . . . cute.

“And the best part . . .” He reached back into the bag and pulled out two bars of Hershey milk chocolate. She appreciated the fact that he didn’t try to use that expensive, snooty chocolate the wild dogs preferred. He’d gone with an all-American favorite and since it was Fourth of July with all that “rockets’ red glare” overhead, it only seemed right.

He handed her the still-wrapped candy and she took it, her fingers grazing against his—and that’s when they both froze, the immediate recognition sending a shiver of absolute pleasure down Dee’s spine.

She looked into his eyes, eyes that were suddenly more familiar than they’d been only an hour ago and she saw the same thing there that she felt.

“Thank you kindly,” she whispered and they smiled at the same time.

“I told Uncle Van I’d be the one to feed you,” Ric sighed out.

“Pardon?”

“Nothing.” Ric’s hand slipped behind the back of her neck and pulled her closer. “Nothing at all.” He kissed her, the fireworks display completely forgotten, and Dee knew in that moment that her daddy would finally have to accept a few things: She’d never be a doctor or lawyer, chances were that killing was as much a family business as her momma’s pie shops, and that his only baby girl would forever be in love with a Van Holtz.