Big Bad Beast

CHAPTER 32

Ric watched as Blayne Thorpe slowly opened her eyes and looked around the hospital room she was in. She gazed at Gwen, Ric, Dee, Lock, her father, Ezra Thorpe, and, eventually, her gaze returned to Gwen. That’s when Blayne wailed, “I’m dead!”

They all jerked a little and Gwen snapped, “No you’re not!”

“Then why are you here? In a hospital? In what you so lovingly call a ‘death trap’?” Blayne demanded. “And how can you even hear me if I’m on another plane of existence?”

“Plane of . . .” Gwen snarled and claws sporting the Philadelphia Eagle’s team colors extended from her hands. “You idiot, you are not dead. You’re recovering from a stab wound to the side—but you’re not dead!”

“Don’t yell at me when I’m the one who’s dead! Who had so much to live for!”

“You are not dead, Blayne, but I can easily change that fact.”

“If you’re my spirit guide to the next world . . . you’re not very good at it. Perhaps you should seek another line of work. Like Angel of Death or something.” Blayne looked at her father and waved. “ ’Bye, Daddy. I’ll miss you so.”

Ric glanced over at the wolf and all Ezra Thorpe could do was shrug and admit, “I adored her mother and she made me promise to always take care of her. No matter how idiotic she may be acting.”

“Now what’s that supposed to mean?” Blayne demanded.

“Sir!” one of the nurses called from outside the hospital room. “I’m sorry but you can’t go in there. There are too many people already. Sir!”

Bo Novikov, ignoring the nurses trying to stop him, stomped into the room. He still had on his training gear without the skates or helmet. They’d asked Eggie to go get him because they’d rightly assumed he was the one male completely unafraid of the Neanderthal.

Novikov pushed Ric and Lock apart and stepped up to Blayne’s side.

He glared down at Blayne as if she’d done something wrong, and Ric wanted to grab her and make a run for it. That she managed to get past the glare some players still woke up screaming from was a testament to Blayne’s capacity to love just about anything .

“Are you my new spirit guide?” Blayne demanded of Novikov. “Because I’m not real impressed with the last one they sent me.”

“Spirit guide?” Novikov asked.

“To lead me to the next plane of existence.”

“And I’d need to do that because . . .”

“I’m dead. Don’t you people get paperwork on this sort of thing?”

With his hands still covered in his hockey gloves, Novikov poked Blayne on her wounded side.

“Owwww!” she screeched.

“Did that hurt?” Novikov asked.

“Yes!”

“Then you’re not dead.”

With her hand resting over her now-agitated wound, Blayne looked around at everyone and finally asked, “Well, why didn’t anyone tell me?”

That’s when Gwen tried to get her hands around Blayne’s throat and Lock was forced to lift the hissing feline up and away while Novikov held Blayne down by pressing his hand against her forehead. The wolfdog swung her arms wildly, trying to slapfight her best friend. Fortunately, the need for IV drugs to help speed Blayne’s recovery had been unnecessary since Blayne had begun to heal even before they’d left Desiree and Mace’s house. So there was no abuse of IV bags or lines when the fight broke out.

Chuckling, Ric turned to say something to Dee when something strong grabbed his shoulder and yanked him out of the room.

Dee wandered out of Teacup’s room, already bored by all the fighting—did these people not know how to simply be grateful they were alive? She walked over to Desiree and Mace, Marcus asleep on his momma’s lap.

“Y’all all right?” Dee asked. “Want me to get you something?”

“No,” Desiree answered for them all. “We’re fine. How’s Blayne?”

“Arguing over something ridiculous with her freak-necked friend Gwen—so I’m going to guess she’s just fine.”

“I owe her so much,” Desiree said and Dee shook her head.

“Please, Desiree. No more tears. I can’t handle any more.”

“Look, bitch,” Desiree snapped. “If I wanna be fuckin’ grateful for you people protecting my son, I’m going to be mother-fuckin’ grateful.”

“My delicate flower,” Mace muttered.

“Shut up.”

He grinned, winked at Dee. Yeah. Some couples were just meant to be together.

“You seen Malone?”

“Yeah. She’s down there talking to Abby and Hannah.” At the mention of the two young shifters, it looked like Desiree was tearing up again, so Dee quickly escaped to a spot next to Malone.

“MacDermot still crying?” Malone murmured.

“Lord, yes.”

“Give her some time.”

Dee understood. It was hard to come so close to losing the most important thing in your world and not feel it.

Focusing on the two girls, Dee said to Abby, “You going to spend a little more time being human from now on?”

She shrugged, tugging at the loose-fitting hospital scrubs the nurses had given her when she’d come in naked, unwilling to leave Blayne or Marcus yet. “Maybe.”

“Well, just so you know . . . you’re not ugly.”

Malone snorted and Hannah raised a brow.

“That was the bet in the office. That you wouldn’t shift because you were ugly. But you’re not. You’re cute enough.”

Malone pressed her hand to her mouth, but the snorts of laughter slid past her fingers.

“Gee. Thanks.”

“Welcome.” Dee looked at Hannah.

“You going to tell me I’m cute enough, too?”

“No. I’m going to tell you that I better not see even a moment of you looking ashamed for what you did tonight. Not in front of me. Not unless you want to get punched in the face a few more times. Understand me?”

“Yeah.”

“Oh, my God,” Malone laughed, unable to contain it anymore. “Is this your rallying pep talk?”

“Yep. What do you think?”

“Don’t quit your day job,” the three females told her in unison.

“That was kind of rude.” Dee turned, thinking she could use a soda from the machine when she saw Mitch and Sissy Mae standing there, staring at her. “What’s wrong?”

“We thought . . .” Sissy Mae and Mitch glanced at each other, Mitch grimacing and looking away.

“Sissy, what is it?”

“We just saw your daddy walking off with Ric and—the other stairs, Dee!” Sissy yelled after her. “He took the other stairs!”

Ric shook Eggie Smith’s hand and nodded. “Thank you, sir.”

But before he could pull his hand away, Dee-Ann charged into the basement parking lot and, except for the blood and powder burns, she looked absolutely gorgeous in that dress.

“Hey,” he said.

She eyed the males closely. “Hey. Everything all right?”

“Yes.” Ric smiled at Dee’s father. “See you for dinner tomorrow?”

“If I have to.”

Dee’s eyes widened. “You’re staying, Daddy?”

“That a problem?”

“No, no. Of course not.”

“Your momma deserves a vacation.” He looked back and forth between the pair, then said, “ ’Night.” Got into a car and drove off.

“Why were you shaking my daddy’s hand?”

“He gave me his blessing.”

“There’s no call for lyin’, Ric Van Holtz.”

“I’m not lying. He said it. I think he meant it.”

“Are you sure?”

“Pretty sure. I mean, he didn’t stuff me in his trunk and drive me out of here. So I take that as a good sign. Don’t you?”

“Yeah.” Still . . .

“I met your mother, too. She’s really amazing, Dee.”

“Did you say that to my daddy? In that same way?”

“Yes, but she is,” he argued. “There’s just something about her.”

“You did it,” Dee told him.

“I did what?”

“Found the way to my daddy’s heart despite your tragic birth into the Van Holtz family. And that is to go through my momma’s heart first.”

“Oh.”

“No call to look so cocky, though.”

“Fair enough. Now, come here,” Ric told her and she eagerly went into his arms, the pair hugging each other tight after such an incredibly bad day. But it had ended well, and that’s all that mattered in the long run.

“When we have kids,” Dee told him, “we’re getting Blayne, Abby, and Hannah to babysit.”

Ric laughed. “Absolutely.” He hugged her once more. “You ready to head home?”

“Not yet. Not quite done for the night.”

“Funny, that’s what your father said.”

“Hmmm,” she replied, but that was it.

Holding hands, they headed back to the elevator, but Dee suddenly stopped and looked into his eyes. “Love ya,” she said.

Ric grinned. “I love you, too, Dee.”

She nodded and together they returned to Blayne’s hospital room and what had turned into a very nice mini-brawl.

Together, the three females dressed in designer gowns hauled the duct-taped, white-haired female from the back of the old Chevy one of them had stolen and dumped her into a dirt hole in the middle of a Staten Island landfill.

The She-wolf reached down and yanked the duct tape off her mouth. “Got anything to say?”

“Do you really think you’ve changed anything?” the white-haired woman demanded. “Do you think you’ve done any real good here? Or that you’ll do any good by killing me?”

“I think,” the She-tiger replied, “that your mistake was fucking with the wrong mother.”

The only full-human among the small group stepped forward, raised the .45 she held and squeezed the trigger—once.

Afterward and together, they filled in the hole and cheerfully chatted about big dinner plans for the following day.