Bite Me

CHAPTER 30

Shen had insisted on driving, which was probably a good idea. Vic couldn’t think straight. He couldn’t focus. He could barely breathe.

They arrived at a house on Long Island in the middle of what Vic knew was Malone family territory. The Malone tigers were descended from Irish Travellers and would take over entire streets so that strangers couldn’t wander in and get into their business.

Shen parked the truck next to a silver BMW that Vic recognized. It belonged to Livy’s uncle Balt. It seemed her family had been informed about what had happened before Vic. Something he was not happy about but not really interested in at the moment.

Vic stepped out of the truck, and he heard a screen door open. He scanned the street and saw Cella Malone standing on the porch. She waved and Vic walked toward her, Shen following behind.

Cella let him into the house, and without a word, led him through the home, to the kitchen, and down into a finished basement.

As he made it down the stairs, Vic stopped. Livy’s family filled the room. The older aunts and uncles sitting on couches and chairs, the younger nieces, nephews, and cousins on the floor.

Vic looked at Cella and she moved forward, stepping around the badgers until she reached a room. She opened the door and Vic walked in.

A black woman, whom Vic scented as a mountain lion, leaned over an unconscious Livy, pulling bullets out of the honey badger with surgical instruments. She didn’t wear a mask, but she’d managed to get on latex gloves. Still, it was obvious to Vic she’d gotten right to work as soon as Livy hit the table because the sleeves of her bright white cashmere sweater were haphazardly rolled up and the front covered in blood splatters.

The woman glanced up, and Vic recognized her from the Sports Center. He’d occasionally seen her hanging around Cella Malone’s office, but he didn’t know her personally.

“I’m almost done,” the woman said. “I’ll be out in a little bit.”

Cella motioned Vic out, and he stepped back into the other room. She closed the door and stood in front of it.

Vic stood there for a bit, but he couldn’t take it. He walked up the stairs and out of the house. He rested his arms against the fence that circled the property and took deep breaths, trying to calm down. It wasn’t working.

“Vic?”

He looked down to see Blayne and Gwen staring up at him.

Gwen shook her head. “He’s about to have a hybrid break.”

“We have to calm him down,” Blayne said.

“No time for that,” a voice barked. Big hands grabbed Vic from behind and pushed him out of the gate and into the street. Vic looked back to see Novikov holding him.

“Can’t . . . can’t breathe . . .” Vic panted out.

“Breathing’s not your problem.” Novikov looked around and finally pointed at an old but well-maintained bright red ’78 Camaro. “That one.”

“What . . . what?”

Novikov took Vic’s hands and placed them on the car. “Do it, Barinov. It’s the only thing that’ll stop you from killing everyone in a five-mile radius. Just do it.”

Vic didn’t know what Novikov was talking about. He didn’t understand anything right now. He just knew he couldn’t breathe. He couldn’t think. He couldn’t do anything because something inside him was breaking loose and . . . and . . . and . . .

Blayne bit her lip and winced as Vic Barinov picked up that Camaro and sent it flipping and rolling down the street.

“Hey!” Dee-Ann said, running out of the house. “That’s my car!”

Blayne caught Dee-Ann before she could run into the street, and threw them both to the ground seconds before Vic’s roar of rage and emotional pain was unleashed. House and car windows exploded up and down the street as car alarms blared.

After Vic had roared himself out, Bo placed his hand on Vic’s shoulder and steered him toward the house. “I’ll take him back inside.”

Dee-Ann finally lifted her head. “What the holy fuck was that?”

Gwen, who’d dived to the ground on the other side of Blayne, lifted her head and said, “It’s called a hybrid break. They’re rare, but they happen.”

“And what about my car?”

“If it hadn’t been the car,” Gwen explained, “it would have been everyone else.”

Blayne offered, with a smile, “Think of it as a sacrifice for the good of all!”

“Shut up, poodle!”

“Or I can shut up.”

Coop stretched out on the couch and turned up the sound on the living room stereo. The strains of Vivaldi filled the entire space around him, and he relaxed into that. But before he could really lose himself in the work of a master, he heard the front door open and suddenly there were wolves standing around the couch, staring down at him.

Muting the sound, Coop sat up. “Hi, Ric.”

Ulrich Van Holtz forced a smile at Coop, gave a small nod. “Hi, Cooper. Are Cherise and Kyle around?”

“Cherise is practicing in the basement, and Kyle is sketching in the kitchen. Why?”

Ric glanced over at Reece Lee Reed and his brother Rory Lee. At one time, Coop couldn’t tell the difference between one Smith Pack wolf and another. But he’d met quite a few since his family had become friends with the Kuznetsov Pack wild dogs.

The Reeds went off in search of Cherise and Kyle, Coop guessed, while Ric continued to stare down at him. “I’m going to need you guys to pack. I have a car and driver waiting to take you to the airport. The Van Holtz jet will be taking you back to Washington tonight.”

“Tonight? Why? What’s happened?”

“There’s been a problem, and it’s for your safety and the safety of your siblings.”

Coop got to his feet. “Where’s Livy?”

“We can discuss that—”

“Where is Livy?”

“She’s been hurt.”

“Then I need to see her.”

“No. She’s been taken to a safe place, and there’s nothing you can do for her right now. But your safety is of utmost concern. So we’re taking you home. The Van Holtz Pack will watch out for you and your family once you get there. And Rory and Reece will travel with you on the jet.”

“How bad is she?”

Ric took a breath before he answered. “Pretty bad.”

“I need to let Toni know.”

“She’s being notified. But we need to get you and your siblings out of here . . . now. Understand?”

Sadly, Coop understood all too well.

Ivan Zubachev watched Antonella Jean-Louis Parker rub her face in exasperation. Ivan didn’t know why he enjoyed tormenting the little canine, but he did. Maybe because she looked so adorable when she was frustrated. Ahhh. If he were only twenty years younger, the wolf she’d chosen to be her mate wouldn’t have a chance against Ivan Zubachev. He’d have happily stolen her heart from him or any other worthless male dog.

But that wasn’t really an option. He had his own mate whom he not only loved, but feared quite a bit. She could be mean when she thought he wasn’t paying enough attention to her, but he liked her strength and she did make him laugh.

So that left Ivan with only the tormenting of the little canine. Like he was doing now.

“Are you really arguing this one point with me, Ivan?” she demanded. “Are you really?”

“It is important, little doggie.”

“It is not important. And stop calling me ‘little doggie.’ ” She looked at her watch. “Oh, come on, Ivan. It’s already after—”

“I know what time it is, my tiny puppy.”

She started to protest her new nickname, so Ivan quickly reminded her that, “You said I could not call you little doggie. So I did not.”

“You’re doing this on purpose, aren’t you, Ivan? You’re making this difficult simply to be difficult.”

“That is crazy talk, my dear Antonella. Now, about the breeding females you will provide to my players—”

“I will not provide females of any kind to your players or to you. Ever!”

Ivan held up his forefinger. “Hold. We must discuss.”

The little canine rolled her eyes while Ivan pushed his chair back a bit, his team’s coach, manager, and three of his sons surrounding him.

“We should go out to eat when we are done here,” he said to them in Russian.

“I am hungry,” his eldest son replied.

“Maybe steak?” the coach suggested.

“We’ll bring the little canine with us . . . and the Smith.”

“Does he have to come?”

“She won’t come without him,” Ivan sighed.

“Too bad.”

Thinking he’d tortured Antonella enough, Ivan rolled his chair back to the table. But before he had a chance to speak, the conference room door opened and “the Smith” walked quickly into the room. With a phone gripped in his hand, he crouched by Antonella’s side and began to whisper to her. Ivan watched the color drain from Antonella’s beautiful face, saw shock in her eyes.

His younger son came into the room and hurried to Ivan’s side.

“What happened?”

“There’s been an attack on her friend in New York. It was very bad.” His son leaned in closer and whispered, “It was Russian bears.”

Ivan reared back a bit. Everyone knew that Antonella Jean-Louis Parker and her family and friends were under Ivan’s protection, even if Antonella Jean-Louis Parker had no idea of that.

“Who?” Ivan demanded. “Who did this?”

His son’s lip curled. “Chumakov.”

“I’m sorry, Ivan,” Antonella said, her voice as shaky as her body. “I have to leave now. I . . . have to go home.”

“Yes.” Ivan stood. “You do. And it will be my jet that takes you home. And we . . . we will escort you back.”

“That’s not necessary,” she started to argue.

“Oh . . . it is, my little doggie,” Ivan growled out, his gaze briefly straying to the American wolf standing straight and tall by Antonella. “It is absolutely necessary.”

Cella stepped back and her best friend, Jai Davis, MD, stepped out of the room, closing the door behind her.

“Well?” Cella pushed after turning her back away from the honey badger family members waiting to hear about Livy’s condition.

“The next twenty-four hours will tell. I don’t want her moved yet, but if she suddenly gets worse or doesn’t wake up by tomorrow, we’re going to have to take her to a hospital.”

“The shifter-run one on Old Country Road?”

“Yes. I have privileges there, and I already have a call in to Dr. Ford. He’s an arrogant male lion I have thought about beating to death on more than one occasion, but he was a combat doctor for several tours. He would know how to deal with this if it gets bad.”

“Good. But we need to be careful who we involve in this. We don’t know if Chumakov’s men are still around. Whether they know Livy survived or not, and if they do know she survived, if they’re waiting to take another—”

Cella’s words stopped abruptly when the door behind her and Jai opened, and a naked Livy walked out.

“What time is it?” the badger asked.

“What the fuck are you doing up?” Jai snarled.

“Did you get all the bullets out?” Livy asked in her usual calm tone.

“I believe so—”

“Then I’m fine.”

Livy gave a short whistle at one of the badgers on the floor and someone threw her a T-shirt. She pulled it on, then stopped to bend and twist her back. Something cracked into place, and she gave a little head shake. “There we go.” Livy looked around. “Where’s Vic? I thought I heard his voice.”

“Upstairs.”

Livy patted Jai on the shoulder. “Nice work, doctor. Thank you.”

They watched the honey badger confidently step over and around her relatives as she walked through the basement in only a T-shirt. Cella would admit she was no surgeon, but the predator in her knew when another animal was strong and would be too much trouble to attempt to kill unless you were starving—which was what Cella saw when she watched Livy.

“Cella?” Jai asked.

“Huh?”

“I gave that woman enough pain medication to take out an elephant with a strong constitution. I pretty much put her in a short-term coma so her body could heal.”

“Okay.”

“So, it was a really great idea,” Jai softly pointed out, “bringing a dangerous, unstable species to our home where our daughters live. A species that is apparently impossible to kill. Next time you should just bring in a serial killer. Or an atomic bomb!”

“Drink this.”

Vic looked at the cup Novikov held out to him. “What is it?”

“Tea.”

“What kind of tea?”

“Earl Grey.”

“Just Earl Grey?”

“As opposed to . . . ?”

“Some magic tea for hybrids that will calm me down?”

Novikov looked deep into the cup. “I didn’t know there was a magic tea. That’s kind of cool.”

“I don’t know what I’m going to do,” Vic said, deciding he was done with the tea conversation. “What if she—”

“Don’t. Don’t do that to yourself. I almost killed my annoying, asshole cousin because I started what-if-ing about Blayne when she was hurt bad once. But Dr. Davis is really good. Let’s just wait and see what she says.”

“Okay.” Vic lifted his tea. “Thanks for this.”

“No problem. Blayne always says hybrids have to stick together. Maybe she’s right.”

They both looked up at the same time, nodded at Livy, and went back to their conversation.

“My parents are coming tomorrow,” Vic said.

“To visit? Or about this?”

“About this before anyone went after Livy.”

“Have you arranged to have them picked up from the airport?”

“I was going to do it—”

“You can’t go now. Give me their information and I’ll arrange a car to pick them up.”

“Thanks, man, that’s really—”

Vic abruptly stopped talking and jerked around. “Olivia?”

She grinned. “Were you really the one who fucked up Smith’s car?” Livy asked. “Because she’s still in the house snarling about—”

Vic shot off the bench, picked Livy up in his arms, and held her against his chest. He needed to feel her. He needed to feel her skin against his, know that she was warm and safe in his arms.

“Now that we’re dealing with awkward emotions,” Novikov muttered, “I’m going . . . away.”

The back door of the house opened and closed, leaving Vic alone with Livy.

Vic, unable to help himself, held her tighter.

“I’m okay,” she whispered, her legs wrapping around his waist, her arms clinging to his neck. “I really am.”

“I thought I lost you,” he admitted against her neck.

“You know my kind is too mean to go out that easy. We make a man work for it.”

“Olivia—”

“Hey.” She pulled back, and urged his head up with her hands, forcing him to look her in those dark eyes. “They failed. They tried to kill me, and they failed. So I’m not going to sit around and think about what was supposed to happen or what could have happened or anything else. I don’t care about any of that.”

“The problem is, I do care. I care about you, Livy. So, pretending this didn’t happen and just—”

“We can’t pretend this didn’t happen, Vic. We won’t.”

“We?”

Livy glanced over, and Vic saw that the once-empty yard was now filled with Livy’s family. They silently stood there, in the brutal cold, watching and waiting. Waiting for Livy.

“So,” she said, her lips grazing his cheek, “this isn’t about what might have happened. This is about what’s going to happen. What we’re going to make happen.”

“Which is?”

“We knew,” Balt said, stepping away from his relatives, “that a shifter might be involved in luring my brother to his death. But we were willing to settle for this Whitlan. No use starting war when all we wanted was him. But now? Now we want war.”

Vic understood that on many, many levels. And he also knew the shifter code that even the honey badgers abided by . . . you never betray your own for a full-human. The ones who’d shot Livy had done just that. Not just the gunmen, but the one who’d sent them into a shifter-protected space and had them shoot down a fellow shifter. Not over a territorial clash. Or lusting after someone’s mate. Or even just annoyance with their presence on this planet. No. She’d been gunned down merely for the continued protection of Whitlan and because the man behind those gunmen wanted to prove he was not to be fucked with by anyone.

Bad move, though, when dealing with this particular species. Shooting Livy hadn’t made the rest of her family afraid. These were not people who backed off or backed down. These were not people who understood normal, everyday fear.

Instead of making a point, the attack would bring nothing but blood and death and pain.

“We will not stay here,” Balt said, his suspicious gaze studying the entire yard. “But I think our safe houses may not be so safe anymore.”

Vic silently agreed. Livy’s attackers had known exactly where to find her. So it was a safe bet that the Kowalski and Yang safe houses were compromised, as well.

“I can get us a safe place.”

“Vic”—Livy’s hand pressed against his jaw, turning his face toward her—“you don’t have to get into the middle of this.”

That was where Livy was wrong. Vic was already in the middle of this. Deep in the middle. There was no way he would walk away now. He couldn’t even if he wanted to. Because where Livy went, he would always follow.

Of course, this wasn’t the time to tell her all that. She might be up and walking around, but she was still recovering, and he could see the exhaustion on her face. So any talk about what their future together might hold would have to wait.

Unable to say what he really felt, Vic just kissed Livy on the nose and said to Balt, “Let’s get out of here.”

“Jesus, Mary, and Joseph, Smith!” Cella snapped. “My brother said he’d take your car to his body shop and fix it. And one of those badgers already handed over an ungodly-sized wad of cash to pay for everything Barinov’s roar destroyed, including your car. So enough with the dog whining like you got your paw stuck in a gopher hole.”

“I can fix my own car, Malone. It’s just, you don’t mess with a woman’s automobile. Do you have any idea how much work I put into that thing after I won it from Sissy Mae?”

“I don’t care.”

“Well, thank you very much.”

The pair sat on the stone wall that partially surrounded the house Cella had grown up in. The rest of the fence and the gate were chain-link and could hardly handle the combined weight of Cella and Dee-Ann’s collective asses.

“What’s really going on with you?” Cella finally asked the female who’d somehow managed to become a very good friend. Although that still surprised her. Because Dee-Ann was such a canine sometimes.

“What?”

“It’s not just your car that’s bothering you. Is it what happened to Livy?”

“Not really.”

“As always, such a caring person.”

“Look, the whole thing don’t sit right with me. I mean, to outright shoot that girl.”

“You expected more from Whitlan?”

“Darlin’, this is no longer about Whitlan. Those bears tracked Kowalski down at the Sports Center. And they were out-of-town bears, not even from this country, but they found her anyway.” Smith turned a bit so she could look right at Cella, and leaned in a bit. “And don’t it bother you a little bit that our bosses pulled us off the Whitlan case?”

“They didn’t pull us off . . . they just gave us other jobs and lowered the priority of the Whitlan case.” Cella winced. Even she couldn’t make that sound positive. But still. “Dee-Ann, you can’t possibly think that KZS, The Group, and BPC—”

“Are busy protecting Frank Whitlan?” She shook her head. “Nah. That don’t sit right with me, either. But something about all this seems . . . expected somehow. By everyone but us and that poor little honey badger.”

“Poor little honey badger, my hefty Irish ass. She walked out of the surgery without even a limp. Jai said she took sixteen bullets out of her. Sixteen! Who gets up from that?”

“Well, we better start talkin’ to her and Barinov, if we want to know what the hell is goin’ on.”

“Cella?”

Cella looked over her shoulder to see her mother standing on the porch. “What’s up, Ma?”

“I was about to order food for all those badgers . . . but they’re gone.”

Cella twisted around. “What do you mean, gone?”

“I mean, they’re gone. We searched the house.”

“I just saw them no more than thirty minutes ago, Malone,” Smith said. “No way they would have gotten past either of us without our knowing.”

“Did you check the yard?” Cella asked her mother.

“We haven’t searched it, but I’m sure I’d spot that many people standing in our backyard from the dining room window.”

Cella looked at Dee-Ann, and they both jumped from the stone wall and ran around the house to the backyard.

Her parents’ house was surrounded by Malone family homes on both sides and in the back. So Cella assumed that the badgers must have just snuck out that way rather than going through the front. She decided to ask the uncle who lived behind her parents first, since she could see him in his backyard taking out the trash. But as Cella ran across the yard, she felt the earth go out from underneath her and used the power of her legs to launch her body across the yard. She landed a good ten feet away and spun around to see that Smith had not been so lucky.

Cella ran back, stopping at the edge of what she realized now was a pit in her parents’ backyard. A pit Dee-Ann Smith had fallen into face-first.

Crouching, Cella looked down at the poor She-wolf just getting back to her feet. “Are you okay?”

“Why is there a pit in your backyard, Malone?”

“There wasn’t.” She gestured with an arm wave. “Look behind you.”

Smith did. Then, with her arms thrown up, she exclaimed, “They burrowed out of here?” Dee-Ann looked at Cella. “Burrowed?”

“Clearly this whole thing doesn’t sit right with the honey badgers, either.”

“Or Vic. He and that giant panda went through here, too.”

“Any suggestions where we go from here?”

Smith held up her finger, and still facing Cella, she jumped up and back. A skill only the She-wolf shifters seemed to have.

Landing on the side of the pit, Smith stood and lifted her nose to the air. She sniffed a few times, then headed over to Jai’s house, on the right side of Cella’s. Jai and her family were the only people unrelated by blood or marriage to the Malones allowed to live on this street.

When they reached Jai’s backyard, they found her, Blayne, Bo, Gwen, and Lock sitting at the patio table drinking big mugs of hot chocolate.

Smith stopped in front of the table. “Where are they?”

“Where’s who?” Blayne asked, looking particularly sweet. Something that Cella was certain was only going to piss Dee-Ann off.

Smith took an aggressive step. “Now listen to me, poodle—”

Bo slammed his fist on the table, which was thankfully made of stone rather than wood. “Tone,” he snarled at Dee-Ann.

The She-wolf’s eyes narrowed, and Cella quickly stepped in front of her while Jai softly excused herself, picked up her mug of hot chocolate, and went back into her house. She stood by the open sliding-glass doors so she could watch the entertainment, but she was a mountain lion. She wasn’t about to get into the middle of a predator fight unless she absolutely had to.

“We’re all friends here,” Cella reminded everyone. “So let’s calm the hell down.” Cella took a breath. “We just want to know where we can find Livy and Vic. We really need to talk to them.” The small group, three of which were hybrids, stared at Cella but didn’t say anything. “Are you really not going to tell us?” Cella demanded. “I’m your coach,” she reminded Bo and Lock.

“But you’re not asking as our coach,” Bo said. “Our coach doesn’t care because Vic and Livy don’t play for her team.”

“You guys, we just want to help.”

“Then leave them alone,” Lock suggested, his shoulders hunched. “I’m sure if at some point the honey badgers need you, we’ll all know.”

Yeah, but that was kind of what worried Cella. Because by the time they knew anything, it would probably already be too late.