The Beast in Him

CHAPTER 17

“Why am I here?”

Smitty didn’t even spare a glance at Mitch. “Because I’m pretty sure this is a gay bar Jessie has me coming to. And you’re much more gay-friendly than I am. You’ll distract them from my amazing body.”

“So... I’m your beard?”

“I don’t know if you’re using that term correctly, but I also don’t care.”

Smitty grabbed Mitch’s jacket and pulled him to the bar called Caleb’s Corner. There was a bouncer out front, but he barely looked at them. And there was no line waiting to get in. What a lame-ass gay club. Still, Jessie was here. Which meant he was going to be here.

But once they got inside, all Smitty wanted to do was turn around and run. Run for his very life. Lord in heaven, Jessica Ann Ward was the meanest female on the planet! And she should burn for this. Burn!

“Wait. I thought you said this was a gay bar?” Mitch sounded as horrified as Smitty felt.

“I thought it was.”

“Well, it’s not, and I’m out of here!”

Mitch tried to make a run for it, but Smitty grabbed his jacket collar and yanked the big cat back. “You’re not deserting me, Shaw.”

“Like hell I’m not. You may have that military connection with Llewellyn, but I’m from Philly. There’s some things we won’t do for anyone.”

The two were seconds from pulling out claws and going at it in the middle of the bar when Jessie suddenly—and literally—jumped in front of them.

“Smitty!” She wrapped her arms around his neck and hugged him. And in that second he knew he wouldn’t leave. She smelled too good.

When she pulled away, she looked over at Mitch. “Oh... you.”

“And I’m happy to see you, too, beautiful.”

Jessie stepped back and gestured around. “As you can see, we’ve pretty much taken over the place, but we’ve got some bears and a few jackals hanging out tonight, so you two shouldn’t feel too out of place with all these dogs.” She pointed toward an empty booth. “Why don’t you guys grab a table and sit back and relax.”

“Sure. After we stop at the bar first.”

“Oh.” Jessie scrunched up her face. The action annoyed him because she looked so goddamn cute doing it. “I forgot to mention. Caleb lost his liquor license a week ago. So, at least for now, soft drinks, virgin margaritas, and Shirley Temples only. But the Shirley Temples are to die for.”

Smitty worked hard not to grit his teeth. “There’s no liquor here?”

“Nope.” And she grinned, evil female that she was. “I’m sorry, Smitty.”

No, she wasn’t. She wasn’t sorry at all!

“Don’t worry about it, darlin’,” he lied. “We’ll survive.”

“We will?”

Smitty shoved Mitch into an empty booth. “We’ll be just fine,” he insisted, unwilling to show any weakness in the face of such travesty.

“Okay.” Jessie’s head snapped up. “Oh, there’s my cue. I’ll talk to you guys in a bit.”

Smitty watched Jessie Ann run across the dance floor and up on the stage. The crowd roared her name; apparently this was not a once-in-a-blue-moon event. The Kuznetsov Pack were regulars.

The music for “Coal Miner’s Daughter” started to play and Jess stepped up to the mic.

“Oh, Lord in heaven.”

“A karaoke bar.” Mitch glared at him. “You dragged us to a karaoke bar?”

“She didn’t tell me it was karaoke.”

“You know it’s bad enough having to listen to you guys howl all the time. But this... this may be asking too much. Dogs. Singing.” Mitch turned to the bar and lashed Smitty with another glare. “And no goddamn liquor. You know, as per shifter law, I could legally kill you.”

He almost wished the whining cat would.

Jessie opened her mouth to start singing and Smitty cringed, waiting for those first tragic, painful notes... but he ended up blinking in surprise. Even Mitch looked shocked. Jessie Ann was good—and she sounded exactly like Loretta Lynn, the Grande Dame of Country Music.

“I never knew she liked country music,” Smitty said in awe.

“Yeah, that must make her prime mate material for a Smith. She’ll fit right in at one of your hootenannies.”

Smitty glared across the booth. “Please. Give me one reason to kill you. Just one.”

Jess belted out that last note of “Coal Miner’s Daughter” and the crowd jumped to their feet, chanting her name. Okay, so she’d never make it to the Grand Ole Opry in this lifetime—her secret dream only her closest friends knew about—but who needed that when she had dogs barking for more?

She bowed to her adoring fans and jumped off the stage. Immediately Danny replaced her for his rendition of .38 Specials “Hang on Loosely,” which always made his wife swoon.

To her surprise, Smitty and Mitch hadn’t bailed yet. She thought for sure Smitty would run screaming into the night as soon as he realized it was a “dry” karaoke bar. Wolves may love to howl, but nothing they hated more than to hear dogs sing. And dogs loved to sing. Add in no tequila and that was not a wolf’s idea of a good time. More like one of their nightmares.

Yet how he kept Mitch Shaw locked into place, she’d never know. Cats really hated hearing dogs sing. It rankled their fur.

Jess sat down next to Smitty and smiled.

“You could have warned me, Jessie Ann.”

“I could have—but how would that be fun for me?”

Teeth gritted again and she even elicited a slight sneer. Feeling pretty good about that, Jess turned to Mitch. “How’s that nonalcoholic beer doing it for ya, Mitch?”

Really, you haven’t lived until you’ve been hissed at.

“So how long does this thing last anyway?” Smitty asked, probably trying to distract her from toying with Mitch.

“Until two. Usually.”

“In the morning?”

Jess barely held in a laugh. He sounded so... despondent. “Would you prefer I said afternoon? Besides, you don’t have to stay. In fact, feel free to go.”

“Rock on.” Mitch went to stand up and Smitty reached over and shoved him back in the seat.

“Is there a reason you’re being mean to me, Jessie Ann?”

“Other than I’m enjoying it? Not really.”

“You know, Jessie Ann,” he growled, “when you’re being mean like this you do nothing but make me hard.”

Not exactly the response she expected.

Mitch shook his head. “Wolves are so weird, bruh.”

Ignoring Mitch, Smitty took her hand, and in that one simple move had her wishing they were alone. With his thumb making lazy circles around her knuckles, he said, “Okay. You made your point. Now come home with me.”

Jess swallowed. She’d never had a man seem so desperate to be with her before. She liked it.

“Uh... ” she began awkwardly, but May jumped into the booth right behind her.

“Hey, Jess.” On her knees, May leaned over the back of the booth. “Kenshin’s here.”

Kenshin Inu walked into the club with his Pack right behind him. An Asian wild dog, Ken had a family that moved around constantly. True nomads, the Inu Pack traveled all over the world. Their main den remained Tokyo, Japan—yes, all of it—but the world was their true home. Ken and Jess had been close since he’d saved her from getting arrested one summer in Chicago many, many years ago. And Ken had given her the seed money to start the company. The dot-com bubble had busted a long time ago, and giving their Pack money had been a risk. One he still made money off of. Jess was nearly as close to Kenshin as she was to Phil.

As soon as he saw her, his face lit up and Jess pulled her hand away from Smitty’s grip, slid out of the booth, and ran over to her friend.

“Kenshin!” She threw her arms around his neck and Ken picked her up, swinging her around in a circle. They hadn’t seen each other in over a year and she missed her bud. It had been ages since they stayed up watching bad seventies slasher films and mocking. She missed the mocking.

“How is my favorite wild dog?” he jokingly asked.

“Wonderful.” She kissed his cheek and he lowered her but kept his hands on her waist. “How’s your father and mother?” Jess had always liked Ken’s parents. They were sweet and outrageously goofy.

“Tiresome.” Ken leaned back the slightest bit and gazed down into her face. “You look very... happy.” His eyes grew wide. “Did you get laid?”

“Kenshin!” She grabbed his hand and led him to a booth at the back of the club. “I swear I can’t take you anywhere.”

Smitty watched some scrawny Akita walk away with his woman.

“Uh... dude?”

He looked over at Mitch. “What?”

“You need to calm down.”

“What are you talking about?”

“Your claws are out. So are your fangs.”

Retracting the offending implements of death, he demanded, “Well, who the fuck is that guy?” Other than someone who had to die.

Mitch leaned in a bit, moving his nonalcoholic beer out of the way. “Wow. You’re really hot for her.”

“What?”

“Seriously. And this would explain why you’re putting up with”—Mitch glanced at the stage in disgust—“the wild dog version of ‘Strobe Light.’ I used to love the B-52s. Now they’ve been ruined forever.”

Mitch shrugged it off. “Anyway, I wish you’d just take her in the bathroom and do her so we could go.”

Smitty didn’t bother answering him, not when he couldn’t stop staring at Jessie leaning way too close to that dog. She was practically in his lap!

“Unless you’ve already... Bruh, did you already fuck her?”

Snarling, Smitty swung back around. “Would you shut up?”

“And that’s a yes.” Mitch relaxed back in the booth, took a sip of his faux beer, grimaced, and dropped the bottle back on the table. “Bruh, just go over there and grab her. I mean, he’s a wiry little guy. What’s he going to do? Then we can go get a real beer.”

“I’m not doing that.” Jessie wasn’t even his to claim. But did he want her to be? Did he want Jessie to be his? The way he had to struggle to stop himself from killing some scrawny little wild dog, he was starting to worry that could be the exact problem.

Great. Just great.

“Why not?” Mitch asked, oblivious to Smitty’s internal struggle and panic. “You’re a Smith Pack male. Isn’t it part of your DNA?”

“Just ’cause I got the Smith name don’t mean I’m not civilized.”

“Oh. Good to know. And I hope that civilized living will keep you warm at night when your woman is off gettin’ fucked twenty ways to Sunday by an Asian wild dog.”

Smitty nearly had his hands around the cat’s throat when Jessie appeared beside the booth. She caught his hand in hers and glared at him.

“Smitty, I’d like you to meet Kenshin Inu. Kenny, this is Bobby Ray Smith. But everybody calls him Smitty.”

“My friends do anyway.”

He winced a bit when small claws dug into the back of his hand. “Smitty,” she spit out from between her teeth even while she kept that fake smile, “Kenshin wants to talk to you about your business.”

Kenshin looked at Mitch. “And are you Mace Llewellyn?”

“As a matter of fact—”

“He’s not.” Jessie released Smitty’s hand and grabbed Mitch’s arm. “Why don’t we leave you two to talk? Besides, Mitch has some singing to do.”

“I... What? Wait a minute. I’m not singing!”

Somehow Jessie dragged a man more than twice her size away from the booth and Kenshin sat down across from Smitty.

The two males eyed each other up carefully.

“Jess had a lot of good things to say about you.”

Kenshin’s English had a slight British accent to it. Jess probably found that sexy. British-sounding bastard.

Getting disgusted with himself, Smitty grunted and waited for him to continue.

“I’ve heard about your security business. The thought of our own kind running something like that intrigues me. We don’t have anything like that in Tokyo.”

“Yeah... and?”

Smiling, Kenshin leaned over the table the way Mitch had. “Look, hillbilly, let’s get this out on the table right now. First off, I’m here to talk business. Now, if you’re worried about me and Jess... don’t be. I blew my shot with her a long time ago, and I’m firmly and permanently in the ‘best friend, like-a-brother’ zone. But I’m sitting here, ready to discuss a possible deal that could bring you and your feline pal a lot of money based on Jessica’s recommendation alone. So we can either discuss business or we can sit here and let you play rabid wolf over a woman who, at the moment, is barely tolerating you. Which is it gonna be?”

Smitty rested back in his seat, his fangs and claws receding. He let out a deep breath and nodded. “All right, pooch. What do you wanna know about my business?”

Jess covered her mouth with her hand. “Oh, God.”

May rested her head on Jess’s shoulder and kept her eyes down, but her entire body shook. Sabina simply stared... blindly.

When they’d first thrown Mitch up on the stage it was mostly to torture him. Dogs merely trying to embarrass the cat. Three power ballads later and Jess knew she’d created a monster.

“I don’t think I’ll ever listen to Bon Jovi the same way again.”

“‘Dead or Alive’ has taken on a whole new meaning to me,” May got out between bouts of hysterical giggling.

“And let us not forget Whitesnake’s ‘Here I Go Again.’”

Sabina snorted. “I think that one made my ears bleed.”

May wiped her eyes and sat up. “We have to have him back next time we come. It’s an absolute must.”

“I say we send him with the rest of the Pack next week. Kerri and the girls will love us forever.” Because someone had to protect the pups at all times, the Pack rarely did these sorts of late-night events together. So this week it was the Original Five and about twenty other wild dogs. Next week, the rest of the Pack would go, and Jess and the others would stay home with the kids. It wasn’t the best system, but it was the safest, and that’s all that mattered.

“And,” Jess added, “it does not hurt he’s severely hot.”

“No,” May and Sabina sighed together, “it doesn’t hurt at all.”

Finally, probably because Phil shoved him, Mitch relinquished the stage. As he walked past the three of them, he gave them a big grin, a wink, and said “Ladies” with a smugness that rivaled Napoleon Bonaparte’s.

Under the table, they each grabbed hold of the other’s leg and dug their nails in so they wouldn’t burst out laughing.

“Mitch,” they said together.

“Oh, my God,” May cleared her throat after Mitch walked by. “This is the best Karaoke night ever.”

Half an hour later and, as Kenshin Inu walked away from the table, Smitty realized he’d somehow worked himself into a business deal... maybe. To be honest, he still wasn’t sure if he could trust this guy, and he had no idea if this would turn out to be anything. He certainly wouldn’t worry about it. He had more important things on his mind.

Like the hot little wild dog walking back over to him. But before she could get close, Kenshin grabbed her hand and dragged her on stage. And when he sang “Love Me Tender” to her while holding Jessie tight against him and the rest of the females squealed at his Elvis impersonation, Smitty did seriously consider killing the man. Killing him a lot.

Lighters in hand, arms waving, the dogs enjoyed Phil’s version of “No Woman, No Cry.” Not exactly Bob Marley, but close enough.

Laughing and trying not to burn her hand, Jess glanced over her shoulder to see if Smitty had finally bailed—especially after one of her Pack mangled Poison’s “Every Rose Has Its Thorns”—but to her eternal surprise, he was still in the same spot she’d left him. However, he wasn’t alone.

Jess’s eyes narrowed as she locked on to the four females from Kenshin’s Pack happily settled into Smitty’s booth with him and Mitch.

Disgusted, she turned back around and tried to force herself not to care. Didn’t work, but she did try.

“What’s wrong?” May asked against her ear so only she could hear.

“Nothing.”

“Liar. Tell me.”

Jess gave a small motion with her head and May glanced around behind them. When her eyes narrowed like Jess was sure hers had, she knew May saw it too.

“Bitches.”

“No. No. They’re friends.”

“Bitch friends.”

Sabina leaned over. “Who?”

May leaned over Jess and whispered, “Over at Smitty’s table.”

Surprisingly discreet, Sabina looked and her eyes narrowed. She gave a little sneer. “Those bitches.”

Now Jess could only laugh. Could this get more ridiculous?

She knew it could when Phil leaned over his wife and asked, “Who’s a bitch?”

Thankfully, they spoke English. Smitty’s Japanese was rusty at best. And the words he could clearly remember would only get his face slapped. Besides, they seemed less than interested in him. Their focus locked right on Mitch. And Mitch lapped up every bit of it like the greedy, never-satisfied cat that he was.

Bored and wondering how much longer this would last, Smitty stared at his empty beer bottle. Nonalcoholic beer. Christ, could getting laid be worth all this?

“Hey.”

Jessie stood at the edge of their table and he couldn’t quite understand her expression.

“Hey.”

“So”—she motioned to the stage—“what are you going to sing for me?”

“Sing?” Panic, cold and desperate, swept through his system. “I’m not singing.”

“Why not?”

“I don’t sing, Jessica Ann.” Not after that school recital when he was nine. No. Never, ever, ever again.

“Oh.” Jessie shrugged. “Okay, then.”

She walked over to the table with her Packmates and grabbed her coat. She was leaving. Because he wouldn’t sing?

“Jessie, wait—” He looked for a way around the lovely woman sitting next to him and he finally picked her up and handed her over to Mitch, who seemed more than happy to take her.

“Where are you going?” he asked while she zipped up her backpack. Why she felt the need to bring her laptop with her to a karaoke bar, he’d never know.

“Back to the office. I’ve got a ton of work to do.”

He waited for the punch line, but it never came. “You’re serious?”

“She’s serious,” Sabina sighed out. “Pathetic, isn’t it?”

“Give me a break. I left a lot of stuff not done.”

“And you’ll sleep when?”

“I can use the couch in my office. And the engineering-coding floor has a Sleep Room. I’ll crash there.”

“I thought... ”

“You thought what?”

Smitty glanced around at the Pack and he quickly figured out they had no intention of giving him and Jessie some privacy.

“I thought you’d come home with me tonight.”

Sabina bumped her arm. “Sex is better than work. Go home with the wolf and use him like the dirty, vile whore he is.”

Smitty frowned. He had no idea if the woman was helping him or not.

“Not tonight. He didn’t make it worth it.”

“Make it worth it?”

She looked up at him. “Yeah.”

“If you come home with me, I’ll make it worth it,” he promised.

“Sex is sex, Smitty. I can get good sex from any unmated male here.”

“She sure can!” someone from the crowd yelled out, proving they had everyone’s attention.

“So what would make it worth it for you?”

She grinned. “Sing for me.”

“I don’t sing for anyone.”

“So I’m anyone?” She snorted and picked up her backpack. Sad when she had to have Danny help her haul it on. But when she put that thing on, it meant she was leaving.

“You’re serious?”

“Extremely,” she muttered while trying to keep her balance. Why she didn’t get a better bag or take some of that crap out, he’d never know.

“Fine.”

Brushing past her, Smitty headed up to the stage.

Jess’ eyes grew wide and she looked at her Pack. “No. Way.” She turned, but did it so quickly her backpack threw her off and if Danny hadn’t caught her, she’d have fallen flat on her ass.

Letting Danny put her back on her feet, she watched Smitty flip quickly through the song book, pick something, and plug the code into the machine.

She never thought he’d get on that stage. Not in a million years. Even his mother could never coax him into singing. Not even when he was drunk off his ass and he’d do pretty much anything else. Based on his reaction alone when she mentioned it, Jess thought nothing had changed.

Yet there he was, pulling his baseball cap a little lower on his head, hooking his thumbs into the front pocket of his jeans, and focusing on the monitor rolling the lyrics. It took her no time to recognize the music. She’d always had a thing for Randy Travis. No country singer she knew of had better down-home love songs. But it was the man’s voice that got her every time. Yet, for the first time ever, she found a voice to rival the master. Low, smooth, and decadent, Smitty’s voice rolled over her as he started singing “Deeper Than the Holler.”

“Lord have mercy,” May whispered next to her.

“Good God,” Sabina said in shock.

Jess didn’t say anything. She had no words. Nothing witty or dismissive. She could only stare—and pine.

It wasn’t a long song, and before she knew it, Smitty finished. The crowd jumped to its feet—even the bears, who were notoriously snotty about that sort of thing—clapping and cheering.

Smitty, his eyes focused on the floor, walked off the stage and through the crowd, ignoring all the pats on his back and praise of his voice.

He walked right up to Jess, grabbed her hand, and kept on moving. He didn’t even stop to say good night, check on his friend, or anything else people might do.

Smitty walked out of the club and dragged Jess down the street until he hit an alley. He pulled her inside, pushed her up against the wall, and kissed her. A desperate, yearning kiss she returned, her hands running up his back and shoulders until her fingers could dig into his hair.

He finally pulled back, after he had her like melted chocolate in his hands, and said, “You’re coming home with me.”

Definitely an order and she so didn’t give a shit. “Yeah. I’m coming home with you.”

He kissed her one more time until she groaned and clung to him. That’s when he pulled away and, taking firm hold of her hand, dragged her to his truck.