The Beast in Him

CHAPTER 22

He sensed the danger before he fully awoke. Could feel it running up to him, flying at him. All he could do was brace himself for impact... and then bam!

“Wake up! Wake up!”

“He’s pretty. When I grow up I want one just like him.”

“He smells like Uncle Petey after Thanksgiving dinner.”

“He looks mean.”

“Waaaake uuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuupppp!”

Smitty raised his head and looked at the six pups crawling all over his back and legs. Jessie Ann would definitely go down in history as the meanest woman to ever walk the planet.

A tiny fist banged against his forehead, causing immeasurable pain. “Auntie Jess wanted us to tell you to get your butt out of bed.” The little girl grinned now that she’d delivered her message.

Smitty cleared his throat. “Thank you. I’m on it.”

“Great!” she yelled, causing his head to split open and all the contents to fall out. Or so it felt like.

“There’s waffles waiting. But you better come on. Once the older kids start feeding, forget it.”

“Any chance you’ll go away while I get up?”

“No,” they all answered in unison.

“Of course.”

“Auntie Jess wants us to make sure you get up. But you need to hurry because we’re leaving soon.”

Yawning, Smitty forced himself up. “Leaving?”

“Yup, for the weekend.” She gave him that pretty smile again. “It’s Johnny’s birthday. So you need to go. After you eat. Because we’re leaving. And no one seems to like you.”

Smitty stared at the little blond girl. “Your momma’s Sabina, isn’t she?”

“How did you know?”

“Wild guess.”

Jess finished her waffle and took her plate to the sink. She’d filled the adults in on the entire Walt Wilson situation, including everything she’d learned since the day before. Once done they’d gone on to pack and get their kids ready. From the main four, she’d gotten the reactions she’d learn to expect over the years. Sabina wanted to stalk and decimate the entire Wilson Pack. May took full responsibility for something that wasn’t her fault. Danny saw doom. And Phil said nothing, which meant he’d already plotted and planned the violent death of Walt Wilson.

That’s the thing about the Kuznetsov Pack that many didn’t understand. They weren’t a sweet dog Pack who had grown up among their own kind. Nearly every one of them was a street dog. Pit fighters who’d kept their Pack together and alive by doing whatever necessary. They were survivors and they protected their own.

“What do you want us to do?” Phil asked.

“I want him tracked down. Smitty’s got someone on it, but call in some of our old buddies.” She turned from the sink and faced her friends. “If he really just wants to see his daughter, I won’t stop him. But if he’s just using her—all bets are off. Understand me?”

Her Pack nodded, even though she could see May on the verge of tears. Jess walked over to her, stroked her hair, and kissed the top of her head. “Don’t cry, May. We’ll handle this.”

“I don’t want any of you to go to prison, and y’all are plotting something that will send you to prison.”

Jess grinned, knowing May was right. “We’ll worry about all that next week, sweetie. We’ve got plans this weekend. And Kristan will be with us. Safe. So let’s get to it. We’ve gotta get these bratty-brats dressed, packed, and buckled up before we can even think about getting on the road. And pack enough for after the weekend. Don’t forget we’re not coming straight home. Mace’s team will be setting up den security next week.”

As they all stood Smitty wandered into the kitchen, pups hanging off him like monkeys.

He glared at her with bloodshot eyes. “Jessie Ann.” Her name had never been filled with such accusation before.

All sweetness, “Morning, Bobby Ray.”

“Think you can help me out here?”

“But you look like you’re handling it so well.”

“Jessie Ann,” he snarled through clenched teeth, making the pups giggle.

May and Danny removed the children from Smitty’s body and sent them to their rooms to start packing. Sabina sat Smitty down at the kitchen table while Phil pulled waffles out of the warmer. May filled up two glasses, one with milk and one with orange juice. Sabina brought him coffee.

“Kind of got this down to a science,” Smitty noted as he clung to the coffee mug like his life depended on it.

“So many kids,” Jess said, “we have no choice.”

Jess poured herself a mug of coffee, and as she placed the pot back in the machine, she said, “I’m going upstairs to pack. When I come down, you’ll be gone.” She patted his cheek. “See ya.”

One stubby Russian finger poked him in the head. “How did you screw up? Are you slow?”

“Don’t poke my head.”

“Don’t pick on him.” May topped off his coffee. “I’m sure it’s just a misunderstanding.”

“No, Jess is quite sure he is fool. And I think I agree with her.”

“Why are y’all picking on me?”

“Because,” Phil snapped, “if you screw this up, we’re stuck with Sherman Landry or an equivalent.” Phil glared at him. “That is unacceptable to me.”

“Sorry I’m screwing up your life.”

“Just get it right.” Danny let out a deep breath. “You’ve got one more shot here. We’re going to our Long Island house.”

“And?”

“Marissa Shaw’s property butts ours. Do the math, hillbilly,” Phil snarled between clenched teeth.

“That’ll work,” May said with that constant cheerfulness. It was annoying. “You can ‘accidentally’ meet up with us at some point.” She winked at him.

“I’ll see what I can do.”

“You better,” Phil bit out. “Because if I have to deal with Landry on a regular basis, there will be hell to pay.”

“Mornin’, sunshine.”

Brendon, dressed in only a towel and fresh from his shower, slowly turned away from his kitchen sink and faced the man who had quickly become the bane of his existence. His sister had been right, it seemed. She said you take on one Packmate, you take on them all. Now, nearly every day, he found some wolf wandering around his home, eating his food, watching his TV—and he wouldn’t even discuss the bathtub incident.

“Why are you here?”

Smitty held up a bowl of plain yogurt. “I was hungry.”

“This is a hotel. You can get room service. In another room. Even better, another hotel—in another state.”

“True enough. True enough. But I do have a question for you.”

Brendon took a deep, cleansing breath. “Okay.”

“Your sister has property near the Kuznetsov Pack’s, right?”

“The one out on Long Island?”

“Yeah.”

“Yeah. So?”

“Any plans for this weekend?”

Brendon folded his arms in front of his chest, his patience sprinting out of the room. “Spit it out, canine.”

“Thought we could bring the Pack there, maybe Mace and Dez, since we have this long weekend coming up. Make it a family thing.”

“And you want to take them to the property that just happens to butt up against your girlfriend’s Pack’s?”

“She’s not my girlfriend.”

Yet.

Brendon had been there. He knew the possessive look in the man’s eye. Poor idiot. He had no idea. None. But Smitty had given Brendon’s boneheaded brother a job that kept him in New York and out of trouble. More important, Smitty had brought him Ronnie Lee. For that alone he owed the man, although under torture he’d never admit that out loud. “All right, little puppy, we can go. Besides, it’ll be fun watching her ignore you.”

“That’s real kind of you, hoss.”

“Well, ya know... ” Brendon grinned. “I do try.”