Wolf with Benefits

CHAPTER SEVEN

Paul was relaxing on his couch with his eldest son, Cooper, watching bad mid-afternoon television and enjoying every day, average, father-son bonding.

“So how did your concert go in front of the prime minister?”

“Pretty good. You know how I like playing at the Colosseum. I’d just need Rome burning to feel like Nero.” He paused. “Except with a piano. So I guess Mom’s more like Nero. How about you? What have you been up to while I was away?”

“I rebuilt the motor in my Mustang. Then Freddy freaked out about something and Toni stopped him from setting fire to the house—which was good—but then he took the motor and the rest of the car apart when we were all asleep. I haven’t had the heart to go back into the garage since. But I have the SUV, so I can still get around.”

They continued to watch bad afternoon TV until the arguing from down the hall became so intolerable both men sighed and stood up at the same time. Together, father and son headed toward the arguing, but Paul already guessed where it was coming from. The large ballroom of the town house. It was the perfect place for a dancer to practice or a sculptor to sculpt or a painter to paint or a scientist to set up a lab. The list went on and on. And, in Paul’s estimation, the room was large enough for all of his children to practice their art or music or anything else they wanted to work on. It was an enormous room!

Too bad none of his brilliant progeny wanted to share.

They’d almost reached the ballroom entrance when Cherise skulked around a corner. Poor thing. She skulked a lot. Kept to the shadows. A brilliant cellist since she was six, Cherise easily lost herself in her music. But when she wasn’t playing, she was an easily frightened, constantly shivering She-jackal. It broke Paul’s heart. His daughter needed to find her strength. Jackals weren’t big and had no pack to call their own, but they did have each other. They had family. That was their strength. That’s what had kept jackals going in the wild for centuries. So Paul needed to find out what would bring his daughter’s natural strength out. He’d done it before with Toni by putting her in charge of Coop and Cherise when she was thirteen. He’d done it with the intention of keeping an eye on all three but letting his daughter feel what it was like to be needed, to feel important. And she’d taken that responsibility and run with it, helping him and Jackie to raise the most amazing children. Still, it was time for her to get out on her own. To live her own life. His Toni deserved that.

“What’s up, Cherise?” he asked her.

“We need Toni.”

“No,” he said gently but firmly. “We don’t need Toni. We can handle this without her.”

“She should be home by now,” Cherise insisted. “We need Toni.”

Knowing one of Cherise’s “loops” when he heard one—her “loops” being when she kept saying the same thing over and over until she passed out—Paul just walked on ahead, Coop and Cherise behind him. He stepped into the ballroom, stopping right at the entrance as a pink ballet slipper flew by and collided with Kyle’s head. Tragically for Kyle, it was one of Oriana’s pointe shoes, and the hard tip clocked the kid right in the eye.

“You talentless hack!” Kyle screamed, one hand over his eye. “I should rip out your Achilles tendon with my teeth!”

“Try that, you little weasel, and I’m chopping off both your hands!”

Coop glanced at Paul. “Cherise is right . . . we need Toni.”

Toni stepped out of the limo she’d hired to transport her, Ricky, and Bert to the airport.

Newark was one of the airports she knew really well. Almost as well as LaGuardia and she had lots of connections here. She knew she could get a staff escort directly to the gate for Bert. And she might be allowed to go with him herself even though she didn’t have a ticket. She wasn’t sure, however, that she could get the wolf access, too. But she assumed he wouldn’t mind waiting.

“Uh . . . Toni?”

Toni turned and smiled at the wolf. “Yes?”

He motioned to the limo with a jerk of his head. That’s when Toni saw the claws sticking up through the roof of the vehicle. Toni rushed over and crouched down. Bert had his black bear claws dug into the roof and his powerful legs spread and braced on either side of the door.

“Bert?”

“I’m not going,” he panted out desperately. “I’m not going. I’m not going. I’m not going.”

Toni stood. “I think he’s frightened of flying.”

“What gave you that idea?”

“I don’t need sarcasm right now, country boy,” she snapped. Toni took a breath. “I’m going to see if I can talk him out.”

“Make it fast. After a while, even people in Jersey are gonna notice bear claws through a limo roof.”

Deciding not to comment on the wolf being Mr. Obvious, Toni leaned into the limo.

“Hey, Bert,” she said, keeping her voice soft and soothing, like when she had to talk Cherise down from the roof of the house where she’d gone after panicking because the FedEx guy asked her to sign for a package. “Hey. It’s okay. You don’t have to do anything you don’t want to.”

“I’m not going. You can’t make me go.”

“No problem.” She slowly, carefully leaned over, her hand stretching out to gently take his. “I just need you to retract those—oh, my God! Not the face! Not the face!”

Ricky didn’t manage to catch Toni when she fell back out of the limo door, but he did stop her head from hitting the pavement. He took that as a win.

“Are you all right?”

“Do I still have my nose?”

“Yep. Not even a scratch.”

“Then I’m fine. Help me up.” He did, easily lifting her to her feet. The She-jackals sure were small. Compared to She-wolves anyway.

Toni wiped off the back of her jeans, her focus on the bear in the limo, which allowed Ricky to take a nice long look at her cute little rear.

“Stop staring at my ass, freak.”

“Hey!” The limo driver stormed around the vehicle. “What the hell? What’s he doing to my car?”

“Don’t panic.”

“Panic? Who’s going to pay for this?”

“Can we worry about that later?” Toni demanded as she tossed off her sling, grabbed hold of the bear’s leg, and began to pull.

“We can’t worry about this later! I’m responsible for this car!” The driver crouched down and glared at the bear. “I knew I shouldn’t let a bear into my car. Tacky, flea-bitten, honey-obsessed bastard!” The mountain lion driver hissed at the bear, and Bert roared back.

That’s when the cops took notice of what was going on. “We need to go,” Ricky pushed.

“I said I’d get him on that plane. I’m going to—”

Ricky shoved the She-jackal into the car, hoping she’d be okay since she landed face-first on Bert’s chest. He slammed the door closed and caught hold of the mountain lion by the back of his neck.

The cat hissed as Ricky walked him back to the driver’s side of the car. “Get in and drive, tabby.”

Ricky slammed that door shut, then walked around the front of the vehicle, waving casually at the cops coming closer. He opened the front passenger door and slipped inside. By the time he closed the door, the cat pulled into traffic and headed off.

“So where are we going?” the cat demanded. “And who’s paying for my car?”

By now Toni had crawled forward until she could knock on the glass between the front seats and the back of the limo. The cat lowered the window and Toni leaned in. She gave the cat an address Ricky didn’t recognize.

“He’s not getting on a plane,” Ricky reminded her.

“I’ll figure out something.”

“And my car?” the cat screeched, making Ricky bark at him, which made the cat hiss back and Bert roar.

“That is enough!” Toni bellowed, silencing all three males.

“Everybody just shut the fuck up right now! And I’ll pay for your goddamn limo, so shut up about it already.”

“Can I get that in writing?” the cat muttered.

Toni’s dark brown eyes locked on the driver. “I will unleash this bear on you,” she warned, her voice low. “So don’t test me.”

Letting out a breath, she turned and dropped into the seat beneath the window.

“You’re not giving up, are you?” Ricky asked her.

“No. I’m not giving up.” She took a deep breath. “But I do wish I was home dealing with the devil I know . . .”

Coop didn’t know how Toni dealt with this on a daily basis. The arguing. The crying. The yelling. The death threats. And those not fighting were instigating. For instance, the twins. Not even four yet, they insisted on tossing out inflammatory suggestions in any language they knew, which turned out to be a lot more languages than Coop had realized.

Cooper had always known his big sister had shielded him from a lot. As always, her concern had been keeping his focus on what he loved. His music. He clearly remembered when he was six, Toni yelling at their house cleaner because she was running the vacuum while he was practicing at the family piano. The housekeeper had never taken Toni very seriously, because all she ever did was follow their dad around and go to a regular school. When the housekeeper had ignored her, Toni had picked up the vacuum and thrown it against the wall. Then she’d screamed, “I said my brother is practicing!”

From that day on, Toni established her position as protector of the family. Their parents provided money, food, love, and support for their kids, but Toni handled the teachers, the schedules, the logistics, the arguments, the neurotic and oftentimes illegal behavior . . .

Cooper always knew it, but it didn’t hit him until he was forced to drag Zia and Zoe off Kyle, their tiny little fists pounding his face, their sharp little puppy teeth trying to chew his nose off. Who knew such adorable little girls could be so angry? So very angry.

As the girls redirected their rage at Cooper’s neck and chin, he looked to see if his father could help, but no. He couldn’t. He was holding Oriana back from throttling Troy.

The yelling and arguing was so bad that finally, Jackie stormed into the room.

“What the hell is going on?” she demanded, hands on hips.

“You can’t tell?” Paul asked, Oriana swinging wildly in his arms.

“Well, where’s Toni?”

“She’s at the job interview.”

“She’s not back yet?”

“Do you think this would be going on if she was here? And can you help rather than bark about our daughter?”

“But what is she doing? Having drinks with Ulrich? Enjoying a casual lunch with that other wolf she met earlier? Lounging? I mean, what exactly is my eldest daughter doing that’s more important than helping her siblings?”

Toni got on the pavement, planted her feet on either side of the door, and with a yelled, “Heave!” she pulled on one of Bert’s legs while the driver stood slightly above her and pulled on the other. Ricky was at the opposite door, pushing the black bear from behind.

But nothing worked. They couldn’t move the bear with his claws dug into the roof.

“I’m not going!” Bert screamed. “I’m not going!”

Toni released him and fell back against the pavement.

The driver stormed away. “This is ridiculous!”

“Calm down.” Toni tried to push herself up but her shoulder gave out. No problem, though. The wolf was there, grabbing her under the arms and lifting her up. “Thanks,” she muttered.

“So now what?”

She sighed. “Let me see what I can do.”

“Where are you going?” the driver demanded as she started to walk off.

“Just stay here with Bert. I’ll be back. And yes”—she went on before the mountain lion could complain—“I’m going to pay for your goddamn limo. Just let it go already!”

“Still don’t have it in writing!” he shot back after her, but Toni ignored him, walking into the Long Island airport that very few people knew anything about. It was a small, shifter-run airport with three airlines.

Two of the airlines handled exotic importing. Zebra, gazelle, cape buffalo . . . these all came in through LoupAir and Mercer Shipping. The only difference was that Mercer shipped frozen carcasses while LoupAir shipped live animals for hunting.

It was Madra Airlines that flew shifters anywhere in the world they wanted to go. Owned and operated by the enormous Madra Wild Dog Pack, Madra Airlines, a division of Madra Transportation, had been moving shifters between countries for more than a millennium. First in the boats they stole from the Vikings who raided their lands and, in turn, the wild dogs had killed and dined on, and now in, some of the most modern planes currently available.

The best thing about the Madra planes was that they were built for all shifters. From the tiny foxes who liked to steal—they were booked into seats with alarms that alerted flight attendants anytime they stood up; to the seven-foot polar bears that needed more leg and head room—they were put in remodeled planes that were originally built for military transport of trucks and Humvees; to the very demanding lion males—Madra personnel always made sure to seat them away from any cubs and had ample amounts of food on supply for their feeding needs.

That’s why Toni loved Madra. Expensive it might be, but when she had to make sure the entire Jean-Louis Parker clan could get from one place to another in a timely manner and without embarrassment-inducing risks, she spent the extra cash to book them on Madra Airlines.

“Antonella?”

Toni spun around and immediately grinned. “Scotty!” She charged into the open arms of her fellow jackal. “I was so hoping you were working today.”

“Is it Kyle?” he asked with a smile when Toni stepped back.

“For once . . . no. I do need your help, though.” She took his hand and dragged him to the front doors of the airport and out to the limo.

“Holy shit.” The jackal laughed when he saw the bear.

“He’s afraid of flying,” Toni told him. “Can you help?”

“With bears? You bet. Just tell me what needs to happen.”

Ricky waited until the jackal had gone back inside the airport before he asked, “So who’s that?”

“That’s Scotty.”

“Just telling me the man’s name doesn’t really help me understand.”

“He runs the airport.”

“Thought wild dogs run this place.”

“Wild dogs own this company. But they hire other canines. They’re a really great company if you’re looking for work.”

“I’m not. Do you think I am?”

“I have no idea, with you free to follow me around all day.” She suddenly frowned. “You’re not a criminal, are you?”

“Why would you think that?”

“Well . . . you are in the Smith Pack.”

“And?”

That’s when the mountain lion started to laugh. “Oh, come on! Are you really going to be insulted that she asked you that?”

“What the hell does that mean?”

“Everybody knows that the Smith Pack is either criminals or assholes. Usually both at the same time.”

Annoyed and always protective of his Pack, Ricky Lee stepped closer to the cat. Instantly, the cat stood straight, fangs easing out of his gums.

“Gentlemen,” Toni sighed. “Do we really have time for this?”

Ricky would make time.

“What are you gonna do, Snoopy? Without your Pack? It’s just you and me.”

Toni leaned in between the snarling pair. “Not really,” she said, motioning toward the front doors. Ricky and the cat looked over and saw about ten males in their wolf forms standing a few feet away. Ricky didn’t know any of them, but he knew wolves would always back stranger wolves against cats, because cats just really irritated them all.

That Scotty guy—was he the ex-boyfriend?—came out of the airport. He pointed at the limo. “He’s in there, Craig.”

The wolves trotted over to the limo.

“What are they doing to my car?”

“Tearing it apart?”

“Stop instigating,” Toni told Ricky.

The wolves stood outside the limo for several seconds. Then, suddenly, one of them jumped forward, barked, and nipped at Bert’s legs.

“Hey!” Bert yelled. “Cut it out!”

Another wolf jumped forward, barked, nipped.

Then they all did it, surrounding the limo and attacking Bert from both ends.

“Get off me!” he yelled from inside. “I’m not kidding! Cut it out!”

“Good Lord,” Ricky muttered, his annoyance at the cat forgotten as the two stood there with Toni between them and watched. “They’re baitin’ that damn bear.”

“That is so wrong,” the cat said.

Wrong it might be, but effective. Bert suddenly exploded out of that limo, roaring, claws slashing at the wolves. He hit a few, sending them flying several feet.

“Hey, bear,” Scotty said. And when Bert turned, ready to attack yet another canine, Scotty pulled the trigger on the tranquilizer gun he held. The dart slammed into Bert’s neck. The black bear roared and tried to run off, but the wolves kept charging him, pushing him back, blocking him off, until he began to stumble forward . . . back . . . and then down he went like a diseased oak.

Scotty handed off the rifle to some fox standing with him and motioned to the wolves. “All right, gentlemen. Let’s get the bear up and on the plane.”

The wolves shifted back to human and lifted poor Bert up and carried him into the airport. One of them grabbed Bert’s baggage out of the trunk and followed after them.

Scotty stood in front of Toni, his smile wide. “Told you. Easy-peasy.”

“Scotty, you’re the best.”

“I know.” He took Toni’s hand and rested it on his forearm.

“The best part . . . for a little extra, we’ll make sure he gets back the same way. He’ll wake up in New York and not even remember checking out of his hotel.”

“Excellent.”

“Now let’s get this paperwork out of the way.” He led her inside. “Would you like some champagne while we do this? You look like you need it.”

The cat looked at Ricky. “He is so gonna nail her.”

Ricky Lee took off his hat, scratched his head. “You know, cat, you are partly right.”

“About what?”

Ricky rammed his head forward into the cat’s, knocking the feline out completely.

Staring down at him, he said, “The Smith Pack can be a bunch of assholes.”

Ricky put his hat back on and went into the airport in search of Toni.