Not knowing what else to do, Brendon grabbed her hand and Mitch grabbed the other. She pulled and both of them stood up, towering over her.
“I have three older brothers,” she explained with a smile. “If I didn’t stop some of their fights, those boys would have fought all damn day and one of them would have died from blood loss. That would have upset my momma no end, and she would have found a way to blame me.”
Using the tips of her fingers, she turned Brendon’s head a bit so she could look at his neck. She grimaced, sucking the air in between her teeth. “Lord, boy. You really need to learn how to pull back when it’s your own kin.”
Mitch’s eyes narrowed dangerously. “And who are you exactly?”
“Be nice,” Brendon growled, his hands clenching into fists.
“Don’t start that shit again.” She stepped back. “Look, I’m right downstairs. Why don’t I—”
“No. You stay here.” Brendon grabbed his brother’s worn leather biker jacket and yanked him toward the door. “Don’t leave. I’ll be back.”
“Where the hell are we going?” Mitch demanded.
“I’m getting you a room and you’re staying the night. And don’t even think about giving me any shit about this.”
Pulling open the door, he shoved Mitch through it and toward the elevator. He glanced back at the She-wolf. “I’ll be back in a little while. Make yourself at home, but promise me you won’t leave.”
She opened her mouth to argue, he could see it on her face, so he added, “Promise me or I’ll start kicking his ass again, right here.”
His brother turned away from the elevator and snarled, “You wish—”
“Shut up.” Brendon snapped at his brother while staring at her. “Promise me.”
Exasperated, she rolled her eyes. “All right. All right. For the sake of family harmony, I’ll stay. But not like for twelve hours or something. My Pack might notice if I’m gone that long.”
“Don’t worry. I’ll be back.” He started to close the door, but he stepped back and looked at her. “One other thing.”
“Yeah?”
“What is your name?”
She looked torn between being amused, embarrassed, and appalled.
“Rhonda Lee Reed. Everybody calls me Ronnie Lee or Ronnie.”
“Anybody ever call you Ron?”
“Not and live to tell about it.”
Brendon grinned. Yup. He liked her.
“All right, Ronnie Lee. Make yourself at home and I’ll be back in a bit.”
“Yeah. Yeah. But you better have TV,” she mumbled as he closed his front door.
He walked over to his brother and the elevator doors slid open. Grabbing the younger man by the back of the neck, he threw him inside. “And that’s for trying to rip my throat out, you little shit.”
How she could initially miss the fifty-inch, flat-screen plasma TV attached to Shaw’s wall, she had no idea. Then again, his tongue down her throat and his hands on her tits might have had something to do with it.
Settling down onto the man’s butter-soft leather couch and picking up his gargantuan remote to start flipping channels, Ronnie shook her head. He hadn’t even known her name. She almost fucked a man who didn’t even know her name. Lord, she hadn’t done something that trashy in a very long time.
So then why wasn’t she running for the exit instead of sitting on a lion’s couch, reprogramming his inadequately programmed remote?
Because…because she liked him. Stupid idiot that she was, she liked a cat. She liked a male who would never want more from her than a quick, anonymous fuck so he could tell his friends he did a She-wolf.
Even as she thought it, though, she realized that didn’t seem Shaw’s way. He could have anyone he wanted. Human or shifter. Any breed. But he wanted her. He made that clear in front of Bobby Ray’s room. She just couldn’t figure out if this was a mistake or not.
Then again, as long as she kept it simple, maybe it wouldn’t be. Maybe they could have a fun, meaningless fling. Lord knew it wouldn’t be her first.
Of course, if it was all so damn easy, why had her stomach tied itself into knots?
She should go. She should write a little note telling the cat thanks but no thanks. She should. Really.
Ronnie kept thinking that, too, even as she stretched her legs out on his couch and smiled when she realized she’d had the good fortune to catch some CSI reruns.
Brendon scrubbed his face and leaned back, staring at his brother. After three hours and two enormous sandwiches from the kitchen—he knew the kid hadn’t had a decent meal recently—he still didn’t know a damn thing.
“At least tell me why you showed up in my apartment after all this time.”
Mitch paused for a moment, truly contemplating his answer. Brendon knew that expression. Knew Mitch would only tell him enough truth to get Brendon off his back. He’d done it enough times before. Eventually, Mitch shrugged and took another bite. “Marissa left a message on my voice mail,” he grumbled around a mouthful of food.
“She did?”
“Yeah. And she was way pissed. She blames me for this, doesn’t she?”
“Don’t worry about her. So you came here to check on me?”
Mitch rolled his eyes. “If that helps you sleep better, bruh.”
“It’s nice to know you care.”
The middle finger salute given, Mitch went back to his steak sandwich. “So who did it?”
“Doogan brothers.” For a split second Brendon saw surprise register on his baby brother’s face before he quickly masked it. The kid had a talent for that.
“They killed Petrov before Christmas,” Brendon continued. “Shot him in the back of the head.”
“They used guns?” Mitch made a sound of disgust. “Tacky.”
“Doogans,” Brendon reminded him, leaning back in the chair. “They wanted the Llewellyn Pride. They killed Petrov. And they almost killed me.”
“Is that what happened to your face?”
Brendon chuckled. “Yeah. That’s what happened to my face, but it’s healing.”
“Where are they now? The Doogans?”
Brendon knew that look on his brother’s face. He’d seen it on Marissa’s enough. Knew what the kid would do if he had the chance. Too bad for him he wouldn’t have the chance.
“Hyenas ate ’em.”
Mitch stared at him for a long time. Nearly a minute. Until he said, “Excuse me?”
“Hyenas ate them.” Brendon lifted his hands and let them drop. “Like forty of them. Ripped the three of them apart. Considering the bastards were about to shoot me in the back of the head—they kind of deserved it.”
“Good point. Although I don’t see a bunch of hyenas helping you.”
“They didn’t. A really well-endowed cop and a Pack of wolves helped me.”
“Is that where you met She of the Sexy Shorts?”
“She stayed with me through my fever. She protected me from a couple of guys. Got me out of the hospital and stashed me at her aunt’s.”
Again that look passed across Mitch’s face clearly stating he knew more than he was spilling. Only, for once, he looked a bit panicked. “What guys?”
“I don’t know. White. Humans. That’s all anybody knows.” Completely useless information in a court of law.
“You didn’t…uh…I mean…” He cleared his throat. “How badly did you…uh…”
“They’re still breathing, if that’s what you’re asking me.”
Mitch nodded, guzzled his beer.
“Anyway, she stayed with me, man. She didn’t desert me. And she looks amazing in those cowboy boots.”
Mitch put down his beer. “You like her.”
Brendon grinned. He couldn’t help himself. “Yeah. I like her.”
“And what’s your precious Pride have to say about that?” He never could keep the disgust out of his voice when he mentioned them. Just like Marissa. They’d hate it if they knew how alike they were.
; “I’ve only been hanging around lately because of the Doogans. I wasn’t going to let them get near my kids. But we’ve been done with each other for a while now. They got what they wanted out of me and I got what I wanted out of them. So everyone’s happy.”
Mitch smiled. “How are my niece and nephew?”
“Beautiful. Kitten-cranky.”
“I love that age.”
“They’d love to see you.”
“Maybe.”
“What’s going on, Mitch?” Brendon asked yet again.
His face perfectly blank, Mitch stated, “Nothing.”
A stranger might have believed him, but Brendon knew better. Unfortunately, Mitch had the Shaw stubbornness. He wouldn’t tell anyone anything until he damn well wanted to.
“So basically you came to check up on me. You were worried about your big bruh.”
“I wasn’t worried. But I knew if you were dead, I’d want your stuff.”
“Oh, that’s very nice.”
“Come on. Can you blame me?” Mitch gestured around the opulent room. “This gorgeous hotel. Staff waiting to do my bidding. Beautiful woman right upstairs…even if she is a dog.”
Brendon ignored the flash of uncharacteristic jealousy over a female he suddenly experienced. “She-wolf.”
“Whatever.”
“You’d still have to fight Marissa for it all.”
“I could take her. Once I took a bat to her head.”
“Such family love we have.”
“We’re like the lion equivalent of The Waltons.”
Brendon laughed and shook his head. “You’re the biggest idiot.”
It made him feel really good when Mitch smiled.
Chapter Seven
Brendon opened his front door not expecting but hoping to find Ronnie still there. And he did. Asleep on his couch, the television playing an X-Files repeat low in the background. Her body curled into a tight ball, her feet and hands twitching in sleep as she dreamed. She sort of looked like she was…well…running. In her sleep.
Forcing himself not to laugh, he crouched in front of her. Carefully, Brendon brushed her brown hair off her face. She made little whimpering sounds in her sleep and then her lip pulled back in a snarl.
Perhaps the cutest damn thing Brendon had ever seen in his entire life. He kissed her cheek and Ronnie snapped awake…and up. Their heads slammed together. You could almost hear the “thunk.”
“Ow!” Brendon rubbed his nose where her cheek made contact. Christ, his body had taken more abuse in the last few days.
“Sorry,” she said while gripping her own head.
“I didn’t mean to startle you.”
“No. No. It wasn’t your fault. I dreamed I was fighting a puma. A full one,” she added, which explained why she might be so jumpy. A Pride of shifters might decide not to attack a lone wolf because they knew her Pack would come after them, but the full-bloods had no such worries about repercussions.
Which explained why Brendon left hunting in wild animal parks to the hearty and insane, of which his father turned out to be both.
“Did I hurt you?” she asked with a giggle.
“No. I’m fine.”
She felt his forehead. “I still say that fever is there. Not a lot, but a bit.”
“My fever’s gone. Stop worrying.”
“My daddy thought he was over the fever once after he got in a tussle with a wild boar. Then he passed out in the Piggly Wiggly. Went down head first. Bam! Took out their entire candy display.”
That quick, the woman had his heart right in the palm of her hand. To quote her, “Bam!” She probably didn’t even realize it, and Brendon sure as hell had no intention of telling her.
“I’m okay,” he reassured her before he could say something stupid. Like “marry me.”
She shrugged. “Fine. Males wanna take chances with their health, no female around can convince ’em different.”
Ronnie sat up, scratching her head and yawning. “You work everything out with your brother?”
Brendon gave a sharp snort. “Not really. My brother’s not big on telling me or my sister anything.”
“Y’all from the same Pride?”
Sitting down beside her on the couch, enjoying simply having her there, “Nope. His mother belonged to the West Philadelphia Pride and our mom to the South Philly. Our mom died when we were born and her Pride didn’t want us.”
“Why not?”
He shrugged. “Got me. Sometimes cats just get that way.”
“So your dad took you in?”
“Yeah. He raised us. Was determined to do things differently.”
“Differently than what?”
“His father. He died in prison. Art thief.”
Ronnie pulled her legs up onto the couch, her arms around them and her chin resting on her knees. “I used to have an Uncle Louie who robbed banks until he was shot in the head.”
Brendon leaned back and put his feet up on his coffee table. “Ya gotta love family, huh?”
“Not really. But you can’t pick your family. It’s just the way it is. Your brother can’t be that bad, though.”
“What makes you say that?”
“I don’t think you’d be worried about him if you thought he was hopeless.”
“Know that much about me already, huh?”
“Nah. Just a feeling I have. And I’m usually pretty right about people. Got it from my great-grandmother. She was Blackfoot tribe…or…something.”
“And you have three brothers.”
“Yup.” She shook her head. “They wouldn’t like your pretty face one bit.”
“Don’t give a rat’s ass about your brothers. Do you like my pretty face?”
“Yeah. I do.” She gently stroked his cheek. “But if my brothers come to New York and find you sniffing around me, what the Doogan brothers did to you in those tunnels will seem like a cakewalk compared to the Reed boys.”
Brendon leaned into her, his eyes locked on her lips. “I’ll take my chances,” he whispered and moved in.
Should have kept his eyes open, though. It would have prevented him from going face-first into his couch.
By the time he sat up, she had his front door open.
“Where are you going?”
“My momma says to hell in a handbasket, but I’m fightin’ that.”
She got as far as the elevator before he caught hold of the back of her denim shorts and proceeded to drag her back into his apartment.
“You’re not walking out on me again.”
“I can’t stay. I can’t do this.”
“Do what?”
“Have sex with guys who don’t even know my name.” She grabbed the doorjamb and held on for dear life. “I promised myself no more of this wild child bullshit. I’m thirty now, I gotta be responsible.”
“And being with me isn’t responsible?”
“And I repeat—you didn’t even know my name and you’d already started sucking on my nipples. So, yeah, I’d say this is us about to be irresponsible.”
He had to pry her fingers off the doorjamb and haul her into his apartment. “Your name was the first thing I planned to ask you when I came out of the fever, but you were already gone.”
She scrambled out of his arms and backed up into his apartment. Thankfully, she didn’t smell frightened, but she did seem wary. He just didn’t think it was about him.
“I swear it’s nothing personal,” she insisted, “but it is for the best.”
“Don’t leave, Ronnie.”
She shook her head. “I can’t stay. I won’t stay.”
Brendon realized there was only one thing he could do. A risk. But he had to try. “I understand.” He walked away from the door so he no longer blocked her exit. “I’m sorry.”
“No, no. You didn’t do anything wrong, darlin’. It’s all me.” With one last look at him, those beautiful eyes filled with regret, she headed toward the door.
Letting out a low, mournful sigh, he sat o
n the armrest of one of his club chairs, his head hanging down.
“What…what’s wrong?”
“Nothing. I’m fine. You better go.”
He didn’t look at her and when he heard the door open, it took all his strength not to run over and slam it before she could leave.
He waited. The door didn’t close.
“Are you sure you’re okay?”
“Yeah, yeah. Go on. I’m just tired.”
Another moment of silence, a growl, and then the front door slammed shut. Cool hands grabbed his jaw and lifted his head. “Look at me.”
He did…and Christ, those eyes.
“I bet it’s that fever. I told you it hadn’t finished with you yet.”
“I’ll be okay. Really. I’m sure I’m only tired.”
“Come on.” She took his arm and put it around her shoulders. “We’re taking you to bed before you pass out or start running down Fifth Avenue on all fours.”
Brendon let her help him up, and he led her straight to his bedroom. As she helped him onto his bed and proceeded to take off his boots, he realized that yes, he would be going to hell for lying his ass off.
Somehow he knew, though, that Ronnie Lee Reed would be worth every second he’d burn.
He could be faking it. Hell, he probably was faking it.
And if she were to be real honest with herself, she didn’t really care. He’d given her a guilt-free excuse to come right back inside and take this man to bed…uh…to help him through the fever. She wouldn’t get into bed with him.
Unless he needed her to.
Clearing her throat, she dropped his frighteningly large work boots at the side of the bed. “We should…uh…get your jeans off, too.”
“Okay.” He pushed himself up on his elbows and let out that sigh again.
“Now don’t go exerting yourself. I don’t mind helping.” Yeah. Helping. She didn’t mind helping one bit.
Forcing herself to be completely impartial, she reached for his jeans. “We’ll get you out of these and into bed. By morning you should be right as rain.”
She pulled his jeans down past his hips, realizing too late the man wore no underwear. Swallowing past the lump of lust in her throat, she locked her knees tight and yanked his jeans down his legs.
The Mane Event Page 28