“Might get you to loosen up a bit.”
“Do you remember the last time you said that to me?”
“No, but—”
“We were in Prague. ‘Loosen up,’ you said. ‘What can it hurt?’ you said.”
They entered the hallway, pushing past some of the most beautiful humans in the world like they were no more than bums on the street.
“Are you still not over that?” Sissy sighed.
“Do you think a Prague jail is fun? It’s not.”
“That was not my fault. Perhaps you forgot the hyenas that were involved.”
“I forget nothing, Sissy Mae Smith. So unless you want me to shove a glass of tequila up your ass, you’ll stop bugging me.”
Brendon nursed his drink and tried to ignore the make-out session going on next to him at the bar. Eventually, he had to look past the couple at Smitty, who stood on the other side. He raised an eyebrow, and Smitty gave a slow easy grin that must have had females passing out at his feet.
The wolf turned and rested his elbow against the bar, focusing on the couple. Brendon mirrored him and they both watched until Dez’s eyes snapped open and she looked at the two men staring at her.
With an incredibly strong shove for a human, she pushed Mace off her. “Why don’t I go see if I can find a booth or something.” She practically sprinted off, and Mace Llewellyn glared at them. “Bastards.”
He stormed off after his female and Smitty moved to the stool next to Brendon, which kind of surprised the cat. Actually, the whole night had been a surprise. The Packs Brendon had met since owning the hotel had been barely tolerable, and some had been downright violent. But Smitty and his Pack really didn’t seem to give a shit about him and Ronnie. He appreciated that, because the more time he spent around that woman, the more his feelings for her grew. But he only had to take one look at her face to know the thought of anything remotely permanent freaked her the hell out.
It entertained Brendon to watch her constant struggle between wanting to find a nice “wolf” and settle down and wanting to remain that traveling wild child on her own timetable.
It would not be easy to convince Rhonda Lee Reed that he could give her everything she ever wanted. But he’d always been determined, and he had no intention of giving up now.
“So…” Smitty began.
“So…?”
“You and our little Ronnie, huh?”
“Yup.”
“My sister says you like her.”
“Yeah. I like her.” Brendon shrugged. “I like her a lot.”
Smitty gave a surprised chuckle. “Man, you and Mace sure do confuse things.”
“How do we do that?”
“We’re the loyal ones. The ones who love forever. Y’all are the alley cats. Not to be trusted. Y’all are ruining what I’ve been using in my favor for many pleasurable years, and I don’t appreciate it one damn bit.”
Brendon laughed. He could see why Mace liked Smitty. Smart and funny hidden under a veneer of slow-moving Southern male.
“Sorry, but I never saw her coming.”
“Most don’t.” He sipped his beer. “A lot of people think Ronnie just follows Sissy Mae around like a lemming. I think she even thinks it sometimes. But she’s smarter than that. There’s no one else I would have trusted my baby sister with when she went traipsing over to Europe.”
Smitty looked over at him. “Her brothers are probably going to be coming this way soon, Shaw. If you’re not serious about her, I’d suggest you end it right quick.”
“I’m very serious. But she scares easy.”
“So does Sissy. They’re afraid of becoming like some of the Smith females. Trapped in a small town, mated to men they love but can barely stand with five or six more Smith males to raise. The two of them wanted more, and they went out and got it. I admire that myself.”
“Me, too.”
“Then I best warn ya…the Reed boys, they love their sister something fierce. But she uses them and her daddy to keep any male serious about her away. You want that little gal, you’ll have to face them boys head-on. They’re gonna mess that pretty face up some, but I doubt they’ll kill ya…unless they really don’t like you. Which, with the Reed boys, is a definite risk cause they don’t like many.”
Brendon shook his head and faced Smitty. “Why are you telling me this? Warning me, I mean?”
“I don’t know really. You don’t irritate me much. And you’re kinda funny. Plus, I guess, because Ronnie and Sissy are two peas in a pod. The two of them can convince the other of anything and often do. But maybe if Ronnie finds somebody…”
“Then maybe Sissy will stop fighting it?”
“Don’t get me wrong. I’d rather take a bowie knife to my eye than think of my baby sister with any male on this planet. But I don’t wanna see her alone and bitter because she’s trying to not be like our momma. Because the harder she tries not to be like our momma, the more like our daddy she becomes. And, hoss, I simply can’t have that.”
Brendon motioned for two more beers from the bartender. “Then I guess I’m on deck to make this thing happen, huh?”
“Better get your cat ass in gear, too, son. Because that Ronnie…she don’t stand still long for any male.”
The four females stepped into the main part of the club. Music pulsated, lights flickered and flashed, and bodies writhed on the dance floor. It surprised Ronnie the little interest this held for her anymore. At one time, she and Sissy would have been right in the middle of all those people dancing their asses off.
Sissy stood beside her. “You wanna dance, darlin’?”
Ronnie looked at her friend. “Do you?”
She scrunched up her face a bit. “Not really.”
“Me neither.”
“Lord, we’re gettin’ old, aren’t we, Ronnie?”
“Nah. Not old. Maturing. Maturing’s a good thing.”
“Who taught you that lie?”
Ronnie started to laugh, but stopped abruptly and stared out over the dancing crowd. A few of them shifters, but most of the writhing bodies were humans. Still, she’d always been good at recognizing scents.
Sissy Mae watched her. “What is it?”
Ronnie sniffed the air and growled. She took several steps forward and her eyes caught sight of one of them. She remembered the scar on his neck, bruises still on his face from his run-in with Shaw, and the persistent smell of gun oil.
She started toward him, watching as he headed to a back door and slipped out. Like most humans, completely oblivious to being tracked.
Not clear why Ronnie went after him. But she knew she didn’t track him alone. Without having to say a word, the She-wolves were right behind her, slipping out of the crowd and following. The best part of being in a Pack—you were never alone. They always had your back. They always protected their own. No matter what internal fighting may go on as each member tried to stay out of the Omega spot, they were always a unit. With a helpful howl, they’d have the males by their side as well. But they didn’t need the males. They rarely did when it came to hunting a full-human.
Ronnie reached the emergency exit the man had slipped through and pushed open the door. Ten feet below, the exit door slammed shut. Ronnie grabbed the railing and leaped over it, landing in a crouch.
Cracking her neck, she shoved open the door and walked out into a large back alley. At the mouth of the alley, the scarred male leaned against a late-model Ford, talking to the other man Ronnie remembered from Shaw’s room. Each leaned over the roof, speaking in low tones.
Ronnie sauntered over, loving the cold December air against her skin. She always got a little hot and bothered when she stalked. Nothing she loved better.
Neither male realized she was there until she placed her hands on either side of the scarred male. Her fingers gripped the metal roof, and she barely held her claws in. She’d pull those out only when necessary.
“Well, hello, darlin’,” she purred in his ear.
Stunned, b
oth men froze. The male facing her quickly saw the other females behind her as they slowly made their way around the car. Surrounding them as Ronnie surrounded the scarred human.
He slowly turned, gripped her hands, and pushed her away. “Can I help you?” Ronnie grimaced. The male’s New York accent was thick and powerful, grating on her sensitive wolf ears.
“I was just wondering,” she softly stated while stepping close again, her hands resting on his chest as she leaned into his lanky body, “what your fascination with Brendon Shaw might be?”
The male snorted, dismissing her. “Mind your own business, sweet cheeks.”
Using very little effort, Ronnie slammed the scarred human back against the car, then pinned him there with her body.
“I’m sorry. Maybe I wasn’t clear, darlin’.”
The She-wolves moved closer. Gemma climbed up on the hood of their car and Sissy Mae got close to the other male, sniffing his neck while she rubbed up against him. Any other time, Ronnie would bet the male would love that move. Right now, he looked terrified.
“What do you want with Brendon Shaw?” she asked again.
The male stared at her. They were of equal height, but Ronnie easily outweighed him. She felt the gun attached to his slacks, but she had no fear he’d ever get close to it if he tried.
“Nothin’. I don’t want nothin’ from Brendon Shaw.”
“I saw you at his hospital room. I know you were there.”
He smirked, so Ronnie leaned forward and snapped at him. She didn’t bare her fangs, but she added a little growl for effect.
“Answer me, boy. I’d hate to have to ruin that face any more than necessary.”
His smirk turned feral and he said, “Lady, get the hell away from me before I arrest you for assaulting an officer.”
Ronnie raised an eyebrow. “You’re a cop? You expect me to believe that?”
The other male pulled out the long chain hidden under his orange sweater. The badge hanging at the end of it blinked at her in the streetlights.
Fuck, fuck, fuck!
Holding her hands up, Ronnie stepped back. Damn, but she really didn’t want to go to jail tonight. Although New York jails couldn’t possibly be any worse than the ones in Mexico and Russia.
“You’re cops,” she said flatly.
“Yeah, brain trust. We’re cops.”
With a motion from Sissy Mae, the other She-wolves slowly backed off.
The humans opened the car doors, but Ronnie couldn’t leave it at that.
“What do you want with Brendon Shaw? Why were you at the hospital?”
The male on the driver’s side ignored her and got into the car, immediately starting it up. Poor guy couldn’t wait to get out of there. The other looked at her and smiled. “Let’s just say,” he offered as he climbed into the vehicle, “we’re not here because of Brendon Shaw.”
“You know, the first time you ever spoke to me, you held a conversation with my tits.”
A lesser man would have spit his beer across the table. Brendon, however, choked it back and looked straight at a scowling Mace and smirking Dez across the booth they’d absconded.
With a shrug, he said, “What can I say? They’re so…there. It’s hard not to talk to them like they’re individual people.”
Dez’s eyes narrowed, but Mace grunted and turned away. It took her all of five seconds to realize he was laughing. “What’s so damn funny?” she demanded.
“Nothing.” Mace cleared his throat and looked back at her, trying, Brendon noted, not to let his eyes stray anywhere near her very prominent breasts. “Just thinking about how much I lo—”
Dez’s hand landed across Mace’s mouth so fast and hard, Brendon almost jumped.
“I thought,” she growled, “we had this discussion.”
Mace pulled her hand away and kissed her fingers. “You discussed. I didn’t agree to a damn thing.”
“Tricky cat.”
“You say that like it’s a bad thing. Besides”—he nuzzled her palm—“you know you lov—”
Dez’s free hand slapped across his mouth. “Stop it!”
Sure, most people would walk away, give the pair some alone time. But Brendon was cat and, to be quite honest, he found the whole thing absolutely fascinating. Humans could be so weird. Especially human females. Didn’t they live to hear someone say they loved them? When did that change?
Really, give him a predator female any day. They were much easier to deal with and a lot less drama.
“Well”—Ronnie dropped into the booth next to him—“I almost got arrested again.”
Then, of course…there was Ronnie.
Taking a deep breath, Brendon asked, “Why did you almost get arrested…again?”
“For, according to him, assaulting an officer.” Now Ronnie, completely oblivious, had Dez’s full attention. “Although I didn’t assault him. He was just pissed off I had him pinned against his car with my knee real close to his nuts.”
After several long seconds, Brendon shrugged again. “You know…I have absolutely no response to that statement.”
Dez did, though. “Explain to me why you had a cop pinned up against a car.”
“I didn’t know he was a cop. I thought he was some scumbag. Looked like a scumbag. And, he was the one ol’ Tigger here beat up in his hospital room.”
Brendon winced. “I beat up cops?”
“Sure did. They had badges and everything.”
Dez snorted. “Unfortunately, that doesn’t mean shit. What were their names?”
Now Ronnie shrugged. “Got me. Yet their scent did have a strong hint of jackal. But they’re completely human.”
Taking a deep, cleansing breath, Dez asked, “Okay, I’m not going to let that statement freak me out, so let’s try this. What did they look like?”
After thinking for several moments, “One had dark blond hair and a scar across his neck.”
“A scar? Like someone cut him from ear to ear?”
“Yeah. Exactly.”
“Was the other one a little runty, dark-haired guy? With a mustache?”
“Yeah! That’s them.”
Dez nodded. “Yup. You beat up cops.”
Brendon frowned. “Then shouldn’t I be in jail?”
Ronnie rested her head against his shoulder and yawned. “They said they don’t want you. I think they want your brother.”
Completely drained, Brendon rested his elbows on the table and rubbed his eyes with his knuckles. “What exactly has that dumb fuck done?”
“You can’t assume he did anything.” When Brendon glared at her in disbelief, Ronnie shrugged. “Innocent until proven guilty. And if he is guilty, I’m sure he has an explanation.”
“Why do you constantly protect that idiot?” Brendon hated how much he sounded like Marissa, but suddenly he saw how idiotic he must sound to her. Always making excuses for Mitch. Mitch who was wanted by the police. Nice one, asshole.
“I protect him cause he’s your kin.” She brushed her knuckles against his cheek. “I protect him like I’d protect you or your cubs. Although”—she gave that adorable smirk—“your sister is on her own. Because Mitch may or may not be a criminal, but at least he’s nice to me. He gave me yogurt.”
“Yogurt?” he asked to give himself a few seconds to get control of his suddenly exploding emotions. Not over Mitch. Hell, he’d gotten used to these times with his baby brother. But the fact that Ronnie protected him and his family like she would her Pack. Brendon didn’t even know if she realized it yet. Realized how much that simple admission said to him.
“I love yogurt, and he dug it out of the back of that inhumanly large refrigerator you have. He did it for me. Hardened criminals don’t do that unless they’re expecting to get some pussy out of it.”
Brendon took her hand, kissed her knuckles. “That was eloquent, Ronnie.”
She snorted in response and then climbed into his lap. He wrapped his arms around her and pulled her in close to his chest.
Nibbling her ear, Brendon whispered, “More than ready. What would you like to do when we get there?”
She wrapped her arms around his shoulders. “Let’s not worry about family or cops or anything else tonight.” She kissed him and pulled back with a grin. “Tonight I’m a coquettish schoolgirl and you’re the dirty next-door neighbor boy trying to talk me out of my virginity.”
Dez choked on her beer, and Mace had to pound her back to help ease the cough.
Brendon ignored it all, instead staring into Ronnie’s dark hazel eyes. Because of the darkness of the club, they glinted when she moved. “The coquettish schoolgirl?”
“Trust me, darlin’.” She slipped off his lap and stood, grabbing his hand to drag him out of the booth. “I’ve got the perfect skirt.”
Chapter Twelve
She’d practically shoved him into his elevator and told him she’d meet him upstairs in a little while. That had been forty minutes ago and he was starting to get antsy. Something about that female, something that made Brendon insane and wild. Something that made him want to do whatever necessary to make her a part of his life forever. Not just because she was a great time in bed—and Christ, was she ever—but because she had a heart as big as Asia. He loved how Ronnie cared about those in her life and did what she could to take care of them. Protect them.
He loved how she loved life. The woman had done more in her thirty years than most people in their sixties, but still she acted like everything was wonderful and new. She always found something interesting to learn.
Christ…he loved her. He loved her and she was home. They were home. She just hadn’t realized it yet.
The knock on the door surprised him since he’d given her his key. He dropped his beer on the table and headed to the front door. He didn’t need to check the peephole because he could smell her on the other side. He smelled her excitement and anticipation. The scent made him hard and desperate, but when he opened the door he froze.
He thought she’d been kidding. But nope. Not his Ronnie. There she stood in a way-too-short plaid skirt, white blouse, and white Keds. She’d put her hair into a ponytail at the top of her head, and she even had on small wire-rim glasses. She held a notepad and textbook against her chest, and she stared down at the floor.
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