Big Bad Beast

by Shelly Laurenston

  Unfortunately, there was one part-time employee of the Group who didn’t seem to understand the word “boundaries.”

  With a sigh, she faced the wolfdog. “Morning, Teacup.”

  A few months back they’d given Blayne a part-time job at the Group. She had two roles: help the young hybrids that Dee had picked up off the streets to acclimate to life in a normal society, and teach them how to fight with knives. Because as much as the wolfdog irritated her last nerve, Dee had to admit the truth—the girl had some skills. Plus, she talked the language of the hybrid, which could be frighteningly off-kilter. Just like Blayne.

  Teacup held out a sheaf of papers. “Evaluations.”

  Dee took the files and quickly flipped through them. “Well?”

  “What we’ve both been saying. Most are doing well, but a few . . .”

  “Hannah?”

  Teacup grimaced. “Okay. She’s a little resistant to . . . everyone. I’m working with her, though,” she added quickly.

  “I know, Blayne.” Dee always used the woman’s real name when they discussed business. It was proper. “But she makes the higher-ups nervous.”

  “Why? Because she’s broody and stares and snarls and snaps when anyone gets too close?” Her nose crinkled a little. “Now that I think about it . . . that might make me nervous, too.” She shook her head and stood tall. “Nope. Not ready to give up on her yet. Hannah’s young. Lots of potential. And, oh, my God, she’s so smart!”

  “She can also rip a man’s heart out of his chest with her bare hands.”

  “Well, who can’t do that?”

  Dee shoved the papers back at Blayne. “You want her to stay, you deal with her.”

  “I was thinking, though . . . it might be good if you stepped in as her mentor.”

  “Why?”

  She blinked. “What do you mean why?”

  “I mean why.”

  “Shouldn’t you just feel, like, honored that I’m asking you?”

  “No.”

  “Asking you to take her under your wing and—”

  “No.”

  “But—”

  “I let her live. That means my good-deed job is done.”

  “Please, Dee-Ann.”

  “Forget it.”

  The wolfdog’s bottom lip began to tremble, her eyes welling with tears, but those tears seemed to be a siren song for bears because as soon as Teacup turned them on, every bear from miles around came to her aid. This time it was a grizzly, polar, and a sloth. And they were all glaring at Dee. She hadn’t even lunged at Blayne yet.

  Yet.

  “Problem, Blayne?” the polar asked, brown eyes glaring at Dee from under one giant white uni-brow.

  Bursting into hysterical sobs, Blayne turned and buried her face in the seven-nine polar’s . . . well, stomach since she didn’t reach his chest.

  “Jesus Christ, Dee-Ann! What did you do to her now?” the polar demanded.

  “Well, I started off by minding my own business. You should try it.”

  The grizzly sow pushed her shoulder. “Why are you so mean to her?” she wanted to know.

  “ ’Cause it makes me smile. And if you touch me again, I’ll destroy every nerve that allows you to walk upright.”

  “Touch you again? You mean like this?”

  The sow reached for her but a hand caught hold of the sow’s wrist and bent it back.

  “Now, now. No need for everyone to get testy.”

  Malone released the sow and stepped next to Dee, Desiree on the other side of her. It had been a long time since Dee had felt she had some backup during these day-to-day office dramas. It was nice.

  “Problem, Dee?” Desiree asked, folding her arms across her chest so her light jacket opened up enough that everyone could see the .45 she had holstered on her hip.

  “No, no,” Blayne said quickly, suddenly able to get control of her torrent of tears. “It’s no problem. Everything is fine.”

  “You sure, Blayne?” the polar asked.

  “Positive. Thanks, guys.”

  With a little jaw popping in warning, the bears walked off and Blayne faced Dee again. “This is so not over. I will bend you to my will.”

  “Sometimes I look at you,” Dee stated flatly, “and I just want to pull your little head off and play basketball with it.”

  “You are so mean,” Teacup snapped, storming off before Dee could bother not arguing with her.

  “You are kind of mean, Smith,” Malone told Dee.

  “There’s no ‘kind of’ about it. I just am.”

  Desiree grinned. “And yet you sound so proud.”

  “Girl’s gotta know her strengths.” Dee cracked her neck. “What’s on the schedule?” Although the previous evening’s raid had gone well and they’d dug up a little more info from the ones they’d gone to see right after, they still had a ways to go until they tracked down the money and the ones truly responsible.

  “We’re on hold for a few hours.”

  Malone looked around the training room. “Since we are, you up for a little training session, canine?”

  “What kind of train—”

  Dee’s words were cut off by Malone’s fist slamming into her face.

  Desiree stepped back. “On that note, I think I’m going to go take a nap in the sleep room you guys have. You two have fun. Let me know when it’s time to go.”

  Dee touched her nose. “You never know how to act, do ya, Malone?”

  The She-tiger shrugged. “It depends on who you talk to.”

  “Do you really think your father would steal from his Pack to open his own restaurant?”

  “I think he’d steal from a sleeping baby to open his own restaurant.”

  “Why?”

  “He wants to prove he’s better than Uncle Van, which is stupid. Because no one is better than Uncle Van.”

  “You still have that six-year-old’s love of him, don’t you?”

  “He taught me how to butcher my first gazelle, how to pick up chicks that are way dumb compared to Aunt Irene, and how to not get beaten by the French chef you’re working for. These are things that I can never forget.”

  “You going to tell him?”

  “I can do that. Adelle thinks I should do that. Or I can just give my father the money so he won’t need the Pack’s money, or I can replace the money he stole.”

  “Because you suddenly owe your father any of that?”

  “Maybe I’m a son desperate for his father’s love.”

  “You don’t even like your father.”

  Ric grimaced. “I know. I really don’t. I really don’t like him at all. That makes me a bad person, doesn’t it?”

  “No. It means you’ve got good wolf instincts. And to be really honest with you, Ric, no one likes your dad. I don’t think your dad likes your dad.”

  Leaning back in his chair, Ric admitted, “I have to tell Uncle Van, don’t I?”

  “Let me ask you this . . . do you feel you have to tell Van because you’re afraid of what will happen to you if you don’t? Or do you have to tell him because you love and respect the man and your Pack?”

  “I’ve never been afraid of Uncle Van.” But, when he was younger and weaker, he had been afraid of his father. And as much as he wanted to love him, he didn’t.

  “Then you know what you have to do. And you’ll be doing it because it’s the right thing. No matter what your father will accuse you of—you’ll be doing what’s right.”

  Feeling a weight lift, Ric said, “Thanks, man. That really helps.”

  “I’m a bear, tiny wolf man. We’re all about the wisdom.”

  “Really? Then tell me how to make Dee-Ann Smith mine forever.”

  “Dude,” Lock laughed, “that’s never going to happen.”

  “Thank you, wise bear.”

  The grizzly shrugged. “Just trying to help.”

  CHAPTER 18

  R ic walked into the Group office. He felt better after getting Lock’s perspective and now he neede
d to get some office work done before he made that call, using the three-hour time difference between New York and the West Coast as an excuse to delay the inevitable.

  “Morning, Charlene.” He stopped by the front desk and took the mail from the perky fox admin, who always had a smile. “Everything going all right?”

  “Yep. We have visitors, though. Detective MacDermot and Marcella Malone of KZS.”

  “Any problems?”

  “Don’t think so. They’re in one of the training rooms.”

  “Good. Thanks.”

  Knowing that Dee-Ann hated to be interrupted during her workout, Ric headed straight for his office. As soon as he stepped inside, he knew that the She-wolf had been there. Her scent still lingered and she’d left a report on his desk, along with a note.

  We need to talk.—Dee

  Vividly remembering the last twenty minutes of his conversation with Lock: Let’s face it, you’ll never hold on to Dee, so when she dumps you—which will be way sooner than later—just accept it. You’ll be better off and live longer, Ric couldn’t shake the feeling he had, in fact, been dumped. Already. Talk about not giving a guy a chance.

  Annoyed and with no intention of listening to the bear’s advice on this particular subject, Ric crumpled up the note and tossed it into the trash can. That’s when he saw little Abby Vega dancing outside his office, her little wolfdog or wolf-coyote—to be honest, they hadn’t been able to tell specifically what she was and no one could get close enough to find out by scent or blood tests—feet prancing.

  “Hi, Abby. You okay?” Did she need a walk? God, he hoped not. That would just be beyond the realm of weird.

  She barked, ran away, charged back, barked.

  He remembered to have patience and decided not to tell her to cut the crap, shift already, and tell him what she wanted him to know. “Do you need me to see something?” he asked, tempted to add “Lassie” to the end of that.

  She nodded and started off again.

  Ric followed Abby down several hallways until they reached the room with the training ring where Group members practiced hand-to-hand combat.

  Unfortunately, Ric couldn’t really see what was going on. It seemed that everyone in the Group had stuffed themselves inside or at the big windows that looked in.

  Abby crouched down and crawled on the floor, but Ric wasn’t about to do that. He had his dignity. Instead, he pushed his way in, ignoring the snarls, growls, and nips that followed.

  The fist slammed into Dee’s throat and she dropped to her knees. Malone moved on her, swinging at her again, but Dee caught her arm, yanked the She-tiger in, and turned her, dropping her to the mat. She then pushed her knee into Malone’s chest and twisted her arm up and away from her body.

  While Dee was trying to get Malone to submit, she heard a soft throat clear and looked up into pretty brown eyes glaring at her from under scowling brows.

  Shit.

  Her grip loosened on Malone’s arm and the She-tiger brought up her leg and slammed her knee into the upper part of Dee’s back, sending her crashing into the ropes of the ring, which had her flying back and right into Malone’s waiting fist.

  That was pretty much the last thing Dee remembered for quite a bit until Malone slapped her and yelled, “Wake up, Smith!”

  Dee opened her eyes. “Thank you very much,” she snapped.

  “You let that pretty face distract you. Mistake number one.” She handed Dee a damp cloth to wipe the blood off. “Would it make you feel better if I said you almost had me?”

  Taking her time, Dee sat up. When she felt stable, she reached out and cuffed the side of Malone’s head.

  “Hey!”

  “Help me up.”

  Malone gripped her arm and yanked Dee to her feet.

  “Can you stand on your own?”

  “Yeah.”

  Malone released her and Dee immediately held up a finger. “Don’t hit me again.”

  Malone lowered her fist and grinned. “I’m glad to see you’re still the toughest canine I’ve ever met. Still not feline, though. Ya gotta work on your finesse, Smith.”

  “Here’s your finesse,” she offered, raising her middle finger while she searched the thinning crowd now that the fight was over. She didn’t see Ric, so she went between the ropes and jumped down.

  “Hey,” Malone called out. “You want me to come along and help you smooth things over with your boss?”

  “He’s my supervisor and I can’t blame you for everything if you’re standing right beside me, now can I?”

  “Excellent point.” Malone, still in the mood to tussle, held out her arms. “Anybody else up for a little—”

  A male tiger leaped into the ring and Malone shook her head. “Forget it.”

  “Oh, come on. You and me, let’s go for it.”

  Still wiping her face with the cloth, Dee made her way to Ric’s office. She found him behind his desk, seething.

  “I know what you’re thinking—” she began.

  “What part of ‘make this work’ were you not clear on?” he asked, sitting back in his fancy office chair, fingers interlacing over his flat stomach.

  Dee walked up to the desk. “It’s not what you think.”

  “You two weren’t beating the hell out of each other in the ring on Group territory?”

  “All right, it is what you think, but it wasn’t done viciously or anything. We’re actually getting along. Wouldn’t say we’re friends, but after I fell off that building last night she—”

  Ric held his hand up. “You fell off a building?”

  “Sorta rolled off the ledge, but I didn’t hit the ground or anything ’cause I had hold of—”

  “Stop.” The wolf shook his head. “If I don’t know exactly what you do to get done what you do, I can’t be freaked out by it, now can I?”

  “That’s how my momma gets through the day.”

  “Then that’s what we’ll do.”

  Dee frowned. “Is something else wrong?”

  “No.” He gazed at her. “Do you think there’s something wrong?”

  “Other than you acting weird? No.”

  “Then I guess nothing’s wrong.” He focused on his computer and she got the feeling she’d just been dismissed.

  Deciding it would be better to talk to Ric when he wasn’t being such a snobby prick about a friendly little brawl in the middle of the office, Dee stepped away from the desk, but she caught sight of a single crumpled paper in the otherwise empty trash can. She reached in and pulled it out when she realized it was the note she’d left for him.

  “You’re throwing out my notes now?”

  “I have a wonderfully intact mind,” he told her, not looking away from his computer screen. “I would have remembered to discuss whatever issues you may have at a later date. When it was convenient for me.”

  Shocked, Dee demanded, “What is your problem, Van Holtz?”

  “I don’t have a problem,” he said while typing on his keyboard. “I simply thought we were going to keep personal issues out of the office.”

  “Yeah, but I thought you’d want to know right quick if I found your brother trying to break into that big ol’ safe you’ve got in your office.”

  Ric spun his chair around to face her. “Wait. What?”

  “I caught your brother trying to get into your safe. Since he didn’t seem to have the combination, I’m assuming he was breaking in.”

  Van Holtz blinked. “Oh. Oh. Oh!” He sat up, arms on his desk, back straight. “Oh. Right. You’re absolutely right. He shouldn’t have been anywhere near my apartment. In fact, I banned him from there because he insulted Lock. So . . . good job.”

  Dee studied him. “That was a lot of ‘ohs,’ Van Holtz.”

  “No. Just . . . you know.”

  Dee looked at her note, straightening out the crumpled paper. She read it again and raised her eyes to the wolf. She’d never been one to write wordy notes but this one, if taken out of context . . . “Did you think I was
—”

  “No.”

  He answered so quick, she knew. “You did, didn’t you?”

  “Okay, I misread it. Can we let it go?”

  “Not really.” Not when he was blushing and just twenty dang levels of cute!

  “Look, I made a mistake. Okay? It happens. Let’s just not talk about it.”

  “Like it’ll be that easy.” Dee slammed his office door and locked it, then faced him.

  “What are you doing?”

  “I think we need to clear some things up,” she said, ambling back over to his desk.

  “Not necessary. Nothing to clarify. I say we forget it ever happened. Can’t we forget?”

  Dee moved around the desk and over to Ric, straddling his thighs with her legs until she dropped right into his lap.

  “Nah.”

  He squirmed a little in the chair. “Well, can you do this while not sitting on my lap?”

  She gazed down at his lap. “You gettin’ hard, Ulrich?”

  “You’re sitting in my lap, Dee-Ann. Smelling all sweaty and bloody—of course, I’m getting hard.”

  “Then I’ll make this quick, just so we’re clear. I don’t end things with people by leaving notes, sending texts, or shootin’ someone an e-mail. Instead I—”

  “Shoot them once in the back of the head?”

  “You’ve been talking to MacRyrie, I see, and it was a paint-ball gun I used on that cheetah. He survived.”

  This wasn’t remotely fair. She wore only a sports bra, workout shorts, and sneakers. Her hands had been taped up for the fight and still had Malone’s blood on them. Her hair was drenched in sweat and her multitude of scars were shiny bright and silver against her damp flesh.

  Honestly . . . he could only handle so much!

  And Dee-Ann Smith knew it, too. She knew what she was doing to him, pressing her hands against his shoulders and kind of pinning him against the chair, making him feel all vulnerable and helpless.