Wolf With Benefits

by Shelly Laurenston

  “Lawsuit?” Toni focused on Bo.

  “It wasn’t me,” he said quickly. “It was Malone. She was one of the players then, and he said he was just trying to pose her properly. She said she didn’t like him putting his hand on her ass. Next thing you know that leopard had a broken cheekbone, a busted nose, and two shattered arms.” Suddenly the hybrid smiled, and Toni realized he was actually quite handsome when he wasn’t glowering like a sociopath. “And for once . . . it wasn’t me.”

  “Do you want me to come up with another list of names?” Kerri asked.

  Toni thought about it a moment and shook her head. “No. I think I have another completely insane option.”

  Bo studied her a moment. “That doesn’t sound very promising.”

  “Yeah.” Toni sighed and pulled out her cell phone. “I know.”

  The electronic blueprints for the Sports Center were projected up on the screen, and Rory pointed at several doors inside the Sports Center that were only known about and used by shifters. “The Center guards scented full-humans here. Here. And here.”

  “Did they ever get inside?” Reece asked.

  “No. But the Center needs a more secure system or they may have a situation where Dee-Ann may have to get involved because some full-human saw too much.”

  “We could change all the locks,” Ricky suggested, “but then no one could get inside but wolves and foxes.”

  “Nah,” Reece said. “The bears will just tear the doors off the hinges. Especially if they smell food from the food court.”

  “Are you two done?” Rory asked.

  Ricky and Reece looked at each other and back at Rory. “No,” they said together.

  “Look.” Rory stepped in front of the screen. “This is a big job for us, so I need y’all to focus.”

  Reece nudged Ricky’s side with his elbow. “Someone’s trying to act all impressive ’cause he’s up for a promotion.”

  “You gonna wear a suit to work now, Rory?” Ricky asked him. “And some fancy Italian loafers?”

  “Can we just focus on the job?”

  Ricky stood. “Reece and I will go over to the Sports Center and take a look around. See what we can fix.”

  “I bet Ricky Lee just wants to see his new girlfriend,” Reece said.

  “Girlfriend? What girlfriend?”

  “She’s not my girlfriend, but I am hoping she becomes my fuck buddy.”

  “She’s a jackal.”

  “Shut up, Reece.”

  “Jackal?” Rory asked. “The Devil’s canine?”

  “Stop calling them that.”

  “Why?”

  “Can’t get her in my bed if my own kin are insulting her kind.”

  “He’s got a point,” Reece said, shrugging. “Unlike men, girls are weird about that sort of thing. It’s like they look for any reason not to sleep with you.”

  Rory stared at his brother. “I think that’s only you.”

  “It can’t be. I’m so much cuter than either of you.”

  He saw Delilah sitting on the steps outside his church. His temple, really. Where people came from all around to meet him. To hear his wisdom. To learn about how they should manage their lives. He was there for them when no one else was. Because he loved them. He loved them all.

  And yet . . . he knew that Delilah was something special. Something beyond any of the others.

  Chris walked down the stairs, his bodyguards only a few feet behind. He sat down next to her. He knew that to those walking by that he looked just like any other New Yorker with his torn jeans and comfortable sandals. But they’d learn soon enough that he was far from “any other” being on the planet.

  “Hello.”

  She turned her head to look at him, her small smile in place. She was just so innocent. So tender.

  “You came back,” he said.

  “I did.”

  “Will you stay for a while?”

  Her smile grew just the smallest bit. “I will.”

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  She got lost trying to find Toni. That’s what she got for trying to understand that phone message rather than calling to confirm everything. But she’d been sleeping when her phone went off and she was not the friendliest bitch when someone woke her before she was ready. So she’d ignored the call and listened to her messages later.

  Now here she was, wandering around this goddamn Sports Center. She’d never been here before. Had no interest. She hated sports on principle. It didn’t matter to her who was playing. Full-humans. Shifters. Whatever. Sports was just something that bored her into a rage.

  Pulling open the doors, she walked through what turned out to be an ice rink. That probably meant hockey. She hated hockey.

  She walked across the ice, stopping by some lion male and another female who were talking.

  “Excuse me,” she said, stepping close. “Do you guys know—”

  “Hey,” the lion male said, glaring down at her, “do you see I’m in a conversation?”

  She nodded. “I do. And I’m sorry to interrupt. But I’m lost and I just need you to—”

  The lion leaned in, sniffed her. Confused, he leaned back. “Great. Another hybrid freak.”

  Actually, she wasn’t a hybrid. She was simply a shifter breed that wasn’t much talked about. Her kind kept to themselves, avoided most other shifters, and didn’t take kindly to being sneered at.

  Just like she was being sneered at by this lion.

  “Look, freak, I’m busy,” the lion said, waving her away with his big, strong, overly tanned hand. “If you want help . . . go find it somewhere else. ’Kay?”

  She nodded. “Sure.” Walked about ten feet away. Then she carefully placed her backpack on the ice, cracked her neck, her knuckles, spun around—and charged.

  Toni was heading to the Starbucks in the food court to get herself another much-needed coffee when she saw Cella Malone and Dee-Ann Smith.

  “Did you find that photographer yet?” Cella asked.

  “Lord, Malone,” Dee-Ann snickered. “Can’t you even say ‘hi’ first before you jump down the girl’s throat?”

  “I didn’t jump down her throat. Did I jump down your throat?” Cella demanded.

  Kind of fed up with the woman’s general bitchiness, Toni admitted, “You’ve been jumping down my throat since I started and this is only my second day on the job.”

  Dee-Ann snorted, and Cella turned and slammed her fist into the She-wolf ’s shoulder. Toni was sure that if Cella had hit her like that, she’d have a demolished shoulder. But Dee-Ann was a She-wolf, and most She-wolves were built like NFL players anyway, so the wolf just readjusted her shoulder and said, “Don’t know why you’re gettin’ so testy.”

  “Because you’re irritating me.”

  “The wind blows and you get irritated, feline.”

  “Shut up.” Cella pointed at Toni. “Look, I’m sorry if I’ve been hard on you, but I’ve got a lot to get done and no time to fool around with this bullshit.”

  “Then let me handle it.”

  “You?”

  “Yeah. Me. If you’re going to get all annoyingly psychotic, I’ll just handle it my damn self.”

  Cella and Dee-Ann glanced at each other and back at Toni. “I think the little jackal has grown some balls since yesterday,” Dee said.

  “I think it’s the clothes,” Cella remarked. “I told you that suit was a bad idea. Besides . . . it made you look hippy.”

  Insulted by that—she was not hippy—Toni said, “Just e-mail me a list of things that need to get done. I’ll take it from there.”

  “And the photographer?”

  “I already have a call in with someone who should be able to do the job. If you’re around later and she comes in today, maybe you can meet with—”

  A pained roar exploded from the training rink, and ten seconds later, the newly hired lion burst out of the double doors. But what had Toni sighing in exasperation was the female who’d attached herself to the lion’s back and dug
her exceedingly long front claws right into his face, a mouthful of fangs biting into the back of his head.

  “Goddammit,” Toni muttered.

  “Hey,” Dee-Ann said. “Isn’t that your—”

  “Yes.” Toni sighed, typically appalled.

  “She’s the photographer you called in for the team?” And that’s when Dee-Ann Smith, She of the Few Words and the Scary Eyes—as the Van Holtz pups had named her—threw back her head and laughed. Why? Because she also knew the female attached to the lion male. Knew her well. Probably too well after that fistfight at the Christmas dinner they all had in the Van Holtz Washington compound.

  “Who is that?” Cella asked.

  “Olivia Kowalski,” Toni said. “We grew up together. She’s a brilliant photographer. She’s worked for AP, Reuters, National Geographic—”

  “But?”

  “But what?”

  “She’s worked for Reuters, AP, National Geographic, and yet she’s here to do sports shots for her friend?”

  Toni shrugged. “She has issues.”

  Cella glanced over at the grappling female and lion. “Really?” she said with great sarcasm. “I find that so shocking.”

  “She’s like my siblings. She’s an amazing artist, but as a human being she needs a little work. But I know how to handle her.”

  “Handle her?”

  The three females looked over just as the lion finally pried Livy off his head and threw her across the lobby. Livy hit the floor hard, rolled, and slammed into the wall. For anyone else being tossed around by an angry and terrified lion male, Toni would have been on the phone dialing nine-one-one. But this was Livy. She was . . . unique.

  After Livy hit the wall, she rolled back and got to her feet. She spun, bared her fangs, and charged, ramming her entire small body into the lion and wrapping her arms and legs around him as she attacked his face with her fangs.

  “Get her off me!” the lion screamed, no longer annoyingly smug and condescending, but terrified and in pain. “Get her off me!”

  Realizing how stupid she’d been to suggest Livy for this job, Toni tried to repair the damage as best she could with Malone.

  “Cella, I’m—”

  “She’ll work,” the tigress said.

  Toni blinked, shocked. “What?”

  “Yeah. Hire her.” She glanced at her watch. “Smith, we better go if we’re gonna meet up with Crush and Dez.”

  The pair stepped away from her, but Toni still couldn’t believe . . .

  “Are you sure?” she asked Cella’s back.

  “Yep. Something tells me that one won’t be running off crying like the last photographer we had.”

  The “last photographer” being the guy Malone had beaten up herself, but whatever.

  Kind of proud of making her first hire, Toni bellowed, “Livy!”

  Livy pulled her sharp fangs out of the lion’s skull and stared at her.

  Toni motioned with her hand. “Let’s go.”

  Livy unwrapped herself from the lion and dropped to the ground. At only five-one, she was tiny for a shifter, but her size never stopped Livy from accepting a challenge. It had made for entertaining times at school.

  Livy spit the lion’s blood out of her mouth and calmly walked around the still screaming cat. She went back into the training rink and came out a few seconds later with her worn backpack.

  Once Livy was by her side, Toni gestured at the cat, who now had several people around him trying to help. “Was there a reason you did that?”

  She shrugged. “He was rude,” she said flatly. “You know I hate rude.”

  Toni didn’t bother trying to get Livy to not attack at the slightest provocation. She’d stopped lecturing her long ago. Her friend would never change, because Livy loved who she was and, if she were to be honest, Toni loved who Livy was, too.

  Most importantly, Toni’s entire family adored Livy, although Livy never seemed to understand why.

  “So what’s going on?” Livy asked after spitting out a bit more blood.

  “Got a job for you.”

  “Will I be whoring?”

  “Not this time. I’m sorry.”

  “You know how I love to whore,” Livy stated with that flat tone that freaked people out, because no one ever knew whether she was joking or not. It had caused some awkward times when the police were involved, but Toni could usually talk the cops out of actually arresting them.

  “I know.” Toni tugged the sleeve of Livy’s light, black denim jacket. “Let’s go get you cleaned up, and I’ll tell you all about it.”

  “Are you sure?” the She-tiger asked. And like two well-trained monkeys, Lou Crushek and Desiree MacDermot nodded in unison.

  Dee took the piece of paper from Malone, studied the mug shot of Whitlan’s former cellmate. “I’ll handle it.”

  “No,” all three said in unison.

  “You know,” Dee told them. “If I were a sensitive gal, I might be insulted right now.”

  “It’s nothing personal, Smith,” Malone told her. “And trust me when I say that you must be there. But . . .” She looked at Desiree.

  “You’re our . . .” Desiree thought a moment, “. . . last resort kind of girl.”

  “What the hell does that mean?”

  “You’re the one we turn to when all bets are off.”

  “I think we should move on this as soon as we can set it up,” Crushek told them. “If Whitlan finds out that we know, trust me when I say he’ll find a way to get to this guy.”

  “Fuck,” Malone suddenly hissed. “I can’t.”

  “Why not?”’

  “I’ve gotta go to Russia. To meet with the coach for the Siberian team.”

  Dee sighed. “Now?”

  “Yeah. Now. Ric just told me to handle it.”

  “Let’s not get in the way of what Cella needs to do for Ric,” Crushek, the hockey fanatic, chastised. “It’s team business.”

  “And I can’t go,” Desiree announced.

  “Why can’t you go?”

  “Cap won’t let me. I’ve had bad experiences with clinically diagnosed sociopaths.”

  “Bad experiences?”

  Desiree scratched her neck. “I may have shot a couple. Totally in self-defense, of course.”

  “But the Captain would prefer answers first,” Crushek kindly explained.

  Not understanding the boundaries that the NYPD had to exist under, Dee re-focused her attention on Malone. “Don’t you have an entire staff to help you?”

  “Yeah, but . . .” Malone’s gaze suddenly moved off and then she grinned. “As a matter of fact, I do have a staff.”

  Ricky was sitting on the stairs by one of the exit doors with Reece when Rory came up.

  “Well?” their brother asked.

  “Humans have been all over here,” Reece said.

  “Did they get in?”

  “Nah,” Ricky said around a yawn. “But tightening security really couldn’t hurt.”

  “Oh, I’m sorry, little brother,” Rory sneered. “Is this boring you?”

  “A little.” When Rory’s eyes narrowed on him, Ricky quickly held up his hands. There wasn’t a lot of space in this stairwell, and that made it harder to fight his brother.

  Rory looked off. “What about cameras?”

  “They don’t have any in the stairwells, but I’d suggest we tell them to put some in here.”

  “And full-time monitoring,” Reece added.

  “Twenty-four-seven and guards trained by us. Right now the Center only has a couple of old leopards watching the place after hours.”

  “Yeah. That sounds good. I’ll write the report.”

  Nodding, Ricky and Reece got to their feet. Rory’s phone went off and he pulled it out of the back pocket of his jeans. He answered it and was quiet for a moment; then his eyes suddenly locked on Ricky.

  “I’ll ask him,” Rory said.

  “Ask me what?”

  “It’s Ronnie Lee on the phone. Laura Jane is runn
ing around telling the other She-wolves that you were so disturbed by her very presence yesterday, you ran off after some jackal. Ronnie wants to know if there were really tears in your eyes when you made a break for it.”

  While Reece laughed so hard he was bent over at the waist, his hands resting on his knees, Ricky took off his Tennessee Titans cap and scratched his head. Because his day had just gotten crappier.

  Livy held up a color print of Bo Novikov trying to force a smile. “This is what nightmares are made of.”

  “I know,” Toni agreed while she licked her spoon free of Greek yogurt. “That’s why we need you.”

  “This isn’t really my thing, Toni. I—”

  “If you say you’re an artist, I will hit you.”

  Chuckling, Livy tossed the picture back onto Toni’s desk and ate more of the French fries she had purchased. After spending some time catching up, they’d gone to the Sports Center food court and had picked up their lunches. Fish and chips for Livy. Yogurt, salad, and a burger big enough to choke a rhino for Toni. She’d bypassed the fries, but now she was regretting it while she watched Livy eating hers.

  “I was not going to say that. At least not to you.” Livy shrugged. “But I hate sports. I hate sports guys. I hate people. I hate dealing with them. Talking to them. And portrait photography means talking to people. I also hate—”

  “Yes, Livy. I know. You hate . . . pretty much everything.”

  “Pretty much.”

  “But this will be good money. Clean money, Liv. And God knows you can’t even think about trying to do another office job.”

  “Why? I’m a fast typist.”

  “Yes. But then you throw the computer at the office manager and I’m bailing you out of jail . . . again.”

  “He was rude.”

  “You think everyone is rude. But with shifters, you’ll be right and they can fight back. At the very least they’ll be fast enough to duck a flying PC.”

  “That hard drive did ram right into his head. He was out for, like, ten minutes.”

  “Is that restraining order still in effect?”

  “I think it expired last year. But I wasn’t planning on going back to Utah anytime soon.” Livy took a handful of her fries out of the newspaper they were nestled in and dropped them on the plate with Toni’s burger. “Honestly, though, how much money could this really get me?”