Wolf With Benefits

by Shelly Laurenston

  “Freddy?”

  “What do you really want, Del?” he asked her.

  “Where’s that notebook, Freddy? The blue composition one you had stashed in your backpack.”

  “I got rid of it,” he said.

  “You’re lying, Freddy.”

  He shook his head. He was, but he knew giving it to Del would be wrong. It would be . . . dangerous. “I’m not going to tell you.”

  “But you know what’s in the book by heart, don’t you? You can write down exactly what’s in there, right?”

  Toni had always told him to trust his instincts, and Freddy knew what his instincts were telling him to do now. They were telling him to run.

  Freddy turned and ran toward the door. Had his hand on the knob when Delilah caught him from behind and put something over his face that smelled funny.

  He tried to fight but . . .

  Oriana was in the backyard, putting off packing until she could finish this letter to her favorite teacher. She knew how important it was to make a good impression. Maybe one day she could afford to be a demanding diva with others besides her family, but until then, she’d have to do what she could to make sure those who would be helping her career only had good memories of her. So they would not only remember what an amazing dancer she was but how easy she was to work with.

  As she struggled over her second paragraph, she heard the back door open, but didn’t bother to raise her head from what she was doing until she heard that Roy guy greeting someone with, “Hey, sweetheart.”

  Worried he was hitting on Cherise—who God knew, couldn’t handle the pressure—Oriana looked up to see the big idiot walk into the kitchen and close the door behind him. Then she heard the side gate open and glanced over. It wasn’t Cherise, though—it was Delilah, which Oriana couldn’t care less about. But then Oriana saw that her sister held an unconscious Freddy in her arms . . .

  Oriana knew he was passed out because poor little Freddy rarely slept. He especially didn’t sleep at nine o’clock at night. She shot off the bench and went after her sister, using her hands to flip her body up and over the gate since she didn’t want to bother opening it. When she landed on her feet, she charged flat out for Del’s back, ramming into her with her full weight.

  But Delilah was surprisingly strong. Other than a small stumble, she didn’t fall. Instead she turned and shoved Oriana off, then continued walking, heading toward a running car on the street.

  Oriana charged again. “Give him to me!” she ordered her sister.

  With one arm holding on tight to Freddy, Del grabbed Oriana by the back of the head, turned, and using the energy of that, rammed her face-first into the side of the house.

  And that was pretty much the last thing Oriana remembered.

  Kyle saw Oriana running and disappearing over the side gate in the backyard. He knew his sister. Oriana didn’t run. She didn’t jog. She definitely didn’t flip herself over six-foot-tall fences—unless she really had to. Glancing at Troy—they’d come out here to fight in peace about . . . something, he couldn’t even remember now—Kyle ran after his sister. Unlike Oriana, he had to stop to open the gate, but by the time he made it through, he saw Delilah shove Oriana into the house. Hard. Heard something crack. Saw blood splatter even in the darkness.

  “No!”

  Kyle ran over to his sister’s side, sliding to a stop on his knees. Troy ran past them to follow Delilah as she got into the waiting car and drove off with Freddy.

  Troy yelled after the car, just screamed Freddy’s name.

  When Kyle couldn’t wake up Oriana, he leaned his head back and let out a wailing howl until every adult on the street was there.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE

  Chuck Roberts left his office in the church and walked to the back door. Someone had been knocking for a bit and he’d chosen to ignore it as long as he could. The rest of the church members had gone to the farm, but Chuck had stayed behind because he refused to buy into this con. He knew better.

  He and Chris had been friends for a long time and they’d always enjoyed money. But Chuck had no illusions about what they were or where they’d come from. Chris, however, had begun to buy into all this bullshit. Believing the worship. Crazy.

  And yet beneficial. Because Chris was so focused on the worshippers—especially the young female ones—he didn’t notice that Chuck had been pulling money out of the Cayman accounts and moving them to his own in Geneva. Another couple of days and Chuck was out of here. He’d be leaving the crazy far behind.

  Opening the door just a bit to see who was standing there—a lot of homeless people came to the church asking for food or a place to sleep for the night and Chuck was definitely not in the mood to deal with any of that bullshit—he saw a gorgeous, dark-haired woman standing there in tight jeans and a V-neck T-shirt. She smiled at him.

  “Hi,” she practically purred.

  “Hi.” Unable to help himself, Chuck eased the door open. “Can I help you?”

  Her head tilted and her eyes reflected the streetlight back at him. Like a cat’s.

  Without thought, only abject fear, Chuck went to close the door in the woman’s face, but a hand from behind dug into his hair and a knife pressed to his throat.

  “Hello, darlin’,” another female voice growled in his ear. “You don’t mind, do ya? But me and Malone here have just a couple of questions for ya.”

  The one he assumed was Malone walked inside the church, closing the door with her foot. She smiled again, and that’s when Chuck would swear he saw fangs.

  “Come on. Let’s go someplace comfortable to talk.”

  Then the woman who held him, who was so damn strong, dragged him down the hallway and Chuck knew this couldn’t possibly end well.

  “A notebook?” Toni shook her head at Dee-Ann’s words. “What notebook?”

  “No idea.”

  “If all Delilah wanted was a notebook, why didn’t she just take it?” Cooper asked. “She had to know that taking Freddy would set us off.”

  “I can only think Freddy didn’t have it for some reason.”

  “He probably hid it,” Oriana said softly while holding a bag of frozen peas against her swollen forehead. “He does that sometimes. Like a Labrador, he’ll dig a hole and put something that means a lot to him in it.”

  “Well, it can’t be one of his notebooks,” Toni reasoned. “He doesn’t care about his own shit. So it had to be something he stole and . . .” She looked across the kitchen table to Irene, but her mother’s best friend immediately shook her head.

  “I haven’t had anything missing and you know I’d notice unless it was food.” But then Irene looked off, her hand briefly covering her mouth. “Oh, no.”

  “What’s wrong?”

  “I think I know where this started.” She rested her elbows on the table, dug her hands into her hair. “Miki.”

  “Kendrick?” Irene’s mentee and friend who they’d just visited at the hotel only a couple of weeks ago. “What about—” Toni nearly slapped her forehead. “The box of tissues.”

  “The box of tissues.”

  “He stole a box of tissues?” Cella asked.

  “No. But he was alone in Miki’s room for a bit. He adores her. He’d take one of her notebooks. His way of keeping her close. He wouldn’t give that to Delilah.”

  “So she took him?” Ricky asked.

  “He has a photographic memory. If she couldn’t get the notebook, taking him would be just as good.”

  Standing tall by Cella, Dee-Ann folded her arms across her chest, and stared hard at Toni. “What do you want us to do?”

  Toni didn’t hesitate. “I want you to find out who she’s going to sell this information to. I think they wanted to bypass her and that’s why they broke into the house and then just tried to take him.” She pushed her hair out of her eyes. “Dee-Ann, I want you to find out where this is coming from and deal with it.”

  “And you?”

  “What do you think? My mother’s up
stairs sobbing. My father’s trying to keep the younger kids calm.” She gestured to her fifteen-year-old sister. “She split Oriana’s head open.” Toni barely managed to bite back a growl when she saw how swollen poor Oriana’s face currently was. “I’m going to go get my brother back.”

  Ricky didn’t bother arguing with Toni. There was no point. Instead, he turned to Vic. “What do you have?”

  “We traced the license plate number Troy got off that car to a farm upstate. Dug a little, it’s owned by the church.”

  “Good.” Ricky focused on his brothers. “Reece, I want you to stay here. I want this place locked down until you hear from me.”

  “It’s done,” Reece said, then he got up and walked out of the room.

  “Rory, I want you with me.”

  “Yep.”

  “Y’all take care of this,” Dee-Ann said. “Take Barinov and Malone with you.”

  “Don’t you need backup, too, Dee?” Oriana asked, sounding remarkably kind since that hit on the head.

  “Aren’t you just the sweetest little thing?”

  “No,” Oriana answered honestly. “Not really.”

  Dee snorted and headed out. “Y’all be careful,” she ordered before she left.

  Toni got to her feet. “Irene—”

  “I’ll take care of your mother. You just . . . fix this, Antonella. Fix it.”

  “I will.”

  Yeah. Ricky didn’t doubt that for one second.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO

  Dee-Ann stopped the rental car in the driveway, a healthy distance from the mansion. She looked through the windshield and gave a little whistle. For a bunch of classless, lowlife bikers—her daddy’s words—the Magnus Pack must have some serious cash lying around in order to live so well in Northern California.

  Opening the driver’s side door, Dee-Ann stepped out onto the gravel and went to stand in front of the vehicle. She just stood there, waiting. She didn’t go to ring the doorbell. She didn’t howl to get anyone’s attention. It was how one shifter wolf handled entering another shifter wolf ’s territory.

  Dee had been standing there for a good twenty minutes when she heard the roar of engines behind her. She glanced over and saw several tricked out motorcycles ride up the curved driveway. They passed the car and kept going a bit farther before pulling to a stop. The wolves got off the bikes, took off their helmets, and headed into the house. Only one, a female, stopped to look at Dee. She looked but said nothing, and eventually walked into the house, closing the door behind her.

  It was another five minutes before that front door was flung open and a female in nothing more than a Dallas Cowboys T-shirt and holding a shotgun came marching out. Yep, this could only be Sara Morrighan, Alpha Female of the Magnus Pack and all-around crazy bitch, according to any other Pack, Pride, or Clan leader who’d had the misfortune of meeting her.

  As the She-wolf stormed over to Dee, she cocked the shotgun she had in her hands and Dee really wondered if the insane heifer was just going to shoot a strange wolf on sight or if this was all for show.

  A familiar-looking Latina dressed in a very tiny nightie came charging after the angry She-wolf and grabbed hold of the shotgun. The two females struggled over the weapon until the Latina rammed her foot into Morrighan’s knee.

  “Ow! You whore!”

  Yanking the shotgun away from her friend, the Latina backed up and snarled, “I thought we discussed this! No shooting without actual signs of aggression!”

  “Just her presence on my territory is aggression!”

  “That was not on Miki’s list!”

  That’s when Miki stumbled out of the front door, her hand immediately shielding her eyes from the early morning sunlight.

  “What the fuck is going on?” the small full-human asked her friends.

  “Sara tried to shoot strangers again.”

  “Sign of aggression!”

  Studying Dee through narrow slits, Miki asked, “Hey . . . don’t I know you?”

  “Dee-Ann Smith.” Miki frowned at that reply. “Mate to Ric Van Holtz?” The confused frown worsened. “We met through Irene Conridge?”

  “Well . . . I know Irene.”

  “How,” Morrighan asked, “do you have a photographic memory but not remember people?”

  “Is that a trick question?”

  The Latina sized Dee up. “Didn’t I help you get a dress once?”

  Eyes wide, the other two females now gazed at Dee.

  Annoyed, Dee snapped, “I’ve been known to wear a dress or two over the years.”

  Morrighan cringed. “With those shoulders?”

  Miki had ripped her bag apart but the notebook was gone. Gone. And she hadn’t even realized it.

  “Well?” Angelina pushed.

  Letting out a breath, Miki faced her friends and the She-wolf she should remember but didn’t. “I . . . uh . . .”

  “Miki.”

  “Okay. Lady Fullback’s right—”

  “Hey,” the She-wolf immediately complained at the nickname.

  “—one of my notebooks is gone.”

  “What’s so special about this notebook?” Sara wanted to know. And when Miki glanced out the window, trying to figure out how to answer, her friends threw up their hands and began saying, “Oh, Miki! No! Not again!”

  “You know, bitches, I don’t need that accusatory tone.”

  “Why would you take one of your world-ending notebooks out of this house?”

  “It’s not world-ending, Angie. I mean . . . whole countries can be destroyed but not the world or anything. You know, plant life would survive. And cars.”

  That’s when Angie came at Miki and they’d barely gotten in a few slaps before Sara got between them and pushed them apart.

  “Cut it out! Both of you!”

  “What are you blaming me for?” Angie demanded. “She’s the one running around with dangerous weapons in her raggedy-ass bag!”

  “Not everyone is willing to spend more than fifty bucks on a goddamn bag, you vapid bitch!”

  “Stop it!” Sara ordered. “I mean it.”

  “Besides,” Miki went on, pretending that she didn’t feel guilty about all of this. “How was I supposed to know that Freddy would go into my bag and steal one of my notebooks?”

  “Oh, I don’t know,” Angie suggested, “maybe because from what you’ve told us the kid’s just like you.”

  “But why would he steal from me?” Miki desperately tried to rationalize. “He loves me.”

  “Which according to his sister,” Lady Fullback of Big Woman Land interjected, “is why he would steal from you. Because he wanted something that belonged to one of his favorite people.”

  “Oh.”

  “Yeah. Oh.”

  “The bigger question is who would want that notebook?” Sara asked.

  “Anyone who wants to destroy a few countries?” Angie kindly suggested. The bitch. And when Miki glared at her, “Tell me I’m wrong?”

  “I just don’t like your tone.”

  “I just don’t like your face!”

  “For the love of God!” Sara exploded. “Would you cut it!”

  They all fell silent, Angie rubbing her forehead. As they did, the bedroom door opened and Conall walked in. Miki’s big wolf mate stopped, looked at the women in the room.

  “What’s going on?” he asked, but before Miki could answer him, he shook his head and said, “You know what? I don’t want to know. Instead I’m going to ask, where’s my daughter?”

  “Our daughter,” Miki again felt forced to remind him since he continually seemed to forget that fact, “ is on my computer in my office.”

  Conall stared at her. “Really? You let her go on the computer even after that little visit we got last week from the FBI about strange computer use during odd hours when you were out of town? That computer use involving the Pentagon?”

  “Well—”

  “You know what I’m going to do?” he said calmly but, again, Miki could hear the t
one. “I’m going to take our beautiful daughter to Ihop for breakfast, and while we’re gone, you’re going to go onto your computer and undo whatever the hell she did that could get us all arrested. Okay? Great. Love you.” He nodded at the other women. “Ladies.”

  The door closed behind him and Angie looked at Sara and then they looked at Miki.

  “Yeah,” she said to her friends’ unasked question. “I could do it.”

  “Do what?” Lady Fullback asked. She took a step back. “What are y’all plannin’?”

  “To find out who wants my notebook. That is what you need, isn’t it?”

  “That’s awful risky, darlin’.”

  Miki looked at Sara again. It was risky but for Freddy she was willing to take the risk. The question, however, was Sara willing to take that risk, too? This was her house and her Pack.

  After a moment, Sara nodded. “Do it.”

  “What are you going to do exactly?” Fullback asked.

  Miki got to her feet. “The same thing I almost went to prison for when I was sixteen.”

  When the She-wolf just gazed at her, Miki shook her head. “Don’t worry. As long as I don’t hack into the banks again and spread my money to my Dungeons & Dragons friends . . . federal prison time should be minimal.”

  The She-wolf sighed. “You genius types . . . so much damn work. I don’t know how Toni does it.”

  CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE

  It was a farm somewhere in Upstate New York where they all headed. A cheap parcel of land the church had purchased and where they sent their converts when they were ready to move to the next level of mind control.

  Funny thing was, they didn’t lock the small gate or secure the fence around the acres of property. So Ricky Lee just ambled on in. Just parked the SUV, and walked down the lane. As he walked, the cult members nodded at him, smiled, but didn’t stop him. He made sure to smile in return, but he kept moving. He kept his pace brisk, making sure to look like he knew where he was going. Most of the housing was cabins. One-floor deals made of unfinished wood with porta-potties sporadically placed. It wasn’t as bad looking as what the Manson gang had back in the day, but it wasn’t much better, either.