Wolf With Benefits

by Shelly Laurenston

  Toni, still crying a little, grinned at her friend. Thank you, she mouthed.

  “What else are people who don’t hate you for?”

  “People who don’t hate you, Livy, are called friends.”

  “Whatever.”

  Ricky came up behind Toni, smiled at Freddy. “Hey, little man.”

  “Hi, Ricky.”

  “You ready to go home?”

  “I really am. I’m relatively certain . . . this is too much excitement for a seven-year-old.”

  Toni, now laughing and crying, hugged her brother even tighter. “You’re absolutely right, little brother. It is.”

  “How’s your face?” the wolf asked Oriana while they sat at the kitchen table . . . waiting.

  “It’s been better,” she admitted, her nose hurting as it worked to heal. All she knew was that the swelling had better be down before her next class or she would be absolutely livid!

  “You know,” the wolf went on, “you’re kind of tough.”

  It was a weird statement, but she couldn’t help feeling it was kind of a compliment.

  “Thanks, uh . . .”

  “Reece. Ricky Lee’s brother.”

  “Right. Well, thanks, Reece.”

  “Sure. You see, not everyone can take a hit like that to the head.”

  “That’s because she has an exceptionally hard head.”

  “Shut up, Kyle.”

  “You shut up!”

  “Both of you shut up,” Cooper warned.

  “Have you thought about trying ice hockey?”

  Surprised, Oriana, and everyone else at the table, looked at the wolf.

  “No,” Oriana finally admitted when he kept staring at her as if expecting a serious answer to that ridiculous question.

  “You should. I bet you’d make a mean little forward.”

  “I will . . . strange, burly man.”

  He grinned. “Darlin’, are you sweet on me?”

  Oriana gawked. “No.”

  “Don’t get your hopes up, though; you’re a little too young for me.”

  Before Oriana could process any of that, Dennis ran into the kitchen. “Freddy’s home!” he cheered. “Freddy’s home!”

  The siblings all stared at each other for a long moment. Then, as one, they bolted away from the table and ran out to greet their brother and welcome him home.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR

  Toni reached into the refrigerator and pulled out one of the bottles of orange juice. Now that she was home, and Freddy was safe, she was exhausted. But she still had some things to take care of before she could get any rest so she was hoping a couple of glasses of orange juice would perk her up a bit.

  With bottle in hand, she closed the refrigerator door and turned. That’s when she came face to face with Novikov’s fiancée.

  “Oh. Hi, Bland.”

  The fiancée’s brown eyes narrowed. “It’s Blayne. And you can’t drink that.”

  Toni glanced down at the orange juice. “I can’t?” Because she was pretty sure she could.

  “It’s been opened.”

  “Yes. It has. That’s bound to happen when you have two thousand people in your house.” Because it seemed everyone and their mother had come to Toni’s house, including all the Carnivores, most of Ricky Lee’s Pack, and almost all of Llewellyn Security’s advanced protection team. Plus the wild dogs from across the street kept wandering in and out of their temporary home like they owned the . . . oh, wait. The wild dogs did own the place.

  “No worries!” Blayne chirped. “When Bo and I came over here I made him stop so I could pick up several bottles of orange juice for the entire family.” She opened the refrigerator. “This way there’s no problem with—”

  Blayne gasped and jumped back, making Toni’s hackles rise.

  “What’s wrong?” Toni asked, quite aware she sounded snappy.

  “They’ve all been opened. Someone opened each bottle and drank a little bit out of each one.”

  Spinning around, Blayne glared at Livy.

  Still recovering from her poisoning, Livy sat at the kitchen table, her elbow on the hard wood, the right cheek of her still pale and sweaty face resting on her raised fist.

  “What are you looking at me for?” Livy asked blandly, her voice weaker than usual.

  “I know you did this,” Blayne accused. “This was you!”

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Livy said. But when Blayne turned back to the refrigerator to stare at those bottles of juice, Livy looked up at Toni and mouthed, It was totally me.

  Toni silently laughed but they both stopped what they were doing when Blayne spun back around, her accusing gaze bouncing back and forth between them.

  Thankfully, before the wolfdog could snap her leash, Ricky Lee walked into the kitchen.

  “Hey,” he said, smiling at Toni. “My momma’s here and Ronnie Lee’s with her. Thought you could come out to the living room and meet her.”

  Toni felt a bolt of panic shoot through her system that did manage to wake her up but also brought out her anxiety. “What? Why?” she demanded. “Why do I need to meet your sister? No. No. That’s okay. I’ll just stay in here and hide. Or maybe I’ll chew on the table leg. It looks like it needs a good chewing.”

  “In case you’re not sure,” Livy calmly told Ricky, “she is about to blow.”

  “Yeah,” Ricky sighed. “I can see that.”

  Ricky didn’t know what the problem was. Toni had gone toe-to-toe with Novikov, Russian bears, Cella Malone. Hell, she’d faced his mother and won her over. So why meeting Ronnie Lee would freak Toni out like this, he didn’t know.

  “Come here, darlin’,” he coaxed.

  She started to walk over to him but Blayne caught hold of the bottle of juice in Toni’s hands and there was a brief—and rather ridiculous—skirmish between the pair. Blayne eventually won and she held that bottle of juice to her chest like it was the last bit of moisture on the planet.

  Shaking her head, Toni walked over to Ricky. When she stood in front of him, he slipped both arms around her waist and pulled her in close.

  “All right, tell me what’s wrong.”

  “What if she doesn’t like me?”

  “How can she not like you? You’re so dang cute. Besides, you already won over my momma.”

  “This is your sister, Ricky Lee.”

  “So if Kyle didn’t like me, you’d kick me to the curb?”

  “Of course not,” she quickly told him. “But if Coop didn’t like you, you’d be out on your ass.”

  Coop came through the kitchen door at that moment and said to Ricky, “And don’t forget the power I wield, Wolf Boy of the Lost People.”

  Ricky frowned. “I don’t even know what that means.”

  Coop opened the refrigerator and pulled out a bottle of orange juice—that Blayne quickly yanked from his hand.

  The jackal gazed at his now-empty hand before looking at the wolfdog and asking, “Uh . . . Blayne?”

  Blayne snarled, forcing Coop to step back, and carried the bottle to the sink.

  Coop leaned back against the refrigerator. “I have no idea what’s going on . . . but I’m fascinated.”

  The back kitchen door opened and Novikov walked in with Freddy. Both were covered in what seemed to be an inordinate amount of dirt and carrying a battered, dirt-covered notebook.

  Toni pulled out of Ricky’s arms and faced the pair. “What have you two been doing?”

  “Getting the notebook like you told us to.”

  “I said get the notebook. I didn’t say roll around in the dirt like two untrained Labradors.”

  “How do you know that’s what happened?” Novikov asked.

  “Yeah!” Freddy added with some forcefulness, but when his sister raised an eyebrow at him, he quickly stepped behind Novikov.

  Toni shook her finger at Novikov. “Do not be a bad influence on my brother.”

  “Who says I am?”

  “Did you let him swing
from your tusks like a monkey?”

  “They’re not tusks,” Blayne snarled as she carried more bottles of orange juice to the sink. “They’re fangs. Like the mighty saber-toothed cat of yore.”

  Coop looked at his sister. “Yore?”

  “Shut it!” Blayne snapped.

  “Are you throwing out all that orange juice?”

  Blayne pointed a damning finger at Livy. “It’s her fault!”

  Livy raised a finger and they all silently waited for her to shoot back a retort. But after nearly a full minute, she suddenly jumped up from the table and tore out the back door.

  Smirking, Blayne nodded. “That, my friends, is karma.”

  “That, Blayne,” Toni corrected, “is snake poison.”

  With a shrug, Blayne went back to pouring the perfectly good juice into the sink. “You say tomato . . .” she muttered.

  Toni found her mother sitting on the couch with Ricky’s mother. The rest of the kids were either on the couch with them or on the floor in front of them. They were all watching TV and eating popcorn. Thankfully, it seemed that Ricky’s sister had wandered off—much to Toni’s relief. She was more than happy to face that particular hurdle another time.

  “Where’s Irene?” Toni asked her mother.

  “Bathroom, I think.”

  “Well, I have the notebook.”

  “Good,” her mother said around a mouthful of popcorn. “Irene will get it back to Miki.”

  “Where is little Freddy?” Miss Tala asked.

  “He and Novikov are bonding.”

  Jackie’s eyebrows went up. “Which entails . . . what? Exactly?”

  Before Toni could answer, a shifted Novikov charged by the living room entrance in all of his fifteen feet of bear-lion glory with Freddy hanging onto his back, giggling hysterically. Her feet frozen to the spot she stood on, Toni reached her arm out, somehow believing she could pluck her insane baby brother from Novikov’s back.

  As Novikov romped up the stairs, Blank came charging after him.

  “I’ll get ’em!” she screamingly promised. “I’ll get ’em.”

  As the three of them disappeared up the stairs, Ricky Lee ambled into the room, hands dug into the back pockets of his jeans.

  Toni gestured to the stairs. “It didn’t occur to you to not let that happen?”

  He shook his head. “Nope.”

  Disgusted, Toni sighed, and looked back at her mother, which was when Ricky felt the need to add, “Don’t worry. I wouldn’t let that happen with our kids.”

  That’s when everyone in the room focused on them, the eyebrows of both mothers now raised.

  “What?” Ricky asked. “Why y’all lookin’ at us like that?”

  “Do you really think,” Kyle asked, “that a Jean-Louis Parker would ever lower him or herself to be permanently involved with a Reed?”

  Miss Tala looked at Toni’s brother. “I don’t think I heard you correctly, Kyle Jean-Louis Parker. Especially if some young jackal I know ever wants to taste my award-winning chocolate chip cookies again.”

  Kyle forced a smile at Ricky. “Please, take my sister and permanently enslave her to your backwoods way of life. I’m so excited for her.”

  “Kyle!” Toni snapped.

  “What?”

  Toni held up the notebook. “Where is Aunt Irene so I can just give her this?”

  “There’s an earthworm on that thing,” Troy pointed out.

  And, in response, Toni squealed and tossed the notebook at her mother, but her aim was bad and she ended up hitting Cherise in the forehead.

  Cringing, Toni quickly apologized. “Cherise, I am so sorry.”

  “No, no. It’s all right. I do so love to randomly get hit in the face with nature.”

  “You’re frightened of earthworms?” Ricky asked her, his voice low and right by her ear. She could tell he was grinning just from the sound of his voice.

  “They’re gross.”

  “Princess.”

  “Shut up.”

  “You,” came an accusatory voice from the archway, and Jess the wild dog marched in, dragging a clearly mortified Johnny DeSerio with her.

  “Oh, hello, Jess,” Jackie said with a smile. “How are you doing?”

  “Don’t ‘hello, Jess’ me.”

  Realizing this was bad, Toni immediately stepped in. “What’s wrong?”

  “Show them,” Jess ordered Johnny.

  “Ma—”

  “Show them.”

  “Show us what?” Toni gently urged.

  “I got this email from a . . .” He studied the piece of paper he held in his hand. “Uh, Donato Mantovani?”

  Immediately recognizing the name, Toni’s mother sat up straight, the bowl of popcorn barely saved from falling to the floor by a quick-handed Miss Tala. “What did he say?” Jackie demanded. “What did he say?”

  “I . . . I don’t think it’s what you’re hoping for, Jackie.”

  “Just tell me what he said.”

  “He said, ‘I received the MP3s of your music sent by Signora Jean-Louis for my evaluation, and I can only say that your music did not offend me.’ ”

  There was nearly a minute of silence before Jackie clapped her hands together and cheered, “I knew it! I knew it!”

  Confused, Jess Ward snapped, “What is wrong with you, woman? How can you think this is positive?”

  Undaunted, Jackie explained, “It’s incredibly positive.”

  “It is?” Johnny asked.

  “Do you know what he said to me about my music when I had a private audience with him? ‘What was that?’ ”

  “He told me,” Cherise interjected, “that there was no shame in being a good wife and mother.”

  Coop, who’d walked into the room a few minutes before, offered, “He told me that I was nearly tolerable. Sort of.”

  “Wait,” Jess cut in. “Who is this guy?”

  “The long-time conductor of the Milan Philharmonic,” Toni told her.

  Grinning, Jackie added, “I played with the Milan Philharmonic when I was eight years old. By the time I was ten, I was playing for kings.”

  “I played with the Philharmonic when I was sixteen,” Cherise added. “And with the London Philharmonic for Her Majesty, about two years after that.”

  “I was nine,” Coop said. “I had my first record deal the following year.”

  “Wait, wait.” Johnny gripped the piece of paper in his hand, his gaze on the floor. “So what you’re saying is . . .” He shook his head. “What are you saying?”

  Jackie stood up. “That we need to get you ready. Based on that email, I think we’ve got . . . three months?”

  “Maybe,” Coop hedged.

  “Right. Maybe three months before you’re playing on stage for an audience in Milan.”

  Johnny shook his head. “Yes, but . . .”

  Jess faced her adopted son, her smile wide and bright like the sun. “Now can I get you that Stradivarius?”

  “God, Ma, no!”

  Livy was resting against a tree, her eyes closed, her body slowly recovering from the recent poisoning. She loved how tough she was to kill but sometimes the recovery could be a bitch. Especially when vomiting was involved. She hated vomiting.

  A cool towel was pressed to her forehead and she opened her eyes expecting to see Toni, but it was that big Russian bear-tiger hybrid crouching in front of her. If she remembered correctly, Toni said his name was Barinov. Vic Barinov . . . maybe.

  “You all right?” he asked.

  “I’m not dead so, ya know . . . win.”

  He chuckled a little. “Very true.”

  “Where is everyone?”

  “The living room I think. Do you want me to get Toni for you?”

  “Please don’t. She’s got enough to worry about and by tomorrow, I’ll be fine. And I don’t need her fussing. I hate fussing.”

  “Yeah. I could tell that about you.” He took her hand and pressed her fingers to the wet cloth, silently telling her to hold i
t in place. While she did, he opened up a can of ginger ale and handed it to her. “Dee-Ann was here, but she had to go. She said she’d be back later. She wants to talk to you.”

  Livy sipped the ginger ale. It was wonderfully cold and just what she needed—minus the fussing from Toni and her clan. That was the best part. “Do you know what she wants?”

  “I’m not sure.”

  “Best guess?”

  “There’s someone our organization has been searching for. A full-human hunter. Those in charge want him. Dead or alive. And they probably need you for some breaking and entering.”

  “Oh.”

  “You don’t seem surprised.”

  “It’s what shifter Kowalskis do.” She thought a moment before adding. “And Yangs.” Her mother’s people. “We break. We enter. We steal expensive shit.”

  “And mine used to tear houses off their foundations and eat the contents. The human contents. So we all have our pasts. You don’t have to be trapped by it.”

  “No. I don’t. But I also don’t like full-human assholes that use us as prey. That really pisses me off.”

  Grinning—and he had a very nice grin—the hybrid sat down across from her and remarked, “I’m sensing lots of things piss you off, Livy Kowalski.”

  “And you’d be absolutely right.”

  “Are you sure you don’t want us to go with you?”

  “No.” Delilah stroked the arm of her driver, John. He was one of her guards now. He’d die for her and she knew it. She used it against him whenever she could, but not if it meant putting herself in danger.

  That was something she’d never do.

  “I’ll be right back. All of you stay out here,” she said to the acolytes. They thought she was a being from the great beyond, a power sent to them directly from God.

  She wasn’t, but why bother them with the little details? Delilah got out of the car and walked into the warehouse. She knew this location well, had played Texas hold ’em with the mob guys here on more than one occasion.

  But, as the door closed behind Delilah, her nostrils filled with the powerful scent of blood and death. So thick she began to immediately salivate.

  She turned to go, instinctively knowing the American agents from some shady division of the CIA she’d arranged to meet with were dead. She’d had it all set up. Remembering enough of that stupid notebook to fake a copy, she’d planned to hand off the book, get her money, and be gone before they realized it was completely useless. It was such a perfect plan, she’d been mad at herself that she hadn’t thought of it earlier. But before she could get the door open a big She-wolf hand slammed against it, holding it shut.