Thankfully, Max did as Stevie asked, but, sadly, it seemed no one wanted to leave her alone with Shen.
“Sorry to bother you two,” Ric Van Holtz said. “But I was just wondering, Stevie, if, um . . . the lab there”—he jerked his thumb toward her former prison—“is it still mostly intact or was the equipment destroyed?”
“Why would I destroy equipment?” she asked, still refusing to move from where she was.
“Huh. And do you know what all that equipment does?”
“Of course I know what the equipment does.”
“Huh. Interesting.”
“Is it?” Stevie snapped, beyond fed up at this point.
“You know what?” Charlie said, coming over and placing Stevie’s clothes on her shoulder. “We’re going to go now. My sister has had a long twenty-four hours and she needs her rest.”
“Right. Of course.” It looked as if Van Holtz took the hint, appearing to start to walk away. But then he stopped and again pointed at the lab, “You see, I’m just wondering—”
Max stepped in front of the wolf. “My sister needs her rest,” Max reiterated, her eyes wide and dazed. “And I need to get the blood off my hands.” She shoved her blood-drenched hands close to Van Holtz’s pretty face. “Blood off my haaaaaaannnnnnndddddssssss!” she ended on a hysterical screech.
“Okay, then,” Van Holtz said, moving away from an openly sobbing Max, who was still holding her hands out and waving them at him. “I’ll see you guys back in the city. Okay? Great!”
The wolf sprinted back to the waiting SUV and when he’d driven off, Max faced them. Before any of them could speak, she burst into hysterical laughter.
To Stevie’s surprise, it was Berg who asked the question they were all thinking. “What is wrong with you?”
Still laughing, Max said, “He just wouldn’t leave.”
“So you terrify him?” And now Berg was laughing. His brother and sister joining in.
Max shrugged, heading toward their vehicle. “It worked, didn’t it?”
Finally alone, Shen said to Stevie, “I know I don’t say this enough but . . . you have the best family.”
Now Stevie laughed. “I know, right?”
* * *
Stevie fell asleep on their way back to Queens and didn’t wake up even when everyone got out of the SUV and headed inside. So Shen carried her upstairs and took her to his room. But he was quite annoyed when he went inside and discovered that one of the bear neighbors had picked up Benny from the emergency vet and had placed the dog in the bed.
With a big bandage around his middle and a small set of stairs leading up to the mattress—so the dog wouldn’t have to jump down or up, Shen guessed—the bastard looked quite at home. When the big dog saw Stevie, his giant tail began to hit the bed.
“Benny!” she said, although Shen wasn’t sure she was actually awake. Her eyes weren’t even open. But she stretched out her arm and Shen knew she wanted to touch the dog. Unable to deny her anything, he laid her out on the bed beside Benny, who’d risked his life for the three sisters.
Stevie moved in close, her hand settling on the dog’s ridiculously thick neck.
Shen turned to walk out, but Stevie’s “Don’t go,” stopped him.
“Sure there’s enough room for me?” he teased.
“Get your ass over here,” she ordered, still looking like she was asleep despite their conversation.
Shen placed his gun on the side table and slipped in behind Stevie. He put his arm around her waist and buried his nose in the back of her neck.
“Better?” he asked.
“Perfect,” she purred. Then she started snoring and Shen grinned. Because Stevie was right.
It was perfect.
chapter THIRTY-TWO
Shen joined the cheers of the wild dogs when Stevie stepped up to the mic in the small downtown club. She’d gotten a call earlier in the day asking if she’d like to play with “The Band” as they referred to themselves since the former prodigies/current geniuses refused to actually give themselves a proper name. “Too much like we’re really a band rather than just a group of like-minded geniuses,” Stevie had remarked when Shen mentioned it.
It turned out just to be a last-minute Kuznetsov Pack get-together that evening because some wild dog friends from Germany had shown up and they all wanted to celebrate as only wild dogs could: by badly singing along to great music performed by musical geniuses.
“We got a request,” Stevie said. “From the lovely ladies at the bar there.” Shen glanced over. The women didn’t look or smell like shifters, but he had no idea who they were. It was unusual for full-humans no one knew to attend a wild dog party, but there was something about the group that no one wanted to challenge either. So, they just left them alone and that seemed to work for everyone. Besides, wild dogs didn’t really have the kind of parties that involved the unleashing of claws or fangs.
“So get ready, Zeppelin fans,” Stevie continued, “it’s time for a little ‘Immigrant Song!’” she yelled out. The music started and everyone cheered, many others head-banged, and Stevie sang in her best Robert Plant voice while she was Jimmy Paige on her guitar.
It was great.
An hour later, The Band took a break and Stevie came over to Shen, jumping onto his back as she liked to do. She was so petite, though, he barely felt her.
Arms around his neck, legs around his waist, Stevie kissed his cheek.
“You were amazing,” he told her, placing her beer in her hand.
“Thank you.”
“Why didn’t your sisters come?”
“Max had plans and Charlie was, to quote her, ‘not in the mood to be around labradoodles.’”
“Ouch.”
Stevie laughed. “Yeah. I know. That’s my bitchy sis.”
“Not bitchy. Direct. I enjoy that in a woman that I don’t want to kill me. There’s no confusion about what crosses her boundaries.”
* * *
Stevie loved that Shen didn’t mind walking around a bar with her attached to his back. Not many men were comfortable with that sort of thing, but he seemed to enjoy it.
As they made the rounds, Stevie spotted Kyle. She hadn’t seen him in days. Since she’d dealt with James Wells. A problem that had quietly gone away. Thankfully. But she had to admit, she wasn’t surprised when Conridge called her and asked if she wanted to go back to the lab. To see what he had there. Shen had to go with her because Max had freaked out so badly about how Conridge was “going to wipe you from the world!”
Not really. Instead, they barely spoke to each other, too busy going through Wells’s notebooks and computer files.
Although the damage to the walls and windows still remained, the bodies and blood had been removed. Something Stevie greatly appreciated. It allowed her to focus on the work while Shen sat in an office chair, eating bamboo, and turning in circles. The man really didn’t need much to be entertained.
She patted Shen’s shoulder and pointed at the ground. He let her down and she went to Kyle, sitting across from him at his small table.
“How’s it going?” she asked him.
Oriana, who’d been walking over to the table with a big smile and a vodka tonic in her hand, stopped when she heard Stevie’s question. When Kyle’s only response was to sigh—deeply—her eyes crossed and she found another table to sit at.
Stevie knew she could talk to her friend later. Or even tomorrow. They’d been working on the ballet together and were spending several hours a day on it. But right now, Stevie had to check on her neediest friend.
“Are you really just going to sit here and feel sorry for yourself,” Stevie asked, “or are you going to get back to work?”
Kyle rested his cheek against the table. “What’s the point? So I can just prolong my failure?”
“Or you could create something new.”
He sighed again and Stevie ran out of patience just like that. She expected this from other artists. Regular, everyday artists. But not
Kyle. Never Kyle.
So she did what she had to in order to help her pathetic, whiny, needy friend.
“It’s okay,” she said. “I understand. Besides, with Denny . . .”
She let the nickname of Kyle’s younger brother Dennis hang out there.
And, as she expected, he took the bait.
Kyle raised his head, stared at Stevie. “What about Denny?”
“Nothing. Forget it. Forget I said anything.”
“Said anything about what?”
“Well . . . I heard that there’s been some interest from your old school in Italy.”
“What?”
“You know. The one you were thrown out of a few years—”
“I know which one you’re talking about. What interest?”
“In Denny’s hyperrealistic paintings. That street view of Paris that he did from memory . . . everyone is talking about it. It’s garnered a lot of interest.”
“Interest?”
“Yes. Interest.” She reached across the table, placed her hand on his forearm. “So I don’t want you to worry about anything. The Jean-Louis Parker name will be known for art. Because of Dennis.”
Kyle sat up straight. “I have to go.”
And he did, leaving Stevie there until Oriana walked over.
“That was brilliant,” she said, taking Kyle’s seat.
“You heard us?”
She pointed at her head. “Jackal ears. And you were . . .” She began to laugh. “I’m surprised his fucking head didn’t explode.”
“I’m not about to let your brother fuck up his career because of Kiki Li. Despite the fact that I really like her.”
“Kyle will be fine,” Oriana said with a dismissive wave. “But were you serious about Denny?”
“Oh, yeah. I heard from a friend of a friend of a maestro who had been at an auction that included one of Denny’s pieces, and he bought it for eight hundred and fifty thousand dollars.”
Oriana’s mouth dropped open. “Holy shit . . . he’s that good?”
“Yeah. He’s that good.”
“But he never speaks. For years we all thought he had been born mute. Then one day he just started talking in very short, very quiet sentences. He wanted a grilled cheese sandwich.”
“Because a grilled cheese sandwich is the best sandwich. Even then he was showing his genius.”
* * *
“Come to bed, woman!” Miki Kendrick heard Irene Conridge’s wolf husband yell from their bedroom.
“He’s persistent,” Miki chuckled, continuing to print pages from the Wells brothers’ files she’d finally hacked into. The more pages she discovered, the more fascinated Irene became. Miki had no idea what her friend was discovering and she really didn’t want to know. That kind of science was not her thing. She liked computers. She liked how they worked. Plus she didn’t have to worry about putting a few elements together and creating a virus that would turn everyone into zombies. Win-win.
Of course, Miki hadn’t planned on being in New York this long. Her mate and his Pack lived on the West Coast, but Irene had called and the job sounded so interesting, she’d come. Besides, according to Miki’s daughter, “You need to go. You’re getting on my nerves.”
Brat.
Miki found some new files buried beneath more encryption than she’d thought possible, but when she looked up to tell Irene, she saw the woman’s cold gaze fixed on a spot behind her.
Miki, who’d grown up in a rough part of eastern Texas, surrounded by wolves and bikers who could shift into wolves, had the blade she’d purchased when she’d arrived in New York out of its holster and pressed against the neck of the Asian woman standing behind her.
And the Asian woman had her blade pressed against Miki’s neck.
She smiled. “Nice, for a full-human.”
“Can I help you with something?” Miki asked, figuring if the woman had wanted her dead, she’d have slashed her throat by now.
“As a matter of fact, you can.”
“What are you doing here?” Irene asked. Then she snapped, “Both of you put your weapons away before I get terse.”
Gazing into each other’s eyes, Miki and the woman lowered their blades.
“Miki Kendrick, this is Max MacKilligan.”
“One of the sisters. I’ve heard about you guys.”
“And you’re the hacker.”
Miki slid her knife back into the holster. “I prefer computer expert. For legal reasons, of course.”
“I need your help.”
“With what?”
“I need you to track a few things down.”
“Like?” Irene asked. “Because she’s working for me right now.”
“Hey, bitches,” Miki said, her gaze bouncing between both women, “I don’t belong to either of ya. Now what do ya want?” she asked Max.
“My twin aunts sent my cunt of a cousin to come to my house and kill me while my sisters were downstairs with their boyfriends.”
“Wow.”
“Yeah. I’m on the trail of my cousin, and I’ll find her. But my aunts also stole money from my family by using my father. Now, he is an idiot. I don’t think he can even send email. But he used a hacker and I want to know who it was so we can track down the stolen money. Or, at the very least, just get the fucking money back. And I’m guessing you’re the one who can find it.”
“I can. But what do I get out of it?”
“A feeling of accomplishment?”
“Bitch, please. I get nearly a thousand bucks an hour minimum to do that sort of shit. You’ll have to come at me with something better than that.”
Max shrugged. “A few days ago I went into an underground lab and wiped out a whole lot of fellow shifters because they kidnapped my baby sister. Now, my older sister was with me and she did the same thing. For her, it was something she had to do to protect the family. She didn’t enjoy it, but she did it. She’s like a . . . Marine. Doing what she needs to do to protect the homeland. I, however, enjoyed every second of what I did. Because they crossed us and went after my baby sister, who is ridiculously nice and didn’t deserve any of that. So, if nothing else, for those on the outside looking in, I am wonderfully entertaining.”
Miki looked over at Irene and she nodded her head. “It’s true,” Irene admitted. “That did happen.”
“Well, then,” Miki said, throwing up her hands. “I’m in.”
* * *
The MacKilligans got on their private plane and Will settled into his seat. His time in the States hadn’t been as bad as he’d thought it would be. And the boys were still talking about how good a time they’d all had taking the piss out of an entire Pride. So everyone was happy.
Although he didn’t really understand why Mairi and the twins had done all this. Kill Uncle Pete, he meant. They’d wanted to lure him and his boys to the States, but for what? The only one who’d gotten hit was Max, nearly strangled to death in her own house.
But Mairi could have done that at any time, and the same message would have gotten to the rest of the family. So then . . . what was the point?
The whole thing bothered Will but not enough to distract him from the bigger issue. His fucking money! Where the fuck was his money?
Dougie sat in the seat across from Will. “You all right, Da?”
“Pissed. Very pissed.”
Frowning, Dougie leaned down. “What’s this?” he asked, pulling a briefcase out from under his seat. “Did you put this here?”
“No. What is it?”
Dougie opened it up and his breath caught, his gaze lifting to Will’s.
“Fu—”
* * *
She was telling the pilot of a private plane to get in line for takeoff when the entire building shook.
Screaming, she dropped to the floor, arms over her head. Some of her coworkers hit the floor around her. Some dove under desks. Glass from the windows exploded around them and she just tried to hold on. Tried not to panic.
Finally, in w
hat felt like hours but was really only seconds, everything calmed down. The building no longer shook. The sound of glass falling all around them stopped.
Carefully, she stood and looked out the now glass-free window at the airstrip. The private plane owned by the Scottish men was now nothing more than bent and twisted metal that was still burning. Around what was left of the plane were bodies. And, from what she knew, all of them were family. An entire family wiped out in one second.
“Call nine-one—” She froze, leaned closer to what was left of her windows.
“What is it?” one of her coworkers asked.
But she didn’t know how to answer. She didn’t know what she was seeing.
* * *
Shen found Stevie sitting on the stage, her legs dangling over the edge. The Band had done one more hour-long set. This time of Jimi Hendrix and Beatles favorites. The whole thing was a success and he sensed that he’d be spending way more time around wild dogs.
With the other bandmates packing up behind her and the bar starting to clear out for the night, the regular lights came on and Shen noticed that Stevie was frowning.
He sat down next to her. “I saw Kyle running out of here. Everything okay?”
“Yeah. I just told him his baby brother was his competition and the kid was going to outdo him if he didn’t get off his ass and stop feeling sorry for himself. But I said it much nicer.”
“Then what’s wrong? You look upset.”
“No. This isn’t my upset face. This is my thinking face, which I’ve been told is a little scary.”
“What are you thinking about?”
“I got a call from Van Holtz earlier today. They are confiscating—his word—the underground lab James Wells was using. They’re going to take it over and they want me to run it.”
“To do what?”
“Not sure yet. I know they want me and Conridge to keep looking into what Wells was up to. In case he was doing anything besides fucking with the DNA of hybrids. But after that . . . I don’t know. And I’m not sure they know.”
“Then you might be able to make of it what you will.”
“Yeah. Or it’s their way of keeping a close tab on me.”
In a Badger Way Page 40