Bite Me

by Shelly Laurenston

  When she moved away from him, Vic knew something was very wrong. Something that had absolutely nothing to do with the bitter cats in the next county or his shifted form.

  Vic shifted back to human and waited. After nearly a minute, Livy said, “I’m hungry. Are you hungry?”

  “Yeah. I’m hungry.”

  Livy nodded and walked into the house through the back door. Vic followed and found her looking into the refrigerator. There was a little Chinese food left, but neither of them wanted that. So they called in an order to the local diner and had it delivered.

  Vic had showered and put his jeans on by the time the food arrived. He was setting it out on the table when Livy came downstairs.

  She carried a cell phone and wore a bathrobe that was several sizes too big for her. She finger-combed her wet hair off her face and sat down at the kitchen table.

  “Looks good,” she stated.

  With all the food out, Vic sat catty-corner from Livy and reached for the bacon.

  “My father’s dead,” she suddenly announced.

  Vic pulled his hand back, focused on Livy. “I know. And I am sorry.”

  “No,” she said softly. “You don’t know.” She rested her arms on the table, hands clasped together over the plate he’d put out for her. “I just assumed his funeral was probably one of my parents’ schemes. Another way for them to somehow make money. That in four or five years Damon Kowalski would suddenly pop up and say, ‘Why do you get so upset, troch rage. Always sensitive . . . like your mother.’ ”

  “ ‘Troch rage’?” Vic repeated, with a small laugh. “Your father called you Little Rage?”

  “Since I smacked him right across the mouth when I was six months old.”

  Vic leaned down a bit so he could look in her eyes. “But now you’re sure your father’s gone. Why?”

  Livy let out a big breath before looking directly at him and replying, “Because I found his stuffed carcass in Allison Whitlan’s apartment.”

  Vic blinked those gold eyes at her, his entire body jolting in surprise. “Wait . . . what?”

  “She had him by her fireplace. Someone went to a good taxidermist. You could barely tell he’d been shot in the back of the head.”

  “Livy . . . I . . . um . . .”

  “Please don’t say you’re sorry. I don’t want to hear sorry.”

  “What do you need from me?”

  “You gave me what I needed. Time. I needed time to figure out what I should do.”

  “You don’t have to do anything. Now we know that Allison Whitlan must be in some kind of contact with her father. Dee and Cella can take it from there.”

  “It’s not that easy, Vic.”

  “It’s not?”

  “Not for me. It’ll never be that easy for me.”

  Vic placed his hand over her forearm, his fingers warm and dry. Comforting. “I can’t even imagine how hard all this must be for you. I really can’t. But what I do know is that you need to let the people paid to protect our kind do their jobs.”

  “They may be paid to protect your kind but not mine. The honey badgers have always been on our own. We always will be.”

  Vic leaned back in his chair. “What’s your plan, Livy? Track down Whitlan by yourself? Take him down by yourself?”

  “Honey badgers are a lot of things. We’re mean. We’re rough. We’re mostly felons. We take shit from no one. But the one thing we’re not . . . is stupid. I have no intention of going after Whitlan by myself.”

  “Then what are you planning?”

  “The only thing I can.” Livy picked up her cell phone, pulled up an important number she’d never used before, and sent out a quick text before she focused back on Vic and said, “Vengeance.”

  Baltazar Kowalski pulled his cell phone out of his back pocket and looked at the text he’d just gotten.

  One of the men breaking into the reinforced safe in the basement of the bank—a safe that held millions in diamonds—glared at Balt over the ski mask he wore.

  “Do we really have time for you to chat with your pretty girlfriend?” the man whispered in French.

  Balt ignored the man and studied the text.

  “What is it, brother?” Kamil asked, his gaze straying from the guards they’d secured and drugged so that they were out cold during the job.

  “It’s from Damon’s girl.” Damon. Their brother was supposed to have been with them on this job. They all did their own individual jobs, of course, but several times a year, the Kowalski brothers worked together. Especially on these kinds of jobs where a lot of money and risk were at stake. And Damon had been the best at organizing and pulling these jobs off without a hitch. So his loss was felt most at this time.

  “What does she say?” Edmund asked.

  “She wants us to meet her in New York. Now.”

  The five brothers stared at each other. Olivia wasn’t like any of their children. She never contacted them for anything. Had never involved herself in the family business. Before Damon’s funeral, they hadn’t seen her for a good seven years or so. When they did see her, she did no more than wave at them before disappearing with Balt’s boy, Jake. For waffles, Balt had been told later. Although he could never understand why anyone would go out and get waffles when they had perfectly delicious cobras slithering around the backyard of Damon’s old house.

  No. The Kowalski men had never understood Damon’s girl . . . including Damon. But Olivia was still family. She was a Kowalski. A strange Kowalski, but still one of them. Which meant only one thing to Balt, Edmund, Kamil, Gustav, Otto, and David.

  The brothers locked gazes and, without another word between them, stopped what they were doing and packed up.

  The full-humans they were working with looked up at the brothers. “Where the hell are you going?” one of them asked.

  Balt zipped up his black bag, and slung it over his shoulder. He didn’t answer the man; there was no point.

  Another full-human pulled his .45 and aimed it at Otto. Baltazar stepped in front of his brother and walked up to the man until the gun pressed against Balt’s chest. He gazed at the full-human and waited. After several seconds, the man looked away. Balt reached over and took the gun from the full-human’s grasp.

  “Nice Glock,” Balt said in French. “I have one at my house.” Then he used the weapon to beat the man who’d pointed it at Otto until he was bleeding and sobbing on the ground.

  Balt tossed the gun to the ground and motioned to his brothers. “Come,” he said in English, trying to get used to the difficult language again since they were going to America. “We have plane to catch.”

  CHAPTER 18

  Toni stepped away from the Russian bargaining table and walked out into the hallway before answering her phone. It was Livy, which was strange. Livy wasn’t really a fan of talking on phones. She’d been known to text when necessary, but that was about it.

  “Hey, Livy.”

  “Hey.”

  “Everything okay?”

  “Yeah. I need to ask a favor, though.”

  “A favor?” Toni frowned. “You?”

  “I’ve asked for favors before.”

  “Yeah. I guess. Can’t really remember one, though.”

  “Can I ask a favor or not?”

  “Okay, okay. No need to get testy. What do you need?”

  There was a pause, then Livy asked, “I need to borrow the brownstone.”

  “The brownstone?” Toni wasn’t quite sure what Livy was talking about. “What brownstone?”

  “The one your parents rent from the wild dogs.”

  “Oh! You mean the wild dog house.” At least that’s what Toni’s family called it. It was a beautiful piece of real estate that the wild dogs could sell for a fortune but instead chose to rent out for an insane amount of money. Of course, Toni had thought her family was only renting it for that one summer when Toni’s mother was “stalking” the Alpha Female’s adopted son, Johnny. Not literal stalking. Her mother, thankfully, was not int
erested in Johnny as anything but a music student. A prodigy training a prodigy. But the wild dogs were as protective of their pups as jackals, so it had required a lot more work. Still, Toni thought her parents would stop renting the house once that summer was over and they’d returned to their lives on the West Coast. But her parents were still renting the place, whether they were in it or not, with the logic that they could crash there anytime they were in Manhattan. The wild dogs loved this plan, as well, because they still received their rental payments without having to worry about out-of-control neighbors or squatters.

  “Yeah. Sure. But are you sure there’s nothing wrong?”

  “Nothing you have to worry about. A family thing. But I swear, any damage done to the place, I’ll make sure it’s fixed and perfect before you get back to the States. Okay?”

  Toni was annoyed Livy had even felt she had to say that to her. Livy had always watched out for Toni’s stuff like she was protecting her own. Even more so.

  But that was the least of Toni’s worries from what Livy had said. “A family thing? What family thing?”

  “My family thing. Nothing you have to worry about.”

  “I know which family you meant, Olivia. But you only deal with my family. So I’m sorry if I’m questioning—”

  “Antonella?”

  “What?”

  “Can I have the place or not?”

  “Of course you can. It’ll be completely empty. Coop and Cherise are still in Europe on tour. But make sure you use the keys! No breaking and entering and no damn holes, Olivia. I mean it. But, look, that’s not the real issue—”

  “Have a good time with the bears!” Livy cheered. “Love you more than soap!”

  The call ended and Toni stamped her foot and wondered how long it would take her to get to New York if she left right now.

  “Hey, little doggie,” an excessively thick Russian accent barked from inside the room. “You have work! Or did you forget?”

  Toni pushed the door open and stared at the table filled with Russian bears. She’d long ago stopped feeling any fear at being around so many bears once she realized that the only bear she had to worry about at the moment was Ivan Zubachev, the Russian hockey team owner, who ruled with an iron paw.

  She hated that he still insisted on calling her “little doggie” although everyone and their mother knew he adored her. Why? Because she had made him lots of money. The game between the Carnivores and Zubachev’s team had been a huge event, bringing in a lot of money not only to the two teams but to the Siberian shifter-run towns that had played host.

  Now, it was time to bring the Russians to America, and Toni was on deck to make it happen. That was when she realized she couldn’t walk away from this. She couldn’t tell Zubachev that she had to go check on her friend but she’d be back in a week or two to finalize the deal. The Russians had hard and fast rules for negotiations, and Toni’s need to protect her friends and family from themselves wasn’t really part of that.

  Toni looked down at her phone. No. She’d have to trust that Livy could take care of herself. Even if her family was involved, Toni was sure that it was probably just an issue with Melly or something. An issue that could easily be handled by violating that woman’s parole and putting her right back in a cell.

  “She’ll call me if she needs me,” Toni reminded herself. “She’ll call.”

  Clinging to that belief, Toni walked back into the room, closing the door behind her. “All right, gentlemen, let’s get back to work. And no, we will not force Bo Novikov to shift to his animal form and put him on display in a gilded cage at the Sports Center so that the world can see what a true freak he is. And stop asking if you can!”

  With keys in hand, Livy walked up the stairs to the front door. She looked at the keys and back at the door. No. She had to do this. She had no choice.

  Livy had the key in the lock when she stopped. “Are you going to keep shadowing me?”

  “Yes.”

  Sighing, Livy turned but ended up with her face buried in his stomach. She pushed and pointed at the street. “Down,” she ordered. “Down.”

  Vic went down the stairs, and now she could almost look him directly in the eyes.

  With space between them, Livy could be clear and concise and inform Vic that she would be doing this on her own. She didn’t need him or his help. She appreciated it and all, but she didn’t need it.

  Livy started to speak, but thought she was too far from him. So she walked down a couple of steps, bringing her closer, but now he was taller again. She hated the thought of yelling up to him that she didn’t need him or his help. That seemed tacky.

  She motioned him closer with her hand. Vic leaned down. “What, Livy?”

  “Well, what I don’t . . .”

  “What you don’t . . . what?” Vic frowned when she didn’t answer. “Livy?”

  That’s when Livy grabbed the back of Vic’s neck, pulled him closer, and kissed him. She didn’t know why she kissed the man. She had no idea. Maybe it was those damn lips. He had the nicest lips. And such a handsome face.

  Even worse . . . Vic kissed her back. His arms going around her waist, he lifted Livy up and walked forward until Livy was pressed against the front door. Their kiss was desperate and demanding and completely unreasonable. Unreasonable because this hadn’t been Livy’s plan. She was supposed to send him off, for no other reason than to keep him safe. Getting involved with her family was dangerous. Unbelievably dangerous. And she didn’t want to be the reason anything happened to Vic.

  But when he pulled away from her, his eyes locked on her mouth, his breathing hard, Livy knew she wouldn’t be able to “shoo” him away.

  “I’ll get us some clothes,” he said, slowly removing his hands from her waist. “And Shen. He’ll be good help for this. Okay?”

  Livy nodded, instinctively licking her lips, which she immediately stopped doing when Vic started growling at her.

  With a hearty snort, Vic turned and started off toward his SUV. But he abruptly stopped, glared at Livy over his shoulder. “Don’t make me come look for you,” he ordered.

  “What if I do?”

  “Olivia.”

  “Kidding. I’m kidding. I’ll be here.”

  “Good.”

  Livy watched Vic until he reached his SUV and drove off. She blew out a confused breath. Her heart had raced from that kiss. Her heart didn’t race from much of anything. Maybe good sex but just a kiss? What exactly was happening to her? Because she didn’t like it.

  Deciding not to worry about this on top of everything else, Livy went back to the door, unlocked it, and stepped into the house.

  Surprised to find the lights on, Livy walked down the marble-floored hallway, which reminded her of a very small Versailles, and past the living room by the stairs, where she heard what sounded like an episode of Dr. Phil coming from the large-screen TV . . .

  Livy stopped walking, freezing right in the middle of the arched entrance, her gaze locked onto the twelve-year-old boy watching that large-screened TV from the couch.

  “Kyle?” she snarled.

  Eyes wide, Kyle Jean-Louis Parker slowly looked over at Livy. “Uh . . . Livy? Wow. Uh . . . hi?”

  “Why aren’t you in Italy?” Livy demanded.

  Kyle was an artistic prodigy, sculpting and painting his greatest strengths. He was so amazing, he’d been accepted into a prestigious Italian art school at the age of eleven while getting tutored in the basics like math and science so he wasn’t left behind scholastically.

  Yet he was supposed to be in Italy receiving all that great education, not here in the middle of his parents’ rental home. And he especially wasn’t supposed to be in his parents’ rental home without his parents.

  “Does Toni know you’re here?”

  Kyle stared at Livy a moment before replying, “Sure.”

  “You are the worst liar, Kyle Jean-Louis Parker,” Livy complained as she pulled out her cell phone to call Toni. There were just some lines L
ivy never crossed when it came to Antonella, and all those lines involved Toni’s siblings. And the kids knew that. So Livy had no qualms about ratting out Kyle to Toni, even if that meant Toni would be flying back from Russia on the wings of her rage.

  But before Livy could complete the call, an arm reached around her and took the phone. Startled, she spun around, fangs unleashed, which had Cooper Jean-Louis Parker immediately crossing his arms over his chest, tucking his hands under his armpits, and barking, “Not my hands! Not my hands!”

  Livy retracted her fangs and gazed at the eldest male sibling of the Jean-Louis Parkers. “Not your hands? Most people tell me not to touch their face.”

  “I can play without my eyes,” he said, now grinning. “Can’t play without my hands.” He held those hands up. “These babies are insured for a reason.”

  Cooper was a pianist who’d been playing for massive audiences since he was five or so. Of all Toni’s siblings, he was the most normal. At least as normal as any child prodigy could be, she guessed.

  “What’s going on?” Livy asked.

  “We’re giving Kyle and all of Italy a break.”

  Livy’s head tipped down as she studied the handsome jackal she thought of as her own brother. “Really?”

  “They’re trying to control me!” Kyle yelled from the couch. “Control my brilliance! They have yet to realize they can’t control me! Their narrow, noncreative minds simply don’t understand what I’m trying to do! They can’t conceive—”

  “Stop it, Kyle,” Livy cut in calmly.

  “Whatever,” the boy muttered. “They don’t deserve me.”

  Coop shook his head. “How do you do that?”

  Livy was one of the few people Kyle ever listened to, but Livy had no idea why. Although if she had to guess . . . “He may have seen what I did to that squirrel who got between me and that beehive in your parents’ backyard. You know how cranky I get when the squirrels fight back.”

  Coop chuckled and handed the phone back to Livy. Together they slowly walked down the hallway toward the kitchen. When they were out of earshot of Kyle, Coop said softly, “Don’t call Toni.”