And she laughed when Ric’s only reply was, “Quiet, Dee-Ann. Just . . . quiet.”
CHAPTER 11
D ee-Ann woke up when she felt the stitches in her arm being tugged out.
It was Ric doing the tugging. Naked except for a sheet, he was trying to carefully and quietly remove the stitches so as not to wake her.
Dang, but he was cute. She’d never realized before. She’d noticed he was pretty, sure, but not so . . . cute. With his polite, fussy ways, and insistence on feeding her.
“What are you doing?” she asked.
He flinched. “Damn.” Brown eyes looked at her. “I was trying not to wake you.”
“You’re removing a foreign material from my skin. How could you not wake me?”
“I thought I could at least try. Your skin was starting to grow over so I couldn’t leave it any longer.”
Dee sat up in the enormous bed and pulled her arm away from Van Holtz. Using her fangs, she methodically tore out each stitch, spitting the material into her free hand, until she was done.
Ric, staring at her, observed, “You’ve done that before, haven’t you?”
“A time or two.” Of course, when she’d done it before, she’d been knee-deep in some jungle or African grassland, waiting for hunters to take the bait and move into her line of sight. She’d definitely not done it while lying in a big, comfortable bed with a handsome wolf grinning at her.
“Got a trash can?” she asked, raising her hand with the stitches.
Reaching over his side of the bed, Ric lifted up a small stainless-steel trashcan and held it out for her to toss the evidence of her recent knife-fighting incident away.
“What time is it?”
He returned the trash can to the spot on the floor and glanced at the clock by the bed. “Six. I overslept.”
“Need to be at the restaurant?”
“No, I have dinner service tonight. I was going to try and get in some practice at the rink so that idiot would lay off.”
“Y’all sure don’t like that boy, do you?” Neither Ric nor MacRyrie had a nice word to say about Bo Novikov. She found it kind of funny simply because they were normally so damn nice.
“No. We don’t. But Blayne loves him so there’s not much we can say.” He reached out, his finger tracing the line of her jaw to her throat, to her collarbone. “You need to eat.”
“I’m fine.”
“It wasn’t a question, Dee-Ann. Or an offer.” He leaned in and pressed his lips to her throat.
Dee’s eyes closed, her left hand sliding up his bicep to his shoulder.
“You don’t always have to feed me, Van Holtz. I can find food on my own.”
“You find crap on your own.” He moved in closer, nipped at her jaw and Dee’s nipples hardened, her pussy getting wet. “You need a healthy meal so you can face the day.”
He was pushing her back on the bed. She wasn’t trying to stop him. “And what do I have to face today?” she asked, both hands gripping his shoulders now, holding him tight against her.
“Worry about it later,” he told her—so she did.
Dee came out of the bathroom, her body again freshly scrubbed clean. She wrapped one towel around herself and used another to roughly dry her hair. As she stepped from the bathroom to the bedroom, she had to pause and stare at the bed. It was so big. It made sense since it was built specifically for bears but . . . good Lord. Not only was the bear-sized queen mattress more than double the size of a regular king, the frame was made of extra-thick steel. Sometimes even titanium for those who could afford it. In case the bear cubs decide to jump up and down?
Shaking her head, she walked into the hallway and instantly scented a foreign wolf in the vicinity. She followed the scent to the guest bedroom and saw some scraggly looking homeless wolf going through the extra clothes there.
Standing behind the wolf, arms resting at her sides, fingers twitching just a little . . . she waited.
Stein Van Holtz, family black sheep and all-around recent loser, dug through his cousin’s extra clothes drawer. How low he’d fallen. How low.
It still dazed him sometimes to think about how far and how fast he’d crashed back to earth after so long at the top. Where did his luck go? He still had skills, but everything had gone wrong. In three years he’d gone from top of the heap to absolutely nothing. And through all of that, he’d lost his family and his Pack. If he had one or the other, he’d be okay, but he’d lost both.
So, when he’d needed help, he’d ended up approaching the last person he’d wanted to go to with his hand out, but he’d had no choice. Honestly, he’d thought the one cousin who’d toss him out on his ass would be Ric, but he hadn’t. And that’s why Stein had probably come to him because he knew Ric was the one blood relation who would help him.
The realization tore at him because it had been Ric that Stein had fucked over the worst. But still, it didn’t mean that—
Stein’s head lifted, the hackles on his neck rising up, his fangs sliding out. He shot around to face whatever was behind him, but the She-wolf had him by the throat before he could blink and, one handed, slammed him up against the wall, his feet not quite touching the ground—and they were about the same height.
“Stealin’, boy?” she asked in an accent he found a tad off-putting. Especially when she was choking the shit out of him. “That’s just rude.”
He tried to tell her he was a Van Holtz, that he knew Ric, that he could be here, but she wouldn’t loosen up her grip enough to allow him to say much of anything. Her towel slipped off and she stood brazen and naked, still holding him. She wasn’t exactly pretty or anything and her body had tons of scars, a few long and angry looking but mostly a bunch of little ones all over. But it was her eyes . . . Christ, her eyes. Cold, bright yellow wolf eyes gazed up at him with no remorse, no doubt, no pity.
This wasn’t some average wolf, trying to scare him by shifting only her eyes. No, this was a warrior wolf. The kind Stein used to hear about from his grandfather, who loved talking of the times when Van Holtzes were only Holtzes and had faced down legions of Roman soldiers. This female would have been on the front line, a banshee if he’d ever seen one.
“Did you find something to wear?” Ric asked, walking into the room while mixing up batter for pancakes. He stopped in the doorway, took in the scene, and said, “Oh. Sorry. Didn’t realize you were busy.” And walked away!
Stein tried to call him back. Tried to beg him to get his ass back here and help his poor, baby cousin! What was he playing at? He had a pitbull loose in his apartment but he didn’t have voice control?
The female sized him up again. “You know him?” she asked and Stein didn’t know why she was asking him questions when she gripped his throat so tight he still couldn’t speak.
“Yeah,” Ric replied, coming back into the room. He leaned against the doorjamb, still mixing that batter as if his cousin wasn’t in mortal danger. “He’s my cousin.”
“Invited?”
“Yes. Invited.”
Her fingers tightened once more, convincing Stein she was going to snap his neck anyway. Then she released him, letting him drop to the floor.
Bent over at the waist, Stein took in big gulps of air, wheezing while he rubbed at his throat. He looked up to see the She-wolf pick up the towel and wrap it around her body. She walked past Ric and he watched her with a territorial gleam that Stein had never seen from his cousin when it came to a female.
“Dee, your clothes were cleaned last night and I put them on the bed. Or you can borrow something of mine if you’d prefer.”
“Thanks.”
“Breakfast will be ready in a few minutes.”
“I should go,” she called back.
“You need to eat, Dee-Ann. You’re skin and bones.” Skin, muscles, and bones. Did the man not see those muscles? Was he blind to the size of that woman? Did he not see the way she’d tossed his baby cousin around his guest bedroom like one of those bouncing chew toys?
&
nbsp; “You didn’t seem to mind last night.”
“Only because I knew I’d be feeding you this morning. Don’t argue with me on this,” Ric said, walking out of the room. “You’re eating before you go anywhere. You wouldn’t want me to get cranky, now would you?”
Stein got to his feet, feeling shaky all over. He didn’t know what to make of his cousin with that She-wolf, but it was none of his concern, now was it? Stepping back to the drawer, Stein pulled out a T-shirt and sweatpants. He’d go commando before he’d wear someone else’s boxers, though.
He was digging for some socks when he found a wad of bills tucked into a corner. The wad was thick, at least four or five grand. Stein’s fingers brushed across the cash, his mind whirling with the possibilities of what he could do with that much cash. A few rounds at a card table and he could win enough to pay everyone back and . . . and . . .
Make things worse. He’d make things worse.
Curling back his fingers, Stein grabbed a pair of white sweat socks and quickly closed the drawer. Trying to ignore what had become second nature to him was definitely the hardest part of this, but he was determined not to fuck up this time.
He left Ric’s bedroom and found another bathroom with a shower he could use. By the time he’d showered, shaved, and put on clean clothes—his first in months that hadn’t been hand washed in a dirty sink—the She-wolf was gone and his cousin was sitting at the counter staring blankly at the morning edition of The Wall Street Journal.
Stein didn’t think Ric would notice he was in the room, but without looking up he pointed at the stove. “There’s batter left for you. I already made the bacon. Eggs are in the refrigerator. You remember the basics, don’t you, cousin?”
“Yeah. Sure.” Stein walked to the stove and, man, but did it feel good to be back at one.
As Stein got to work, he asked his cousin, “Are you all right, Ric?”
“Yes. I’m fine.” Ric sighed, placed his elbow on the table, and his chin on his raised fist. “Just in love.”
Remembering clearly the cold wolf eyes that had gazed up at him as if he were some sort of bug she’d trapped in a jar and the grip that female had had on his throat, Stein didn’t have any response to his cousin’s statement other than the tried and true, “Oh. Good for you.”
Because really . . . what could a man say to his cousin after that?
CHAPTER 12
R ic sat at his desk. He was completely alone in his apartment now. His cousin was gone and so was Dee-Ann. Her scent still lingered in his place, though, and he liked it. Probably more than he should since he had no idea what would come of all this. But he was willing to fight for her. She might not realize she was perfect for him, but he knew she was. They just fit together like a really odd puzzle no one could figure out.
But he could think about that later. Right now, he had to focus on something else.
Getting out several pencils and a notepad from his desk drawer, Ric opened the package his Uncle Van had sent him to review and got to work. And the deeper he got into the Van Holtz books, the worse it got.
Dee-Ann stopped by the Group office first and checked in. She also looked in on the young hybrids that currently called the Group office their home. Every day the hybrid pups, cubs, and kits she’d found and brought in received all sorts of training, from basic hand-to-hand combat techniques to learning how to manage their bodies when they shifted. A challenge for a few of them whose DNA mix created something brand new and different. When they weren’t getting training, they were in classes that would hopefully let most, if not all, of them get their high school diplomas. The only one who’d already graduated high school was Hannah, but whether she’d end up going to college or not, Dee didn’t know. The girl didn’t talk much.
And then there was little Abby. How many months had she been part of the Group and she still refused to shift from her animal form to her human one? They only found out her name because they discovered it written on the girls’ bathroom mirror. And in the beginning, because she had a tendency to be destructive, Dee had placed her with the Kuznetsov wild dog Pack. Jessie Ann was her cousin-in-law and her dog Pack was tolerant of mixed breeds. It had worked out well, but then Abby started showing up at the Group’s office, still in her animal form, roaming the halls, begging for food, generally pretending to be the office mascot. It was weird. Then again, so was Abby.
Yet it was all working out, and Dee was just glad to have these kids off the streets. They deserved better than to be going through trash and sleeping under overpasses. Of course, every kid deserved that, but she could only do what she could do. And what she could do was help her own.
“Everything all right here?” she asked Charlene. The fox liked to check in on the hybrids throughout the day and Dee appreciated that.
“Pretty much. They’re getting used to being here, I think. A few have started talking about what to do after they graduate from high school or get their GED. I think most of them will stay on when they hit eighteen.” She glanced at Dee. “They kind of worship you.”
Startled, Dee could only manage a, “Huh?”
“Gonna play that game, eh? Okay. Fine.”
Ignoring those comments, Dee asked, “Hannah?”
Charlene blew out a breath. “Yeah . . . Hannah.”
They’d rescued the pretty but scarred bear-canine hybrid with the brown eyes, brown hair with black tips, and nearly six-three height at one of the illegal fight training centers they’d shut down outside of Ursus County. Dee had wanted to put Hannah down then and there. She’d seemed so . . . empty. The pitbull no one trusted because she’d been in one too many fights. But Teacup had begged and pleaded and all the other shit she liked to do to make Dee-Ann’s life hell. Now they had Hannah here and no one would go near her, even the Unit vets who’d seen it all.
Dee grimaced. “That bad?”
“It’s not like she does anything, ya know? She doesn’t get into fights or threaten anyone. Not like you.”
Dee briefly pursed her lips. “Thanks.”
“But she scares everybody. She’s a scowler. A silent scowler.”
“Yeah, but . . . so am I.”
“It’s different. We know you’ll kill if you have to and you’ll do it without remorse. But so will half the breeds in the Group. But Hannah . . . I think she’s fighting so hard not to be who and what she is—she’s so afraid of it—that she comes off as just downright terrifying. Because you never know what’s going to finally set her off. What’s going to really make her snap her bolt.”
“I don’t know what will either. But I’m not ready to give up on her yet.”
“Because you think she can change? Or because you don’t want to hear Blayne Thorpe’s hysterical crying . . . again?”
“I’m leaving,” Dee said.
“You mean running away from the conversation because you refuse to admit you kind of like Blayne?”
Dee stopped and glared at the bite-sized fox.
“Just kidding,” Charlene said, backing away. “Just kidding.”
Dee left the office and walked into the diner down the street. She spotted Malone and Desiree at a table in the back. They were both eating breakfast. Desiree had a newspaper folded up for easy reading while she ate an egg white omelet. Malone was reading a full-human hockey magazine and downing waffles, toast, bacon, ham, and eggs. They weren’t speaking to each other and didn’t look up when Dee sat down.
“Sorry I’m late.”
“No problem. We haven’t been here long.” Desiree pushed a coffee cup and a carafe over to her. “You want breakfast?”
“Nah. Already ate.” Dee poured herself a hot cup of coffee and took a sip. It was definitely what she needed. “What’s the plan?”
Desiree shrugged. “We could investigate a few more of the property owners.”
“Yeah,” Malone said, “but I really think that’s going to be a waste of time. Why would the ones who own the property put themselves at risk by having the fights there?
So far, all the properties have been owned by those who haven’t touched them in some time.”
Desiree poured herself more coffee. “You know what it feels like to me? A real F-U to us. To the ones trying to stop this. And to the ones who own the property.”
“What makes you think that?”
“Well, it reminds me of the time right after we were married when Mace got his sister to let us use her summer house in the Hamptons. She kept saying we had free rein of the house—but we weren’t allowed to go in her bedroom. Stay away from her bedroom because it was her private sanctuary, even though she only stayed there for a few weeks in the summer with her entire Pride.”
Malone grinned. “You fucked on that woman’s bed, didn’t you?”
“Like bunnies. Because the more she said ‘don’t,’ the more we did. And that’s what using these properties says to me. ‘F-U ’cause I can do what I want.’ ”
“We need to find the money,” Dee repeated the words of the NYPD sow who’d put them on this. “They have to be getting the money somewhere.”
“Yeah,” Malone said, “but does it really take that much startup money to run a dogfight?”
“This ain’t no dogfight, Malone. They’ve gotta transport these people, house them, feed ’em, and it ain’t like feeding some pit you keep in your backyard. Plus, you didn’t see the office we took down back in February when they went after Blayne. It rivaled Group offices. That’s serious money. And that’s what we need to find.”
“Then we need to find a fight.”
“I don’t know about y’all, but the last three we got a line on were closed down by the time we got there.”
Malone and Desiree nodded, silently agreeing they’d had the same problem.
“So someone’s warning them when to get out.”
“You think our people—”
“No, no.” Dee shook her head. “I’m not saying we’ve got anyone on our teams rattin’ us out. But there’s always chatter. One of us talks to another to another . . . until it ends up in someone’s lap.”