Eventually Lock walked up to the ballroom with his arm around Gwen’s waist.
“You look gorgeous,” Ric told her, leaning down to kiss her cheek.
“Thanks. Although, I gotta admit. I hate this shit.”
“I know. But I appreciate you being here. You can be my alibi.”
“Because that’s always fun,” Lock told him. “So how did it go with Van?”
“Great. Until he found out I’d marked Dee. Then he went a little hysterical.”
The pair gawked at him, eyes wide and mouths open. Then Gwen laughed. “Holy shit, Ric, you actually pulled it off.”
“You and . . .” Lock shook his head. “She didn’t mind?”
“Lock!” Gwen squeaked.
“No,” Ric told him with a smile. “She didn’t mind.”
“And what about her father?”
“After this gets done, we’ll head down to Tennessee and tell him together.”
“Do you really think her presence will stop that man from killing you?”
Ric admitted, “I’m hoping.”
“Tell me,” Dee pushed. “Do I look stupid?”
“No.” And Malone seemed kind of surprised by that. “You look great.”
Dee again fussed with the deep blue, full-length gown with swaths of material that wrapped around her shoulders. It wasn’t really sleeveless, which wouldn’t work for her upper-body type, but it didn’t really have sleeves either.
“Honestly, you look great,” Desiree told her again.
Dee turned back to the mirror. If they really thought so . . . “You don’t think he’ll want this sort of thing too often, do you?” she asked Malone and Desiree. Because the damn dress alone had cost as much as the casket Dee knew she’d one day be buried in.
“Doubt it.” Desiree took another sip of the coffee she’d brought with her. “He’s usually too busy for these charity things. He mostly just gives money and makes his excuses.”
Thank the Lord for some small favors.
“Let’s get out of here so we can get this over with,” Malone said, picking up her purse.
Dee grabbed a few extra clips from the top drawer where she now kept her underwear and dropped them into her purse. She already had her .45 holstered to one thigh under her dress and her bowie knife holstered to the other thigh. The fact that she could easily hide weapons under this dress did make it more tolerable that she’d been forced to spend so much money on it.
“Do you think you have enough ammo?” Malone asked her.
Dee shrugged. “A girl can never be too prepared.”
“What are you doing here, Mitch?” Gwen demanded, and Ric quickly faced the cats in the extremely juvenile hope that he’d get to see his best friend toss the lion male around before he had to go inside the ballroom and deal with all that boring politeness the richer shifters insisted upon. “You better not start anything,” Gwen warned.
“This isn’t about you, O’ Narcissistic One.”
Ric glanced at Lock. “House. Stone. Glass. Throwing.”
Lock chuckled and Mitch Shaw pointed at Ric. “I’m here for the puppy.”
“Why? To perhaps thank me for the wonderful weekend I provided you?”
“Hardly. Not enough food. But I’m sure you’ll fix that for next time.”
Horrified, Ric asked, “Next time?”
But Mitch didn’t answer, he simply stepped to the side and Ric saw that Sissy Mae was standing behind him with an older She-wolf.
“Ric,” Sissy said, “I’d like you to meet Darla Lewis. Dee-Ann’s momma.”
Ric stepped forward, took the She-wolf’s hand. “Miss Lewis. It’s an honor.”
“Darla,” she said sweetly.
“Miss Darla,” Sissy corrected. “So’s not to get yourself slapped around by some cranky wolves I call Daddy and my uncles.”
“Of course.”
The She-wolf leaned forward and pressed her hand against Ric’s cheek. She closed her eyes, silent for a long moment. When she opened her eyes again, she announced, “As pretty on the inside as he is on the outside. My Sugar Bug chose well.”
Mitch snickered. “Sugar Bug.”
Lips pursed, a gesture that was all Dee-Ann, Miss Darla asked the lion, “Do you still want that key lime pie I brought for you, Mitchell Shaw?”
Mitch ducked his head. “Yes’m.”
“Then you be nice.”
“Does Dee know you’re here?” Ric asked.
“Not yet. But she will.” She turned to Lock and opened her arms. “Lachlan MacRyrie.”
Lock went in for the hug, squeezing the She-wolf tight but gently. “I’m so glad to see you, Miss Darla.”
“You never come to visit like you used to.”
“My schedule’s no longer aligned with Dee’s and coming to Smithtown on my own—even for the honey cream pie—seems a tad foolish. Even for me.” He pulled Gwen around. “This is my fiancée, Miss Darla. Gwen O’Neill.”
“My goodness, ain’t you just the prettiest little thing.”
Gwen actually blushed a little. “Thank you . . . uh . . . ma’am.”
“Why are you here, Miss Darla?” Lock asked.
“I’m here with Eggie.”
All eyes focused on Ric and he suddenly felt like he’d just been handed a speedy death sentence.
“Not for that!” Miss Darla gasped, then added with a firm nod. “Don’t you worry one bit, Ulrich. I made Eggie fill in that shallow grave before we drove up here.”
Lock grimaced and Ric swallowed. “Thank you?”
Mace Llewellyn walked up to the group, golden lion eyes narrowing. “Why are you all standing out here? I’m not going in there alone.”
“Mace Llewellyn,” Miss Darla chided. “Is that how you say hello?”
“Miss Darla?” Smiling with what seemed to be true welcome, the large male bent down, kissed her on the cheek, and hugged her. “How are you?”
“I’m doing just fine. And you look wonderful.”
“Thank you.” He frowned a bit, shook his head. “What are you doing here?”
“She came with Eggie,” Ric explained.
“Oh,” Mace said. Then he blinked. “Oh.” He thought another moment and, flinching the slightest bit, “Oh.”
“Not sure it could possibly get any more awkward,” Mitch muttered, earning a punch to the ribs from Sissy.
They left the bedroom, Malone stopping long enough to gaze at the bed Dee now permanently shared with Van Holtz.
“Dee . . . this bed.”
“Bear-sized queen.”
“Frightening.”
Dee chuckled, reaching into her purse and pulling out her phone, answering it. “Yeah?”
“It’s Ric. When are you getting here?”
“We’re on our way.” They headed down the hallway.
“Heads-up,” he warned her. “Your mother’s here.”
“Good Lord, why?” Considering the She-wolf referred to Manhattan as “that den of true evil where my Sugar Bug is forced to keep everyone in line.”
“She came with your father.” Ric’s voice dropped to a whisper. “She says he’s not here for me.”
If Eggie Smith had been, Dee would be burying Ric at this moment, not chatting about her father’s arrival.
“Don’t worry. We’ll be there in a few—”
“Dee-Ann?”
Dee stopped in front of Ric’s pitch-black living room, her eyes searching the shadows. Her mouth dropped open a little. “Daddy?”
“Sugar Bug. You look mighty pretty.”
“Thank you.” She motioned to Malone. “Daddy, this is Marcella Malone.”
Her father sneered a little. “Feline.”
“Daddy,” Dee warned before gesturing to Desiree with her hand. “And this is Desiree MacDermott-Llewellyn. You remember Mace? This is his wife.”
Her daddy stared at Desiree so long that Dee could feel the woman itching to reach for the gun she also had stashed under her clothes.
“Da
ddy? What’s wrong?”
He reached into the darkness behind him and yanked something out, tossing it at their feet.
White hair and claws were the first thing Dee saw before that head lifted and—
“Holy shit,” Desiree murmured. “It’s Matilda Llewellyn.”
The She-lion, her face bloody and her dress-covered body bruised in all the visible places, hissed and roared at them, backing away until Dee’s father planted his big foot against Matilda’s back, halting her progress.
“Daddy,” Dee snapped, stepping forward. “What in all of heaven or hell are you doing?” She worried that her father had finally lost his mind; that what he’d done for so many years had finally gotten to him. Because this was not discreet. This was not the Smith way of handling things.
“Tell them,” he snarled at Matilda. “Tell them,” he pushed when the old bitch’s hissing turned to wheezing laughter.
“Kill me,” she told them all, but specifically Desiree, “and you, whore, and my betraying bastard of a grandson will never see your boy again.”
CHAPTER 31
Dee hit the gas and maneuvered Ric’s SUV around slow Friday night traffic. Her father sat in the backseat, quiet, staring out the window. Malone was beside him, loading up the weapons they’d quickly grabbed on the way out the door. Desiree was in the passenger seat, her gaze steady on her phone as she continued to redial her house phone and Blayne’s cell. But typical Blayne, her phone was probably buried in that endless pit she called a bag and who knew what was going on with the house phone.
Then again, none of them ever saw this coming. Not only sending out full-humans to kidnap her grandson so that, according to the old bitch, “I can have him raised correctly as a Llewellyn Breeding Male.” But using the boy as leverage to keep her worthless hide alive. Yet once they’d all heard the plan, like the well-trained team they’d become, the three females moved with purpose, Eggie willingly taking orders from his baby girl, while Malone had KZS sending in choppers to monitor the house and follow if the full-humans managed to get Marcus out.
Although Dee knew that wouldn’t be easy. Not with Blayne there. But they had to move quickly because Blayne and two untrained sub-adults could only do so much.
Ric, who’d still been on the phone when they’d discovered what was going on was already heading over to Llewellyn’s Brooklyn home with Mace, Sissy Mae, Mitch, and Lock. Bobby Ray and Rory were heading over from a job in the Bronx. But Dee had a feeling that none of them would get there any faster than herself. Not the way she was driving. Even the teams converging together from the Group, KZS, and NYPD wouldn’t beat her because she had the boy’s mother sitting next to her. Deadly quiet and ready to kill anyone who tried to harm her child.
Hannah, unable to help herself, smiled at the little boy. He had such an infectious grin that she couldn’t imagine anyone not smiling back at him. And his smile managed to do the impossible. Make her feel relatively comfortable. The last thing she’d wanted to do was leave the safety and quiet of the Group’s head-quarters—especially since she was still recovering from that long weekend with all those people—but Blayne had begged and pleaded with some whining thrown in to really test Hannah’s nerves.
Eventually, Hannah had agreed. So here she was in Brooklyn, in a stranger’s home, with two annoying canines—Blayne and Abby—and the cutest little kid she’d ever seen in her entire life. Then again, if the kid grew up looking anything like his father, then he’d probably end up the cutest adult, too.
Blayne charged down the stairs and stopped. “I can’t find Abby anywhere.”
Hannah looked away from the kid and pointed at the dining table. Blayne crouched down and gazed under the table.
“What’s she doing under there?”
“Why does everyone seem to think I can read her mind?”
“Because you’re friends. I can totally read Gwenie’s mind. I know when she’s about to House Cat somebody or when she’s about to go Irish on their ass.”
Nope. Hannah would not be suckered into asking what “House Catting” someone entailed. She honestly didn’t want to know.
“Come here, Abby. Come here, girl.” When Abby refused to come out, Blayne stood. “Dez has to have Milk Bones or something around here.”
“Wait. You’re actually going to try and coax her out from under that table with Milk Bones?”
“You think I should use peanut butter?”
And that’s what Hannah got for being suckered in. Again!
“Or maybe some steak,” Blayne went on. “Dez is living with a lion male so she has to have some meat around here, don’tcha think? And my God what is that noise?”
“Your phone.”
“My phone’s been ringing? Why didn’t you get it?”
“I’m not going in your bag.”
“You couldn’t call me and tell me that my phone was ringing?”
“How’s that my job?”
“How can I help you, Hannah, if you won’t help me?”
“Help you by fetching your phone? I’m only half dog, Blayne.”
“I didn’t mean . . .” Blayne frowned, thinking. “Wait a minute. I’m half dog!” Blayne stomped her foot. “It was easier talking to you when you didn’t respond.” She picked up her backpack from the floor and placed it on a chair. She began digging through it while demanding to know “And what is that noise?”
“The house phone.”
Her head snapped up. “You didn’t answer the house phone?”
Hannah shrugged. “It’s not my house.”
“Goddamnit, Hannah! That’s probably Dez and she’s going to flip the fuck out because I didn’t answer the phone . . . again. And this is what I’m talking about! How can you hope to make any friends if you’re always so bitchy? I mean, maybe if you were feline you could get away with it, but they never take bitchy from canines or bears. Our feet and shoulders are just too big for that. Although not mine. I have cute, dainty feet. And something else,” she went on while digging deep for the stupid phone. Abby pressed up against Hannah’s leg, and that’s when Blayne suddenly stopped talking. Since she never stopped talking of her own volition, Hannah immediately knew something was wrong.
Hannah stood. “What—”
She didn’t get to finish her question, Blayne silencing her with a raised hand. Then she pointed at Marcus.
Hannah was just reaching for him when they kicked in the front door.
“Run, Marcus!” Blayne yelled and the kid took off running, heading for the back of the house, Hannah and Abby right behind him.
It was Abby’s first instinct to run away and never look back. As long as she could remember, she’d always made sure to look out for herself and only herself. But as she watched Hannah—unfriendly, could-care-less-about-anyone Hannah—go after little Marcus like he was her own and Blayne taking the knife she kept on her all the time these days to the first guy who came through the door, cutting his throat, and immediately going to work on the others—many others—Abby knew she couldn’t run for it. She couldn’t leave them.
Instead, she ran after Hannah and Marcus. Hannah swept the boy up into her arms and hard charged for the back door in the kitchen. But before she reached it, they kicked that door in, too, the dogs that Mace and Dez had kindly put in their kennels losing their minds as they tried to get out and protect Marcus, but no one pulled their weapons.
Abby dived over Hannah and ripped into the first guy she could get her paws on, forcing him back and into his friends. She flipped him over the back stairs and into the yard, tearing his throat out until he stopped screaming.
Hannah barreled down the stairs, holding on to Marcus. Men from all sides came at her. Abby knew they didn’t want to hurt the boy, because one man grabbed the screaming child and pulled while the others battered Hannah with fists and knees, trying to get her to release Marcus.
Blayne ran out of the back door and jumped into the middle of it. A male backhanded her, sending Blayne flying. She hit a
tree, bounced off it, and ran forward again. Another male caught her around the waist and they both went down. Blayne brought her blade up, but he caught her hand and turned the blade back on her, shoving it into Blayne’s side.
She howled in pain and Abby rushed forward as they finally pried an hysterical Marcus from Hannah, fists flying as they beat the sow to the ground.
Abby ran up to the man holding Marcus and, when she was only a few feet away, she shifted to human. Startled, the man stumbled back and Abby laid him out with a right cross, yanking Marcus into her arms and dashing for one of the trees. Using the power of her legs, she leaped onto the closest branch and scrambled up.
“Get that bitch!” someone screamed. “Kill her if you have to!”
Dee hit the brakes and the car stopped right in front of Desiree’s house. NYPD had already arrived and Dee had them secure the area, keeping the neighbors out of their business and the non-shifter NYPD away from all this. Lord knew, they’d only make it worse in their attempts to help.
Dee and the others moved toward the house, their weapons drawn. The front door had already been kicked in and they went through it.
Guns raised, they entered the house. They heard yelling and Desiree sprinted toward the back.
“Malone!” Dee called out, following Desiree. “Side of the house! Daddy, take the top floor!”
They went through the kitchen door and Dee only had a moment to spot movement before she caught Dez by her dress and yanked her back and out of the kitchen, dropping them both to the floor as bullets riddled the door.
“No!” Desiree screamed out, trying to get out of Dee’s arms. But Dee knew they wouldn’t risk hurting the boy. Matilda, who’d they’d left duct-taped in Van Holtz’s closet, with her complaints of Mace’s “betrayal,” would never allow damage to a Llewellyn male cub. Not when she still had use for him.