Authors: Shelly Laurenston

Tags: #Romance, #Fiction, #Paranormal, #General

Big Bad Beast (15 page)

BOOK: Big Bad Beast

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Tragically, she couldn’t stay around and gossip more about the whole thing. She had to get to class unless she wanted to spend her life showing people their tables and taking complaints. Although it was a great way for a twenty-year-old to make sixty grand a year, get her tuition for her Ivy League tech school paid in full,
and
have flexible hours, so she wouldn’t bitch about it too much.

She charged around a corner, her arm reaching out to hail a cab, when someone caught her and yanked her back.

“Hey!” she screeched, ready to fight like a full-human first, then unleash claws if necessary. But it wasn’t anything to be worried about. Just Wendell.

“If this is about Ric—” she began, trying not to giggle at the claw marks on his neck.

“I don’t give a shit about him. I want to know about Stein.”

“What about him?”

“Why is he back?”

“I don’t know.” She tried to walk off, but Wendell yanked her back again. “Hey! Get off me!”

“Then answer my question.”

“Why do you think? He owes money to somebody.”

“From Vegas?”

“Atlantic City. There. Happy now?”

“Ecstatic.” He pushed her away. “Let me know when you grow tits, cuz. Maybe I’ll hook you up with one of my boys then.”

“Like you actually have friends, dickwad.” Then Arden caught her cab and headed to class.

C
HAPTER
15

W
hen Ric wasn’t back in five minutes, Dee went looking for him. She actually had somewhere to be and she was only giving him a heads-up on what she, Malone, and Desiree were doing.

Dee stuck her head in the kitchen. “Where’s Ric?” she asked the room.

“In the alley,” one of the cooks told her.

Dee headed to the door that led to the alley and stepped outside. Ric was at the far end of the alley where it was blocked off by a brick wall that was attached to the restaurant and the deli next door. He had his back to her, his body hunched over.

Dee moved up silently behind him, curious to see what he was doing all huddled into a corner like that. When she stood right behind him, she went up on her toes a bit and peeked over his shoulder. A brow went up and she relaxed back to the flat feet she was born with—and waited. Because she knew she wouldn’t have to wait too long.

Ric froze, knowing she was right behind him. Knowing she was watching him do what he hadn’t done in two and a half years. But after those six months of patches and nicotine-tinged chewing gum until he’d gone cold turkey for two years—Ric was right back where he’d been.

He clenched the cigarette he’d bummed off a full-human from the deli next door tight between his lips, the engraved gold lighter he hadn’t used in more than two years clutched between his hands as he tried to get the goddamn thing to light. Knowing he couldn’t avoid her forever, Ric slowly turned and faced Dee-Ann. She had her arms folded over her chest, a smirk on those perfect lips, and one brow raised while she waited for him to say something.

“Look,” he immediately began to argue around the precious, precious stick of death he had gripped between his lips. “I’m not going to sit here and explain why I need this. I . . . I just need this, okay?”

“Uh-huh.”

Since she didn’t say anything else, he tried again to get his lighter to work. He shook it a few times, praying there was a little lighter fluid left at the bottom. Finally, he had flame and he brought it close to the cigarette. His mistake was looking again at Dee-Ann. Her expression hadn’t changed. She wasn’t shaking her head or “tsk-tsking” him. She wasn’t trying to grab the cigarette out of his mouth, or bursting into tears, or telling him how disappointed she was in him. But she wasn’t walking away either, or telling him to “do as ya like,” or pretending he wasn’t smoking and getting on with whatever it was she needed to discuss with him.

No. Dee-Ann didn’t do any of that. She simply watched, smirked, and waited.

Waited for him to realize he was making a huge mistake.

Although Ric knew all the reasons it was bad to smoke, he’d given it up two and half years ago for one reason and one reason only—it fucked with his taste buds. Something that, as a chef, he couldn’t afford. He also knew if he started again now, he’d probably never stop. Quitting was too painful a process, too time consuming, and the reason for why he’d begun smoking in the first place would never go away. At least not anytime soon.

He’d been fifteen when he started, somehow managing to keep it a secret among scent-prone wolf shifters until, when he was seventeen, his mother found his pack when she’d picked up his school jacket to hang it in the closet. He remembered how angry she’d been, how hurt, but he knew she kind of understood it, too. At the time, it was the only way Ric had of dealing with his father. The tobacco soothed his nerves, cleared his mind, settled his spirit, and allowed him to make it through nightly dinners with Alder and Wendell. Ric had only stopped when he knew it was putting his cooking career at risk and, more importantly, he was no longer living with his father and brother.

Ric closed the lighter and pulled the cigarette out of his mouth.

“I hate you,” he muttered.

“I know.” She took the cigarette from his hand. “A nonfiltered wolf, I see.”

“I took whatever Joey at the deli had. I was desperate.”

“Is this about Wendell?”

“Hardly. He was rude. He’s lucky Adelle didn’t hear him. She would have torn his hair out.”

“Then it’s the old wolf. Why was he here?”

“I have no idea.”

“Okay then.”

“It isn’t that he was here that’s the problem, Dee.”

“It’s his presence on this planet?”

Ric finally smiled. “Well . . . yes. Plus some other stuff that I can’t get into.”

“Understood. We’re from enemy Packs, so you can’t go around telling me your precious enemy Pack secrets.”

“Now you’re making me feel stupid.”

Dee chuckled. “Not my intent.” She glanced back at the door. “This doesn’t have to do with that scruffy, homeless wolf you had roaming your apartment the other morning?”

“He’s not homeless . . . anymore. He’s sleeping on the couch of my saucier. And although I doubt Stein has anything to do with what happened today, I’m sure my father will use him against me somehow.”

“His name’s
Stein
?”

“At least it’s just
one
name.”

She grinned. “Look at you trying to sweet talk me.”

Ric flinched. “Sorry. Unnecessary roughness.”

“Not where I come from.”

“Stein’s my cousin. I hired him to mop the floors and wash dishes.”

“What’s wrong with that? You’re supposed to watch out for your kin.”

“Not when your kin has been shoved out of the Pack. And it’s not like the kid didn’t deserve that shove. He did.”

She stepped closer. “How bad could this get for you?”

“That depends. If Stein never screws up again, takes this opportunity to become the best chef that has ever walked the earth, and he manages to make this world a better place for everyone throughout the universe—
maybe
my father will let this go before he’s on his deathbed. If the kid screws up even once . . .” Ric shrugged. “Well, I’ve always wanted to open up a little bistro in Soho. Now this could be my chance.”

“Seems a lot of trouble to let a kid wash dishes.”

“He needs the work, Dee. Really needs it. And from what I can tell, he can’t drop any lower at this point. Not without some real effort. I can’t just turn him away. I at least have to give him one more chance to ruin everything for both of us.”

“Now see?” she asked and Ric realized that they were so close that all Ric had to do was lean in another inch or so and he’d be kissing her. “What am I supposed to do with a wolf that’s just so dang nice?”

“Get naked with me in the office? General manager won’t be in for a couple of hours.”

“You have no idea how much I
really
want to, but I can’t. I only came here to give you a heads-up what I’ve got going on tonight with Desiree and Malone.”

“You and your damn work ethic.”

“It’s a flaw. I know.” She petted his cheek, stepping into him until their bodies were flush. “You gonna be all right?”

“After seeing you slam my father’s head with that door?”

“
That
was an accident . . . so maybe you shouldn’t smile about it.”

“Can’t help it.” He kissed her, feeling nothing but hope at the way her body kind of melted into his. When they finally stopped, Ric pressed his forehead against hers and closed his eyes. The She-wolf let him stay that way for several minutes until his soul had calmed, his desire to shift and run until he hit Jersey throttling down to a tolerable hum of awareness.

“Come back to my place when you’re done,” he told her.

“All right.”

He stepped away from her, knowing he had to let her go. “Come inside and tell me what’s going on first and I’ll give you a set of keys for my apartment.” Something he’d forgotten to do earlier.

She smirked. “Keys? What do I need keys for?”

“So you can at least
pretend
you’re not breaking and entering?”

“If you’re going to be particular about it.”

Laughing, Ric headed to the alley door. “Come on.”

“Yeah. Give me a minute.”

“Sure.”

Ric reached for the door but stopped and faced Dee again. He returned to her side and stared at her.

She blinked. “What?”

“Dee-Ann,” he told her, “it’s me.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Do I really need to call your mother about this?”

She snarled at him. “Sometimes you are just
mean!
” She slapped the cigarette back into his hand. “How did you know anyway?”

“I could see it in your eyes when I came back over. This cigarette was going down. How long?” he asked and she knew what he meant.

“Since I got home from the Marines and Momma caught me smoking behind the barn. She slapped that cigarette from my hand and threatened bodily harm on her only child—all while crying.”

“It was the crying, wasn’t it?”

“Of course it was the crying. There’s some things I simply can’t tolerate. Wild dog howling, zebra, Teacup”—Ric threw his hands up at that—“and seeing my momma cry.”

“Since my mother also would be destroyed by her youngest taking up smoking again, we’ll make a deal.” Ric crumpled the cigarette in his hands until it was nothing but bits of paper and tobacco. “If we think about starting up again, we’ll call each other.”

“And chat about it like girlfriends?”

“Only after we talk about what Prada is coming out with in their latest fall shoe line.” When she only stared at him, Ric quickly added, “I’m kidding. I’m kidding. I don’t wear Prada. They make my ankles look fat.”

She turned away from him, walking to the door.

“I saw that smile, Dee-Ann. You can’t hide it from me.”

CHAPTER
16

T
hey’d handpicked their teams. Three from each group, the people they most trusted when it came to skill set and the ability to keep their mouths shut. Plus, the order was they were to call
no one.
Not their mate, their best friend, their mom. No one.

Only the three supervisors who’d put the team together knew anything and they weren’t telling even their own bosses.

Using a tip from Desiree’s ASPCA contact, they’d come to this warehouse out in an industrial area on Long Island, not far from Malone’s home off the Meadowbrook State Parkway. Something that annoyed the She-tiger immensely.

It was nearly ten by the time they parked their vehicles and made their way down the street, keeping to the shadows. The felines took to the roofs; the grizzly, wolf, and coyote that Dee brought stayed close to her; and the three cops—two wolves and a fox because she was such a dog person—Desiree had rounded up circled behind the warehouse to come in the back way.

Dee, Malone, and Desiree went toward the front. Dee would admit she’d been a little worried about bringing Desiree along. She was the only full-human among them, but once she had her bulletproof vest on and more weapons than seemed authorized by the NYPD, Dee stopped worrying. The girl was a Marine down to her toes and that’s all Dee needed to know.

Using hand signals, Dee motioned for Desiree to head left, Malone right. She went straight for the front door, still using the shadows. She could hear the cheers and yelling coming from the other side, but it didn’t block out the howls, roars, and whimpers. She was a few feet from the building when the door opened.

Dee dashed off to the side as a man walked out, already reaching for his zipper so he could unleash and piss in the first bush or open car window he could find. Dee waited until he’d passed her before she grabbed him from behind, twisting his head and snapping his neck. She pulled the body back and dropped him off to the side. She went back into the shadows and inched up to one of the windows, working hard to peer through all the dirt. She saw about fifty full-humans making up the bloodthirsty viewing crowd and another fifteen armed men, keeping everyone in control. They all surrounded a makeshift pit where a fight raged between what appeared to be a feline hybrid and a canine mix.

Standing by a set of stairs that led to the roof were two more men. One was counting the entry money and another was watching him, smoking a cigar. And she knew that was the one she wanted.

Deciding she’d seen enough, Dee crouched low and indicated with hand signals what they were about to face. Both females nodded, and Dee moved in front of the door. It opened again, an armed male coming out this time. She caught him by the face, shoving him back into the building. She raised her automatic weapon and shot through him. Most of the audience bolted for the back door—where Desiree’s team waited. So Dee wished them good luck on that
.

Using the man in her arms as a shield for the bullets coming at her, Dee pulled back a few feet until she could drop the corpse and dive behind a bench. She cleared out the empty clip and slammed in a fresh one. She heard more gunfire and knew Malone and Desiree had made it into the room. Taking a breath, she came up, firing the entire way.

The money man and cigar guy grabbed the cash and ran up the stairs.

“Malone!” Dee yelled, catching a fist that was swinging at her face and twisting until the arm attached to it broke in several places, the full-human going down screaming. “Stairs! Go!”

Malone moved and Dee slammed her booted foot into the face of the male at her feet just to stop all that damn screaming. The fact that she’d probably killed him in the process didn’t worry her much. Not after seeing all the hybrid bodies piled in a corner.

“Dee!” Desiree called out. “Back up Malone! Go!”

Dee ran for the stairs, ducking as shots flashed past her. She hit the bottom step and charged up. When she got to the second floor, there were more men coming toward her. She fired and kept running, jumping over their bodies and hitting the next set of stairs. It was quieter on this floor, but she scented the presence of full-humans as she headed to the next flight of stairs. She had her foot on the bottom step when a hand caught her from behind. She turned and slashed down and across with her knife, cutting through skull, an eye, nose, lips, straight through a jaw. Then she was away and up the stairs. She saw a door that led out to the roof and Dee yanked it open and went through.

The felines were holding their own against another group of men, one of them going fist to fist with Malone.
Honestly ... Malone and the brawling.

Dee stepped out onto the roof, raising her weapon to start shooting anyone who didn’t naturally have fangs when she realized someone was behind her. She spun and a brawny hand caught her weapon, lifting it up. The other hand punched her in the face a few times, forcing her up against the wall. Her automatic weapon was snatched from her hands and her face was hit again. She blinked, shaking her head, ignoring her broken nose and possibly readjusted cheekbones.

The full-human male, clearly a steroid user, tossed aside her weapon and came back to batter her face a little more. Dee blocked his fists with her arms and kicked at his leg. But she missed his knee, hitting his overdeveloped thigh. It hurt him, but only enough to piss him off. He backhanded her across the face, sending her flipping across the roof. When she managed to get to her hands and feet, he was there, kicking her in the gut. Dee rolled with it, but realized too late she was near the edge of the roof. She landed on the ledge, half of her dangling into nothing.

The man reached for her, grabbing hold of her vest and lifting her up. Dee unleashed her claws and ripped them into the man’s head. He screamed and she dug in deeper, then outward, trying to tear his face off.

He fought her, swinging at her, and finally flinging her away and over the side, but Dee still clung to him. He screamed, trying to pull her claws from his face while she dangled several floors off the ground.

Dee held on but the blood was making it easier for him to pull her away from his irreparably damaged flesh, his hands gripping her wrists. He was almost free, her claws nearly out, when Malone landed on the man’s back, her own military issue knife ramming into the base of his neck, again and again.

Whatever steroid this asshole was taking, he wasn’t going down easy. Even spouting blood from a major artery, he still fought two She-predators like a demon, holding on to one of Dee’s wrists with one hand and reaching back for Malone with the other. He flipped Malone over and out. But after releasing her own blade, Malone grabbed a healthy amount of the bastard’s hair and held on.

Dee now had at least one arm free and she grabbed hold of her bowie, sticking it into the man’s neck and yanking it from ear to ear. His eyes glazed over and he lurched forward.

Still holding her knife, Dee caught hold of the ledge while Malone scrambled back over the man’s body and onto the roof. The man spilled forward and went sailing—but he still had a death grip on Dee’s other wrist. She screamed when the weight of the big bastard nearly tore her arm out of its socket.

Malone snatched the knife from Dee and reached over, sawing at the man’s hand until she’d cut through flesh, muscle, sinew, and bone. His body dropped and Malone reached for her, but as she lowered her body to get a good grip on Dee’s waist, Dee saw another man behind the feline, his gun raised. One of Malone’s team was near, but she’d never reach the man before he got a shot off. With her right arm unusable at the moment since it wasn’t in its socket, and the other the only thing holding her onto the ledge, Dee did the one thing she could think of. She grabbed Malone around the back of her neck with her fangs and yanked her off the ledge like a momma-wolf would her cub.

Roaring, Malone dangled from Dee’s mouth, unaware of the gunshots that had nearly blown the back of her head off.

Malone slapped one of those big tiger claws against Dee’s throat and was seconds from ripping in and down when big bear arms reached over and caught hold of them both. With a good pull, he dragged both She-predators back over the ledge and then got between them when the fists began to fly.

“Aren’t you both too old for this?” he asked as only a twenty-something male could stupidly ask two fighting females sliding down the dark edge of thirty-five.

“Ow!” he yelped. “
What are you hitting me for?
”

Dez MacDermot put her gun away and caught hold of the man Dee-Ann had told her was probably the one in charge.

She yanked him up and into a chair and handcuffed him to it.

“I want a lawyer,” he said and Dez could only laugh at him.

“Oh, baby. Don’t you realize you’re past lawyers?” She let out a sigh. “I’ve had to adjust a lot of my beliefs in order to do this job, but it’s the price I pay to take care of those I love. Now it’s the price you’ll pay.”

“You trying to scare me, cop? You trying to convince me you’re gonna actually
do
something to me?”

“Me? Probably not. I don’t have the stomach for that. But my partners do.”

Dez walked to the door and opened it, letting in the woman Dee had asked for help. A woman Dez loathed—and to be honest, feared. But Dez was beginning to realize more and more that they were all in this together. Yes, even with the hyena whose Clan had once tried to kill her.

“I’d like to introduce you to Gina Brutale.” Dez motioned to the giggling females behind her. “These are her cousins. At least . . . some of them. Now, you can tell me what I want to know or I can let Gina have some fun.”

“Is that supposed to scare me?” He looked Gina over. She was her usual big-haired, gum-popping self in too-tight designer clothes, so he didn’t seem too impressed. But Dez had learned the day Mace Llewellyn walked back into her life never to let someone’s looks fool her.

“It should,” Dez told him honestly. “And if it doesn’t, it will.” She stepped back and let Gina walk up to him. She kneeled in front of him, between his spread legs.

“Hi. I’m Gina. I’m here to hurt you until you tell the cop what she wants to know. I’m not here because I owe anybody anything or because I am doing this for high moral reasons. To be honest, I could give a shit what happens to hybrids. But I will do this . . . for fun.” She laid her hands on his thighs and leaned in, sniffing him like a good meal. “I like to have fun. My Clan calls me the fun-time girl.”

She moved in closer, brushing her head against his chin. “Let me show you how much fun I can be.”

When it started, Dez focused on the floor. Too bad she couldn’t block out the screaming.

“Are you sure?” Cella asked the leopard she’d handpicked for this gig tonight. “I mean really
really
sure.”

“I’m sure. Barb is sure. We all saw it.”

“Great.” Letting out a sigh, Cella walked over to Smith. She was pressed up against one of the trucks, the young grizzly trying to find the right way to put her arm back in its socket.

Unable to watch a second more of the bear fumbling along, Cella pushed him aside and took Smith’s arm.

“The team told me,” she said, feeling around Smith’s shoulder, “you saved my ass back there.”

Wincing from the pain, Smith said, “You saved mine.”

“Yeah, but I’m better than you.”

The She-wolf grinned. “Is that what your lord god Satan tells you during your feline rituals?”

Cella sneered, but forced herself to say, “Anyway . . . thank you.”

“Same here.”

“Ready?”

“As ready as I’ll—
goddamnitmotherfuckerbastardgoddamnit!
”

Cella grinned. “Now . . . that wasn’t so bad, was it?”

“Bitch.”

“Whore.”

The door to the warehouse opened and MacDermot walked out.

“Well?” Smith asked.

MacDermot held up a slip of paper. “Names. Two. I have addresses and—”

“Let’s hit ’em tonight,” Cella suggested, taking the paper from the full-human. “It’s not even eleven yet.”

“Or we could get back to it tomorrow,” MacDermot tried.

“Or we can get it done tonight.” Cella motioned to Smith. “She’s up for it.”

“She’s a machine,” MacDermot countered. “Besides, I’m sure these people will be there tomorrow.”

“Tonight,” Cella pushed, not wanting to take the chance. “We do this tonight. Just the three of us, and we’ll be done in no time.”

“All right. But first we’re getting coffee from that diner we passed.” MacDermot went off to release her team and Cella faced Smith. She was still rubbing her shoulder. “You are up for this, right?”

“I’m a machine.”

“I’m sure MacDermot didn’t mean that literally.”

“Thanks.” Smith held her hand out and Cella put the paper with the names on it in her palm.

BOOK: Big Bad Beast

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