Big Bad Beast (21 page)

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Authors: Shelly Laurenston

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

BOOK: Big Bad Beast
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The wild dogs sitting around the kitchen table, eating more chocolate than was probably good for them, looked up at her, eyes wide.
“What did I tell you people when you arrived? What did I say to you? My exact words?”
“Keep the wolfdog away from me,” they all repeated back to her. All except Jessie Ann, who was too busy giggling around a mouthful of dark chocolate brownies. At least Dee guessed the brownies were dark chocolate. Bobby Ray’s woman had a real thing for dark chocolate. It couldn’t be normal.
“And yet what is she doing?”
“Annoying you?” one of the wild dogs asked.
“Yes. Annoying me.” She shoved Teacup away from her. “Don’t annoy me!”
“But I just wanted to show you how much we love and care and—”
Ric appeared beside Blayne and shoved a piece of chocolate cake into her mouth. “Isn’t that delicious, Blayne? Enjoy.” He grabbed Dee’s wrist and dragged her toward the back of the house, stopping long enough to glare at a busy Stein, who’d stopped butchering something to wipe his forehead.
“What?”
“Get to work.”
“I was just—”
“Don’t argue!” Ric pulled her out of the kitchen, through the mud room, and out the back door.
“Why do you keep torturing that poor boy?”
Ric stopped and faced her. “You ask me that after you had Blayne’s nose in a Dee-lock?”
“She’s
annoying
. Stein is working his ass off.”
“And he’ll continue to do so. There’s no easy way back into the Van Holtz Pack. And if I’m going to make a good case to get him back in, he’ll need to prove to
me
that he deserves it.”
Dee smirked. “Look at you, Van Holtz. Trying to sweet talk me.”
MacRyrie walked out of the house, carrying a baseball bat.
“Is that for Novikov?” Ric asked, sounding way too hopeful.
“No. Wanted to see if anyone was up for a little softball game.”
Dee folded her arms over her chest. “You? Playing softball? This isn’t your idea, is it, MacRyrie?”
Because MacRyrie was a lousy liar, he looked past Dee and asked, “Why would you ask me that?”
Dee glanced over at the kitchen window and saw Blayne and the wild dogs duck for cover. Snarling, Dee snapped, “Teacup!”
“Oh, come on, Dee,” Ric argued teasingly. “How bad could a little game of softball between friends be?”
C
HAPTER
23
 
“I
don’t see what the problem is!” Blayne yelled at Mitch Shaw while they stood on the pitcher’s mound. “
You’re
playing for the Smiths!”
“I’m mated to a Smith, in case you hadn’t noticed. You, however, are
not
mated to anyone in the Kuznetsov Pack. You are, point of fact, Pack-less.”
“Oh, Lord,” Ric heard Dee-Ann sigh next to him. “And here we go.”
And, sure enough, Ric’s beloved but “sensitive Sally” Blayne burst into tears, the entire Kuznetsov Pack rushing the field to give her a big hug while yelling at Mitch.
“Oh, come on!” Mitch yelled, arms thrown out dramatically. “You’re not buying this, are you?”
“Does he mean Blayne’s performance,” Ric quietly asked Dee, “or his own?”
“Probably both.”
Jess stormed onto the field after shoving her daughter into a laughing Smitty’s arms, and slammed her finger into Mitch’s chest.
“I’ll have you know, Mitchell Shaw, that Blayne
and
Ric are part of the Kuznetsov Pack. As is Gwenie and Lachlan MacRyrie of the Clan MacRyrie. So if they want to play on our team, they can!”
“You’re kidding, right?” Mitch felt the need to argue, as always refusing to accept that he’d never win this fight. Not against a female predator. Not without backup—and Mitch’s brother Brendon Shaw didn’t appear ready to be anyone’s backup. “At least Blayne is half wolf. But Gwenie? Hello? Feline. MacRyrie? Bear. And Van Holtz has his own Pack!”
“Well,” Jess said, stepping into Shaw, “now he has
two!
And you, ungrateful kitty, will apologize to Blayne Thorpe right this second!”
“I will not! You can’t make me.”
Ric winced. “Yes. She can.”
Jess did, too. By taking away the one thing Mitch Shaw cherished with all his lion male heart—besides his food, need for sleep, and high-end hair products.
“
No more karaoke for you!
” Jess screamed in his face and Shaw stepped back, stunned.
“Jessica!”
“Apologize or you’re out!”
“But . . . but you love me!”
“And we’ll learn to live without you, too.” Her brown eyes narrowed. “Unless you apologize.”
Shaw rolled his eyes. “Sorry, Blayne,” he mumbled, sounding like the twelve-year-old brat Ric often compared him to.
“Do you mean it, Mitchy?” Blayne asked, making sure to sniffle and wipe her eyes.
The lion snarled a little but Jess added, “No more power ballads, Mitchell. No more Frank Sinatra. No more Mariah Carey.”
Frowning, Ric looked at Dee who, frowning herself, was already looking at him. They both shuddered and silently agreed never to speak of it again.
“Fine!” Shaw yelled. “Yes, Blayne. I mean it. I’m sorry. Have whoever you want on the team.”
“Yay!” Blayne cheered, clapping her hands together. She ran back over to Ric and Dee. “You’re up, Ric.” Then with tears abruptly gone, her voice and attitude strong, she added in a whisper, “Pop it low and right at Brendon Shaw. He’s so fuckin’ lazy, he’ll never dive for it.”
Making sure not to laugh, Ric nodded. “You’ve got it.”
“Isn’t this fun?” Blayne demanded of Dee. In answer, Dee slammed her catcher’s mask down in front of her face. “I think so, too!” Blayne happily squealed before running off, oblivious as always.
“Why do we not only let Teacup make these stupid suggestions, but follow them?” Dee asked him, smelling delightfully of She-wolf and sweat and sun protector.
“Because even you can’t ignore the tears of a wolfdog.”
“Only ’cause she started making those snot balls with her nose. I hate those.”
It was true, though. Having wolves playing against dogs in this heat was really a recipe for disaster, and he’d be much more annoyed and fed up—if he weren’t really enjoying himself so damn much.
Then again, Ric always did find entertainment in the strangest places.
“All I gotta say, Ric, is those ribs you and your cousin are planning to barbecue for tonight better be damn fantastic.”
“When aren’t they?” he demanded, insulted she’d once again questioned his culinary expertise. “When aren’t my ribs perfect?”
The corners of Dee’s lips turned up into one of her smiles. “Don’t take it personally, supermodel. I’m just sayin’ that you better cook as good as you look. Because after a day like today, I’m going to be hungry and cranky. You’ll need to satisfy one and appease the other.”
His desire to say, “Marry me,” nearly choked him, but Ric fought it off and he promised, “The meat is seasoned. The corn shucked and wrapped in foil, ready to be grilled.” He smiled at her. “I know how you like your corn.”
Her smile grew a little more. “Love corn.”
“Are you two done staring longingly in each other’s eyes or should we just take a break?”
Now scowling, Dee turned her head and focused on the only idiot really taking the game seriously.
Mitch took a step back, grabbing his brother and yanking him in front of his body. “Take him, Dee. Take him!”
“You bastard!” Brendon yelped.
“Can we just get on with this?” Novikov demanded. They’d chosen him to be umpire since no one thought it would be fair that he should play on
any
team because he’d only cause serious bloodshed in his quest to win. Plus, he was such a dictator about sports, he wouldn’t give anyone an unfair point.
Ric stepped up to the plate, watching as Mitch did his little pitcher’s dance before he pitched the damn ball. Dee, the catcher, crouched low behind him, her mitt raised.
“And don’t try distracting me, Dee-Ann,” Ric warned her. “I’m focused.”
“Wouldn’t bother,” Dee said.
Mitch nodded at whatever hand signal Dee had given him, checked the bases one more time, then pitched.
Ric readjusted his stance, pulled back his bat, and waited for the perfect moment to knock the softball right into Brendon Shaw, who was now back at first base.
And that was when Dee whispered, “You are going to
love
the tiny black bikini I’m wearing after the game, Van Holtz.”
It was the last thing he remembered for a good three minutes after that softball slammed into the back of his head.
A bag of ice in her hand, Dee ignored the glares and low growls of the wild dogs and their friends and sat down next to Ric on the bench.
“Don’t talk to me, evil She-wolf.” He rested the left side of his body against the metal fence that was behind the bench, his arms crossed in front of his chest. “You’re not welcome here.”
“Don’t be that way, Ric.” She grabbed hold of Ric’s T-shirt and pulled him over until his weight rested against her. She placed her hand against the back of his neck and lowered his head, placing it against her chest. Using her fingers, she eased around and found the swelling knot at the base of his skull and carefully placed the bag of ice there. “Doesn’t that feel better?”
He grunted a little, his arms now wrapping around her waist, his face burrowing deep against her breast. After a moment, he settled and said, “Now it does.”
Dee rolled her eyes in disgust. Honestly, wolves took any advantage they could get. At their core—they were all the same.
Horny, pathetic, and cute.
With one hand, she adjusted the ice pack, making sure that the entire area was covered. With the other hand, she stroked Ric’s hair.
“What are you doing?” Bobby Ray, Smitty to his friends, asked her.
“She’s coddling me. Mind not ruining it?” Ric asked, snuggling in closer.
Dee shrugged at her cousin’s confusion. “Someone has to do it.”
“Yeah, but . . .
you’re
doing it.”
“What’s that mean?”
“You’re not exactly a coddler, Dee-Ann. You’re very far from a coddler.”
“Now you’re just pissing me off, Bobby Ray.”
“No need to snarl.”
Bobby Ray headed over to Rory and Reece Reed. The three of them stood there, watching her.
Blayne came over with another ice pack, exchanging it for the nearly melted one.
“What’s wrong?” she asked and, for some unknown reason, Dee told her.
“Seems my kin’s being a bit judgmental about who I allow to rest on my tits.”
“Oh?” She followed Dee’s gaze, nodded. “I’ll take care of it.”
Dee watched Blayne—Teacup!—walk over to the three much bigger wolves. She started off nice enough, but when she didn’t seem to get an answer she liked—and Bobby Ray started to walk away—she unleashed a rant that had Ric lifting his head from Dee’s chest so he could watch, all the other shifters turning away from whatever they were doing to watch the finger-pointing, profanity-laden tirade.
Dee couldn’t make out much of it, other than the cussing and something about “Project Wolf-Wolf” and “I’ll be damned if I let you ruin what I’ve worked so hard for!” Whatever any of that meant. Of course, this was Teacup. She didn’t have to make sense.
When she was done, Bobby Ray threw his hands up and that seemed to be the answer Teacup wanted. She came back over to Dee and Ric. “All fixed.” She grinned. “Now let’s get this going. We still have, like, a ton more innings!”
Perky as all hell, Blayne skipped off—were shifters supposed to skip?—and Dee shook her head, reaching for her bat. “Did I mention that the reason I hate baseball or any of its variations is because it never seems to
end
?”
“Be grateful,” Ric told her. “Lock says she wanted to play dodgeball. Which, as former runts, both Lock and I consider a form of government-approved torture.”
“Guess I shouldn’t mention then that I rocked at dodgeball, huh?”
Ric sniffed. “I wouldn’t.”
Ric got another fresh bag of ice and stood outside the metal fence, looking in. He held the ice to his head, the swelling already going down, and watched the two teams argue about something new. This time, however, Blayne didn’t involve herself in the fight, but came out to stand by Ric.
She tucked her arm around his and asked, “How’s your head?”
“Much better. That lion throws like a girl.”
Blayne giggled and rested her head against Ric’s shoulder. “I’m so happy for you, my friend.”
“It’s not a done deal yet, Blayne.”
“No, but I think you’re close.” She leaned in and whispered, “When you’re not looking, she gazes at you lovingly.”
“You sure she’s not trying to think of the best way to bury my body when she’s done with me?”
“No way. She’s given me
that
particular look a ton of times, and the one she’s giving you is totally different.”
Laughing, Ric put his arm around Blayne’s shoulders and kissed her forehead. “You’re the best, Blayne. Did you know that?”
“I am aware. I’m just waiting for the universe and Dee-Ann Smith to catch up to this knowledge.”
“Speaking of which, how did you get Smitty to back off anyway?”
“Easy. I reminded him that I would often be babysitting his beautiful daughter and I could either teach her to be a rational,
logical
wolfdog—or I could teach her to be like me. His choice.”
“Ruthless.”
“When I have to be.”
Ric stopped talking, his head turning, ears perking up. He watched little Abby charging out of the trees. She’d followed Hannah, who had no desire to play baseball for any team, out into the park. But now Abby was back and on her own.
“Damn,” he said before following the panicked dog, with Blayne right beside him.
They finally made it into a nearby clearing and stopped, Ric’s arm shooting out to halt Blayne. It was hyenas—and they had Hannah surrounded.
“You’re up, Dee-Ann,” Sissy called out. “Let’s go!”
Dee stepped forward, the wood bat in her hand. She didn’t like those aluminum ones. She hated the sound they made when they collided with the ball.
Dee walked up to the plate, wincing when she saw who the pitcher was for this inning. It was one of Jess’s best friends and one of the wild dog captains, Phil. For kind of a girly wild dog, he’d turned out to be a hell of a ballplayer.
His mate, and the one Mitch called “the Russian hottie,” Sabina, crouched behind Dee, catcher mask pulled down to cover her face. “Don’t worry, big She-wolf. I bet he send ball over plate nice and slow for you,” she taunted in that damn Russian accent, which only made what she said sound even meaner. “You are one of his favorite people. After stalking and tagging our poor Blayne like animal in wild.”
Ignoring the dog, Dee faced Phil and raised her bat. Signals were passed between the pitcher and catcher and after a few seconds, Phil nodded and readied his pitch. Dee dug her feet in, pulled the bat back a little more and—

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