The Beast in Him (9 page)

“I find the timing of his appearance a little suspect, Phil.”

“I was thinking that.”

“And I won’t have Kristan hurt. Not by this asshole. But keep your mouth shut until we know something.”

Phil walked around the desk and stood beside her, mimicking her stance. “What else is wrong?”

“Wilson is a bigger problem than any of you realize.” She let out a breath. “He’s a Smith. Distant cousin or something. I’m not sure of the bloodline, but it’s there.”

“Great. Just great.”

“Yeah, you know how the Smiths are about family. And if they think we’re crossing him—”

“Let’s not go there yet. I’ll see what I can find out and I’ll be discreet.”

“Good.”

“Besides, I wouldn’t worry.” Phil grinned. “We’ve got the Smitty hookup now.”

“I’m not asking him to go against his family, you bonehead.”

“Awww. You’re protecting him. Is love in the air? I bet you just need a little help from me to get this thing moving. Just trust the love doctor to—and don’t throw anything at my head!”

Jess put the five-inch pewter dragon statue back on her desk. “Don’t irritate me, Phil.”

“Yes, ma’am. But you know Wilson may just be here to see the kid.” Phil shrugged. “Maybe he already has.”

“I thought about that.” Jess sat back on her desk. “But she’s either with Keith”—Sabina and Phil’s oldest boy “—or her sisters.”

“You don’t think they’d cover for her?”

“No way. No one’s stupid enough to cover for Kristan’s crazy ass.”

Johnny moved his book to the side so the waitress could put down his burger and fries. He’d never been big on the fantasy stuff. He liked westerns and murder mysteries. But Jess went on and on about Tolkien’s work, and to shut her up, he grabbed one of the many copies from the many bookshelves all over the Pack house. Johnny had to give it to her, though, the book was really good. He’d enjoyed the movies, but Tolkien’s written word spoke to him on another level entirely.

“Hello? Calling bonehead.” Annoyed, Johnny pulled his gaze away from the book and into the pretty face of Kristan Jade Putowsky.

“What?”

“I need you to do me a favor.”

“Not on your life.”

He returned his focus to the book, but Kristan’s hand slapped down over it, covering the page. “Please?”

“What?”

“I need you to cover for me.”

“Cover for you?”

“Yeah, you gotta go rehearse or practice or whatever, right?”

Every weeknight, Johnny spent three to four hours practicing on his violin. Jess had actually rented him rehearsal space at a nearby music studio.

“Yeah. So?”

“If they ask later, just say I was with you. You usually get home around nine, right? I’ll meet you out front at nine.”

“Forget it.”

“Come on, Johnny. Please?”

“No.”

“I’d cover for you. I’ll owe you one. I promise.”

“Why?”

“Why what?”

“Why do you need a cover?”

“Can’t you do this for me without asking a bunch of questions?”

“No.”

She leaned over the table and he caught her scent. That scent drove him crazy. She drove him crazy.

“Johnny, come on. Please.”

It had to be a guy. He knew a few at their school who’d give their left nut to be with her. He definitely didn’t like the thought of her with another guy. Any guy. But she showed him absolutely no interest, and alienating her now didn’t get him any closer. At least this way, if he covered for her, they could remain friends. Important with them living together and all.

He stared into those brown eyes and realized he could deny her nothing, fool that he was.

“Nine o’clock. At the corner. You’re a minute late and you’re screwed.”

Kristan squealed and kissed him on the cheek. “Thank you!”

Spoiled princess. He should hate her. She’d grown up loved and cared for with a Pack that adored her. But he didn’t hate her. If anything, he had it for her bad. But the way her father, Danny, watched him, that would never be happening unless Johnny decided living wasn’t one of his favorite things to do.

Resigned to a life of sexual frustration until he was old enough to go to college and get away from Kristan Putowsky, Johnny went back to his book and his burger.

Jess, already wearing the headset that went with her office phone, simply hit the answer button without even bothering to look away from the e-mail she was drafting on her computer.

“This is Jessica.”

“So you going to tell me what happened earlier or do I have to guess?”

Shocked, Jess stared at the phone display. “How the hell did you get my personal number?” It wasn’t listed and only the Pack had it. Even those in the building couldn’t contact her through this particular line, and it wasn’t billed under her own name. In fact, more people had her personal cell phone number than her private business line. That was the only reason she answered it at nine o’clock at night anyway.

“I can’t really answer that,” Smitty replied.

“Well, lose it. And stop calling me.”

“I can’t help you, Jessie Ann, until you tell me what’s going on.”

“Who asked for your help? I’m relatively certain I never asked for your help. And I never will.”

Besides, as irritated as she was from hearing that slow drawl and sweet-as-molasses voice on her private phone line, she still wouldn’t drag Smitty into this, whatever “this” was. The Smith credo was a simple one. Family first. Pack second. Everyone else dead last. If you were a blood relation to the Smiths, they’d come from all over the States to step in on your behalf. For that reason alone, the other shifters gave the Smiths a wide berth. Just one Smith was dangerous, but a whole swarm of them would be lethal.

For one Smith to go against that for an outsider would bring the wrath of Bubba Smith down on Smitty’s head. She couldn’t do that to him. He and his father had a difficult relationship. She wouldn’t add to it.

Jess rubbed her eyes. Wait. Why did she give a shit about Smitty’s relationship with his father? Had she lost her mind? She was getting sucked back in. Back into the insanity known as the Smith Pack.

“I appreciate you wanting to help,” she said, trying a different tack with him. “But there’s nothing I need help with. Everything is fine.”

The pause that followed was long, and for a moment she thought she’d lost the connection.

Until Smitty said, “You’re lying to me, Jessie Ann. And I’m gonna find out why.”

“And why is that? Because you clearly need a hobby—and a girlfriend?”

“No, because that’s what friends do for friends. We help each other out. And no matter what you think, we’re still friends.”

“What planet are you living on anyway?”

“I don’t know. But it’s nice. There are fire hydrants everywhere—and bunnies!”

Jess snorted, fighting hard to keep in her laugh. Damn him! He always could make her laugh. Like when he’d found her hiding in an air duct that time after the Friday homecoming bonfire. She’d planned on staying there the whole night until the liquor wore off with Sissy’s She-bitches. But he’d coaxed her out with jokes and the promise of one of those giant Hershey bars. Then he made sure she got home safe.

Years later and he was still trying to protect her. Except now she didn’t need it.

“I’ve gotta go, Bobby Ray.” She was glad he couldn’t see her face. Her smile would do nothing but prompt his continued efforts. “Don’t call me again. Don’t try and ‘help’ me. Just get on with your life—and be happy.”

When he didn’t say anything, Jess disconnected the call, glanced at her watch, and went right back to work.

Smitty walked back to the surveillance truck, Jessie’s last words to him playing again and again in his head.

His sister sat on the edge of the truck floor, her back against one of the open doors. They had a job this evening involving some foreign businessmen, but so far all had been calm. The perfect job, really. Low on danger, high on payment.

“Break time?” he asked.

Sissy sipped coffee and nibbled on coffeecake. “Yes, I’m not lazing off.”

“I just asked.”

“It was the way you asked.” Sissy watched him for a moment. “What’s the matter with you?”

“Nothing. Why?”

“You’ve got a weird look on your face.”

“Can I ask you a question?”

“If you must.”

Smitty took her coffee and sipped it. “Do you care if I’m happy?”

“No.” Sissy took her coffee back. “And get your own.”

“Fine.” He swiped up her slice of coffeecake, and as she made a wild grab for it, he shoved the entire thing into his mouth.

“There,” he said, making sure he spit crumbs at her. “I got my own.”

CHAPTER 7

Smitty had just begun to sign paychecks when Mace walked in his office.

“Do you know anything about this art museum job that just called?”

“Nope. What art museum job?”

“They want us tonight.”

“Not enough time,” Smitty answered, not looking up from the paychecks in front of him.

“We need to make enough time.”

“Why?”

Mace laid a slip of paper on top of the checks he’d been signing.

Smitty stared. “Huh. Look at all those zeroes.”

The cat grinned. “Yeah, just look at ’em.”

“Where’d this job come from anyway?”

“An old tiger who’s on the board for the museum told me he was strongly urged to hire us for tonight’s charity event.”

“Urged?”

“Strongly urged.”

“By... ?”

Mace shrugged, already walking off to start pulling the team together. “Some guy named Phil.”

Smitty stared down at the checks still needing to be signed. “Phil who?”

Jess took off her coat and handed it over to the girl behind the counter. Then she did what she’d been doing for the last hour—she tugged down the hem of her dress again. If you could call it a dress. It was more of a slip for an underdeveloped twelve-year-old.

“I can’t believe you talked me into this damn dress,” she muttered to Phil, slamming him with her shoulder. “I’m at a charity event, but I feel like I should be offering fifty bucks for a hand job and hundred bucks for a half and half.”

“No, sweetie. The way you look? It should be a hundred bucks for the hand job and three hundred for the half and half.”

Jess glared at him so hard that eventually he started to squirm.

“If it helps, the shoes look great.”

Tossing up her hands in exasperation, she stormed off into the main area of the museum. The sooner she got in and mingled, the sooner she could get the hell out.

Smitty smiled an apology and quickly walked away from the full-human female who’d just offered to give him a blow job in the bathroom. Good Lord! These rich women were... scary. He’d had all sorts of interesting offers in the last two hours from women dripping in diamonds and platinum. One woman propositioned him with her husband only a few feet away. Smitty got the distinct feeling that if he’d taken her up on the offer, the husband would have been in some other room watching. Well, whatever got your rocks off. Although Smitty never could figure out why you’d marry someone if you were willing to share her.

He walked up to Mitch and let out a breath. “Have you been—”

“Offered sex every time I turn around? Yeah. I tell ya, full-human females have their place.”

“Dez is full-human and Mace had to work to get her. I think it’s a money thing. The more money they have, the less vulnerable they feel. We’re just cocks, son, and don’t you forget it.”

“I don’t. And I don’t care, but I learned the hard way you don’t fuck around during work. It leads to all sorts of trouble.”

“Ain’t that the truth.”

Marissa Shaw, Mitch’s older sister, Mace’s twin, and one of the stranger lionesses Smitty had known, slid to a graceful stop in front of the pair.

“Smitty.”

“Marissa, darlin’. You are looking gorgeous this evening.”

She reached up and petted his cheek. “Aren’t you just the sweetest canine.” She glared at her brother. “Loser.”

“Fat ass.”

The pair snarled at each other before Marissa walked away.

“I thought you two were getting along better.”

Mitch stared at him blankly. “We are. Can’t you tell?”

Smitty shook his head as his eyes swept around the giant room. They were in the Italian Renaissance room. Whatever. It paid well.

“Holy mother of God.”

Smitty’s body tensed, anticipating trouble. “What? What’s wrong?”

“Nothing. Not a goddamn thing.”

Following Mitch’s avid gaze, Smitty turned and his entire body tensed. “Lord help me.”

Jessie Ann walked into the room with her four friends behind her. Apparently, the rest of the Pack banged out of this little event. Of course, as much as the tickets for this cost per person, Smitty didn’t blame them for not including the whole gang. Still, Jessie had definitely come up in the world—right along with her skirt length.

Good Lord! What was the woman thinking? It was a freezing New York night, and dammit, there were decency laws! Where the hell was the rest of that dress? And why wasn’t she in her jeans, tennis shoes, and T-shirt? Why was she damn near naked?

“Think if I asked her nice she’d marry me?”

“Get control of yourself, cat. We’re on a job.”

“I quit.” Mitch started to walk over there and Smitty yanked him back by the hair.

“Sweep the area, son, before I get cranky.”

“Fine, but you don’t stand a chance in hell either. If memory serves, she shot your ass down like a jet over enemy territory.”

“Sweep. The. Area.”

With one last look at Jess that almost got him popped in the face, Mitch walked off.

Smitty thought about going over there that second, if for no other reason than to throw a coat over her, but he knew better. Jessie was a “runner.” One of those dogs that would take off running for no real reason and suddenly find themselves in Utah. So, taking a deep breath, and with one last look at those legs, he buried himself in the crowd of people.

Jess had been listening to the conversation between Marissa Shaw and the head female of the Stark hyena Clan for the past ten minutes and she was starting to get really pissed. Her Pack knew it too. They stood around her, waiting for her to do something. True, the whole thing wasn’t any of her business, but still...