The Mane Event (27 page)

Marissa made an impatient noise from the kitchen. “Why? Because I’m not crying and panicking over Mitch?”

Brendon followed her in. “Yes.”

“It’s called tough love. You should look into it.”

“No. It’s called cutting yourself off from your baby brother.”

“The kid’s a fuckup. He’s always been a fuckup. It’s not going to change.”

“He’s still our brother.”

“Tragically.”

Brendon shook his head. “Give it up, sis. I think you care but you don’t want me to know about it.”

“I care for few things in this world. You are lucky to be one of those few, but I can only stretch myself so far.”

Sitting down at her kitchen table, Brendon glanced out the big picture window that had an astounding view of the Manhattan skyline. Rissa’s apartment took up the entire top floor, but she owned the building. It still amazed Brendon when he thought about where they came from, their lives in Philly. The two of them getting into situations they probably should have done some jail time for. At least some community service. They didn’t talk about those days anymore. Some days it seemed Rissa liked to pretend those times never happened. That she and Brendon were somehow different from Mitch. They were different. They were lucky.

“I’m not giving up on him.”

“Whoop-de-fucking-do for you.” She slammed a plate full of her homemade lasagna in front of him. “Here. I made this last night. Should keep you until I finish making the ribs I have in the frig.”

“Thanks.” Picking up his fork, Brendon started inhaling—he wouldn’t say he actually ate in the dictionary sense of the word—the delicious food. So focused on his food, it took him a moment to realize he’d felt his sister’s lips kiss the top of his head.

Looking up from his meal, “What was that for?”

“For not getting your ass killed. Try and keep that theme going for me, will ya?”

“I’ll see what I can do.”

Brendon bent over his food again and didn’t let his sister see him smile. She cared. She cared more than she ever wanted to. About him
and
Mitch.

H
er plan had been a simple one. Spend the evening with her fellow She-wolves. Enjoy a beer or two and relax. But that fifth shot of tequila…that fifth shot of tequila did her in.

She should have known better. Wolves couldn’t handle their liquor. You could call it their kryptonite. If Ronnie had been lucky, she would have spent the whole night throwing up in some fancy club’s bathroom. Luck, however, didn’t seem to be on her side these days. Because if she had any luck she’d be unable to speak.

“I mean, that mane of hair. I could spend hours letting him rub that mane all over my body.”

The three remaining She-wolves and Sissy nodded their heads. They’d lost the other five earlier in the evening when they wandered off to another club or back to the hotel.

“The man is gorgeous, there’s no doubt about that.” Sissy Mae poured Ronnie another shot of tequila. “What I don’t understand is why you didn’t make that move, darlin’. You had that big house all to yourself and a naked man desperate to get into your pants.”

“A desperate man sick as a dog. I’m sorry but I don’t think I could have handled that coyote ugly morning when he realized he’d fucked a wolf.”

“What makes you think he’d give a shit? A male is a male, sweetie.” Marty, a mated She-wolf about twenty years their senior, sipped her Russian vodka. “Trust me when I say wolf, lion, cheetah, jackal, or any of the other breeds don’t give a shit when a pussy is wet and willing.”

The females looked at Marty and she casually shrugged her shoulders. “What?”

Supposedly, Marty came with Bobby Ray only to help out, but Ronnie had the feeling Marty would stay. Her mate would go wherever she went, and she’d never gotten along too well with the Smith She-wolves her own age. Not surprising once Marty’s past came out. She’d lived on the wild side for years, mowing through most of the Smith Pack males before settling down with her one true love and having a few pups. She never discussed her past in detail, but a few tidbits she’d dropped here and there over the last few months they’d all been hanging together convinced Ronnie and Sissy that the woman hadn’t merely lived on the wild side, but instead owned prime real estate there.

Still, it gave Ronnie hope she could put her own wild times behind her and settle down with a mate who didn’t irritate her too much and some pups.

“Marty’s right, darlin’,” Sissy insisted. “You’re real pretty. Got good strong thighs. And you’ve got oral skills most men would kill for.”

Now everyone turned and looked at Sissy Mae.

“That’s lovely, Sissy,” Marty sighed out.

“I was only complimenting her.”

“Compliments like that create hookers.”

Ronnie waved her hands, accidentally slapping herself in the face. “It doesn’t matter. I’m no longer looking for the occasional sleeping arrangement. I’m looking for…for…”

“For what?” Sissy asked, and she looked like she really didn’t want to know.

“Love?” Gemma, Sissy’s distant Smith cousin, asked with a sad amount of hope on her pretty face.

Ronnie and Sissy snorted. “Love?” Ronnie couldn’t keep the disbelief out of her voice. That word more foreign to her than Sanskrit. “No. I’d rather have rabies than be in love.”

“Why?”

“Because at least you can get over rabies with some shots.”

Marty laughed and shook her head. She seemed to be the only one who didn’t appear remotely drunk and she’d polished off an entire bottle of vodka by herself. “Trust me, pups, one day you’ll find that male who makes you love him, care for him, and want to stab him in the face all at the same time. And your lives will never be the same.”

Ronnie and Sissy both shuddered in horror.

“We’re so drunk,” Gemma observed for no apparent reason.

“We’re not drunk,” Sissy corrected. “We’re blasted off our asses.”

Taking her shot of tequila in one gulp before slamming the glass on the table, Ronnie offered, “I don’t want my life to pass me by.”

Filling Ronnie’s glass again, Sissy promised, “It won’t.”

“It’s already started. It’s whizzing by like a freight train.”

“So? We’ve had some great times, darlin’,” Sissy reminded her.

“We have. But I’m sorry if I don’t still wanna be running wild with you when I’m fifty. Life cannot be a series of great fucks followed by barroom brawls.”

Gemma scratched her head. “And why is that?”

“When you get past your twenty-fifth birthday, Perky Tits, you can ask me that again.”

Looking down at her chest, Gemma grinned. “Well I’ll be…they
are
perky!”

Sissy grabbed Ronnie’s arm before she could launch herself at the adorable little She-wolf.

“Okay.” Sissy kept a good grip on Ronnie while slamming back another shot of tequila. “Perhaps we should think about heading back to the hotel.”

“Why?” Gemma whined.

In answer, Daria, Ronnie’s second cousin twice removed, opened her mouth to say something, and then her head slammed right into the table when she passed out.

“Yup,” Marty agreed. “Time to go.”

They got two cabs back to the hotel and either underpaid the drivers by ten dollars or overpaid them by a thousand. Unfortunately, they weren’t really sure which, but the cabbies seemed happy and Marty kept snickering.

Arms around each other, they stumbled back into the Kingston Arms. A fancy, shifter-owned-and-operated establishment. Unlike some resort towns their kind owned, here the Pack couldn’t exactly go running around in their animal form since full-humans stayed at the hotel, too. They had no way to keep them out. But shifters received the best of everything at a very low rate.

“Oooh. Bar.” Sissy Mae stumbled into the fancy hotel bar, but Ronnie and Marty caught up to her.

“Oh no you don’t. Upstairs with you,” Marty chastised. “She is so going to regret this when she wakes up tomorrow.”

“I’m relatively certain we all will.” Together they stumbled to the elevators, and as they waited, Ronnie glanced back and realized Marty studied a large glass case by one of the bars. Ronnie had barely noticed it the many times she’d passed by it. It looked like a typical trophy case with important hotel awards or whatever. “Whatcha lookin’ at?”

“I’m reading this article on the owners of this hotel.”

“Fascinating.” Ronnie looked at Sissy and they both rolled their eyes.

“Oh it is,” Marty enthused. “Here. Let me read you a bit…”

“Please don’t,” Sissy muttered in Ronnie’s ear.

Clearing her throat, Marty began reading, “‘The Kingston Hotel in downtown New York was only a few days from the wrecking ball when entrepreneurs Alden, Brendon, and Marissa Shaw purchased the old hotel and turned it around. Since then the still family-owned Kingston Arms Hotels have become exclusive havens for the very wealthy, with establishments located around the world. The elder Shaw makes his home at all of the locations from time to time.’” Taking a deep breath and not even bothering to hide her smile or laughter, Marty finished with, “‘Only son
Brendon
still lives in Kingston Arms New York.’”

Ronnie stared at the older woman. “No. Way.”

“Sorry, darlin’. Looks like you’ll be seeing him again whether you want to or not.”

“You know, you could enjoy this a little less.”

“I could.” Marty stepped into the elevator, holding the door open for the rest of the She-wolves. “But I plan to enjoy this to the full extent of my capabilities.”

“I hate you,” Ronnie mumbled as she shoved her cousin inside.

“Oh, I know you’d like to, darlin’. I know you’d like to.”

Brendon glared down at the top of his sister’s head. “Are you crying?”

“No,” she muttered while discreetly trying to wipe her eyes.

“You are,” he accused, pushing her off his arm where she’d been resting. “You’re crying at
Born Free
!”

“Well, it’s just so sad.”

“You cry at a movie but not about your brother?”

“Why would I cry about him?”

Brendon returned his gaze to the television. He knew he should have gone back to the hotel but, to be honest, he wasn’t really in the mood to be on his own. So here he sat, watching
Born Free
and listening to his sister cry. Not exactly what he’d call a wild evening.

He could have gone out. Probably could have found some companionship, too. But he didn’t want that. Brendon didn’t want to wake up next to a no-name piece of ass he didn’t want to talk to in the morning. At twenty-three that was all he could think about. At thirty-three it was starting to get a little creepy.

“You’re thinking about her again, aren’t you?”

Busted.
“What are you talking about?”

“Don’t bullshit me, Bren. You’re thinking about Benji.”

“Don’t call her that.”

Now that the movie ended, Marissa grabbed the remote and changed to
Resident Evil.
Not exactly
Citizen Kane
, but better than
Born Free.
At least she wouldn’t cry.

“What do you care what I call her? When did you get so protective of dogs?”

“Since they saved my ass.”

“Yeah, but that was more Llewellyn.”

“He may have got them down there, but they didn’t have to help me. You and I both know some Packs would have happily left my ass there for the hyenas.”

“Yeah.”

“And she didn’t have to stay with me in the hospital. She didn’t have to protect me from those two guys who snuck into my room. She sure as hell didn’t have to take me to her aunt’s house. So do you think we can elevate this Pack beyond dog status?”

“Christ! Okay. Okay. Geez. When did you get a soul, anyway?”

“Just do me a favor and lay off.”

“Fine. Whatever.”

“Fine. Whatever,” he imitated back to her. The snarl he received would have scared a lesser man.

B
rendon and Marissa reached for the last grapefruit at the same time. Eyes locked on each other, they tried to stare the other down. Then Brendon roared and Marissa jerked back with a vicious hiss. Feeling smug, he took the grapefruit and cut it in half. He tossed the other half to Marissa, laughing when it hit her in the face.

“Bastard.”

“As are we all,” he joked around a mouthful of grapefruit.

“So what are you doing today?” Marissa buttered her toast and turned the page on her copy of the
Wall Street Journal
.

“I gotta stop by the Pride and see the kids. You wanna go?”

She nodded, then stopped. “Is that bitch going to be there?”

“Do you mean Missy?”

“I hate her.”

“Yes. I know. In fact, I think the entire universe knows.”

“The only thing that gives me ease is that you never bred with her.”

“You kidding? I’m almost positive she has fangs in her crotch. Snap a man’s penis right off.”

Marissa burst out laughing.

“If you come with me, you can give the kids their gifts.”

She nodded but didn’t answer.

“You did get them gifts this year.”

“Of course I did.” She bit into her toast. “Cash is a gift.”

“Marissa.”

“Don’t give me that tone. Look, I don’t know what to give children. And there’s absolutely nothing wrong with a Baby Gap gift card.”

Brendon sighed. “You’re pathetic.”

“Yeah. But you love me anyway.”

“I have no choice.” Brendon looked around for toast already made, didn’t find any, so he reached over and took it out of Marissa’s hand. “Look, have you ever thought of having your own Pride? We have cousins you sort of…tolerate.”

“We’ve had this discussion and I don’t want to have it anymore.”

“All right. Then in twenty years you can be the kids’ old bitter aunt.”

“Well, I’m already their young bitter aunt, so it’s really not that big a stretch. What else are you doing today—and get your damn hands off my sausage.”

Brendon dropped the sausage he’d taken from his sister onto his plate. “Nothing. Kids then hotel. As it is, the kids will take a few hours and I’ve got to make sure everything’s okay at the hotel. Then I’ve got me a She-wolf to track down.”

Marissa slammed her fork down. “You must be joking,” she barked.

“Nope. I know she’s around somewhere. I just have to find the Smith Pack.”

Reaching over, Marissa slapped her brother in the head.

“What was that for?”

“Hello? Cat.” And she motioned between the two of them. “Dog.” She made a throwing-away motion; Brendon just didn’t know why. “Mortal enemies.”

“Actually that’s more hyena.”

She clenched her fists. “What I mean, you big-haired idiot, is that she is
not
the female for you.”

“Why?”

“What do you mean—wait a minute. Why do you have that look?”

“What look?”

“The same one you had when you went for the grapefruit. The ‘this is mine and I’m never giving it up’ look. You’ve never had it about a female before. At least pick a cheetah maybe. Or a leopard,” she cried desperately. “She’ll spend most of her time in the trees anyway. But a
dog
? A dog with a group of dogs behind her? Are you insane? They howl. They bay. They whine.”

“They saved my life.”

Marissa let out a big sigh. “You’re gonna keep throwing that in my face, aren’t you?”

Brendon grinned. “Yup.”

“Stop! Oh God! Please stop!”

Ronnie grabbed the ringing hotel phone beside her bed, ripped it out of the wall, and threw it across the room. Moaning in absolute agony, she carefully laid back on the mattress.

No sound. No light. No nothing. She would allow nothing into her “safe space.”

She remembered last night clearly. No lovely blackouts for her. No. Ronnie Lee must remember every humiliating second. Like telling her Pack she wanted Brendon Shaw to run his mane all over her body.

Even worse…she couldn’t stay here knowing Shaw may show up at any time.

Of course, her rational mind kept telling her it didn’t matter. It didn’t matter if she found Brendon Shaw standing outside her room doing the mambo again. The reality remained he wouldn’t remember much after such a bad fever. He probably woke up in bed thinking it had all been a weird dream. Nothing more. Nothing less. So worrying about an impromptu meeting in the hotel lobby…kind of dumb. Even for her.

Very,
very
slowly, Ronnie Lee turned onto her side and forced her vicious bout of nausea down. She was a Reed, dammit. She wouldn’t let some cat get under her skin and have her running scared like a big girl.

Then, as she slipped into a deep sleep, she promised herself for the thousandth time—
No more tequila.

Brendon ignored his daughter climbing up his back and getting comfortable on top of his head while his son gripped his leg and tried to bite his knees with his less-than-deadly human baby teeth. The little guy wouldn’t come into his fangs until puberty hit, and his mother would probably drop him off at Brendon’s house and not come back for him until he turned twenty-one.

“There you are.” Allie Llewellyn closed the door to the solarium behind her, blocking out all that yelling. “I figured you’d have to escape as soon as the fighting started.”

“I should have never brought Marissa when Missy’s here.” He realized his mistake in the first ten minutes of their arrival. As soon as Missy, head of the Llewellyn Pride, walked into the enormous Llewellyn compound living room, Marissa was in her face demanding to know why none of the Llewellyn Pride had stayed with Brendon at the hospital and why none of them had bothered to call her. When Missy snarled that she was
not
an answering service it went straight downhill from there.

Three hours later and the two females were still going at it.

Allie stretched out in a lounger and stared at him. “You seem unusually cheerful, considering all the yelling and drama.”

“It must be the holidays.”

Laughing, she said, “Okay. What’s her name?”

“That’s on a need-to-know basis, and you don’t need to know.”

Brendon actually liked Allie. Not when she was around Missy but one on one. Allie and Erik’s mom, Serita, were relatively nice and they’d made breeding with them quite entertaining.

“You do understand that Missy’s not going to like you getting involved with someone from another Pride. At least not without a trade contract.”

“Our contract involves the kids and the kids only.”

“I’m not arguing. Just letting you know. And there’s some slight whining in there because I’ll have to hear about it. Constantly.”

Blocking his daughter’s tiny fist from making contact with his eye, he asked, “It sounds like she’s still raging over Mace and his Bronx m’lady.”

Allie laughed at his use of “m’lady” in a sentence. “Oh yeah. She’s still raging all right. Besides, we’re down to two males now. Petrov’s gone. You’re gone. And Mace won’t let her trade him out for more. Her life is in shambles.” Allie rolled her eyes. “Personally I could care less. Little Miss Evil Kitty over there”—she pointed at her daughter—“is more than enough trouble at the moment. I certainly don’t need to add to it with another cub until she’s a tad older.”

“Makes sense.” Brendon picked up his son and placed him on his knee, ignoring the teeth he sank into his forearm. “But Missy needs to understand, I won’t let her use my kids as leverage against me.”

Allie shook her head. “I won’t let that happen, Brendon. I’m not saying she won’t try, but I won’t let her get away with it.” She smiled at him. “I like you. You irritate me much less than most males. Besides, our darling little brat will rip my long silky locks out if I ever try to get between her and her daddy.”

“And Serita?”

“Missy will be lucky if Serita doesn’t start her own Pride. They’ve been fighting like two cats in a bag lately. Besides, we both know she can’t use the kids. We all read that contract we signed. It’s quite airtight.”

“Damn right it is.” Three high-priced lawyers who specialized in shifter law and his sister made sure of that.

“I don’t blame you at all,” she said with a sigh, leaning back into the lounger and staring up at the ceiling. “Nothing is sadder than an old Pride lion who hasn’t seen his cubs for decades.” Like his dad hadn’t seen Mitch.

Allie yawned, her eyes fluttering closed. “You coming out to dinner with us, Brendon? We have reservations at that new sushi place uptown. The chef is supposed to be a god.”

He’d rather remove body parts before sitting through some overpriced nouveau riche meal with Missy. But before Brendon could state that out loud, his cell phone went off. He checked caller ID and answered. “Yes?”

“Hello, sir. It’s Timothy.”

“I know. I checked caller ID.” After eight years as his personal assistant, one would think Timothy would already know that about his boss. “What’s going on?”

“I received a message from Louise.” Louise had been Brendon’s secretary longer than Timothy had been his assistant. “You wanted me to check the local hotels and find a Smith Pack?”

“Yeah. Did you get something?”

“Sir, they’re here.”

“Here? You mean in New York?”

“No. I mean at the Kingston Arms. They’ve been checked in for more than a week under the name…uh…Sissy Mae Smith.”

Brendon stared at the wall, completely oblivious to his daughter gripping his hair and hanging from his head like a monkey.

“You’re sure?”

“Yes, sir. I even went and checked the other hotels in the Tristate area that cater to your”—Timothy cleared his throat—“kind, because Smith is such a common name, but the only Smith Pack I could locate is at this hotel.”

Letting out a deep breath, Brendon grinned. “Good work.”

“Do you need me to do anything else, sir?”

“No. I should be back at the hotel in a few.”

“Yes, sir.”

Brendon ended the connection. “I’ve gotta go.”

Without opening her eyes, Allie smiled. “Figured.”

After unattaching his daughter from his hair, Brendon swung her around in his arms and kissed her neck, then kissed the top of his son’s head. “Both of you be good.”

“Don’t forget,” Allie reminded him, “we’re heading out tomorrow to Grandmother’s property in Sag Harbor for the New Year.”

“Okay. I’ll come over in the afternoon to send you off.”

He put his children beside Allie and opened the solarium door. The arguing hit him in the face. It would take time to get his sister to back off. Time he wasn’t in the mood to give.

“When she’s done, tell my sister I went back to the hotel.”

Allie opened one eye and stared at Brendon. “You’re leaving her here?”

“I don’t feel like dragging her out. I’ll even leave the car. I’ll catch a cab.”

Laughing, Allie closed her eyes again. “Okay. But neither your sister nor Missy will be happy. So I hope whoever she is, she’s worth it.”

Oh, she was.

A good long sleep and a little worshipping of the porcelain god, and Ronnie felt much better. Although she still didn’t feel like hanging out tonight and she didn’t know how the rest of the She-wolves were managing it.

Big dinner plans and some club hopping for the whole Pack, courtesy of Bobby Ray. He even tried to drag poor Mace and Dez into it, but from the end of the conversation Ronnie heard, Mace had no intention of getting out of his bed anytime soon as long as Dez was in it.

Ronnie smiled when she thought about the two of them. They were a cute, if unlikely, couple. And she loved the panic in Dez’s eyes every time she caught Mace staring at her like he could simply eat her alive. The man was in love. No two ways about it and nothing Dez did or didn’t do would change that so she might as well suck it up. So to speak.

The Pack stood in front of the hotel’s front desk. At some point they would find permanent dens, and that search would be down to the females. Until then, they would continue to enjoy the luxury of the Kingston Arms.

Bobby Ray retrieved another stack of business papers from the desk staff. He and Mace had already hired a lawyer and apparently Sissy Mae had started working with realtors for a big-enough space to house their office. Clearly Mace and Bobby Ray weren’t men to waste time on “what if”s xand analyzing. They just went for it. Ronnie liked that.

“Are you sure you don’t want to go?”

Glancing down at the pile of legal papers Bobby Ray had shoved into her arms and the ripped, seen-better-days cutoff shorts, scuffed and decades-old cowboy boots, and the worn Lynyrd Skynyrd T-shirt that once belonged to her daddy, Ronnie shrugged. “I know this is the perfect outfit for the thirty-degree weather we have outside, but I think I’ll stay in.”

“You don’t have to be a smart-ass. I was just askin’, Ronnie Lee.”

Feeling bad for sniping at him, she pushed her shoulder against Bobby Ray’s. “Sorry. But I blame your sister for my cranky attitude.”

“Told you not to go drinking with her anymore.”

“I know. I know. But she’s so persuasive.” Ronnie Lee juggled the papers in her hands and reached out and yanked Sissy Mae’s hair.

“Ow! What was that for?”

“For leading me down the path of sin and drunkenness.”

“Looked to me like you were gettin’ there fine all on your own.”

Bobby Ray slammed another four thick envelopes filled with papers from his lawyer on top of the pile she already carried. “Just drop these off in my room when you go back up.”

“Sure.”

“If you need us, we all have our cells.” Bobby Ray frowned. “And why did management call me about your ripping the phone out of the wall?”

“It wouldn’t stop ringing.”

Shaking his head, Bobby Ray turned to one of the other males, and Ronnie focused on Sissy Mae. “How do you do it?”

“Do what?”

“Remain so perky and fun loving after a drinking bout like the one we had last night?”

“Easy. I take a couple of aspirin before I go to sleep.”

“That’s it?”

“That’s it.”

“So my momma’s right. You are Satan.”

“Can’t prove it.”

Ronnie started to laugh until the scent hit her. That big delicious cat scent that three days ago she would have sworn she’d never like, much less lust over.