The Beast in Him Page 8

  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…

  “So this canine your brother is living with,” said Madeline Stark as she shoveled yet another pâté-covered cracker in her mouth. “Does she sit on command? Fetch his slippers? Roll over and beg when appropriate?”

  Madeline’s four boneheaded sisters and cousin continued snickering, sounding like that cartoon dog Muttley.

  What Jess found really funny was that they were all neighbors. The Pack’s Long Island property butted right up against Marissa Shaw’s and the Stark Clan’s territories. Yet, they never got along. True, the Pack tolerated Marissa to a degree, but they never tolerated the Starks. Wild dogs hated hyenas.

  Jess’s eyes focused on the back of Madeline’s neck as she continued to mock the canine universe. She had her light brown hair swept up off her shoulders and in an elaborate knot on her head. Giving Jess all that long neck to play with.

  Facing her Pack, Jess started coughing. Phil caught on first, grinning and turning toward the table. His wife joined him, the pair taking a small white cocktail napkin and shredding it. Still coughing, Jess stepped closer to Phil and he placed the tissue in her hand. Danny glanced around and then poured water on the shreds, getting it good and wet.

  Jess turned back around, still supposedly hacking up a lung. She walked up behind Madeline and let out a cough that had Marissa tensing and looking at her. That’s when Jess let that wet, messy napkin fly. It hit the back of Madeline’s neck and the woman froze in mid-mock.

  “Oh!” Jess said, clearing her throat. “Oh, my God! Madeline! I’m so sorry. Here, let me help you clean that off.”

  Horrified, the woman reached back and touched the wet tissue on her neck. Unable to see it, she could only feel it. As soon as her fingers brushed it, her body began to shake and she retched violently before she took off running toward the bathroom, her sisters and cousin following behind. Following and laughing hysterically.

  Jess looked at Marissa. “Well, that’ll be awkward next time we’re all out on the Island, huh?”

  Marissa, who always seemed an unpleasant woman and was definitely not friendly, stared at Jess for several long seconds before her lips t
urned up and she grinned. Then she started laughing and couldn’t stop. She quickly walked over to two lionesses from the Llewellyn Pride, Mace’s sisters Serita and Allie. Between bouts of hysterical laughter, she spoke to them until all three women were laughing.

  May handed Jess a glass of champagne. “You had way too much fun with that, sweetie.”

  “I did, didn’t I?”

  Could it legally be considered “stalking” if he watched her for her own good? She was blowing fake lugies at hyenas, on her third glass of champagne, and wearing those killer shoes. What else could Smitty do but keep an eye on her?

  He would say, though, that the dogs knew how to enjoy what would otherwise be a painfully dull party. They seemed to be entertained by the simplest things, and at times, they seemed to have the sexual maturity of thirteen-year-olds based on the way they giggled over a rather well-endowed statue. Of course, that could also be the champagne.

  Smitty leaned against the wall and checked in with his team. All seemed well, although he no longer found that surprising. They were becoming a well-oiled machine, and a few more jobs like this and they might actually finish out the year in less debt than they already were. In a couple more years, he might be able to come to events like this as a guest rather than as staff.

  His eyes strayed back to Jessica. Once again, she hadn’t noticed him. Truly. No “faking that I haven’t seen him” either. She really hadn’t seen him. The woman was completely oblivious.

  Some old Latin music came on and the same blond wild dog from Jessie’s party the week before took Jessie’s hand and pulled her into some rather good dance moves. Smitty’s eyes narrowed. What was it with that guy and “dancing” with Jessie? Seemed more like an excuse to get his paws on her. Although, Smitty grudgingly had to admit, the man did seem loyal to the blond female he kept hanging around. Maybe it was a dog thing.

  The blonde spun Jessie out and then expertly pulled her back in, before having the nerve to dip her. Smitty briefly wondered how many of the men there were trying to look up Jessie’s dress.

  That was it. He had to say something. The woman was a menace to herself!

  Champagne in hand, Jess pulled away from her Pack and headed toward the buffet table, debating whether she felt like eating standing up or not. You’d think for ten thousand bucks a plate they’d have a sit-down dinner. Still, she’d have given them the money anyway. For a kid’s charity, she could do nothing less. Pushing through the crowd, amazed at the turnout, Jess stopped when a male voice called her name.

  “Jessica! Jessica!” She cringed and turned to face Sherman Landry. She’d completely forgotten he’d probably attend this event, but Phil and Sabina had insisted she needed to come.

  “Hi, Sherman.” When he stood in front of her, she gave him a big forced smile. “How are you?” she asked.

  “Fine. Fine. And you?”

  “I’m fine.”

  “And your wolf friend?”

  Lie, Jessica. Lie! “Oh, he’s around here somewhere.”

  “I assume you had to pay for his ticket.”

  Jess didn’t answer; instead, she used her forefinger to rub away the sudden tic in her left eye.

  “You don’t see many Smiths around these kinds of events,” Sherman continued. “They’re much more your beer and NASCAR crowd.”

  Jess’s eyes narrowed, suddenly envisioning Sherman not as a true wild dog but one of those pampered pups sitting on a pillow. A bichon frise or a papillon. Imagining him with bows in his hair did make her smile.

  “I love NASCAR,” she admitted, hoping the truth would make him go away. “It’s fun, the people are nice, and it has fast cars. I love fast cars.”

  “Yes, yes. Nothing like watching people drive in a circle.” Before Jess could say anything—like “fuck you”—Sherman stepped back as far as he could in this crowd and smiled appreciatively. “Jessica, I must say you look gorgeous.”

  “Thank you.” She’d kill Phil.

  “You take my breath away.”

  “Sherman, that’s very sweet. Thanks.”

  He cleared his throat. “I was wondering…” Another throat clear. “About us going out again. For dinner?”

  “Dinner? Um…” Think of an excuse. Think fast! “Uh…Smitty.” She took in a deep breath. “I can’t ’cause I’m seeing Smitty.” There. That’ll work.

  “Jessica, seriously.” He stepped closer. A little too close. “I’ve discussed this with my sister and we both understand a girl has needs.” His sister? He’d talked about this with his sister? Suddenly, Jess felt a tad ill. “And wolves are perfect for the short term. But you’re not getting any younger.”

  Wait. Did he just say that to me? No, no. He couldn’t have.

  “You have to think about the future of your Pack. I’m sure you’ll want to breed pups of your own. Normal pups. Not hybrids. I believe you and I have much to discuss in that area.”

  Jess stared at him. She couldn’t help it. Apparently the presence of Smitty had pushed Sherman’s hand. Instead of romance, though, she got the word “breeding” tossed at her.

  “Jessica…”

  He moved in closer, and to her horror, she thought he might kiss her. But her phone rang and she yanked it out of her tiny designer purse with an urgency she’d never felt before.

  “Phone! I must answer my phone.”

  “Yes, but—”

  “Bye now.” Jess turned and walked away, answering the phone at the same time.

  “Yes?”

  “Hi, Jess. It’s Bets.” Her assistant. Someone would be getting a quarterly bonus for saving her wild-dog ass from more breeding discussions.

  “What’s up, Bets?”

  Betsy went into a litany of problems with one of their accounts while Jess headed toward the bathrooms. This problem was not normally something that would work its way up to Jess, but the client was pissed and she brought in a lot of serious money and other important accounts. It would not be in their best interest to ignore this woman.

  “Can you put me through to her?”

  Standing outside the ladies’ room, Jess leaned against a wall and waited for her call to be patched into a very nice office in Detroit.

  Once she had her, Jess went into her usual soothing spiel. She’d gotten really good at it. Must have had something to do with working with cops for a few years. They’d come busting into her department, anxious, annoyed, and usually pissed off at some ADA, wanting to know what she’d found on some scumbag’s computer. At that point, Jess had two options: get pissy right back, which a lot of her coworkers did, or soothe. She soothed, and to this day she still had friends on the force who watched out for her, her company, and her friends.

  As Jess listened to her client and made lots of “I absolutely agree with you” noises, she turned and realized she had the females of the Stark Clan standing there, glaring at her. Their eyes glowed in the low light of the narrow hallway.

  “Think that was funny, did you?” Madeline practically snarled.

  In answer, Jess held up one finger. “Give me a sec, hon,” she whispered, “until I’m done with this client.”

  The hyenas blinked in shock. They always expected some first attack from her. She wasn’t a wolf. She only did a first attack when her pups were in danger. Then all hell broke loose. But some bullshit show of strength? That could wait.

  “Hey. I’m speaking to you.”

  Jess smiled and nodded in agreement. They hated when she did that. She saw a fang, but then Marissa Shaw came up behind them and slammed her hands against Madeline Stark’s back.

  Now lionesses? Yeah, those big cats were all about the first attack.

  Jess stepped back and out of the way of the yearly fight that would most likely ensue between the females. While she did, she continued to keep the conversation going with her client. Living with her Pack, one learned to multitask.

  “You gotta problem, bitch,” Marissa growled, baring enormous fangs. “You can bring it to me.”

  “So s
ays Jane of the Ghetto.”

  Jess winced. That was a dumb thing to say. Marissa wasn’t exactly ashamed of her humble upbringing, but she didn’t take it well when some rich heifer mocked her about it either.

  Marissa grabbed Madeline around the throat and shoved her. Madeline stumbled back. Jess tried to move out of the way, but she didn’t move fast enough and the hyena slammed into her, sending Jess flying out the back exit door. She hit the opposite wall, a surprised grunt exploding out of her as the exit door slammed shut.

  “Jessica? Are you all right?” her client asked with genuine concern.

  She took a calming breath. “Uh…yes. Sorry about that. I, uh, stubbed my toe on my desk.”

  “Oooh. I hate when I do that.”

  Her client went on, now much calmer. Letting her ramble, Jess walked to the door and pulled. It didn’t budge. She pulled on the handle again. Nothing. She’d locked herself out.

  Dammit!

  “I feel so much better now that I’ve spoken to you, Jessica. Thank you.”

  “No problem. Anytime, you know that.” She did her best to control her chattering teeth. “We’ll contact you in the morning, okay?”

  “Yes, thanks again.” The client disconnected the call and Jess wrapped her arms around her body.

  “Okay,” she muttered to herself. “This dress. Bad idea in winter.” As were the goddamn shoes. Trying not to fall on her ass in the disgusting alley, Jess started to walk toward the opening leading to the street. As she reached the end, she saw two females standing by a piece of shit Buick. They seemed to be in quite an agitated discussion. Normally Jess wouldn’t notice or care, but she scented they were wolves. Wolves she didn’t recognize. She recognized all the local wolves and now the Smiths, but new wolves on an already small island asked for trouble.

  As she approached the mouth of the alley, the two women stopped talking and those cold wolf eyes focused on her.

  Uh-oh.

  Smitty grabbed hold of Madeline Stark while Mitch grabbed his sister. Not easy since both females had decided to shift. In the middle of a full-human party no less. Has everyone lost their goddamn mind?

  He shook Stark. “Shift back. Now!” She did and suddenly he had a naked hyena in his arms. Man, he could find much better ways to spend a Tuesday evening. He shoved her toward the bathroom. “Get dressed.” He threw clothes at her, but he had no idea if they belonged to her, her sisters, Marissa, or Mace’s sisters Serita and Allie, who’d delighted in joining the fray.