Beast Behaving Badly (38 page)

CHAPTER 30

B
o now understood that he couldn't assume anything when it came to Blayne Thorpe. He couldn't take for granted that she'd do what he expected her to do.

He
expected
her to go see her friend in the hospital and come back to his apartment later that night. When she didn't, he figured she'd gone back to her apartment, but she hadn't picked up any calls or answered her door when he knocked. A good sniff told him the apartment was empty—and that she hadn't taken out her trash. Blayne didn't have her cell because the Brooklyn bears had brought by all the personal stuff they'd left behind in his truck. The bears had also taken care of his truck, bringing it to a bear-run service station to be repaired, and had returned that as well. Bo would get a bill for all that great bear service, but who cared?

Besides, his biggest concern at the moment was Blayne.

Finally, he'd headed to the hospital, tracking down which shifter-run medical center the pregnant wild dog would have gone to. And the female wild dogs there with their Alpha were really nice but Blayne had already split . . . leaving him alone with really nice female wild dogs who thought he was just “adorable”!

And three hours later, when he was still at the hospital and holding the tiniest newborn in the world, a bunch of She-dogs grinning at him, and a bunch of She-wolves watching him like he was Satan—he knew he'd blame Blayne for this. He was blaming Blayne! But first he had to find her so he could blame her to her face!

The problem was, no one seemed to know where his wolfdog was.

“She was here for hours,” Jess Ward-Smith told him. She'd been the one to put the newborn in his arms, the kin of her mate looking downright horrified when she had. But one look at the newest hybrid to make it into the world and Bo knew he'd never let anything happen to her. “Then she said she had to go and that she'd talk to me later today.”

“Is Blayne going to do this a lot?” he asked, unable to take his eyes off the baby in his arms.

“She doesn't stay in one place too long, but she doesn't usually go far, either.” He hated to admit it, but he could kind of see why Dee Smith had microchipped Blayne. He still knew it was wrong—but he understood why. “You're good with kids.”

“I am?” Maybe they were only saying that because he hadn't accidentally crushed the baby in his big paws.

“Yeah. You are. Which is good because Blayne's got breeder written all over her. While Gwen and Lock will probably stop at two, a certain amount of years apart, the whole event perfectly and logically planned and executed—Blayne will just be dropping kids around your house.”

Bo shuddered, even while he laughed. “Don't say that.”

“Don't worry. Blayne's officially part of the Kuznetsov Pack now. You'll always have babysitters available.”

“Thanks.”

Grudgingly, but feeling like he should before he became too attached, Bo handed the newborn back to her mother. “Do you have a name for her yet?”

“Nope. We're still working on that. Personally, I like Galadriel.”

Bo asked, “From
Lord of the Rings
?”

The wild dog's brown eyes lit up. “You know
Lord of the Rings
?”

“Doesn't everybody?”

“Book or movie?”

“Well, I loved the movies, but the books were my favorites in grade—”

The wild dog gasped, her hand briefly covering her mouth. “She's chosen so well!”

“Sorry?”

“No. Nothing. I'm just proud of my Blayne.” She snapped her fingers. “I forgot. When Blayne left, she left with Dee-Ann. Smitty's cousin.”

Bo tried hard not to panic. “Why did she leave with her?” he asked, keeping his voice low and even. But Jess immediately seemed to understand his concern.

With her baby tucked into one arm, she placed her free hand over his and said, “Oh, don't worry, sweetie. I don't think Dee was planning to, you know, kill her or anything.” Jess gazed off. “I don't think.”

 

 

Dee watched Blayne behind one-way mirror glass. “Sorry,” she said to the bear next to her. “About everything.”

“Thanks,” Lock said. He adjusted his stance, his arms folded over his chest. “It's not me you really need to apologize to, though, is it?”

“Heifer broke my nose and nearly got me killed by a crazed sow. I think me and Blayne are beyond apologies, don't you?”

“You've got a point.” He motioned toward the room. “Is she going to help you?”

“No. She's going to help them. Got a whole speech about it, too.” Dee had asked Blayne to help with the hybrids because although they took the Group's free food and clean beds, most of them weren't much for doing anything else. But instead of giving up on them, Dee forced herself to remember that these pups, kits, and cubs hadn't had an easy time of it. Chances were strong Dee was their last chance. They'd either end up dead, in prison, or on the wrong end of a pit fight. So Dee adjusted her perspective, something she was learning to do more and more these days. And that meant asking for some help when she could, even if she was asking for help from Blayne Thorpe.

Besides, Dee had always prided herself on being able to overlook someone being an annoying little twit for the fact that they had a genuine skill or two that Dee could use.

And, after less than an hour, Blayne had the troublemaking, “always looking for a scam to perpetrate” hybrids sitting on the floor, in a circle, and staring at her like she was a goddess.

Yeah. The girl had a way. She'd won over bears, antisocial hybrid teens, and even the most hated male in shifter sports. Dee had no idea how Blayne did it but she knew true skills when she saw them.

“So you going to pay her for this gig or just use her humanity against her?”

Dee snorted. “She sure does have y'all fooled.”

“What does that mean?”

“She told me she wasn't doin' shit without pay. Apparently good quality hair products—honey-infused was the term she used—don't come cheap.”

Lock laughed and Dee felt better hearing it. She normally didn't give a shit when people hated her. But Lock MacRyrie wasn't just anybody, was he? Good friends you could trust, not easy to come by.

“We're not going to have this issue again, are we, Dee?” Lock finally asked her, and Dee knew that question had been coming.

“Nah.”

“Good. You don't want me cranky.”

There was truth to that.

“So what are you planning to do with these kids anyway? Start your own little hybrid army?” he joked. But when Dee only stared at him, Lock shook his head. “Forget I asked. Just . . . forget.”

“Will do, hoss.”

Lock's phone chimed and he pulled it out of his pocket. He glanced at the screen, smirked. “Novikov is still looking for Blayne.” He shut his phone off and put it back in his pocket.

“You gonna do the man like that?”

He folded his arms over his chest again. “Damn right I am. Bet it wouldn't take much to convince Blayne to spend the night at our apartment, either. You know, so the girls can rebond.”

“And everybody says I'm a bitch.”

“Yeah, but with you they mean literally.”

 

 

Blayne slipped past the two former Marines chatting amiably by the room she'd just been in.

Following her nose, Blayne headed down the hallway and out a back door. It led to a gorgeous hot house, filled with beautiful flowers and plants. She walked down one of the rows until she found what she was looking for.

The sow sat on the floor, her back against the wall, her scarred forearms resting on her raised knees. She had a pretty face that she was trying to hide under brown and gold hair with black tips, and a powerfully built body. Almost six-three, she wore a white T-shirt and loose blue jeans along with All-Star canvas high tops on large feet. Yet even with her size, she looked like any freshman kid in college—except for the scars. So many scars.

Blayne dropped into the empty space beside the sow. “How are you holding up?” she asked.

“Fine.”

“I'm Blayne.”

“Hannah.”

“Nice to meet you, Hannah. They're treating you okay, right?”

“They haven't threatened to put me down yet, if that's what you're asking.”

“Actually, yeah. That's what I was asking.”

Blayne's candid answer had the sow finally looking at her.

“They were planning to put us down?”

“Pretty much.”

“But you stopped them. Why?”

“They have an excuse to put you down today, they have an excuse to put me down tomorrow. Besides, all hybrids are in this together. We have to watch out for each other. God knows, no one else will.”

The sow relaxed her head back against the wall, her gaze moving around the room. “How long do I have to stay here?”

“As long as you want. Or as little. I won't let them force you into anything.”

“And you have that much power?”

“I do right now.” Blayne grinned. “Let's enjoy it while it lasts.”

Hannah didn't smile, but she scowled a little less. It reminded Blayne of Bo. Maybe it was a bear thing.

“Dee says you're nineteen, making you the oldest within the group she's training.”

“Yeah. So?”

“So if you don't want to stay here full-time, you can crash at my place. It's not big but it's cute and, right now, extremely clean.”

“You're not worried about having me in your apartment? The fighting dog?”

Blayne raised a finger. “The fighting dog-
bear
.” Blayne grinned again. “Which sounds much cooler than bear-dog, don'tcha think?”

“Sure. Right. Whatever.”

“Anyway, a place to stay and a job if you need it.”

“A job? Doing what?”

“Plumbing.”

“Plumbing? You want me to be a plumber?”

“My, my, how snobby we sound. There's nothing wrong with being a plumber. It's good and usually steady work, good money, and I can make sure you have time to come here every day to train.”

“Train to do what exactly? When I ask they don't really answer me.”

“Train you to take care of yourself without forcing you to wear a muzzle twenty-four hours a day or worrying you're going to dismember people with your teeth.”

“Thank you,” she said with a heavy dose of sarcasm. “That was very nice.”

“I'm known for being nice, but in this instance, I went for honest. I want you to start having some choices, Hannah. You can't do that if I'm lying to you.”

“You don't even know me. Don't know anything about me.”

“Yet. I don't know anything about you
yet
. But I plan to learn all about you. And, when you're happy and calm, and all is right in your world, we'll talk about you becoming a blocker for my derby team.”

“Because it's logical to put me back into violent situations I have no control over.”

Again with that sarcasm
. “Well, when you put it like that, it just sounds all sorts of wrong.”

“Explain to me why I kind of like you.”

“Because I'm charming and sweet and endearing. Plus I have this award-winning smile.” Blayne hit the sow with a grin, and even though Hannah immediately turned away, Blayne knew what she saw from the hybrid in that brief second—a smile. Or a snarl.

To be honest, Blayne sometimes had a hard time telling the difference.

 

 

It was almost seven in the morning when Bo snatched open his front door before Sami could get the key in the lock. She blinked up at him. “You're back!”

“Where have you been?” he demanded.

“Nowhere,” she immediately answered, but Sander who came in behind her carried new, expensive suitcases that had the initials GCA etched into brass nameplates. Something told Bo nothing in those cases actually belonged to the foxes. “I heard you had some trouble and ended up back in Ursus County.”

“It's a long story. But I need you two to track down somebody.”

“Who?” She took the slip of paper Bo handed her. “Lachlan MacRyrie? Isn't he one of your teammates?”

“Yeah. But his number traces back to a PO box in Jersey. I can't track the fucker's address down.”

“How hard can that be?”

“He's ex-Unit.”

“Ohhh. Gotcha.”

She walked into his living room, dropping into one of the club chairs, her feet up on the ottoman. “I'll see what I can find out.” When Bo scowled at her, she dug her phone out of the top of her boot. “Now. I'll find out now.”

Sander dived onto the couch, immediately going to sleep; and Sami began to dial numbers. “So does this guy owe you money or something?”

“He has my wolfdog. I want my wolfdog!”

“Okay. Okay. Control the mane. It's sprawling across your shoulders. Just give me a couple of minutes.” She grinned. “I know some people.” Bo already knew that.

Sami waited patiently while, he assumed, the phone rang on the other end. She looked him over a few times, finally asking, “Any messages from home?”

“Your mother sends her love and details on an incoming shipment of emeralds, which I wasn't going to tell you about”—he glared at the emerald choker she had on—“but I see we're a little past that now.”

She shrugged, the fingers of her free hand running over the priceless jewels she wore with jeans and a T-shirt. “Foxes love the sparkle.”