“You could have left for the day.”
“I could have? Wait . . . am I only supposed to be working half-days or something?”
“I don’t know.” Cella waved her hand around, almost hitting Dee-Ann in the face. “Discussing your schedule is not why I’m here.”
“Okay.”
“You said you’d help me out, right?”
“Sure.”
“Great.” Cella walked into the office and tossed what appeared to be an itinerary on Toni’s desk. “This really helps. Thanks.”
“Wait.” Toni looked down at the paperwork, then at Cella Malone. “You want me to go to . . . to . . . ?”
“Yeah.”
“Why am I going to
Russia
?”
“I can’t go. I have to take care of something here. And you said you’d help.”
“I thought I’d help with non-coaching-related stuff. Or, I don’t know . . . organize your files or something.”
“This isn’t necessarily a coach thing. Besides, it’s about Novikov. You like Novikov.”
Exasperated, “What does that have to do with
anything
?”
“Actually, this is team travel-related, which
is
your job.”
“Yes, but—”
“So go over to Russia and get them to let the team in
with
Novikov but not in a cage. But remember, no Novikov, no game, and then we never get a chance at the title of best in the world.”
Ricky smirked. “Did you just make that title up, Cella Malone?”
“Shut up, Reed.”
Desperate, Toni asked, “But is it really that important that he goes?”
“He has to go,” Ricky piped up. “The team can’t win against the Russian teams without Novikov. There are mostly bears on the Russian teams.”
“I don’t
care.
” Toni stopped, took a breath. “I just don’t think it’s a good idea for me, a jackal, to go to a bear-populated area to argue for the rights of Bo Novikov.”
“It’s better you do it than me.”
“How is it better, Cella? You’re the team coach
and
you’re a Siberian tiger . . . so aren’t the Russians your people?”
“Not really. Siberian tigers in Russia are not fans of the Malones.”
“Is anyone fans of the Malones?” Dee-Ann asked.
“Shut up, hick.”
“But,” Toni pushed ahead, still desperate, “what am I supposed to do with Russian bears?”
“Do what you do.”
“What does that even mean?”
“Look, kid,” Cella said, sounding annoyingly exasperated, “you managed to control and calm down Bo ‘The Marauder’ Novikov without use of a stun gun or a tranquilizer dart. So if you can manage him . . . I think you can manage a couple of frickin’ bears.”
“Yes, but—”
“Just do it. God! Take some initiative. Woman up!”
“I just don’t think I’ll feel . . . safe. You know? Unsafe work situation or whatever.”
“She has a point,” Dee-Ann drawled. “Get her mauled by some damn Russian bears, Malone, and Ric will have your ass. She is considered family by the Van Holtzes.”
“You and I have other things to handle, Smith.”
“First off, don’t snarl at me, hell cat. And second, just get her some dang security.”
“I would send Bert . . . but he hates flying and he’s still in Alaska.”
“Lord, woman, don’t send a player with her,” Dee-Ann snapped. “Get someone actually
trained
in security.” And that’s when she pointed at Ricky. “He’ll do it.”
The wolf, who’d been staring off during most of this conversation, suddenly looked alert. “What?”
“Like you’ve got anything better to do.”
“That’s not the point, Dee-Ann. I’m just one wolf—and these are bears. Russian bears. Smith Pack and Russian bears do not mix, or do you not remember Pack lore?”
“That was like a hundred years ago. I’m sure they’re over what happened by now.”
Toni put her elbows on her desk and dropped her face into her hands. “This is going to be a nightmare.”
“Oh, buck up, kid,” Cella told her, reaching across the desk and patting Toni on the shoulder. “It’ll be fine. Just don’t get any of them angry or let the polars sniff you or allow yourself to be left alone with any of the Kamchatka bears who haven’t eaten.”
Slowly, Toni lifted her head and looked at the head coach of the New York Carnivores. “Really? That’s the
best
you can do?”
“Pretty much. Good luck!” Cella walked out the door. “Come on, Smith. Let’s move.”
Dee-Ann looked between Toni and Ricky. After a moment, she said, “Take good care of her, Ricky Lee. Make your momma proud.”
She left and Ricky jumped up. “I’ll be right back,” he said before he quickly walked out of the room.
Less than a minute later, he was back, dropping into the chair he’d just vacated.
“That was fast,” Toni said.
“Yeah.”
“What did Dee say?”
“Before I could say a word, she said I could go with you and deal with bears or stay here and have long, meaningful talks with the females of my Pack about Laura Jane.” He smirked. “Guess which one I chose?”
“Ricky?”
“Yeah?”
She leaned forward a bit and whispered, “I don’t want to go to Russia.”
“Come on, darlin’, it won’t be that bad. And unlike my younger sibling, I do know how to handle bears. Besides, with all the places you’ve traveled, you can’t tell me you’ve never been to Russia before.”
“Sure I have. But I’ve been to
Russia
Russia. You know, Moscow, Saint Petersburg, Omsk.”
“Omsk?”
“Yeah. I went there with my brother. Coop’s big in Russia. Which means these are all places where my mother and brother would perform before dignitaries and royals. But I’ve never been to bear territory in Russia. And do you know why?” Ricky shook his head. “Because my parents told me to never go to bear territory in Russia! In fact, their exact words to their offspring were ‘you will die if you go to bear territory in Russia.’ ”
“It won’t be that bad. I’ll be there, and I’ll have your back the entire way. Promise.”
“Do you know what’s really going to be the worst part of this, though?”
He gave her a one-sided smile. “Telling your family you’re going to Russia?”
Toni dropped her head on the desk, not even bothering to use her hands this time.
“This is going to be a nightmare,” Toni said again, this time directly
into
the desk. Not that doing so helped any.
C
HAPTER
F
OURTEEN
D
elilah Jean-Louis Parker dug through her sister’s clothes. Sometimes Oriana kept cash in her dresser drawers. Since their parents pretty much paid for everything and all Oriana cared about was dancing, she rarely spent her allowance. Actually, most of the kids didn’t spend their allowance and a few of them didn’t realize when the money was gone. Which was a nice little boon for Delilah.
Finding a healthy wad of cash, Delilah took more than half and put the few remaining bills back in Oriana’s dresser. She closed the drawer and stepped out of the room. She looked up and down the hall, saw no one around, and went into the next bedroom over.
She searched quickly and quietly, bored by anything but cash or something she could sell for cash. The best thing about her family was that they were so absorbed by what they did every day that they barely noticed anything she did.
Not finding any cash or cash-worthy items, she sat on the bed. She saw a backpack and eased the zipper open. She went through it until she found a notebook that seemed out of place. Delilah pulled it out and began flipping through the pages. Unlike the rest of her siblings, Delilah didn’t consider herself one thing or another. She knew she was a good artist. For her, drawing was easy. But so was math and science. She’d been offered multiple academic scholarships before she left high school. She said “left” because she never actually graduated. Her parents thought she’d graduated. She’d
told
them she’d graduated. Del had even managed to walk into the hall at graduation. Until, you know, that bomb threat got called in and the rest of it was canceled. Then, with the help of Troy’s PC and her design skills, she’d been able to show her parents a lovely diploma.
But when you were as smart as Delilah was, who needed a real diploma or a degree? What was the point? Because even without them, she still knew she had something worthy in her hands now. Something she could really make money on.
“What the hell are you doing in here?”
At first, Delilah thought it was Toni when she heard that snarled question, but she looked up into the face of Oriana.
Putting the notebook back—why steal it when she’d know exactly where it was at all times?—Delilah stood up. “Nothing. Just being nosey.”
Oriana watched her for a moment, then shook her head. “I’m telling Toni you’re stealing our shit again.”
The little snitch would, too.
Delilah watched her sister turn around and start to head out to find Toni. And if there was one thing Delilah was not in the mood for, it was one of “those” discussions with Toni.
So Delilah grabbed the back of Oriana’s neck. Not by the extra flesh that all young canines had. This wasn’t some loving correction given from one sibling to another. Instead, she just grabbed the cunt’s throat and yanked her back until Del could press her mouth to her sister’s ear.
“How about—” Del began.
“Get off me!”
“—you just forget what you saw, little sister?”
Oriana started twisting her body and reaching back for Del’s arms.
“Get off me, Delilah!”
One of Oriana’s hands slapped Delilah’s face. It hurt but Del didn’t care. She’d always had a high tolerance for pain and, most times, didn’t even remember the pain a day or two later. Sometimes even ten minutes later.
So it wasn’t anger that had Del pressing the point of her little butterfly knife to her sister’s face, right below her eye. In fact, Delilah felt nothing at all except a little bit of pleasure when her sister abruptly stopped moving.
“I’ll say it again . . . forget what you saw. Or I’ll make sure you stop seeing all together. Understand?”
“Yes.”
Delilah held her sister a little longer. Not to make her point clear but because she was really struggling with her desire to cut her sister’s eyes out of her head. But she knew if she did that . . . she’d have to deal with Toni. Delilah hated dealing with Antonella. So cutting up her younger—and prettier—sister would have to wait.
She shoved Oriana away from her, grinning when her sister hit the wall and spun around to glare at her.
Delilah dragged the blunt side of her blade across her own cheek, just so her sister understood exactly what she was risking by fucking with her. She took a step toward her, and that’s when Toni’s best friend stepped into her line of sight.
Quickly dropping her arm behind her back to hide her knife and closing it, Delilah smiled at Livy Kowalski.
“Hello, Olivia.”
Livy moved her gaze back and forth between Delilah and Oriana. After a moment, she asked, “Everything all right, Oriana?”
Gritting her teeth, Oriana bit out, “Yes. Everything’s fine.”
“Good. I’m going to be crashing here for a while.”
Oriana nodded. “Okay. I’ll let Mom and Dad know.”
“Thanks.”
Oriana walked off, and Delilah went to follow her. But Livy reached across and slammed one hand against the doorjamb, blocking her way out.
The little freak leaned in, going up on her toes to get near Delilah’s neck, and breathed in deep.
God, Del hated this bitch. Always had.
But at the same time, she wasn’t about to engage her, either. Del shoved Livy’s arm out of her way and took a step into the hallway. Livy seemed to be letting her go, but as Del passed, Livy snatched the closed knife out of her hand. She heard the bitch expertly open it.
Delilah spun around without thinking and found her own knife pressed against her throat. The freak’s head tilted to the side as she studied her.
“Threaten one of the kids again,” Livy told her, “and I’ll cut your throat and watch ya bleed out.”
“I think Toni might have a problem with that.”
“No, she won’t. And we both know it.”
And damn her, but Delilah knew the bitch was right.
They stopped at the hotel first to get Ricky’s travel stuff. He offered to meet Toni back at the house her parents were renting, but the look of panic on her face had him quickly changing that offer to immediately promising he wouldn’t leave her side.
So he opened the door first and walked in, sniffing to make sure there were no Packmates lurking around.
Toni leaned in. “Embarrassed to be seen with me by your girlfriend?”
“
Ex
-girlfriend, and no. I just don’t want you to face the Smith Pack Female Interrogation.”
“You made that sound like all those words were initial capped.”
“They are. I’m surprised you’ve never heard of it. There’s lots of girls in mental institutions across the United States who’ve faced the Smith Pack Female Interrogation.”
“Okay.” She pushed past him and walked into his hotel room. “This is nice.”
“Yeah.”
She looked up at him, her little nose wrinkling. “Isn’t it kind of expensive, though? To live at the Kingston Arms rather than getting your own apartment in Brooklyn or Queens?”
“Are those actual places?”
“Very funny.”
“And my sister will be bearing the hybrid freak of the hotel’s owner.”
“Hybrid freak?” she demanded.
“Don’t worry. I’ll adore the little bastard like the moon.”
She rolled her eyes and walked fully into the room. Ricky followed, closing the door behind him.
“Make yourself comfortable,” he told her, heading toward the bedroom. “I’ll be out in a bit.”
“Why did you get a suite?” she asked.
“I didn’t demand it, if that’s what you’re thinking. Brendon Shaw gave one to me and each of my brothers in the hopes we’d stop just showing up in his apartment upstairs whenever we like.”
“Did you?” she asked from the other room.
“Nope!” Ricky pulled out the trusty black duffel bag that had gone with him to all sorts of places all over the world.
“Isn’t Brendon Shaw a lion?”
“Yep.”
“So you fully understand that just having you show up in his house is a form of torture for a man who truly does consider himself king of . . . well . . . probably everything.”
“Of course we do. That’s why we do it. Plus he gets this really good Greek plain yogurt that just seems to taste better being eaten in his apartment than in ours.”
Ricky packed quickly and efficiently. He’d learned to do that a long time ago. Although he hadn’t traveled much out of the States when he was growing up, his father and uncles sent him and his brothers—sometimes together, most often not—to different countries to meet with other Reeds and to learn about basic defense. It was something the Reeds felt was important. Sure, most everybody called them the junkyard dogs of the Smith Pack, but the truth was they really believed in being able to defend the Pack—and definitely the Reed family—whenever necessary.
The Smiths ruled as a Pack, so to speak, because they were willing to destroy anyone who even
thought
about touching one of their own. But the Smiths were also wild fighters. Like that kid in the schoolyard no one wanted to fight because he’d pick up a shovel and smash someone’s head in rather than throwing crazy punches like any normal seven-year-old. The Reeds, however, prided themselves on being smarter fighters, just like the full-blooded wolves. They’d strike at night, find the weakest points, and do their best to ensure no—or at least
less
—“collateral damage.” Ricky’s grandfather once compared it to unleashing the berserkers (the Smiths) from the front while the Roman soldiers (the Reeds) snuck in from behind and destroyed the enemy.
The relationship between the Smiths and the Reeds had worked for centuries, ever since they’d landed on these shores a few years before those pilgrims ever did, and Ricky respected that relationship more than he could say. He didn’t see the Smiths as separate from him, but a part of his life just like his momma and daddy and siblings. And he knew the Smiths felt the same way. When Bubba Smith said things like, “Come after the Smiths and we’ll come down on you like hell itself opened its doors and let out the worst of its kind . . .” he wasn’t just talking about protecting blood relatives. He was talking about
anyone
considered one of the Smith Pack. That was the Smith philosophy.
So when the Reeds raised their pups, they raised them to “protect their own,” which meant protecting blood kin and Pack kin. It meant protecting their siblings and their cousins as well as old Missus Sandy Mae up the street who often ended up on the wrong side of full-humans in a nearby town because she was kind of crazy.
And protection was something the Reeds did not take lightly.
That’s why working for Llewellyn Security was such a great job for Ricky. Not only did it allow him to protect the New York Smiths, a job he’d been born into, but also protect others for money, a job that helped him have a very healthy retirement fund as well as go on little excursions like this one.
Of course, it didn’t hurt that he was getting to go with sexy little Toni Jean-Louis Parker. Nope. That didn’t hurt at all.
“Speaking of protection . . .” Ricky studied the unopened box of condoms in his medicine cabinet. After a moment, he shrugged and grabbed one box . . . then the second. “Couldn’t hurt,” he murmured after tossing the boxes into his duffel bag.
Ricky lifted his head, sniffed the air.
Rory.
By the time he made it back into the small living room, his brother was walking through the door. His expression told Ricky he was not happy.
“You’re going to
Siberia
?”
“No. We’re going to Russia. Probably some place close to Moscow. Right, Toni?”
She reached into her backpack and pulled out the itinerary she’d been given by Cella Malone.
“We’re going to Lake Baikal. Wait.” She blinked, lowered the paper. “That
is
Siberia.”
Ricky’s eyes crossed.
Good Lord.
“We’re going into Siberia?” Ricky demanded.
“That’s probably where the team is from. Most of the Russian teams likely train there off season.” It made sense. She doubted any nosey full-humans were going to bother the shifter-only teams while they were training for games in Siberia. And Lake Baikal had freshwater seals, which the polars probably loved.
She looked at the wolf and immediately felt bad for him. He hadn’t signed on for this. Moscow, or a place
close
to Moscow, was one thing, but asking him to travel to Siberia was definitely asking too much of the man.
“Look, Ricky, you don’t have to—”
“I’ve already contacted Vic,” Ricky’s brother said, and walked around the couch Toni was sitting on and laid a case he had on the coffee table. He opened the case. “He’ll be meeting you at the airport and he’ll get you to Lake Baikal.”
Toni, confused by all this, held up her own papers. “I have an itinerary.”
“I know, darlin’,” Rory said while at the same time removing the paper from her hand and putting it back into her bag. “It’ll help you once you get there, but I want to make sure y’all get there safe and then
stay
safe once you arrive. Vic will make sure of that.”
“Who’s Vic?”
“Dee recommended him awhile back. He helps our company when we need contacts in Eastern European countries.”
“He was born and raised in Chicago, but his area of expertise is Eastern Europe,” Ricky explained.
“You look worried,” Toni told Rory. “I feel like I should be freaking out. Should I be freaking out?” she asked Ricky.
“No. Everything’s going to be fine. This is just a precaution.”
“How come Cella Malone didn’t have to take these kinds of precautions?”
“You said it yourself, darlin’. She’s a Siberian tiger
and
a Malone. No one’s messin’ with her.”
“But it’s probably best she’s not going,” Rory admitted. “Her reputation ain’t much better than Novikov’s with the Russian teams, and she probably would have asked Dee-Ann to go with her . . .”