Wolf with Benefits (29 page)

So, that’s what they did.

Toni had to admit, she was fascinated. And extremely annoyed. Not at the wild dogs. Once they got some gifts, they were in great spirits. But the bears were playing games. Games that annoyed her.

“I like Novikov,” Genka said plainly, her English heavily accented but easily understood. “He is strong like polar but mean like lion. He is hybrid like you, Victor Barinov, but with talent.”

Barinov snorted. “Thanks, Genka.”

“Welcome.” She lit a cigarette, took a long drag, then pointed the cigarette at Toni. “You know, problem is not that Novikov kicked Yuri Asanov’s ass.”

“And Novikov truly kicked Yuri Asanov’s ass,” Genka’s older sister commented as she walked into the room and dropped onto the couch across the small living room.

“The problem is that he made the entire team look bad. They look weak. Now they want to make him look weak.”

“I can’t help them do that,” Toni said, shaking her head.

“Of course not. You are canine like me. We are loyal. Not like cats.” Genka looked pointedly at Barinov.

The hybrid threw up his hands. “Are you just going to abuse me while I’m here, Genka Kuznetsov?”

“Yes,” both Genka and her sister said together.

Genka again focused on Toni, took another drag from her cigarette. Toni hated the cigarette smell, but she wasn’t about to say that. God knew, she’d put up with worse over the years for her family; she could do the same for the team paying her so much money.

“See, they don’t tell you truth, little American,” Genka said, reaching for the bottle of vodka on the table and pouring herself another shot. “First off, those bears can all speak English as well as me, no matter how stupid they may act around you. In Russia, we all learn English at some point in school. Also, you think you are waiting to meet with man in charge. But Yuri Asanov is not in charge.”

“He’s not?” Toni asked, surprised. “But he’s the team coach.”

“He is coach. And he is important. But he is not who you should be negotiating with. In shifter sports in Russia it is who pays the bills who controls the team.”

“And who pays the bills?”

Genka blew out a long plume of smoke, her dark brown eyes on Toni before she finally said, “Ivan Zubachev.”

“What? But we talked to him. He met us on the first day.”

“Right. And you didn’t know him. You didn’t greet him as the one in charge. So now he plays games. He’s very wealthy, so he has little else to do but fuck with the Americans.”

“The Zubachevs have run this territory and this team,” Barinov explained, “since Vadim Zubachev told Stalin to suck his dick.”

Toni thought a moment and finally asked. “Wait, I’m sorry, but . . . does the Russian full-human government know you exist here?”

“They’ve known for centuries at least,” Genka said.

“And they’ve never said anything? They’ve never come after you?”

“They tried.” She held up her forefinger. “Once. Sent an entire army to wipe us out for being different. For being who we are. The men never came back.” She smirked. “But we ate well that winter. Like kings.”

Ricky nodded. “All right then.”

“So it’s Zubachev I need to negotiate with?” Toni asked.

“It is. Like most bear, he is difficult. Stubborn. Like most Russians . . . he is difficult. Stubborn. He won’t make it easy on you.”

“So what can
I
do to make it easier on me?”

“Gifts always help. But, my little darling, your problem is, Ivan Zubachev and his entire family are rich. Like they-can-own-your-Manhattan rich. There is little you can offer him that he does not have or cannot buy, so you’ll have to come up with something unique. That
only you
can give.”

“Great.” Toni sighed.

“What does he like?” Ricky asked.

Genka shrugged. “Hockey. Women. Although,” she said, looking at Toni, “you’re not his type. Too small, like bird.”

“Hey.”

“Hair too messy.”

“I like your hair,” Ricky reminded her.

“Not helping me.”

 

Ricky loved watching Toni’s face when she was forced to down a shot of vodka. It was considered rude in Russia not to drink during a toast. So she’d winced and cringed her way through it, but managed well enough. The woman was definitely determined. He liked that about her.

After a hearty lunch and a good-bye filled with hugs and a promise to the wild dogs that they’d get a private audience with Bo Novikov himself—“We have cousins in Mongolia who want to meet him, too. We bring them,” Genka had promised—they’d headed back to their vehicle.

Ricky had just pulled the back passenger door open to let Toni in when Barinov’s phone went off. He smirked at the caller ID and answered.

“Barinov.” After a moment, he walked around the car until he reached Toni. He handed her the phone. “It’s Ivan Zubachev,
ma’am.
”

Taking the phone, Toni answered. “Yes? Oh. Hello, Mr. Zubachev. Did I? I missed today’s appointment? Oh. I am so sorry. I don’t know what happened. So much going on, I guess. But don’t worry, I’ll be there tomorrow. Ready to negotiate away!”

Ricky and Vic chuckled at her tone.

“Yes. Of course. Tomorrow then.”

She disconnected the call. “He is
pissed.
”

“Russians hate lateness,” Vic explained. “And not showing up at all . . . considered very rude.”

“Then he shouldn’t play games with me. I deal with that every day with my family, but I love them so I put up with it.”

“Then tomorrow we’re on.” Vic grinned down at her. “You ready for that?”

“I can’t wait.” She got into the car and Ricky closed the door and faced Vic.

“Here.” Vic handed Ricky the keys to the car.

“Where are you going?”

“I’ll walk back. Work off the vodka.” He pointed to a road that shot off from the main one they’d traveled. “Go that direction and it’ll take you to Lake Baikal. The shifter-only portion. It’s open to all breeds and species.”

“You don’t want to come?”

“Seen it.” Eyes like a cat’s glanced at Toni and back at Ricky. “You guys have a nice time. I’ll see you back at the hotel.”

Ricky snorted. “Seriously?”

“I know how you canines are, Reed. You say it’s nothing, but it’s everything. Just suck it up already.”

Laughing, the big hybrid walked off, and Ricky didn’t bother to argue with him. Instead, he opened Toni’s door.

“Out,” he told her. She immediately stepped out.

“What’s wrong?”

“Nothing.” He closed the back door and opened the front passenger side. “Since we’ve got the rest of the day, we’re going to sightsee.”

Blinking, appearing surprised, Toni said, “Really?”

“Don’t you want to?”

“Yeah.” She thought a moment, and a bright smile bloomed across her face. “Yeah. I’d really like that.”

“Then get in, darlin’. Because I have no idea where we are going.”

“It’s called a GPS, Reed. It’s already built into the car.”

“Get in, smart ass.”

Giggling, she did as he said, for once not bothering to argue. For once.

 

Seven in the morning and Coop walked downstairs to get in some practice before the rush began. The grand piano he’d ordered had been placed in the main ballroom. The one everyone was fighting over. But when he walked in, the piano was gone and Kyle was over in the corner on a stepladder, chipping away at his marble while Oriana used the rest of the space to dance. A special flooring had been laid over the original—but damaged—wood so that she could use her pointe shoes without problems.

“Good,” Novikov said, coming to stand by Coop. “You’re here.” He handed a printed sheet of paper to him. “This is the schedule. Learn it. Know it. Live it.”

Coop didn’t even glance at it. Instead he stared up at the more than seven foot tall hybrid and said, “You made my piano go away. Did it insult you?”

Novikov stared at him. “You’re weird. Your sister’s less annoying.”

“Which one?”

“All of them.” He handed Coop another sheet of paper. “I moved your piano to the basement.”

“When?”

“An hour ago.”

“I didn’t hear a moving crew come in.”

“Moving crew?”

Coop leaned back a bit. “You moved my
grand
Steinway to the basement by yourself?”

“I needed to get things done. Your brother and sister needed to use this room by six thirty.”

Good God! Where was Toni when he needed her? Because this shit was the highest level of comedy, and the only one who could truly appreciate it was Toni!

“Is the piano in one piece?”

“Of course it is. There’s not a scratch on it. Oh, and your nervous little sister . . .”

“Cherise.”

“Yeah. She says acoustics are great down there. She’ll be practicing in another room in the basement. So you’re both set.”

“Great. Excellent planning.”

“I know. Not done yet, but we’re almost there.”

“We’re not done yet?”

“No.”

As abruptly as he’d appeared, Novikov turned and walked away.

Shaking his head, Coop studied the pages he’d gotten. One was the schedule, as Novikov had said, and the other was a breakdown of who got what room and for how long per day. It was unbelievably organized.

A small hand tugged on Coop’s jeans. Freddy looked up at him with eyes just like his own.

“What’s wrong?” God, he hoped it wasn’t Delilah again. Toni would blow an artery.

“It’s handwritten,” Freddy whispered.

“What is?”

He pointed at the sheets of paper Coop held.

Glancing down, Coop shook his head. “No, buddy. This is from a printer. It’s been typed.”

“No. It hasn’t. Me, Denny, and the twins watched him do it for like an hour. He wrote out each one. By hand. We had to leave when Zoe began to cry. She was completely freaked out.” Freddy leaned in a little bit more and again whispered, “I think if she’d stayed any longer, she would have stabbed him to death. And I don’t think the rest of us would have tried to stop her.”

Coop crouched in front of his brother and put a hand on his shoulder. “That’s because you know OCD when you see it. You’re seeing Troy’s future. Fear that.”

“Oh,” Freddy said, eyes wide, “I do, Coop. I really do.”

 

They parked a bit away so they could walk to the lake.

Believed to be the oldest and deepest freshwater lake in the world, Lake Baikal was one of the most amazing places Toni had ever seen. The water was clean and clear, the land lush and green. Not remotely what she’d think of when someone mentioned Siberia.

Ricky Lee stood next to her, both of them silent for several long minutes. Both of them taking in the scenery and the lovely land they were lucky enough to have visited.

“This is beautiful,” Ricky finally said.

“Yes. It is.”

“But I can’t really enjoy it because all I can think about is getting you back to the hotel and naked.”

“Thank God!” Toni exploded. “I thought it was just me. I’ve been asking myself, ‘How can you not enjoy all this beautiful nature?’ ” She looked directly at him and admitted, “But, you look so damn good naked.”

He took her hand in his, stared deeply in her eyes, and said, “We
both
do. And how are we supposed to focus on anything else when we both look so dang good naked?”

Toni laughed. “You’re ridiculous.”

“No. My baby brother is ridiculous. I’m just a little goofy. A fine mix between Reece’s ridiculous behavior and Rory’s uptight lifestyle.” He tugged her hand and had the audacity—audacity!—to tip his head down and look up at her through his rather long eyelashes.

“Come on, darlin’,” he coaxed. “Let’s go back to the hotel, get naked, and be all awed about how good we look.”

“But we’re in Siberia,” Toni whined. “It’s not like we get out here every day. We should be exploring or something. Something touristy.”

Ricky didn’t say anything, but he tugged her closer and closer . . . until he could slip his arm around her waist. Then he slowly brought her up against his body and Toni’s skin went hot. She might be sweating.

He stared down at her mouth. Just stared at it. Without saying a word.

“But it’s not like Siberia is
going
anywhere.” Still feeling guilty about not taking full advantage of a rare opportunity, Toni briefly chewed her lip and Ricky growled in response. “Lake Baikal has been here for, like, a bazillion years or something. I’m sure it’ll be here next year . . . or the year after that.”

The hand holding her around the waist slipped lower, his fingers gripping her ass and pushing her pelvis closer to him until she felt nothing but his amazing erection pressing against her.

Toni let out a shaky breath, her eyes briefly closing. “Oh-kay, yeah. This lake is giant. It’ll be here forever. And don’t forget jet lag. I’m sure we’re still having jet lag. And that can only be dealt with in a . . . a bed.”