“Yeah, I’ve survived worse. Although I have to admit, Smitty’s rejections are getting much more intense.”
Mace stared at the top of his friend’s head. It wasn’t that he was so much taller, it was that Smitty had his head on the desk. “Didn’t think you’d be in today.”
“Didn’t want to go home,” he grumbled into the desk. “It all smells like her.”
“That bad?”
“That good.”
“You going to tell me what happened or burrow your head into the desk like a badger?”
“There’s nothing to tell. I blew it. I blew everything.”
“Do you mind talking to me directly? I’m starting to think you find the desk more interesting than me.”
“It is,” Smitty muttered even as he sat up. “I don’t know, hoss. Maybe my daddy was right. Maybe I am an idiot.”
“Your daddy is certifiably insane.”
“In the South we call that eccentric.”
“Well, in New York, we call the cops to get ’em away from the front of our building.” Mace relaxed against the door frame. “Is this about Jessica?”
“I almost marked her today. In a gas station bathroom.” Elbows on the table, he buried his face in his hands. “The woman is rich, beautiful, goes to all these fancy charity parties no Smith would ever be invited to, and I nearly mount her like a bitch in heat right by the bathroom condom machine.”
“Did she seem to mind?”
He dropped his hands to the desk. “That’s not the point. I don’t want her thinking... ”
“Thinking what?”
Smitty let out one of those soul-deep sighs that used to drive Mace crazy when they were on duty together. “When I was eleven, I walked in the kitchen just as my momma slammed one of the Thanksgiving Day turkeys into the back of the old man’s head. She dropped his ass too. Like two tons of garbage. The sad thing was I knew whatever he’d done—he’d deserved it.”
“And?”
“I just don’t want the next forty years to be filled with flying turkeys.”
Mace laughed. He couldn’t help it. “Smitty, I think you’re worrying over nothing. Jessica Ward isn’t the type to start throwing things.”
When Smitty only stared at him, Mace asked, “She throws things?”
“Only at me, it seems.”
“Did you deserve it?”
Smitty smirked. “Kind of.”
“Sitting around the office whining about it isn’t going to fix it. Let’s go to dinner. You can whine over a rare steak and cold beer.”
“Yeah, okay.”
Smitty pushed his chair back when Mace said, “So I got a call today. From a Kenshin Inu.”
“Who?”
“Asian wild dog who said he met you at a karaoke bar?”
“Yeah, right. The dog. What did he want?”
“To discuss a business offer with him. Next week. My cat senses are tingling. I’m sensing money.”
“How do you know?”
Mace stared at Smitty. “You do know who Kenshin Inu is, don’t you?”
“Not a clue.”
“Well, he’s many things. Mad scientist, ladies’ man... billionaire.”
Smitty stopped in the middle of pulling his jacket on. “Billionaire?”
“Yeah.”
“Well, I hope you were nice to him ’cause I was kind of an asshole.”
“I’m still trying to get my mind around you singing at a karaoke bar.”
“Don’t start.”
His friend laughed. “Man, what you’ll do for pussy.”
“Is that right... dog owner?” Smitty met Mace’s glare head-on. “How is the new puppy doing anyway?”
Mace let out an exasperated sigh. “It’s bad enough we have the baby. Which I was accepting of because he’s mine.”
“That’s real big of ya, hoss.”Mace thought so.
“But then she gets a puppy. So now we got the two stupid ones and the damn puppy. Who isn’t too bad,” he grudgingly admitted.
Smitty finally chuckled. “Everybody loves a puppy, hoss.”
Johnny put his violin and bow down and answered the door to his rehearsal room. He expected one of the other musicians or singers using the other rooms were stopping by. Sometimes they did, although he rarely had anything to say to anyone. What he didn’t expect was to find Kristan Putowski standing outside his door with a couple bags of McDonald’s.
“Hungry?” she asked, pushing her way past him.
“Always.” He watched her go to the baby grand piano that his instructor sometimes used during their practices and drop the bags of food on the bench. “Why are you here? I thought I was covering for you tonight.”
“You were. Yeah. Quarter Pounder or Big Mac?”
“Either. And I hope you brought more than one of each or you’re shit out of luck, Twinkles.”
She flashed those goddamn dimples he kept dreaming about. “Of course. I’ve seen you eat before. Shame is so not in your vocabulary.”
He closed the door, hoping none of the management stopped by since he wasn’t supposed to have food in the room, and walked over to Kristan. “What’s wrong, Kristan?”
“Nothing.” But she wouldn’t look at him. She looked everyone in the eye. Even when you tried to avoid it. She practically turned herself into a pretzel sometimes to get you to look her in the eye.
“Bullshit. What’s wrong?”
She placed napkins down and the food on top before asking, “Did you ever meet your dad?”
“No.”
“Do you ever think about it? Think about what it would be like when you do?”
“Yeah, I guess. Why?”
She ignored his question and asked her own. “When you think about meeting him, do you like him?”
Johnny didn’t really enjoy talking about this. His father was one of those sore points of his—Jess said he had many “sore points”—but he couldn’t shake the feeling that Kristan asked him these questions for a reason. So he answered honestly, “It depends. If I’m thinking about how he treated my mother, then, no, I don’t like him. But if I’m just thinking in general or thinking maybe there’d been a mistake, a misunderstanding between him and my mom, then I think I might like him. Stupid, huh?”
“No.” She turned and faced him. “Not at all. I thought I’d like my father. I dreamed about it.”
“You met your father? When?”
“Couple of weeks ago. I should like him. He’s my father. I should like him, right?”
“Not necessarily. I’ve noticed the majority of human beings are assholes and don’t deserve to breathe, much less procreate.”
She smiled, flashing those damn dimples again. “Not that you have any strong opinions on the topic or anything.”
“You asked me a question. I’m giving you an answer.” He grabbed a fry. “Is that who you’ve been going off to see?”
“Yeah, I didn’t tell my parents ’cause I knew Mom would be pissed. Now I wish I had told her.”
“Why?”
“Because when she finds out she’ll definitely be pissed.” She grabbed one of the metal folding chairs and sat down. “I was supposed to see him and his Pack tonight.” She rolled her eyes. “Not one of my top-ten fun things to do.”
“Wolf Packs are different from wild dogs.”
“I know that. But they weren’t like the other wolves I’ve met.” She looked up at him with those big, light brown eyes. “They weren’t like you.”
Ignore. Ignore. Ignore. “So what are you going to do now?” he asked, grabbing a Big Mac.
“Avoid for as long as I can manage.”
“You’ve gotta tell your parents.”
“I know. I know. Thought maybe I could tell them this weekend. They’re always in a good mood when they get some hunting in.”
“Yeah, nothing says spa-equivalent relaxation like taking down a deer and ripping its throat open.”
Kristan nodded solemnly, seemingly missing his sarcasm. “Exactly.”
Jess sat on the ratty old couch with Sabina on one side of her and May on the other. They sat shoulder to shoulder, thigh to thigh, needing the strength of their Packmate to soothe their rattled nerves. Rattled nerves that got worse as they watched the woman they’d come to see pace around the dingy back office of a hot Manhattan club while reading the documents they’d given her. Jess had to keep reminding herself that being here was worth it. That being around this female was worth it. It would bring in a lot of money to their Pack if this worked out like she thought it would.
Her only problem... the She-wolf she had to deal with. Right now, all three of the wild dogs kept looking at her wondering if they could get out of the room before the She-wolf could catch them. And if she caught them... what would she do?
When this all started out, Jess had only met with the surly Alpha Male of this Pack. He wasn’t friendly, but he seemed sane. Then he’d handed off the fine points of all this to his Alpha Female.
Jess wished she could say the woman was mean to her. She wasn’t. In fact, Jess had the distinct feeling the She-wolf liked her. A lot. Jess wasn’t sure if that was a good place to be or a bad place.
Reading the end of the last page, the female walked over to the worn table in the middle of the room and popped back onto it like a spring. She pulled off her black cowboy hat, shook out her long dark hair, and said, “I’m not real happy about this split.”