Jess didn’t hesitate taking him in. And she’d worked hard to make him feel at home, but he continued to fear they’d send him away. Like all the others had. Johnny still hadn’t realized he wasn’t going anywhere. They wouldn’t suddenly decide they didn’t like having him around and kick him to the curb. Wild-dog Packs didn’t work that way. Once you were in, you were in. Kind of like the Mafia except without the blood oaths and murders for hire.
“If you don’t want to go to the zoo, Johnny, you don’t have to go.”
“Okay.”
After a few minutes of silence, she asked, “So have you hear—”
“No.”
“I wouldn’t worry—”
“I’m not.”
“Okay then.”
Johnny had applied for an extremely prestigious summer music program that his violin teacher recommended. It was brutally competitive and only the best got in. Jess had faith, but clearly Johnny didn’t. But that was okay. She had enough faith for both of them.
May and Danny’s daughter Kristan walked into the living room, looking adorable as always in her pink, faux-fur–lined jacket and mini-skirt with the full-length leggings to keep her warm.
She glanced down at Johnny. “Are you still sitting here?”
“No,” he said with dry sarcasm, not even bothering to look up from his book. “This is just my hologram. I’m actually in Utah.”
Jess snorted. So far, Kristan had been the only one able to get Johnny out of his shell. She did it mostly by annoying him; but hell, if it worked, it worked.
“He was sitting in the exact same spot when the brats went off for zoo day,” she informed Jess.
“Why didn’t you go?”
“Hello? A little too old for that.”
“One is never too old for the zoo.”
Kristan rolled her eyes. “Whatever. I’m going to the diner. You wanna go?”
Jess stared at Johnny but realized he didn’t understand Kristan spoke to him. She shoved her elbow in his side and his head snapped up from his book. “Huh?”
No wonder Jess liked the kid so much, he was a male version of her.
“Diner,” Kristan pushed. “For dinner. Burgers. French fries. Lots of ketchup. Then we can hit the arcade or a movie or something. Unless you want to stay here with the old people.”
“You do know I’m not afraid to hurt you, right? And don’t be out late,” Jess said with a mock glare, which merely elicited the usual eye-rolling-boredom-sigh universal among brats... er... children.
“Yes, mom.”
“I guess I can go.” Johnny looked at her and Jess shrugged.
“Your choice, kid.”
Unsure, Johnny stood, his book still firmly in hand.
“You’re bringing that tome with you to the restaurant? I can assure you I’m much more interesting than some crappy old book.”
“Hey!” Jess warned. “Watch your mouth when you speak of this book. It’s Lord of the Rings.”
“Your obsession with elves is really unhealthy.”
When Johnny simply stood there, dumbstruck, Kristan gave that put-upon sigh again, grabbed the book from his hand, and tossed it to Jess. “I’ll even introduce you to some hot full-human girls. They’re total sluts.”
“Kristan Jade!”
“Sorry, sorry.” Kristan grabbed Johnny’s hand and dragged him toward the front door. “See ya, Aunt Jess.”
Johnny looked back at her, and Jess couldn’t help but enjoy that particular look of fear on his face. No panic, no despair, just a deep abiding fear of what a perky She-dog might be up to. Definitely progress.
“Have fun,” Jess called after them before turning back to her laptop. Her Pack had whined—literally—when she said she should go into the office. So her compromise? She’d work from the couch. At least that way she could join in later for a little after-dinner fetch.
Jess had no idea how long she’d been working when her cell phone went off. Thinking it might be Johnny or Kristan, she immediately answered.
“This is Jess.”
“Hey.”
She frowned. “Hey... who is this?”“It’s Smitty?”
Jess’s eyes crossed. Still persistent as a pit bull. “How did you get my number?”
“Can’t really tell you that.”
“Oh!” she said with a huge amount of cheeriness. “Okay.”
She slammed the phone shut and tossed it onto another couch across the room. “Asshole.”
Smitty stared at the disconnection message on his phone in horror.
“She hung up on me.”
Ronnie patted his leg. “I’m sure she didn’t—”
“On me!”
Brendon Shaw burst out laughing. “You know, I never really paid much attention to Jessica Ward before. But I have to say... I’m starting to really like her.”
Punching her mate in the arm, Ronnie said, “Remember our many discussions about when to speak and when not to when it involved the Smith wolves? This is one of those not-speak times.”
Smitty looked at his sister comfortably resting on a leather love seat. Brendon Shaw’s apartment had big, comfortable furniture, and to the cat’s great annoyance, the wolves did love to come on over whenever it suited them and lounge.
“I’m Bobby Ray Smith,” Smitty said simply to his kin.
“You are,” Sissy agreed. “But apparently that don’t matter much to little Jessie Ann.”
“I know,” Shaw said, still laughing. “Let’s all go around the room and say what our names are. ’Cause that makes the difference.”
“Man, you are an asshole,” Smitty snarled, looking for a fight and maybe just finding it.
“Oooh. Those are mighty fightin’ words from a guy who just got shot down by a Rhodesian Ridgeback.”
Ronnie let out a sigh. “You never know when to shut up.”
Smitty stood. “Is there something you want to say to me, boy?”
“Not really.” Shaw stood. “Just like your little nongirlfriend there, I have absolutely nothing to say to you.”
And the last thing Smitty heard before he unleashed his claws and felt fangs bury into his neck was Ronnie Lee screaming at him, “Just not his face, Smitty!”
CHAPTER 4
“No.”
Smitty stared at the lion. “No what? I didn’t say anything. Did I, Mindy?”
Mace glanced at their executive assistant. “Don’t involve her.”
Mindy, a seriously hot cheetah hired by his sister, shook her head. “Do you two actually have time for this?”
“You’re not going,” Mace said again.
“Why would you want to?” Mindy asked, pulling folders out of her desk. “He’s going to pick up a check, not stop by a whorehouse.”
“He wants to see if Jessica Ward really has no interest in him.”
Mindy snorted. “That dog is loaded. No,” Mindy stated flatly, “she has no interest in you.”
Smitty put his hand to his chest. “Mindy, you don’t have to be jealous, darlin’. You know my heart belongs to you.”
“Which my wife greatly appreciates.”
“You’re not going,” Mace said again. “Jessica Ward can bring us some high-level clients. I don’t need you and your dick fucking it up.”
“Now, hoss, that just hurts.”
Mace’s eyes narrowed. “Look, hillbilly, you’re not going and that’s that.”
“Really? Well, with you gone, that means I can get on the phone, call sweet Dez, and tell her how much you love her and need her and how much you love her pot roast and how you really, in your heart of hearts, want a little housewife cooking and cleaning for you when you get home. A little housewife waiting. Just. For. You.”
“All right, fine! You can come.” Mace gritted his teeth. “You... bastard.”
He stormed out and Smitty sauntered after him.
“You are mean,” Mindy laughingly whispered.
“Just doin’ what I gotta do to make things happen, darlin’.”
Because he was determined to see Jessie Ann Ward again. And nothing, especially not a big, surly cat, would get in his way.
The Kuznetsov office building stood in the middle of Greenwich Village. A prime piece of real estate that would only go up in equity. They’d taken over an old multifloored warehouse and turned it into the coolest office in a twenty-block radius. Each floor managed or handled different parts of the business, but the top floor belonged to the Pack. Only those invited to the floor ever made it up there. The Pack simply couldn’t take the chance of a full-human seeing something they really shouldn’t see. So if you weren’t on the list at the front desk, you didn’t get in.
When their lunch arrived, Jess had no other option but to join in with her Pack and eat since they stood outside her office singing “Feelings” until she did. Cruel but effective. So while Phil played a computer game, May and Sabina surfed porn sites, and Danny zipped around the office on his skateboard by holding their dogs’ leashes and letting them run, Jess ate her tuna on rye and wrote e-mails on her laptop.
“Danny,” she said as Danny flew past her, “any word on the Bander account?”
“Weasel says it took him less than thirty minutes to get past their security. It was way too easy.”
“Bring Weasel in. I want to talk to him.” Weasel wasn’t an actual weasel but a full-human who could hack into damn near anything. Jess figured out long ago it was best to work with the same guys she wanted to keep out of the systems her company secured. Hackers didn’t usually ask for much—a couple of bucks, sometimes bottles of tequila or Jack Daniels, or computer equipment. And Jess had always gotten along better with the full-human geek males and females than the hoity-toity types whose money she took.