Startled into action, Ronnie darted into her hotel room and made a beeline to the shower, ignoring the pile of Christmas presents waiting for her and tearing off her clothes as she went.
One thing for Bobby Ray to notice such a thing, but if her fellow She-wolves smelled a big, arrogant, delicious lion all over her, they’d never let her live it down.
Brendon’s twin sister opened her front door, her eyes going wide at the sight of him.
“What in holy hell—”
“Don’t ask.” He pushed past her and walked into her apartment.
“Don’t ask? How can I not ask?”
Dropping facedown on his sister’s couch, Brendon said, “I don’t want to talk about it.”
“I guess not.” He could hear her settle in her favorite king chair, her feet on the ottoman in front of it. “After getting your ass kicked like this.”
Brendon’s head snapped up and he glared. “I did not get my ass kicked. I got ambushed. And they had guns.”
She frowned. “Hyenas or wolves?”
Brendon grabbed a pillow, resting his head on it. He did love his sister’s furniture. They had the same taste when it came to their comfort. “Not in this lifetime. There’s no hyena or wolf alive that can do this to me. No, it was lions.”
“Lions? Lions had guns? Are you sure?”
“I was sure when they had the barrel pointed at the back of my head.” His sister fell deadly silent, and Brendon looked up again to see the rage on her face. Crap. He didn’t mean to get her this pissed off. Once pissed off, it was hard to rein his twin in. “Rissa, calm down.”
“Calm down?” She stood up. “I wanna know who did this to you. I wanna know right now.” Then Marissa Shaw let loose with a litany of curses that reminded Brendon that although his family swam in money now, it hadn’t been long ago when he and his sister ran the streets of Philly causing more problems then seemed right considering their age at the time. It took a lot of work to get to this point. A lot of work to change the Shaw name from lower level lions to prime breeders.
Brendon sat up, but before he could say anything, his sister slapped her hand against his forehead.
“Ow.”
“Do you still have the fever? Christ, when did this happen?”
“Christmas Eve, and I already went through the fever.”
“Christmas Eve?”
“Okay, you really need to stop repeating everything I say. It’s getting on my nerves.”
“It’s the twenty-sixth. Where the fuck have you been for—”
Brendon put his hand over his sister’s mouth. “If you’ll shut up for two seconds, I’ll tell you.” He hadn’t wanted to talk about it, but now he had no choice. It was either that or listen to the rants of a crazy lioness.
She sat on the coffee table in front of Brendon. “Start talking.”
A long hot shower turned out to be exactly what Ronnie Lee needed to calm her nerves and her worries. As she brushed her teeth and combed out her wet hair, she realized her time with Brendon Shaw had only been a fluke. A momentary loss of sanity. No matter where Sissy and she may have traveled over the years, they always made it home for the Thanksgiving and Christmas holidays. This turned out to be the first year she’d ever spent a holiday away from her kin or her Pack.
Lonely. She felt lonely. That’s all. But in a few more days it would be New Year’s Eve. She’d hang out with her Pack at some swank party in the hotel, get ridiculously liquored up, and this shitty holiday would be long behind her.
So, as of this moment, she would stop feeling sorry for herself and forget this particular, cat-related incident ever happened.
Giving herself a brief nod in the mirror, she headed back out to the bedroom and her open suitcase. She dug through the pile of clothes until she found a worn pair of baggy cotton shorts and a loose T-shirt. She pulled them on, shook her wet hair out, and headed toward the door.
With keycard in hand, she walked across the hallway and knocked on the opposite door. In less than a minute it opened and Sissy Mae Smith grinned at her friend. “Well, hey, darlin’. How did last night—ow!”
Ronnie twisted Sissy’s nose until her friend bent to the side, then she slapped her hand off, hitting Sissy’s nose in the process.
Turning on her heel she stalked back to her hotel room. And as she slammed the door she could hear Sissy’s laughing response, “I knew you’d like him!”
“And that’s the whole story,” Brendon finished.
For several long moments his sister stared at him, and then she said, “You let a dog take you to Long Island?”
Brendon’s head dropped forward. “That’s all you have to say?”
“What else is there to say? Other than I thought you had better sense than that.”
“What about Mitch?”
“What about him? He’s a scumbag. I keep telling you that and you keep ignoring me.”
“Our baby brother may be in trouble. How can you not care?”
“Like this.” Marissa stood up and started to walk away. Brendon grabbed her arm.
“He’s our kid brother, Rissa. We protect him like we protect each other.”
“He’s a thief and a liar and hangs around degenerates. He’s not our problem. Now do you want a soda or not?”
“Not.”
“Fine.” She pulled her arm away and went to the kitchen, returning with a Sprite. “You want something to eat?”
“No.”
“If you’re saying no because you’re pouting, you might as well give it up because your hunger will win out. It always wins out.”
Dammit. She was right. Brendon felt starved for food, like he hadn’t eaten in months rather than a day or so.
“Fine. I’ll eat. But I still think you’re being cold about all this.”
Marissa made an impatient noise from the kitchen. “Why? Because I’m not crying and panicking over Mitch?”
Brendon followed her in. “Yes.”
“It’s called tough love. You should look into it.”
“No. It’s called cutting yourself off from your baby brother.”
“The kid’s a fuckup. He’s always been a fuckup. It’s not going to change.”
“He’s still our brother.”
“Tragically.”
Brendon shook his head. “Give it up, sis. I think you care but you don’t want me to know about it.”
“I care for few things in this world. You are lucky to be one of those few, but I can only stretch myself so far.”
Sitting down at her kitchen table, Brendon glanced out the big picture window that had an astounding view of the Manhattan skyline. Rissa’s apartment took up the entire top floor, but she owned the building. It still amazed Brendon when he thought about where they came from, their lives in Philly. The two of them getting into situations they probably should have done some jail time for. At least some community service. They didn’t talk about those days anymore. Some days it seemed Rissa liked to pretend those times never happened. That she and Brendon were somehow different from Mitch. They were different. They were lucky.
“I’m not giving up on him.”
“Whoop-de-fucking-do for you.” She slammed a plate full of her homemade lasagna in front of him. “Here. I made this last night. Should keep you until I finish making the ribs I have in the frig.”
“Thanks.” Picking up his fork, Brendon started inhaling—he wouldn’t say he actually ate in the dictionary sense of the word—the delicious food. So focused on his food, it took him a moment to realize he’d felt his sister’s lips kiss the top of his head.
Looking up from his meal, “What was that for?”