“Good God,” the cat sneered. “Russia hasn’t been called the Soviet Union since they disbanded in the nineties.”
“Well when they keep changing their name how am I supposed to keep track?” Ricky shot back. “I’m an American! Our country has only had one name!”
Toni rubbed her eyes. “I have to go.”
“You okay?” the wolf asked her softly while simultaneously giving the cat the finger.
“I’m fine,” she lied. “Today’s going to be great. You’ll see.”
“Okay.”
She forced a smile and walked to the limo. “You going to open the door for me?” she asked the cat.
“Just get in the damn car, canine.”
“Bastard,” she muttered before getting in the limo and answering her new phone.
Ricky walked into the Llewellyn Security offices and barely ducked a fist to the face.
“Bastard!”
Laughing, Ricky backed away from his irate baby brother. “Mornin’ to you, too, hoss.”
“You left me alone with them,” Reece accused. “You left me alone with She-wolves who were worried about you. Who spent the entire time talking about you and that girl you fucked ten thousand years ago. And I, big brother, was trapped in a cage—and unable to get away!”
Mindy, the cheetah receptionist, giggled but quickly turned away when Reece glared at her.
“I’m sorry,” Ricky said, and he really meant it. “I’m sorry. I panicked, and I ran. Just like Daddy taught us.”
“Don’t blame our dear, sweet daddy for this.”
“He always said, when you hear the click of a gun, the growl of a momma bear, or the concern of a She-wolf . . . you run. You run like the Devil himself is on your ass. And that’s what I did. And you would have done the same.”
“You’re still a bastard.”
“I know. But I also know you understand.”
Ricky patted his brother on the shoulder and headed to his office. He stepped inside, ready to get to work, when a voice from the corner of the room stopped him cold.
“Hey, big brother.”
Hearing his sister’s voice, Ricky headed right back to the door, but Reece was there, grinning, as he yanked the door closed. Grabbing wildly for the doorknob, Ricky desperately pulled on it, but a strong hand gripped his shoulder and dragged him over to a chair, shoving him into it.
Sissy Mae Smith, younger sister of Bobby Ray Smith, stroked his cheek. “You poor, poor thing. How hard this must be for you.”
Ricky glowered at the Alpha Female of his Pack because he was aware that while his sister was honestly concerned, Sissy Mae knew better. But like many of the Smith She-wolves, she was a vicious little instigator. He’d never known anyone who loved tormenting a body more than Sissy Mae Smith . . . except maybe her momma or that lion Sissy Mae was mated to.
“You can’t avoid this,” Ronnie Lee said, stepping forward. Only a few weeks pregnant, she wasn’t even showing, but her emotions had been a nightmare of love and concern since she’d conceived. Ricky knew this wouldn’t last once the pup was born, but the thought of putting up with “concerned Ronnie” as Rory called her, was beginning to make Ricky Lee panic.
He loved his sister, couldn’t wait to meet his nephew, but he wanted the baby sister who, when a few years ago he was kind of sad about breaking up with some girl he couldn’t even remember now, told him, “Get the fuck over it, Ricky Lee. She’s probably already fucking somebody else by now.”
Lord, he wanted that Ronnie Lee back! Not this one who was stroking his head like he was a wounded dog she’d found on the side of a busy highway and needed to rush to a vet to have his leg removed.
“I know this is hard, Ricky Lee. I know how you felt about Laura Jane.”
“You mean when I was eighteen? And lived by my dick?”
“It’s all right. We’re here for you.”
Then his sister was hugging him. Ronnie Lee was hugging him.
Someone kill me now.
“They want what?”
Toni looked at the notes she’d barely managed to scribble as the interpreter for the Russian coach had rattled off the Siberian shifter team’s demands for the international game. She read the demands out loud again, stopping when Cella Malone said, “That one.”
Her long legs up on the table, her long black hair streaked with white and orange-red strands, Cella Malone crossed her arms over her chest and took in a deep breath before asking, “They want Novikov in a cage?”
“Yes. Um . . . before and after the game, and during, uh, half-time.”
“And you agreed to that?”
“No.”
“What did you agree to?”
Toni, getting the feeling she’d screwed up, admitted, “Nothing.”
“Did you negotiate?”
“No.”
“Why not?”
Toni glanced around at the table full of people and said, “Didn’t know I was supposed to.”
“Did you at least say no?”
“No.”
“Then Yuri”—the Moscow coach—“thinks you agreed.”
“But I didn’t agree.”
“But you didn’t say you didn’t agree.”
“But I didn’t say I agreed, either.”
“Yuri won’t care. As far as he’s concerned, we’ll be putting Novikov into a cage. Not that I blame the man. It’s been a few years, but that poor bear is still recovering from what Novikov did to him. But Novikov isn’t going into a cage. And we’re not playing the Siberian team without him, because I don’t like to lose. And playing against a team made up of polars, tigers, and a couple of foxes is what nightmares are made of.” Cella sighed and shook her head. “I’ll call Yuri myself.”
“No, no.” Toni shook her head and fought her desire to shift to jackal and start chewing on the furniture out of anxiety. “I can deal with it.”
“Yeah,” one of the department heads cut in. “You did such a great job already with Novikov in a cage and everything.”
Toni glared across the table at a fellow canine, a red fox, but she bit back her automatic, Kyle-like response.
“I’m sure,” Toni tried to insist to Cella, “that I can handle this. I just need you to—”
“Could you guys get out?” Cella asked everyone else.
The other department heads quickly left, leaving Toni alone with the big She-cat. She was really a stunning beauty, but Toni couldn’t ignore those knuckles of hers. They were bloody and torn, like she’d just been in a fight. And everyone knew about the Malones. A tiger family of one-time Irish Travelers who had a very tough reputation among shifters. So Toni really didn’t want to get on the wrong side of this woman.
“Look, kid,” Cella began. “I know you’re new to this, but you need to step it up. I’ve got a lot going on,” she complained, rubbing her forehead. “And a killer headache. I mean you did a great job with Novikov and with Bert. Better than anyone else. Plus you got Ric Van Holtz’s stamp of approval. All of these are good things. But don’t think for a minute that your connection with Van Holtz is going to protect you. You don’t get this job right . . . I’m firing your ass and Van Holtz isn’t going to override my decision. So step up your game.”
Toni nodded. “Yes. Of course.”
“And, sweetie . . . what are you wearing?”
Toni glanced down at her mother’s suit. “A business suit.”
“Why? Are you selling insurance?”
“Well . . . I . . .”
“The bottom line is . . . you look uncomfortable. And uncomfortable to shifters means weakness. You don’t want these guys thinking you’re weak. They will stomp all over you. So grow a backbone, wear something you’re actually comfortable in, and I’ll handle Yuri for now. Okay?”