“You let her stay with your defenseless kin, but you won’t let her stay at your apartment?”
“Because she’s messy.”
“I’m not messy.”
“Oh, my God, Livy!”
“If you got a maid it wouldn’t be an issue.”
“I’m not getting a maid just so you can be a slob.”
“Fine. I’ll pay for one, you cheap heifer.”
“I’m not getting a maid!”
Realizing that these two were like sisters and sensing these weird little arguments of theirs could go on forever, Ricky decided he had to take action. Pulling out the cash he had stuffed in his front pocket, Ricky handed over a couple of twenties to Toni’s friend.
Livy stared at the money before asking, “I usually charge more for blow jobs.” She said it so flatly that it took Ricky a second to realize she was being sarcastic.
“You can take that up with your momma and the Lord, but I’ve given you cash for you to take a cab and go away.” He took the slip of paper with the family’s address off the desk and put it in Livy’s hand with the money. “Nothing personal, but I want Miss Toni focused directly on me so I can whine in peace, like a proper wolf. Can’t do it with an audience. My kind considers it a sign of weakness.”
Reece had eased up behind Livy and, once again on his knees, asked, “What does your kind consider weak?”
“Your face,” Livy shot back before she got to her feet, picking up her backpack and swinging it onto her shoulder, which caused it to slap into Reece’s head since he was in the process of standing to his full height. “See you later,” Livy told her friend, then walked out. There was no chatter about calling each other or what are you doing later or anything about going shopping. None of what Ricky’s daddy called “lady stuff.” Nope. She’d said “see you later” and walked out.
Ricky had to admit . . . he liked that in a female. He especially liked that Toni didn’t seem bothered by her friend’s abruptness.
“So,” Reece began as he started to sit in the chair Livy had just vacated.
“That ass,” Ricky warned, “better not hit that seat or your face will be hitting the floor.”
Reece stood back up. “You know, big brother, there are nicer ways to tell me to go.”
“But none of those will you actually listen to.”
Reece grunted and walked out.
Now that they were alone, Ricky looked at Toni.
“You’re pouting,” she noted.
“Because my entire Pack is pissing me off.”
“I thought the problem was your ex-girlfriend.”
“My ex-girlfriend is just a giant pain in my ass. But my Pack actually believing her . . . ? Their loyalty should be to me. Don’t you think?”
Toni leaned back in her chair, her brows pulling down into a fierce frown. “What are we doing?” she suddenly asked.
“Chattin’.”
“Are we friends now?”
“We’re not enemies.” He raised a brow. “Are we?”
“Don’t threaten me with your eyebrows.”
“I’m not. I’m interrogating you with my one raised eyebrow. If I was threatening you, I’d use both eyebrows. Like this.” He leaned forward and raised both brows while widening his eyes. When she burst out giggling, Ricky leaned back in his chair and said, “See the difference?”
No. Toni didn’t see the difference, but the fact that he had the balls to actually give her a demonstration of something so ridiculous did impress her. Other than Cooper and their dad, there wasn’t a lot of deliberate silliness among the Jean-Louis Parker clan. There was unintentional silliness, of course. How could there not be with Kyle and Troy around? But you’d never convince them of that.
“All right.” Toni finally sighed. “Go ahead and tell me about your—”
“Oh, good. You’re still here,” Cella said from the doorway. Dee-Ann was beside her, leaning against the doorjamb.
“Where else would I be?” Toni looked at her watch. “It’s not even two o’clock yet.”
“You could have left for the day.”
“I could have? Wait . . . am I only supposed to be working half-days or something?”
“I don’t know.” Cella waved her hand around, almost hitting Dee-Ann in the face. “Discussing your schedule is not why I’m here.”
“Okay.”
“You said you’d help me out, right?”
“Sure.”
“Great.” Cella walked into the office and tossed what appeared to be an itinerary on Toni’s desk. “This really helps. Thanks.”
“Wait.” Toni looked down at the paperwork, then at Cella Malone. “You want me to go to . . . to . . . ?”
“Yeah.”
“Why am I going to Russia?”
“I can’t go. I have to take care of something here. And you said you’d help.”
“I thought I’d help with non-coaching-related stuff. Or, I don’t know . . . organize your files or something.”
“This isn’t necessarily a coach thing. Besides, it’s about Novikov. You like Novikov.”
Exasperated, “What does that have to do with anything?”
“Actually, this is team travel-related, which is your job.”
“Yes, but—”
“So go over to Russia and get them to let the team in with Novikov but not in a cage. But remember, no Novikov, no game, and then we never get a chance at the title of best in the world.”
Ricky smirked. “Did you just make that title up, Cella Malone?”
“Shut up, Reed.”
Desperate, Toni asked, “But is it really that important that he goes?”
“He has to go,” Ricky piped up. “The team can’t win against the Russian teams without Novikov. There are mostly bears on the Russian teams.”
“I don’t care.” Toni stopped, took a breath. “I just don’t think it’s a good idea for me, a jackal, to go to a bear-populated area to argue for the rights of Bo Novikov.”
“It’s better you do it than me.”
“How is it better, Cella? You’re the team coach and you’re a Siberian tiger . . . so aren’t the Russians your people?”
“Not really. Siberian tigers in Russia are not fans of the Malones.”
“Is anyone fans of the Malones?” Dee-Ann asked.
“Shut up, hick.”
“But,” Toni pushed ahead, still desperate, “what am I supposed to do with Russian bears?”
“Do what you do.”
“What does that even mean?”
“Look, kid,” Cella said, sounding annoyingly exasperated, “you managed to control and calm down Bo ‘The Marauder’ Novikov without use of a stun gun or a tranquilizer dart. So if you can manage him . . . I think you can manage a couple of frickin’ bears.”
“Yes, but—”
“Just do it. God! Take some initiative. Woman up!”
“I just don’t think I’ll feel . . . safe. You know? Unsafe work situation or whatever.”
“She has a point,” Dee-Ann drawled. “Get her mauled by some damn Russian bears, Malone, and Ric will have your ass. She is considered family by the Van Holtzes.”
“You and I have other things to handle, Smith.”
“First off, don’t snarl at me, hell cat. And second, just get her some dang security.”
“I would send Bert . . . but he hates flying and he’s still in Alaska.”
“Lord, woman, don’t send a player with her,” Dee-Ann snapped. “Get someone actually trained in security.” And that’s when she pointed at Ricky. “He’ll do it.”
The wolf, who’d been staring off during most of this conversation, suddenly looked alert. “What?”