Big Bad Beast
Page 18
There is no second place except for loser grizzlies!
Lock roared, his grizzly hump growing under his practice uniform.
Cut it out! Ric ordered, expecting them to actually obey. Not only because as team owner he could fire them bothsomething hed most likely never dobut because he was also team captain.
That meant something!
Novikov, run drills. As it was something that the man did obsessively anyway, Ric knew it would be done without question. And, with a little snarl, the Marauder skated off to run his precious drills.
Why do you put up with him? Lock demanded once Novikov was at the other end of the ice.
Because hes one of the best players of all time, because we win, because
Blayne would hysterically sob if you traded his ass?
Ric couldnt lie to his best friend of twenty years. Yes.
Your weakness sickens me.
I know. But if Blayne Thorpe was miserable, shed cry about it to Gwenie, whod complain about it to you, and then youd make me hire Novikov back anyway. Locks grizzly hump quickly deflated. Youre right.
I know. But we can be weak together. Besides, even that Neanderthal cant ignore the pitiful tears of a wolfdog.
True.
Ric patted Locks shoulder. Do me a favor. Go run some drills with him until the team gets here.
Keep him busy and out of my hair.
Yeah. Sure.
Lock put on his helmet and gazed down the length of the ice as if Ric had just asked him to face an entire army of samurais completely alone.
While his friend skated into battle, Ric left the rink and went into the teams locker room.
Hey, Bert, he said to the black bear tying up his skates, and the only other player there.
Hey.
Ric walked past him and to Novikovs locker. He played with the new lock the hybrid had just purchased, opening this one as easily as hed opened the others. Once inside his locker, Ric proceeded to move around all his meticulously laid out items, including shampoo, soap, razor, bandages. He took his time, enjoying what he was doing as much as he enjoyed making a really good crme brle. Once he felt hed done enough, he closed up and engaged the lock.
Bert watched him until he was finished, then remarked, Youve got kind of a mean streak, Van Holtz.
Only a little one.
True. Bert got to his feet. You could have pissed in his locker instead and we both know he would have spent hours cleaning it up.
Dont tempt, Bert. Dont tempt.
Van buried his face in his hands and sighedloudly.
Hed come to loathe these meetings with the Board, the representatives of every major Pack, Pride, and Clan, as well as some reps for the non-social breeds. The meetings were long and tedious but he wasnt ready to step down from his position for no other reason than he didnt trust any of these people to do what had to be done. The grizzly and black bears with their philosophical debates. The polars with theirinability to take anything seriously. The lions with their blatant boredom. The tigers and leopards with their constant plotting. The foxes with their sticky fingers and the wild dogs with their patience-rendering goofiness. And then there were the wolves. His own kind. Even the damn boardroom table was merely another area for them to fight over territory. Hed become so fed up with the constant snarling and snapping that hed actually outlawed it during meetings. It was the only way to get through these things in a somewhat timely manner.
Is there anything else? he asked over the current argument. And what were they all arguing about? Where to hold the next Board meeting. The Magnus Pack was down for Arizona so they could attend a thousand-mile ride with a bunch of other lowlife bikers. The Lwes wanted to meet in Germany, probably for the multi-band rock concert that happened every year. The Llewellyns wanted to go to the French Riviera, and several of the grizzlies, polars, and a couple of tigers wanted to go to Siberiabecause that would be fun.
Yeah, Anne Hutton, a middle-aged tigress from Boston who made most of her money by laundering gangster cash, said. Whats going on with all that half-breed shit in New York? And why are we giving so much money to the Group? Your Group?
Its hybrid, you fucking idiot, said the always delicate Alpha Female of the Magnus Pack, Sara Morrighan. She reminded Van of a dog that had been kept in a cage twenty-four-seven for the first half of its life until someone had let it out in the backyard to go completely wild. Half-breed is rude.
Shut up, Fido, no ones talking to you, Hutton shot back.
Dont you have a hairball to cough up?
All right, Van cut in. Thats enough. He held his hand out and his assistant placed the file hed brought with him. And why were putting so much money toward this situation is simple. He pulled out the stack of photos and tossed them across the glossy table. Some glanced, but quickly looked away. Others leaned forward to take a longer look. Some didnt look at all.
There are so many, Morrighan whispered.
Too many. Van gestured to the photos. And we cant let this go on. Slinging her arm over the back of her chair, Hutton said what Ric was sure many of the others were thinking. Theyre mutts. Are we really going to go through all this effort for mutts? Van saw Morrighans left eye twitch the tiniest bit. The only sign shed show just before she went completely postal and attempted to kill everyone in the room. Holding his hand up to stop her, he said, They start with them, but theyll end with us. We protect all of us. You. Them. All of us. He grabbed one of the pictures: a lovely shot of a young female dog-tiger hybrid torn in half with her insides spread out across the dirt floor shed died on. This is Trisha Barnes. She worked full-time as a waitress in a diner and went to nursing school in the evening. One night she was snatched off the street and used as a bait dog for the screaming entertainment of a myriad of scumbags. He picked up another photo.
Lock roared, his grizzly hump growing under his practice uniform.
Cut it out! Ric ordered, expecting them to actually obey. Not only because as team owner he could fire them bothsomething hed most likely never dobut because he was also team captain.
That meant something!
Novikov, run drills. As it was something that the man did obsessively anyway, Ric knew it would be done without question. And, with a little snarl, the Marauder skated off to run his precious drills.
Why do you put up with him? Lock demanded once Novikov was at the other end of the ice.
Because hes one of the best players of all time, because we win, because
Blayne would hysterically sob if you traded his ass?
Ric couldnt lie to his best friend of twenty years. Yes.
Your weakness sickens me.
I know. But if Blayne Thorpe was miserable, shed cry about it to Gwenie, whod complain about it to you, and then youd make me hire Novikov back anyway. Locks grizzly hump quickly deflated. Youre right.
I know. But we can be weak together. Besides, even that Neanderthal cant ignore the pitiful tears of a wolfdog.
True.
Ric patted Locks shoulder. Do me a favor. Go run some drills with him until the team gets here.
Keep him busy and out of my hair.
Yeah. Sure.
Lock put on his helmet and gazed down the length of the ice as if Ric had just asked him to face an entire army of samurais completely alone.
While his friend skated into battle, Ric left the rink and went into the teams locker room.
Hey, Bert, he said to the black bear tying up his skates, and the only other player there.
Hey.
Ric walked past him and to Novikovs locker. He played with the new lock the hybrid had just purchased, opening this one as easily as hed opened the others. Once inside his locker, Ric proceeded to move around all his meticulously laid out items, including shampoo, soap, razor, bandages. He took his time, enjoying what he was doing as much as he enjoyed making a really good crme brle. Once he felt hed done enough, he closed up and engaged the lock.
Bert watched him until he was finished, then remarked, Youve got kind of a mean streak, Van Holtz.
Only a little one.
True. Bert got to his feet. You could have pissed in his locker instead and we both know he would have spent hours cleaning it up.
Dont tempt, Bert. Dont tempt.
Van buried his face in his hands and sighedloudly.
Hed come to loathe these meetings with the Board, the representatives of every major Pack, Pride, and Clan, as well as some reps for the non-social breeds. The meetings were long and tedious but he wasnt ready to step down from his position for no other reason than he didnt trust any of these people to do what had to be done. The grizzly and black bears with their philosophical debates. The polars with theirinability to take anything seriously. The lions with their blatant boredom. The tigers and leopards with their constant plotting. The foxes with their sticky fingers and the wild dogs with their patience-rendering goofiness. And then there were the wolves. His own kind. Even the damn boardroom table was merely another area for them to fight over territory. Hed become so fed up with the constant snarling and snapping that hed actually outlawed it during meetings. It was the only way to get through these things in a somewhat timely manner.
Is there anything else? he asked over the current argument. And what were they all arguing about? Where to hold the next Board meeting. The Magnus Pack was down for Arizona so they could attend a thousand-mile ride with a bunch of other lowlife bikers. The Lwes wanted to meet in Germany, probably for the multi-band rock concert that happened every year. The Llewellyns wanted to go to the French Riviera, and several of the grizzlies, polars, and a couple of tigers wanted to go to Siberiabecause that would be fun.
Yeah, Anne Hutton, a middle-aged tigress from Boston who made most of her money by laundering gangster cash, said. Whats going on with all that half-breed shit in New York? And why are we giving so much money to the Group? Your Group?
Its hybrid, you fucking idiot, said the always delicate Alpha Female of the Magnus Pack, Sara Morrighan. She reminded Van of a dog that had been kept in a cage twenty-four-seven for the first half of its life until someone had let it out in the backyard to go completely wild. Half-breed is rude.
Shut up, Fido, no ones talking to you, Hutton shot back.
Dont you have a hairball to cough up?
All right, Van cut in. Thats enough. He held his hand out and his assistant placed the file hed brought with him. And why were putting so much money toward this situation is simple. He pulled out the stack of photos and tossed them across the glossy table. Some glanced, but quickly looked away. Others leaned forward to take a longer look. Some didnt look at all.
There are so many, Morrighan whispered.
Too many. Van gestured to the photos. And we cant let this go on. Slinging her arm over the back of her chair, Hutton said what Ric was sure many of the others were thinking. Theyre mutts. Are we really going to go through all this effort for mutts? Van saw Morrighans left eye twitch the tiniest bit. The only sign shed show just before she went completely postal and attempted to kill everyone in the room. Holding his hand up to stop her, he said, They start with them, but theyll end with us. We protect all of us. You. Them. All of us. He grabbed one of the pictures: a lovely shot of a young female dog-tiger hybrid torn in half with her insides spread out across the dirt floor shed died on. This is Trisha Barnes. She worked full-time as a waitress in a diner and went to nursing school in the evening. One night she was snatched off the street and used as a bait dog for the screaming entertainment of a myriad of scumbags. He picked up another photo.
