Big Bad Beast
Page 22
Ric looked up, his eyes narrowing, fangs sliding from his gums. With one leap, he was over the kitchen island, ignoring his scrambling-away crew, and latching on to the arm of the wolf trying to slink in. He yanked him into the hallway and out the back door into the alley. With one shove, he sent the kid slamming into the opposite wall.
What the hell are you doing here, Stein?
Stein Van Holtz, one of Rics younger first cousins, winced and moved his shoulder around. No need to be so pushy.
Out, Ric ordered. Or Im sending my chief sommelier after you. Shes a sloth. Shell beat you to death with one of the wine bottles. Ric turned to walk back into his restaurant.
Wait!
Ric stopped, his hand on the alley door.
Please.
Ric glanced back at the kid. He didnt look good. He was too lean, looked too old. He wasnt getting enough food and his body was beginning to feed on itself.
I know how you feel about me, Stein said. I know how all of you feel about me. And . . . and youre right, too. I fucked up. I know. He scratched his forehead, struggling to find the right words. I just need you to give me one more chance, Ricky. I hate that I have to ask. I hate that I have to beg, but I need
What? Ric demanded, facing him. Money? How much do you owe this time? Stein winced. I dont want money. He stopped, shook his head. Thats a lie. I do want money.
Of course.
But I want to work for it. Im not asking for a handout.
You expect me to trust you in my kitchen again? After last time?
I have no excuse for what I did last time. I know that. Stein looked down at his feet. He wore Keds. Worn ones that seemed to be holding on by a few threads. His T-shirt and jeans didnt look much better, and the denim jacket would be too small for him if he were his proper weight. This definitely wasnt the cocky con artist who had sold spare equipment and expensive cuts of meat and seafood out of the back of Rics kitchen for three months. Right under Rics nose, too. And, because of that, Ric had felt certain hed lose his kitchen to one of his other relatives. Losing ones kitchen was the worst thing that could happen to a Van Holtz wolf, but Uncle Van had stepped in and overruled Rics father.
A decision that, three years later, Alder had still not forgiven Van or Ric for. But dealing with Stein had been left up to Alder and hed gone even farther with the twenty-year-old-kidhed forced him out of the Pack. And the kid had walked off without once looking back, his middle finger raised high in the air, heading right for Atlantic City, and based on the look of him, even more trouble.
Back then, Ric hadwanted to stop Stein. Hed wanted to explain that a wolf needed his Pack, but Alder wasnt having that either. Because once Alder made up his mind, that was, tragically, the end of it.
As for Ric, there were few things he would not forgive, but making him look bad in front of his father was incredibly high on the list. So he had no intention of forgiving Stein now or ever.
But still . . . the kid looked like hell. Ratty clothes, dirty hair, and he kept pressing his left forearm into his side.
Ric stepped forward and Stein immediately backed away, eyes down, head dipping low. If he were wolf, his tail would be tucked between his legs, and hed be pissing himself. Definitely not the kid Ric had known.
Once Ric backed Stein up against the alley wall, he took hold of the kids T-shirt and lifted. Stein immediately pulled away from him, eyes still down, but Ric had seen enough.
Catching him by the neck, Ric dragged Stein back into his restaurant.
Dee-Ann circled around to the back of the Queens house. She kept low, and stayed down wind.
She peeked around the corner, but saw no one in the backyard. She hated dealing with hyenas but it seemed the most logical place to start. At least one of the properties that had hosted a hybrid fight belonged to the Allan Clan, although theyd buried the fact that they owned that property under many layers. Why they would bury that information was what Dee wanted to know.
True, she could ask that question directly of the matriarch of the Allan Clan, but after what had happened earlier in the day it was decided that wouldnt be a good idea.
If we want them beaten up and terrorized, Smith, well call you, Malone had snapped at one point, after theyd left a cheetah sobbing in the middle of Public Records.
All right, so maybe Ric was right. Her strengths lay in other areas. At least she had a supervisor who understood that and appreciated the skills she did have.
The Allan Clan territory was a simple place. Nothing remotely fancy, although large enough for a Clan of its modest size. The backyard was spacious enough and had its own swing set. There was also a detached garage, locked. Dee got the lock open and eased inside. It seemed the Clan had a healthy taste for really nice cars, but still . . . nothing that suggested they were rolling in money covered in the blood of hybrids.
Not finding anything that she could yell out a-ha! over, she slipped outside, barely ducking in time to avoid the baseball bat aimed for her head.
Snarling, she looked up into the faces of two male hyenas. The one with the bat was pulling back for another swing, while the other one had a small blade, lashing out with it and slicing across Dees arm.
She felt the first trickle of blood slide down her forearm and, Dee would admit later, thats when she got a little ornery.
What the hell are you doing here, Stein?
Stein Van Holtz, one of Rics younger first cousins, winced and moved his shoulder around. No need to be so pushy.
Out, Ric ordered. Or Im sending my chief sommelier after you. Shes a sloth. Shell beat you to death with one of the wine bottles. Ric turned to walk back into his restaurant.
Wait!
Ric stopped, his hand on the alley door.
Please.
Ric glanced back at the kid. He didnt look good. He was too lean, looked too old. He wasnt getting enough food and his body was beginning to feed on itself.
I know how you feel about me, Stein said. I know how all of you feel about me. And . . . and youre right, too. I fucked up. I know. He scratched his forehead, struggling to find the right words. I just need you to give me one more chance, Ricky. I hate that I have to ask. I hate that I have to beg, but I need
What? Ric demanded, facing him. Money? How much do you owe this time? Stein winced. I dont want money. He stopped, shook his head. Thats a lie. I do want money.
Of course.
But I want to work for it. Im not asking for a handout.
You expect me to trust you in my kitchen again? After last time?
I have no excuse for what I did last time. I know that. Stein looked down at his feet. He wore Keds. Worn ones that seemed to be holding on by a few threads. His T-shirt and jeans didnt look much better, and the denim jacket would be too small for him if he were his proper weight. This definitely wasnt the cocky con artist who had sold spare equipment and expensive cuts of meat and seafood out of the back of Rics kitchen for three months. Right under Rics nose, too. And, because of that, Ric had felt certain hed lose his kitchen to one of his other relatives. Losing ones kitchen was the worst thing that could happen to a Van Holtz wolf, but Uncle Van had stepped in and overruled Rics father.
A decision that, three years later, Alder had still not forgiven Van or Ric for. But dealing with Stein had been left up to Alder and hed gone even farther with the twenty-year-old-kidhed forced him out of the Pack. And the kid had walked off without once looking back, his middle finger raised high in the air, heading right for Atlantic City, and based on the look of him, even more trouble.
Back then, Ric hadwanted to stop Stein. Hed wanted to explain that a wolf needed his Pack, but Alder wasnt having that either. Because once Alder made up his mind, that was, tragically, the end of it.
As for Ric, there were few things he would not forgive, but making him look bad in front of his father was incredibly high on the list. So he had no intention of forgiving Stein now or ever.
But still . . . the kid looked like hell. Ratty clothes, dirty hair, and he kept pressing his left forearm into his side.
Ric stepped forward and Stein immediately backed away, eyes down, head dipping low. If he were wolf, his tail would be tucked between his legs, and hed be pissing himself. Definitely not the kid Ric had known.
Once Ric backed Stein up against the alley wall, he took hold of the kids T-shirt and lifted. Stein immediately pulled away from him, eyes still down, but Ric had seen enough.
Catching him by the neck, Ric dragged Stein back into his restaurant.
Dee-Ann circled around to the back of the Queens house. She kept low, and stayed down wind.
She peeked around the corner, but saw no one in the backyard. She hated dealing with hyenas but it seemed the most logical place to start. At least one of the properties that had hosted a hybrid fight belonged to the Allan Clan, although theyd buried the fact that they owned that property under many layers. Why they would bury that information was what Dee wanted to know.
True, she could ask that question directly of the matriarch of the Allan Clan, but after what had happened earlier in the day it was decided that wouldnt be a good idea.
If we want them beaten up and terrorized, Smith, well call you, Malone had snapped at one point, after theyd left a cheetah sobbing in the middle of Public Records.
All right, so maybe Ric was right. Her strengths lay in other areas. At least she had a supervisor who understood that and appreciated the skills she did have.
The Allan Clan territory was a simple place. Nothing remotely fancy, although large enough for a Clan of its modest size. The backyard was spacious enough and had its own swing set. There was also a detached garage, locked. Dee got the lock open and eased inside. It seemed the Clan had a healthy taste for really nice cars, but still . . . nothing that suggested they were rolling in money covered in the blood of hybrids.
Not finding anything that she could yell out a-ha! over, she slipped outside, barely ducking in time to avoid the baseball bat aimed for her head.
Snarling, she looked up into the faces of two male hyenas. The one with the bat was pulling back for another swing, while the other one had a small blade, lashing out with it and slicing across Dees arm.
She felt the first trickle of blood slide down her forearm and, Dee would admit later, thats when she got a little ornery.
