Dee stormed away from them and the beauty faced Rory. He grinned. “How you doin’, darlin’?”
“I come to Manhattan and yet the hillbillies still manage to find me,” she announced to the air.
God, she was so mean. He loved mean.
“And get that look out of your eye, redneck. I’m taken.”
Man, but was she taken. The scent of the cat who’d claimed her covered her from freshly done hair to freshly painted toes. It was like the feline had rubbed himself all over her before he’d let her out the door.
“You don’t think I’m afraid of a little ol’ cat, do ya?” Rory asked.
She smiled and Rory felt his nuts tighten. “Actually, sport,” she leaned in and finished on a whisper, “you should probably be more afraid of me.”
She winked and stepped away from him. Rory was ready to fight the cat to the death for this woman when his best friend of the last thirty-five years walked out of the dressing room. Stunned, he stepped back.
“God, Dee-Ann.”
“That bad?”
He shook his head but the beauty answered, “No. I think it’s that good. See what a few extra dollars will buy you?” She nodded, clearly appreciating her own skill. “You look much less frightening. My God, I’m good.” She looked Dee over, but stopped at her head. “You’ll have to do something about that mop on your head, though.” Dee snarled and the woman laughed at her. “Don’t bare your fangs at me, hillbilly.” She took a card out of her tiny handbag. “Here. Call this salon, tell them Angelina sent you. They’ll take care of you.”
She glanced at the diamond-studded watch on her wrist. “Must fly. I have to go to this stupid charity auction tonight.”
Rory pointed at Dee. “Dee’s probably going to the same thing.”
“Then I’m glad I helped, otherwise I would have been forced to mock her relentlessly if she’d worn that other dress. Oh.” She pointed at Rory. “Pick out some shoes you think are sexy. Something with a heel.”
“A heel?” Dee yelped.
“Thankfully, the dress is long enough to cover up the actual size of those feet, but I’m sure your boyfriend will like them.”
She walked off. “Nice meeting you both.”
“Hot,” Rory sighed, watching the woman’s ass sashay away from him. “So very fuckin’ hot.”
Without a word, Dee headed back to her dressing room.
“Where are you going, Dee?”
“Going to change so I can beat the fuck out of you without worrying about getting blood on this overpriced dress!”
“But,” Rory complained, “I haven’t picked out the shoes yet!”
Ric pulled out his tux, shoes, shirt, and tie in preparation for that evening’s dance. Normally he limited his attendance to this sort of thing. He didn’t mind giving money or volunteering to help on a grassroots level, but dressing up in a tux and mingling with the rich and powerful was not something he enjoyed doing very often. But he’d attend this event at his uncle’s request as a representative of the Van Holtz family and also because he’d need a good alibi. Because tonight was the night that the Group would deal with Matilda Llewellyn and the betrayal of her kind.
It should be something that Ric or one of the other supervisors handled themselves, but his uncle had taken it and Ric was just fine with that. Because Matilda Llewellyn was top of the food chain politically and had been around for a very long time, Van didn’t want any of those involved in this to also be involved in her death. Prides could be very fussy about that sort of thing.
Besides Matilda would not be easy to take down, no matter her age. So Ric would do what his cousin told him to do and go to a charity dance. It shouldn’t be too bad, though. Lock and Gwen were going to attend and, more importantly, so would Dee. It would be their first time out as an official couple and he couldn’t wait to show her off.
“Hey.”
Smiling, he stood and faced the woman he’d just been thinking about. “Hey.” Ric blinked. “Did you do something to your hair?”
She shrugged, appearing completely distraught. “They tried, but apparently my hair is too unruly and they didn’t know how to hide the damage to my ear from when Teacup shot me. Eventually the hairstylist just said, and I’m quoting here, ‘Fuck it.’ That’s what she said. About my hair. ‘Fuck it.’ ”
“I hope you didn’t tip her.”
“After what I paid for this goddamn dress, you’re damn right I didn’t tip her.”
“You bought a dress?”
She dropped the shopping bags she had in her hands. “What do you think I have in here?”
“I never thought it would be a dress.”
“I don’t want you embarrassed when you have to go to these things.”
“I wouldn’t be. No matter what you were wearing.”
“You say that now—”
“Dee-Ann, I don’t care if you come in your jeans and boots . . . as long as you’re comfortable and happy.”
She grunted at him, which was kind of new. She’d grunted at others, but never him.
“Whatever you do, don’t get used to it,” she went on. “It’s too expensive, the sales people hate me, and apparently I have freakishly large shoulders that can’t be fitted correctly in clothes so strangers feel the need to come up and give me fashion advice. I never wanna go through this again!”
Ric rushed to her side and placed his hands on her shoulders. “Never again. I promise. Let’s do this thing tonight to appease my cousin and then that’s it.”
“Will we have to get married?”
Sensing an oncoming panic attack because that question had come out of left field, Ric calmly told her, “That’s a decision we can make ourselves at another time.”
“Rory Reed says we’ll have to get married because all Van Holtzes get married, but marriages are just a waste of money. Especially for wolves.”
Damn that Rory Reed!
“First off, you’ll never have to worry about money again.” And when her eyes narrowed to angry slits, he quickly added, “Not because you’ll be living off me but because you already have so much of your own money and your career has nowhere to go but up!”
Her eyes un-narrowed a bit. Nicely handled, Van Holtz. Nicely handled.
“And, when we get this whole thing with Matilda Llewellyn resolved and everything has calmed down, we’ll discuss what we want to do and what we don’t. But not tonight and not right now.”
She let out a breath. “Okay.”
“You sure?”
“Yeah. I’m sure.”
He pulled her into his arms and hugged her. “We’re in this together, Dee. Don’t ever forget that.”
“I won’t,” she whispered, hugging him back.
“I’m sorry, Ulrich,” Mrs. M. said from behind them.
“It’s all right, Mrs. M.” He kissed Dee’s neck before stepping away from her. “What is it?”
Mrs. M. frowned a bit. “Your mother’s here to see you.”
Not exactly what he was ready to hear, but probably for the best. He’d have to see her sometime. But before he could get good and worried about it, Dee slipped her hand into his. “Come on.” She smiled at him. “It’s time I got a proper introduction to your momma.”
Dee immediately saw where Ric got his looks from, even with the tears streaming down his mother’s face and her eyes blue instead of brown. He was clearly his mother’s son and in more ways than one, considering how upset she was.
“I’m so sorry, son. I’m so, so sorry.”
“You didn’t do anything wrong,” Ric told her, hugging his mother tight.
Maybe not, but the She-wolf hadn’t actually protected him either.
Of course, Dee tried hard not to judge other She-wolves. The Lewis and Smith Pack females were tough mothers, never letting their pups get away with anything. But they were also well-known as notoriously dangerous females when it came to protecting their pups, hunting down anyone who got too close or harmed their pups even slightly. And if you harmed their pups more than slightly? You’d be lucky if anyone found pieces of you, much less whole parts.