“Whatever. Blayne get your phone and keep it handy this time.” Dez kissed their son’s forehead. “Now come on, Captain Ego.” Dez moved toward the door. “I better get over there before Dee-Ann starts killing everyone in a thirty-mile radius.”
She had a point, but really, all Mace could think about was the ending to this evening. Because once the evening was over—so was his agonizing over what had to be done tonight.
After checking into that overpriced flea trap in the middle of this horrid city, Eggie Smith had left his mate in the hands of his niece Sissy Mae and that idiot lion of hers. Although the boy could play ball, so that made up for a lot of his worst attributes and made it worth feeding him.
Once he’d done that, Eggie stole a car from outside a bar and drove over to one of the Llewellyn Pride’s homes right outside Greenwich, Connecticut.
Parking a healthy distance from the property, Eggie made his way to the lion territory, moving as quick and quiet as his old bones would let him. He found a good place to take up position, managing to get himself safely ensconced among the leaves and branches of a large oak right outside the Pride house. He checked the distance with his scope and, satisfied he had a good eye line to his target, he opened the backpack he’d brought with him and quickly put together his rifle. Once he’d done that, he sat and waited for it to get dark. These long summer days made this sort of thing take much longer than usual. But it would only be a little bit longer and Eggie could wait.
While he sat and waited, he worried about his daughter. Worried she’d made a mistake choosing that damn Van Holtz, but Darla had been real adamant about letting Dee make this decision on her own.
“Lord, Eggie. She’s grown. You can’t make these decisions for her anymore.” As if he’d made any decisions for Dee-Ann Smith once she’d grown out of her diapers. That little girl always had her own way of doing things and none of that had changed. He doubted it ever would. And as long as this Van Holtz fella understood that, Eggie would have no problems with him. But if he ever lost sight of that . . .
Eggie saw some activity inside the house and he raised his weapon so he could use the scope to get a better look. The target was on her phone and, because it was always a good idea to keep up on the skills the government had been so keen to teach him, he entertained himself by reading her lips. And Lord, but could that woman complain. Even the air seemed to annoy her. Typical cat. Pouncing on dust balls and biting at lint.
Then the tone of the She-lion’s conversation changed. She was talking to someone else and Eggie could feel his fangs slip out of his gums because the female managed to go farther—or maybe it was lower—than any of them had given her credit for. She was willing to cross a line that even Eggie would never cross. Not in this lifetime.
Lowering his weapon, Eggie took apart the rifle and put it back into his bag. He dug out the holster with his sidearm and attached it to the waistband of his jeans. He headed down the tree and ran toward the She-lion’s home, moving quickly before it was too late.
Ric stood outside one of the Kingston Arms Hotel’s luxurious ballrooms and patiently waited for Lock and Gwen to arrive. He’d admit he was nervous. Word of his relationship with Dee was spreading through the shifter community like wildfire. He didn’t mind but he wanted to be the one to shock Lachlan MacRyrie into pure bafflement. It was fun!
Of course, he’d been planning to be standing here with Dee-Ann at his side, but she’d told him to go on without her and he had. It wasn’t that he intended to regularly torture her with these kinds of events, but tonight was different. Tonight was the night that Matilda Llewellyn would meet her end for the crimes she’d committed against her own kind. To limit backlash, not only among the shifter community but any full-human legal entities as well, those who might normally be suspected of the crime would be making an appearance at this event. Including, but not limited to, Mace Llewellyn and his sisters, Dee-Ann, Cella Malone, Dez MacDermot-Llewellyn, and Ric.
Although dealing with Matilda probably wouldn’t stop the hybrid fights completely, it would definitely put a dent in their well-funded and well-oiled fighting machine. Things like that needed money to survive and those who weren’t making money often walked away to find other illegal activities that would. Not that any of that made Ric feel better, but he could only help one disenfranchised group at a time.
Eventually Lock walked up to the ballroom with his arm around Gwen’s waist.
“You look gorgeous,” Ric told her, leaning down to kiss her cheek.
“Thanks. Although, I gotta admit. I hate this shit.”
“I know. But I appreciate you being here. You can be my alibi.”
“Because that’s always fun,” Lock told him. “So how did it go with Van?”
“Great. Until he found out I’d marked Dee. Then he went a little hysterical.”
The pair gawked at him, eyes wide and mouths open. Then Gwen laughed. “Holy shit, Ric, you actually pulled it off.”
“You and . . .” Lock shook his head. “She didn’t mind?”
“Lock!” Gwen squeaked.
“No,” Ric told him with a smile. “She didn’t mind.”
“And what about her father?”
“After this gets done, we’ll head down to Tennessee and tell him together.”
“Do you really think her presence will stop that man from killing you?”
Ric admitted, “I’m hoping.”
“Tell me,” Dee pushed. “Do I look stupid?”
“No.” And Malone seemed kind of surprised by that. “You look great.”
Dee again fussed with the deep blue, full-length gown with swaths of material that wrapped around her shoulders. It wasn’t really sleeveless, which wouldn’t work for her upper-body type, but it didn’t really have sleeves either.
“Honestly, you look great,” Desiree told her again.
Dee turned back to the mirror. If they really thought so . . . “You don’t think he’ll want this sort of thing too often, do you?” she asked Malone and Desiree. Because the damn dress alone had cost as much as the casket Dee knew she’d one day be buried in.
“Doubt it.” Desiree took another sip of the coffee she’d brought with her. “He’s usually too busy for these charity things. He mostly just gives money and makes his excuses.”
Thank the Lord for some small favors.
“Let’s get out of here so we can get this over with,” Malone said, picking up her purse.
Dee grabbed a few extra clips from the top drawer where she now kept her underwear and dropped them into her purse. She already had her .45 holstered to one thigh under her dress and her bowie knife holstered to the other thigh. The fact that she could easily hide weapons under this dress did make it more tolerable that she’d been forced to spend so much money on it.
“Do you think you have enough ammo?” Malone asked her.
Dee shrugged. “A girl can never be too prepared.”
“What are you doing here, Mitch?” Gwen demanded, and Ric quickly faced the cats in the extremely juvenile hope that he’d get to see his best friend toss the lion male around before he had to go inside the ballroom and deal with all that boring politeness the richer shifters insisted upon. “You better not start anything,” Gwen warned.
“This isn’t about you, O’ Narcissistic One.”
Ric glanced at Lock. “House. Stone. Glass. Throwing.”
Lock chuckled and Mitch Shaw pointed at Ric. “I’m here for the puppy.”
“Why? To perhaps thank me for the wonderful weekend I provided you?”
“Hardly. Not enough food. But I’m sure you’ll fix that for next time.”
Horrified, Ric asked, “Next time?”