“And what about my car?”
“If it hadn’t been the car,” Gwen explained, “it would have been everyone else.”
Blayne offered, with a smile, “Think of it as a sacrifice for the good of all!”
“Shut up, poodle!”
“Or I can shut up.”
Coop stretched out on the couch and turned up the sound on the living room stereo. The strains of Vivaldi filled the entire space around him, and he relaxed into that. But before he could really lose himself in the work of a master, he heard the front door open and suddenly there were wolves standing around the couch, staring down at him.
Muting the sound, Coop sat up. “Hi, Ric.”
Ulrich Van Holtz forced a smile at Coop, gave a small nod. “Hi, Cooper. Are Cherise and Kyle around?”
“Cherise is practicing in the basement, and Kyle is sketching in the kitchen. Why?”
Ric glanced over at Reece Lee Reed and his brother Rory Lee. At one time, Coop couldn’t tell the difference between one Smith Pack wolf and another. But he’d met quite a few since his family had become friends with the Kuznetsov Pack wild dogs.
The Reeds went off in search of Cherise and Kyle, Coop guessed, while Ric continued to stare down at him. “I’m going to need you guys to pack. I have a car and driver waiting to take you to the airport. The Van Holtz jet will be taking you back to Washington tonight.”
“Tonight? Why? What’s happened?”
“There’s been a problem, and it’s for your safety and the safety of your siblings.”
Coop got to his feet. “Where’s Livy?”
“We can discuss that—”
“Where is Livy?”
“She’s been hurt.”
“Then I need to see her.”
“No. She’s been taken to a safe place, and there’s nothing you can do for her right now. But your safety is of utmost concern. So we’re taking you home. The Van Holtz Pack will watch out for you and your family once you get there. And Rory and Reece will travel with you on the jet.”
“How bad is she?”
Ric took a breath before he answered. “Pretty bad.”
“I need to let Toni know.”
“She’s being notified. But we need to get you and your siblings out of here . . . now. Understand?”
Sadly, Coop understood all too well.
Ivan Zubachev watched Antonella Jean-Louis Parker rub her face in exasperation. Ivan didn’t know why he enjoyed tormenting the little canine, but he did. Maybe because she looked so adorable when she was frustrated. Ahhh. If he were only twenty years younger, the wolf she’d chosen to be her mate wouldn’t have a chance against Ivan Zubachev. He’d have happily stolen her heart from him or any other worthless male dog.
But that wasn’t really an option. He had his own mate whom he not only loved, but feared quite a bit. She could be mean when she thought he wasn’t paying enough attention to her, but he liked her strength and she did make him laugh.
So that left Ivan with only the tormenting of the little canine. Like he was doing now.
“Are you really arguing this one point with me, Ivan?” she demanded. “Are you really?”
“It is important, little doggie.”
“It is not important. And stop calling me ‘little doggie.’ ” She looked at her watch. “Oh, come on, Ivan. It’s already after—”
“I know what time it is, my tiny puppy.”
She started to protest her new nickname, so Ivan quickly reminded her that, “You said I could not call you little doggie. So I did not.”
“You’re doing this on purpose, aren’t you, Ivan? You’re making this difficult simply to be difficult.”
“That is crazy talk, my dear Antonella. Now, about the breeding females you will provide to my players—”
“I will not provide females of any kind to your players or to you. Ever!”
Ivan held up his forefinger. “Hold. We must discuss.”
The little canine rolled her eyes while Ivan pushed his chair back a bit, his team’s coach, manager, and three of his sons surrounding him.
“We should go out to eat when we are done here,” he said to them in Russian.
“I am hungry,” his eldest son replied.
“Maybe steak?” the coach suggested.
“We’ll bring the little canine with us . . . and the Smith.”
“Does he have to come?”
“She won’t come without him,” Ivan sighed.
“Too bad.”
Thinking he’d tortured Antonella enough, Ivan rolled his chair back to the table. But before he had a chance to speak, the conference room door opened and “the Smith” walked quickly into the room. With a phone gripped in his hand, he crouched by Antonella’s side and began to whisper to her. Ivan watched the color drain from Antonella’s beautiful face, saw shock in her eyes.
His younger son came into the room and hurried to Ivan’s side.
“What happened?”
“There’s been an attack on her friend in New York. It was very bad.” His son leaned in closer and whispered, “It was Russian bears.”
Ivan reared back a bit. Everyone knew that Antonella Jean-Louis Parker and her family and friends were under Ivan’s protection, even if Antonella Jean-Louis Parker had no idea of that.
“Who?” Ivan demanded. “Who did this?”
His son’s lip curled. “Chumakov.”
“I’m sorry, Ivan,” Antonella said, her voice as shaky as her body. “I have to leave now. I . . . have to go home.”
“Yes.” Ivan stood. “You do. And it will be my jet that takes you home. And we . . . we will escort you back.”
“That’s not necessary,” she started to argue.
“Oh . . . it is, my little doggie,” Ivan growled out, his gaze briefly straying to the American wolf standing straight and tall by Antonella. “It is absolutely necessary.”
Cella stepped back and her best friend, Jai Davis, MD, stepped out of the room, closing the door behind her.
“Well?” Cella pushed after turning her back away from the honey badger family members waiting to hear about Livy’s condition.
“The next twenty-four hours will tell. I don’t want her moved yet, but if she suddenly gets worse or doesn’t wake up by tomorrow, we’re going to have to take her to a hospital.”
“The shifter-run one on Old Country Road?”
“Yes. I have privileges there, and I already have a call in to Dr. Ford. He’s an arrogant male lion I have thought about beating to death on more than one occasion, but he was a combat doctor for several tours. He would know how to deal with this if it gets bad.”
“Good. But we need to be careful who we involve in this. We don’t know if Chumakov’s men are still around. Whether they know Livy survived or not, and if they do know she survived, if they’re waiting to take another—”
Cella’s words stopped abruptly when the door behind her and Jai opened, and a naked Livy walked out.
“What time is it?” the badger asked.
“What the fuck are you doing up?” Jai snarled.
“Did you get all the bullets out?” Livy asked in her usual calm tone.
“I believe so—”
“Then I’m fine.”
Livy gave a short whistle at one of the badgers on the floor and someone threw her a T-shirt. She pulled it on, then stopped to bend and twist her back. Something cracked into place, and she gave a little head shake. “There we go.” Livy looked around. “Where’s Vic? I thought I heard his voice.”
“Upstairs.”
Livy patted Jai on the shoulder. “Nice work, doctor. Thank you.”
They watched the honey badger confidently step over and around her relatives as she walked through the basement in only a T-shirt. Cella would admit she was no surgeon, but the predator in her knew when another animal was strong and would be too much trouble to attempt to kill unless you were starving—which was what Cella saw when she watched Livy.