“Oh,” Toni replied. “Yeah. My dog.”
The female snorted a little and held up a strip of cloth. “I have your sling.”
“Thank you, uh . . .” Although she could kind of guess who this was.
“Toni,” Ricky said from behind her, “this is Jessie Ann Ward-Smith.”
“And you’re the daughter of my son’s stalker,” the wild dog shot back.
“Uh-oh,” Ricky softly muttered against her ear. “Watch yourself, darlin’.”
Now it was true that Toni didn’t need to involve herself in any of this. It was her mother’s thing, not Toni’s. But if Toni didn’t get involved, then she’d be forced to hear about this situation all goddamn summer. It would involve scheme after wacky scheme until her mother got what she wanted. Like most geniuses at Jackie’s level, she could focus on a problem and work it until her last breath. There was no getting bored for Jackie Jean-Louis. No “getting over it.”
So Toni did what she had to do.
She looked the wild dog over, quickly sized her up, and went right for the superior but straightforward approach.
“Let me tell you something”—and Toni felt the wolf behind her tense at her high-handed tone—“you’ve got two choices. You can let your son settle happily into life as a second chair in the Ice Capades orchestra, or you can let my mother work with him for the summer and open the door to not only first chair with the New York Philharmonic but more likely a solo career. My mother,” Toni went on, “is internationally worshipped. She doesn’t waste time with artists she thinks are really nice or cute or will stroke her ego. If anything, that’s what my dad is for. So what you need to know is that, yes, your son is talented. I know this not because I’ve heard him play but because my mother wouldn’t waste time with him if he didn’t have a substantial amount of talent. Substantial. There are people who’d do bodily harm to others just to have a quarter of the chance she’s offering your son. And, lady, if you don’t think having my mother’s name on your son’s résumé as his teacher, his mentor, is going to help him achieve unimaginable heights—then you’re an idiot.”
The wild dog stared at Toni and Toni stared back. When that went on for a bit, it seemed Ricky Lee began to get uncomfortable.
But as soon as Toni heard him begin, “What I think she means, Jessie Ann—”, she cut him right off.
“I don’t need you to clarify my statements for me, wolf, thank you very much.”
“Yeah, but—”
“I don’t even know you,” she reminded him.
Toni refocused on Jess Ward. “Look, if you really want to find out how my mother will deal with your son on a regular basis, you might as well go upstairs and check it out, because even I can hear he stopped practicing and I highly doubt she left your house.”
“Dammit.” Jess Ward spun around and faced the kitchen door. She started to go through it, realized she still had the sling in her hand, and stopped long enough to toss it across the room. The white cloth hit Toni in the face and sort of hung there, blinding her.
She didn’t bother taking it off.
Ricky Lee finally released his hold on the little She-jackal and slipped off the counter. He stood in front of her and pulled the sling off her face.
She had her eyes closed, and he left her that way while he fashioned the cloth into a proper sling for her.
After a minute or so, she eased one eye open and leaned around him to see if Jessie Ann had actually left the room. Once she knew they were completely alone, she leaned back, looked at him, and said something that Ricky Lee had never heard from a shifter female before. Not ever. Not once.
“I am so sorry,” she whispered.
Ricky froze, thought he’d misheard her.
“Pardon?”
“I said I’m sorry.” She continued to whisper, although with wild dogs and their oversized ears, they could hear anything they wanted to in their house. It made it impossible for their kids to get away with any of the crap that Smith pups managed to pull off back in Smithtown. “You know, for snapping at you.”
Ricky Lee looked the female over. She seemed sincere. And he didn’t see a weapon on her that would suggest she intended to cut his throat or anything when he turned around.
“Um . . . that’s okay.” He began to fit the sling on her, careful not to move her shoulder too much since he knew it still hurt her. “You do know,” he felt the need to point out, “that what just happened could have easily blown up in your face.”
“Yeah. It could have. But I didn’t think it would. She was already waiting for me to try to relate to her on her level. You know, talk about the Lord of the Rings movies or how my little brother Freddy is a baby hacker. This Pack might live in the lap of luxury now, but they had some rough years on the streets when they were younger. I had to go with a straightforward approach.”
“And how did you know all that about Jessie Ann’s past?” he asked.
“Oh,” she said while Ricky leaned in a bit and reached around her to tie the sling at the back of her neck. “There are these things called comp-poo-tors and when you ask the comp-poo-tors questions, the box gives you answers!”
Ricky stepped back and saw her wicked little smile.
“Look at you, darlin’,” he teased back. “Flirtin’ with me.”
She laughed and Ricky knew then he’d just been charmed by a She-jackal. And the good Lord knew it had been a long time since Ricky had been charmed by anyone.
Jess Ward peeked around the open door to, she’d admit, spy on her adopted son and that jackal. In the relatively short time she’d had Johnny in her home, she’d fired two music teachers, punched another one in the face, and threatened to set another on fire. The last two her mate, Bobby Ray Smith, had handled paying off himself because he refused to visit her in prison. But some of these teachers were just rude! She got it. Okay? She understood. This was a tough business and one needed a thick skin. Blah blah blah.
Yes, she understood all that. But what these teachers didn’t get was that Johnny had already had a hard life. His biological mother had died when he was thirteen. Then he was bounced around from foster home to foster home until he landed with Jess’s Pack. So yeah, she was protective of him. And although she’d appreciated the honesty of the damaged-shouldered She-jackal in her kitchen who had one of the Reed boys wrapped around her like a boa constrictor, that still did not mean Jess was okay with Toni’s mother. Especially when she was pretty damn sure the woman only got that dog to finagle her way into Jess’s good graces.
Jess hated tricky shit like that.
So yes, she was spying. And sure, Johnny was eighteen now so she should be able to trust his judgment. But boys were stupid, something she’d learned at a very young age.
Jess could see the pair sitting on the floor of Johnny’s practice room. For a fifty-something internationally known musician who’d played on the Tonight Show, and before the Queen of England, Jacqueline Jean-Louis sure was casual. She had on ripped jeans and a band T-shirt . . . oooh. The B-52s. Okay. So she had good musical taste outside of the classical stuff. That was nice to see. She also wore sneakers that had seen better days. She sat Indian style, her elbows resting on her knees while Johnny stared at her like Marilyn Monroe was in the room.
“When did you first start playing?” the She-jackal asked Johnny.
“My mom got me my first violin when I was five.”