Читать книгу The Mane Event - Shelly Laurenston - Страница 11

She found it interesting how she kept having to remind herself to keep breathing. But Dez had to. She kept forgetting. Every time she looked up from her food and found Mace staring at her, she’d simply forget to breathe. She kept trying to find some flaw on him. Something wrong with his features or his hair or his teeth. Anything to make him less godlike and more human.

Yet she found everything about him perfect. From that voice that kept dropping impossibly lower every time they touched on the topic of sex to the way his gold eyes glinted in the dimly lit restaurant to the way his muscles bunched under his seen-better-days, black, long-sleeve T-shirt.

If she really intended to keep her Puerto Rican ass out of his bed, she should have never gone to dinner with the man. Because he still knew how to get to her. Still knew how to make her smile and pant. Still knew how to make her hot.

And she wanted his dick in her mouth so bad she thought she might start crying.

Is it actually wrong to toss a woman onto a restaurant table and fuck her senseless? Probably.

Mace sighed and continued to stare at the lovely Detective First Grade Desiree MacDermot. Dez who always made him smile. Always made him hard. Always made him crazy.

Still made him crazy. With those gray eyes, those amazing breasts,…and that voice. That fucking voice still made him sweat.

He found her so distracting he completely overlooked the fact he’d spent the last three hours in the company of wolves. Owned and operated by the Van Holtz Pack, the Van Holtz restaurant chain had the best prime rib Mace had ever tasted. In retrospect, he was glad Smitty joined them. Smitty had actually been able to keep the wolves at bay and away from him. They clearly didn’t like having Mace in their space, although all the Van Holtz restaurants were supposed to be neutral territory. Mace guessed that only applied to other Packs and not Pride.

It amazed him what he would willingly put up with for this frustrating and beautiful woman.

“What I’m not quite clear on, Dez, is how you didn’t actually notice your husband moved out.”

“Ex-husband. And I had a lot going on at the time. It was my first big case. A lot was riding on it. It just took me a while to realize he’d left.”

“What’s a while?”

She held the coffee cup between her hands and stared at it. “Three weeks.”

Mace leaned forward and waited until she looked him in the eye. “You noticed after three weeks or he told you after three weeks?”

When she didn’t answer but went back to staring at her coffee cup, he couldn’t help himself. He laughed. Loud.

She glanced around as the entire attention of the restaurant turned toward them.

“Christ, would you keep it down? I’m not exactly proud of this.”

“Sounds to me like he was boring and selfish and you should be glad the asshole is gone. I know I am.”

She smirked and a blush spread across her cheeks. He liked that he could make a tough city cop blush.

She glanced up, clearly ready to change the subject. “Where did the redneck go?”

“I don’t know. He does keep disappearing, doesn’t he?” And that’s why he’s family.

“We should probably check the ladies’ room.”

Mace grinned. “Probably. Smitty’s always had an easy time with women.”

“Oh, and I’m sure you have a real struggle with women, Mace. I bet they ignore you and treat you like you don’t even exist.”

He smirked at her. “Only one does that.”

She put down her coffee and ran her hands through her hair. She’d been doing that more and more as the night wore on. “I know you exist, Mace. Trust me. I know. But you forget, I was in the military. I know exactly what you scumbags get up to. Sorry if I’m not blindly diving into the deep end of that pool.”

“So, you think I just want—”

“To screw the one girl you didn’t? Yeah. That’s what I think.”

“Then you don’t think much of me.”

“I didn’t say that. But you are a guy, Mace. A Llewellyn, true. But still a guy.”

“Which means what?”

“Well, I did read that testosterone causes brain damage.”

Mace snorted out a laugh as Smitty, reeking of some wolf female, sat back down at the table.

“What did I miss?”

“Dez was telling me how all men are mentally handicapped.”

“I didn’t say that,” she corrected with a condescending smile. “I merely said that you all have”—she made air quotes with her hands—“‘special needs.’ The reality is you guys really can’t think past that thing between your legs.”

“Damn, girl.” Smitty wasn’t used to women not immediately bowled over by his charm. “That is mighty harsh, darlin’. Lumping us in with any-ol’-body.”

“Really?” Dez picked her coffee back up.

“Yes. Really. Mace is a good guy. One of the best. And I am a caring, sensitive male that has many, many layers. Don’t let this tough, manly exterior fool you. There’s so much about me you’ll never understand.”

Dez swallowed a mouthful of coffee. “You have a hickey on your neck.”

Dez grinned at the two men as a waiter placed a piece of cake between them. He laid out forks for each. Smiled at Smitty. Leered at Dez. And practically spit at Mace. Man, the staff at this restaurant really didn’t like him.

Smitty winked at her. “You’re right, ya know. We’re all scum.”

Mace shook his head. “Thanks for the help there, bud.”

“What can I say? She caught me in my lie.”

“You admit nothing. Deny everything. Demand proof. Did you learn nothing in Boot Camp?”

Dez did like Smitty. She liked him a lot. But the man sure wasn’t Mace. Darker in appearance. An inch or two shorter. Not as wide. She found herself surprisingly comfortable around him. Mace, however…well, she didn’t actually feel comfortable around him. Not with her body tingling at the mere thought of him. She kept noticing things about him. Little things. Like the way he unconsciously scratched the scar on his neck or the way he kept pushing his blond-brown hair out of his eyes. Her eyes narrowed. Wasn’t he bald just yesterday? No. That wasn’t possible.

“Don’t blame me, hoss, because she knows we’re all brain damaged.”

Dez looked down at the chocolate cake garnished with dark chocolate and wondered how she kept getting involved with such idiots.

Mace watched as Dez took her forefinger and swiped up some of the drizzle of dark chocolate sauce that decorated the plate as garnish.

She slipped her chocolate-covered finger into her mouth and sucked it clean.

Mace growled. He couldn’t help it. If it were a practiced move, meant to tantalize, he wouldn’t have even noticed. But Dez did it because she clearly liked dark chocolate and was slightly tacky.

She frowned and smiled at the same time. “Did you…growl at me?”

“Sorry. Couldn’t be helped.”

“No reason to apologize. I’ve just never had a man growl at me before.”

“You just weren’t listening,” both Mace and Smitty said at the same time.

Dez shook her head as she and Mace picked up their forks. “You two are such boneheads.”

Smitty watched Dez for a second, then leaned forward. “Do you mind if I ask you a question, darlin’?”

“Only if you stop calling me darlin’.”

“Now where I come from that’s a term of endearment.”

“Really? Well, where I come from motherfucker is a term of endearment. Want me to start calling you that?”

Mace almost spit his cake out, but now he knew Smitty was pissed.

“All right then, Dez. Mind if I ask you a question?”

“Ask away,” she happily offered as she ate a bite of cake.

“You’ve never had great sex, have you?”

Swallowing her cake and damn near choking on it, “That ain’t no question, Smith.”

Well, hello Bronx accent. Welcome back!

“Oh, I’m sorry.” Uh-oh. Smitty being sarcastic—not good. “I can phrase that in the form of a question if ya like. Have you ever had great sex?”

Dez leaned back in her chair, her arms crossing in front of her. She leveled that gray-green gaze in Mace’s direction. “You’re not going to help me out here, are you?”

“I could help you out, but I don’t think that’s what you mean.”

“I’m still waitin’,” Smitty pushed. Mace didn’t know what his friend was up to, but he couldn’t wait to find out, and to see if Dez punched him. The girl he used to know had a mean right hook; he could only imagine what this woman had in her arsenal.

“Well…I…uh…”

“Well-I-uh what?”

“Hey! I’m thinkin’!”

“If you have to think about it, darlin’, you haven’t had great sex.”

“What exactly is the point of this conversation?”

“Simply pointing out a fact.” With that, Smitty got up and disappeared again.

Now it seemed to be Dez’s turn to growl. “Okay, now I’m starting to hate him.”

Mace grinned. He was so okay with that.

Dez’s face burned. She could probably fry an egg on it. How had this evening gone so terribly wrong so goddamn quickly? She’d lost control. Again! She never lost control. Whether during an interrogation or a perp walk or a tactical maneuver, Dez MacDermot never lost control. But with Mace staring at her and his country bumpkin friend twisting her words around, she felt like she dangled off a building without a bungee cord.

She’d already regressed to her old nervous habit of running her damn hands through her hair, saying the word ain’t in a sentence where she wasn’t mocking someone, and getting that damn accent back. Maybe Missy Llewellyn was right. She would always be that Bronx girl, no matter what she did.

“Dez. Look at me.”

“No.” Absolutely, unequivocally, kill-herself-first no.

“Desiree. Look at me.”

Clenching her hands into tight fists, Dez raised her head and froze, trapped in that gold gaze. Trapped there as if the man had put shackles on her wrists and sat on her. Dez had no idea how long they were staring at each other. She felt Mace sliding through her body. Touching everywhere. Making himself quite at home. She couldn’t look away and she didn’t want to.

He didn’t say anything to her. He really didn’t have to. He said it all in those beautiful eyes of his. He wanted her. Would do anything necessary to get her. And, if she let him, he’d give her more than great sex. He’d give her never-able-to-walk-straight-again sex. The kind where she’d lose her soul.

Finally, Mace motioned for the check, but his eyes never left her face. “Come home with me, Dez.”

On a sigh, “Okay.” Dez blinked. Helllloooo! Idiot alert! Have you lost your mind? “Uh…I mean…” Dez pinched her leg to snap herself out of it. “I can’t.”

“Why?”

“Because I don’t do one-night stands.”

“I don’t want a one-night stand. I want us to—”

“I don’t do relationships either,” she burst out suddenly, completely cutting the man off.

Calmly, “Why?”

“Because I’m a cop. Always was. Always will be.”

“Not quite sure why that affects us.”

“It does.” She’d already been through this. Learned the hard way. Never again. “I’ve actually got somewhere to be.” Thank God.

“At eleven-fifteen at night?”

“It is the city that never sleeps.”

The check came, and she figured she needed to grab this chance to bail.

“I’d like to help with the tip.” She tossed two twenties on the table. “Thanks so much for dinner, Mace.” She stood up and walked around to his side of the table. She leaned over and kissed the top of his shaggy head. “I had a really nice time.”

“You could continue to have a nice time.”

Relentless bastard. She ruffled his hair like she used to when they were fourteen. “I’m outta here.” She hadn’t taken a step when Mace grabbed her hand. His fingers, warm and dry, interlaced with hers. In that one move the man went through her entire body. And that’s when she realized they were no longer fourteen. They were no longer just pals. Dez suddenly saw them naked, sweaty, and fucking like there was no tomorrow. She knew Mace saw it too. Those gold eyes screamed at her, and she knew hers were screaming right back.

Nope. She needed to go. Now.

She took in a shaky breath. “Mace, I have to go.” Oh hell. She needed to stop whispering.

“Don’t. Stay, Dez. Stay with me.” And she knew he didn’t mean at the restaurant having more coffee and another piece of cake. He meant in his bed. With him inside her. And he’d make her scream. Again and again.

“I can’t.” She pulled her hand away. He let it go but not before dragging his big fingers across her palm. Who knew a simple move like that could rock her right down to her toes? And rock her it did.

Jesus Christ. What a man that boy had grown into.

Dez looked into those gold eyes. She knew a few more moments of him and she’d end up doing something really tacky. Like crawling under the table and giving Mace Llewellyn a blow job. She shook her head and backed away from him. This kept spiraling out of control. “I have to go, Mace.”

He smiled. “Okay.” She raised an eyebrow at that calm response but decided to let it go. Especially when she so clearly saw him slamming her facedown on the restaurant table and fucking her into oblivion. Yeah. In that moment she realized she’d overstayed her welcome.

“Have a great Christmas, Mace.”

Then she practically ran out the door, heading to the club a few blocks away.

Mace had to wait a good five minutes before he could hope to comfortably stand and not embarrass himself.

That woman…that woman was everything he’d ever wanted. He’d known it all those years ago. Tonight only confirmed it for him. The kiss and that simple touch practically blew his boots off. And she felt it too. He could see it on her face. He could smell it. Her desire rolled off her in waves and practically knocked him from the room.

No, he wasn’t letting Dez MacDermot get away. He’d take her down like his ancestors took down full-grown zebra.

Smitty finally returned to the table as Mace signed the credit card receipt. He smiled at his friend. “Well? Where did you go?”

“Well, nothin’. That girl’s got a temper. I wasn’t about to stay around for that.”

“You were pushing her.”

“Well, if I waited on you two to quit pussyfootin’ around and get down to it, my grandchildren would be runnin’ the Pack.”

“I don’t need your help, Smitty. I’ve got this under control.”

“Really? Then why are you here alone?”

Mace stood up. “It’s all about timing, Smitty.”

“Yeah. Sure. Hopefully timing will keep you warm tonight, hoss.”

The two men walked out of the restaurant. “You don’t understand Dez. You can’t push her. She needs subtle, refined encouragement.”

“You forget. I watched that woman put away a steak. She ain’t subtle.”

“This is true. Excuse me.” Mace moved past three men. “But then again, I’m not really that subtle either.”

“Mason Llewellyn?”

Mace stopped and turned. He knew before he even turned around what he would find. If he hadn’t already smelled them, Smitty’s growling would have been a dead giveaway. He tolerated Mace well enough, but that was about it.

There were three of them. Large. A good ten years younger. Raw. Hoods. One didn’t meet a lot of lion hoodlums these days.

“Yeah?”

“Wow. It really is you. I told these guys it was.”

Mace watched the man closely as Smitty paced behind him. His wolf buddy did not like this one bit. Of course, he didn’t like it much himself.

“You know, you and your Pride are real well known around this city. It’s a real honor to meet you.” He held his hand out. “Patrick Doogan. These are my brothers.” Mace grasped the man’s hand with his own. Cold, gold eyes sized Mace up. Debating his strength. His power.

“So, Doogan. What can I do for you?”

He glanced at his brothers. “Smart, ain’t he? I told you he’d be smart. He knows we aren’t stopping him in the street to just say hi.”

“I know you didn’t simply find me in the street by accident either. So can we cut the bullshit?”

Doogan grinned. A true predator this one. Not a soft bone in his mammoth body. “I wanna tawk to youse sometime ’bout ya sistas.” The man’s New York street accent painfully assaulted Mace’s ears. Dez’s made him laugh and turned him on, especially when she struggled to hide it. Not Doogan’s. Mace wanted to slash the man’s vocal cords with his paw. “See if we can discuss some…uh…possible business arrangements regardin’ the Llewellyn Pride.”

Mace shrugged. “Sure. That would be great. And you have sisters that I can have…and fuck. Right?”

Doogan’s eyes narrowed, while Smitty softly chuckled next to him.

“Since that is what you want my sisters for, right? To mate with you? To breed with you? To rub your fuckin’ feet?”

“I don’t like to be fucked with, Llewellyn.”

“Then you shouldn’t bend over and hand me the lube.”

Mace couldn’t believe how angry he felt, but discussing his sisters like high-priced collateral galled him to no end. True, on any given day he detested them severely, but still…they were his sisters. His sisters. You don’t talk about a man’s sisters like you’re buying hookers for a bachelor party.

He watched, fascinated, when the façade of one cat chatting with another turned to outright hatred. Doogan hated what Mace represented. What Doogan and his equally large brothers would never be.

“I’ll have your sisters, Llewellyn, and I’ll fuck ’em all.”

“You’re underestimating the women of my family. They don’t play nice with others. They’ll rip your cock off and show it to ya. And when they do, I’m going to laugh my ass off.”

Mace turned to walk away, but Doogan’s voice stopped him cold.

“Tell me, Mason. How’s Petrov doing these days?”

Mace sighed. “You know why you’ll never have the Llewellyn Pride?” He looked back at Doogan. “Cause you have no class.”

In less than a second, Doogan was on him.

Dez pushed past the fifty or more people standing in line, waiting to get into the hottest club in the Village. She told the bouncer her name and watched him stare at her breasts for a good ninety seconds before letting her into the club.

Immediately Dez knew she didn’t belong. This was not her kind of place. An Irish cop bar. A biker bar. The local bowling alley. Those were her kinds of places. Here she felt…old. Her gun pressed into her back under her leather jacket. She was glad that the bouncer hadn’t checked her. She wouldn’t like to be here without her weapon.

Packed to capacity, the club had the rich and the connected mixing with the famous and the drug dealers. Vice would have a field day in this place.

She walked to the bar. “I’m looking for Gina Brutale.”

“Yup. In the back bar.”

She headed toward the back part of the club, pushing her way through a throng of barely dressed, overperfumed people. She’d almost made it to her destination when she caught sight of him. All gold and beautiful. Talking to a lean, dark-haired woman. Dez moved over to him and tapped him on the shoulder.

“Mr. Shaw?”

He turned to her, and he was as beautiful as the picture of him in the Petrov file. Only now he seemed really annoyed. And not nearly as beautiful as Mace. She laughed to herself. Hopeless. Absolutely hopeless.

“Do I know you?” It would be real nice if he directed that question to her and not her breasts.

She leaned into him. She couldn’t announce to the bar she was NYPD, but the man clearly had idiotic tendencies if he insisted on being out in the middle of the night after one of his business partners had so recently been blown away.

“Mr. Shaw, I think you’d be safer back at home, don’t you? At least until we get a handle on this Petrov situation.”

“Ah, you must be one of the detectives. Must be the one Missy threw out of the house.” Shaw leaned into her and sniffed her neck. He grinned. “How is Mace tonight, anyway?”

Dez pulled away from him. What? Did the entire Llewellyn family know she had gone out with Mace? And did they all go around sniffing each other? Oh whatever.

“Mr. Shaw, I really think you should go home. Now.”

Shaw leered at her and she raised her eyebrow, daring him to give her real attitude.

“I was leaving anyway, Detective.”

“Good. Thank you. Cause I’d really hate to have to watch Forensics catalog pieces of your brain—like we did with Petrov.”

Dez headed off to the back bar. As she came around the corner she caught sight of five women. At least, she was pretty sure they were women—they were a tad butch—sitting at the bar. They looked very similar, and Dez guessed a blood connection between all of them. It was the one nursing a straight scotch and staring sadly at the floor that had her complete interest, though.

The fourth kick to his ribs sent him flipping up and over. He landed on his hands and knees. Ready to shift, but holding back until he had absolutely no choice.

He saw one of Doogan’s brothers going for the weapon he had hidden under his silk jacket and long cashmere coat. Mace didn’t wait for him to get a good grip on it. He moved, catching the man’s arm and twisting it back until it snapped. The roar of pain he let out shook the block and made people run. Doogan moved toward him because Smitty had the other brother and was definitely seconds away from snapping his neck.

“Ah, ah, ah.” Mace pulled the man in his arms back so that his body practically resembled a U.

“Don’t make me break him in half—cause I can.”

Doogan stopped. He could see both of his siblings were seconds away from meeting a rather ugly death. Who would the cops believe? Three criminal hoods from the projects or Mace Llewellyn and his out-of-town Southern friend? Two decorated officers from the Navy.

No. Doogan wasn’t stupid. Mean and evil, but not stupid. He held his hands up and backed away from Mace. Once far enough away, Mace pushed the man in his arms toward Doogan, and Smitty did the same.

Doogan took them both and backed away down the street.

“Stay away from my sisters, Doogan. Or next time I’ll make sure this ends differently.”

Doogan didn’t answer, he just left.

Smitty resheathed his claws and wiped blood off his hands. “Well that was almost as much fun as the cops pretending to be hookers.”

Mace smiled and grimaced all at the same time. His face and chest hurt.

“Shouldn’t the cops be here by now?”

Smitty’s innocent statement made Mace laugh outright.

His friend grabbed his arm and pulled him under a street lamp. “Let’s see your face, hoss.” He winced. “Yup. They did some damage.”

“Thanks.” Mace went to touch his face, but Smitty held his hand back. “I wouldn’t have known if you hadn’t pointed it out to me, Smitty.”

“Don’t get sassy with me, hoss.”

“Sorry. I can’t stop thinking about what would have happened if Dez had still been with us.”

“That’s easy. There would have been a lot of people dead. Between the two of ya. She got that look in her eye. She’s a predator, son. And don’t think for a second she ain’t.”

“Dez would be the least of their worries.”

“My, my. We are awfully protective of a woman we haven’t seen in years.”

“Don’t start, Smitty.”

He chuckled. “You know, you look real shitty, hoss.”

“Thank you very much.” Mace moved his jaw around. At least it wasn’t broken.

“So shitty you look like you need someone to take care of you.”

Mace blinked in confusion. “Why? I’ll be fine by tomorrow.”

“Someone to take care of you, Mace. Tend your wounds. Comfort you in her very large, sweet bosom.”

Mace shook his head. “No. No way, Smitty.”

“Would you trust me?”

“That’s a shitty thing to do. It’s almost catlike in its evilness.”

“See, your problem is you underestimate dogs. There’s a reason many of us are let up on the couch, while they keep y’all in a zoo.”

“This is a stupid conversation.”

“We’re stupid men. Stupid men who like their women big chested and loud.”

“You think Dez is loud?”

“Nah. Sissy’s loud. Your woman does have quite the voice, though. Like someone took a sandblaster to her vocal cords.”

“I like her voice.”

“I know dirt roads in the poorest part of Tennessee that are smoother than that girl’s voice. Although, I have to admit, I did enjoy watching her suck that finger clean.”

“It’s almost like you want me to hurt you.”

“Gina?”

Dark brown eyes that were almost black focused on her. Filled with such intense sadness, Dez hated that the woman freaked her out so much. But something about Gina Brutale set her nerves on edge.

“Yeah.” She slid off her stool. “Come on.” Gina sucked back the rest of her scotch and dropped the glass on the bar.

She glanced at the women with her. “I’ll be back in a bit.”

The women didn’t respond. Instead, they stared at Dez. Perhaps the most uncomfortable experience she’d had in a long time, and Dez’s job consisted of uncomfortable experiences. But the way they stared at her—that’s what freaked her out. Like they were silently plotting which parts of her body would sauté well in olive oil.

Gina walked away from the bar and Dez followed her, glancing back once at the women. They were still staring at her. She fought the urge to shudder.

Gina walked to an office in a deserted part of the club and went to open the door, but someone pulled it open from the other side. A woman who resembled Gina stepped out. The two women stared at each other. Actually, they really glared. Almost vicious in their intensity.

Eventually the woman’s brown eyes turned to Dez. “Who the fuck is that?”

“None of ya fuckin’ business.”

Dez rolled her eyes. This sounded like one of those typical arguments between girls in her old neighborhood. They usually degenerated into hair pulling until knives were eventually drawn.

She didn’t have time for that.

“Can this wait? I gotta life.”

Gina proceeded into the office. The other woman made to move around her but stopped and suddenly sniffed Dez instead.

Dez reared back. “Can I help you?”

She grunted. “Another one.”

Dez had no idea what that meant, but she didn’t have a chance to ask as the woman walked off.

Shaking her head, she entered the office, closing the door behind her.

“Interesting girl.”

“She’s a bitch.” Gina slid on top of a highly polished mahogany desk. “And my sister. Anne Marie.”

“My sympathies.”

She snorted. “We all have our own personal hell. She’s mine.”

Dez took in the office. Fancy, but it didn’t look very used. Lots of mahogany and glass. It didn’t look like the office of a woman.

“Whose office is this?”

“My father’s. But he doesn’t come here very often.”

Dez almost gave in to her desire to find out more about the well-known but rarely seen Gino Brutale. Instead, she forced herself to remember she was in this club for a reason. Not to see if she could find out more about Brutale’s mob ties.

“So…you wanted to talk to me about Alexander Petrov’s death?”

“Yeah. Ya see, he was…”

The woman struggled with her admission, but Dez didn’t know why. “He was…” she coaxed.

Brutale stood tall, suddenly proud. “He was with me. He was my lover.”

Dez didn’t understand why Gina needed to fear admitting that information. Brutale was no youngster. She appeared to be in her early to midthirties. And it wasn’t like Petrov ran some rival mob family, unless Missy was up to more than she realized. Which Dez seriously doubted.

Dez waited for Gina to continue.

“I saw him the night he died. When he left me that night, he was very much alive. I don’t know if anyone followed him. I do know Missy Llewellyn would lose her friggin’ mind if she knew about us.”

Dez stepped forward. “And did she know?”

“I don’t know. But he was going to leave her and stay with me. I don’t know if he ever got around to telling her that, though.”

“Petrov and Missy Llewellyn were…together? A couple?” Maybe, but who would put up with that heartless bitch?

“It’s too complicated to explain. But, basically, she owned him.”

What the hell does that mean?

“What do you mean she owned him? She had something on him?”

“No. But he belonged to her. She wouldn’t take him leaving well. Especially if he were leaving her for me.”

“Why you? What connection do you have with the Llewellyns?” A Jersey girl like Brutale wouldn’t exactly be welcome at a Llewellyn banquet, and they both knew it.

“Our families have…a history, you might say. We’ve hated each other for a long time.”

“Do you think Missy killed him?”

“I don’t know. I really don’t. Shootin’ him in the back of the head, though, doesn’t really seem Missy’s style, ya know?”

Dez shrugged. “I couldn’t tell ya.”

“All I’m sayin’ is, you need to look at Missy Llewellyn for this. Look at her close. She shouldn’t be able to get away with this. Just cause he loved me and not her.”

“Yeah. But are you sure he loved you?”

Brutale locked her beady dark eyes on Dez’s face. “What?”

“Maybe you want me to focus on Missy because you want her to suffer more. Maybe Petrov wouldn’t leave her. Maybe he didn’t love you at all. So you got rid of him yourself.” Dez didn’t really believe that, but she wanted to see Brutale’s reaction.

She wasn’t disappointed. She blinked and suddenly Gina Brutale stood right in front of her. Their bodies almost touching. Rage and sorrow came off Brutale in waves, practically knocking Dez out of the room.

“I loved him. He loved me. Anybody tell you different, they’re lyin’. We had plans, him and me. Plans to run this family together.”

“Maybe your father wasn’t okay with that.”

“My father will do what I tell him to do. The women run this family. Not the men.”

Well, that was new. “Okay.”

Brutale glared at her for a long minute. Then she took one step back. Then another. Eventually a good five feet separated the women. But Dez still didn’t feel safe. She wouldn’t feel that way until she got the hell out of the building.

“But I will say this, Detective—whoever killed him better pray to the Mother Mary you get to them first. They better pray I never fuckin’ find out. Cause I’ll kill ’em myself. And I’ll make sure they suffer for what they done.”

Dez didn’t doubt Gina’s words for even a second. She wanted out of this building. She wasn’t even supposed to be on this case. Suddenly, nailing Missy took a backseat to her basic survival.

“I’ll keep that in mind.”

“You do that.”

Dez backed up from Brutale. She didn’t feel comfortable turning her back on the woman. She grabbed hold of the doorknob, opened the door, and eased out into the club.

She cut through the enormous place, including the back bar where she found Brutale. She had to pass the same pack of women, only this time Brutale’s sister was with them. As she moved past them, the lightest touch nipped her neck.

Reaching back, Dez grabbed the hand touching her and twisted until Anne Marie Brutale lay on the floor at her feet, howling in pain. Dez planted her foot in the woman’s side and twisted her arm again. This time even farther away from her body. A few more inches and she’d break the bone at the shoulder.

“Don’t you ever fuckin’ touch me again.” The grip she had on the woman she learned from the Marine Corps. The statement—that was all Bronx.

Gina Brutale walked in. She stared dispassionately at her sister. It had to be the coldest look Dez had ever seen. As much as she detested her own sisters sometimes, Dez would never let anyone else hurt them. Not ever.

“I really hope I made myself clear.” She twisted Anne Marie’s arm a bit more for emphasis, pulling another brutal howl from her throat. The sound sent a nasty shiver up her spine. These people just weren’t right.

Yeah. Dez wanted out of here.

She glanced around at the women watching her. None of them seemed very interested. She glanced down at Anne Marie. She had big, long nails. The kind her sisters never let Dez get because they said they were “beyond tacky.” She glared at those nails, suddenly very concerned with them, but she didn’t know what the woman’s tacky fashion sense had to do with anything.

Dez finally released Anne Marie and backed away from the women. When far enough away, she spun on her heel and headed toward the front exit and home.

Mace crouched on the hard ground, his back against the passenger side of Dez’s SUV, and impatiently waited. He didn’t like to wait.

Of course, the knowledge that he would be going to hell for this, misleading a beautiful woman he was crazy about, didn’t make the waiting any easier. At least, however, he would go to hell with a smile.

Mace wiped the last bit of blood dripping from his nose. Even with the blood in his nose, he could still smell Christmas in the air. He didn’t know how all the scents he could detect reminded him of this particular holiday, but they did. He loved those smells. Actually, he loved the holiday, he’d just never been able to truly enjoy it. Even the times he’d gone with Smitty to his mother’s in Tennessee. True enough, she always went out of her way to make Mace feel like part of the Smith family, even part of their Pack, but Mace never forgot he didn’t belong. Of course, he didn’t belong with his own Pride either. Instead, he’d have to make his own family. His and his alone. And every fiber of his being told him Dez was the one. She would be the one to make every Christmas special for him. Of course, she did seem to detest the holiday, but no one ever said Dez wasn’t difficult.

He spotted her immediately as she came around the corner. When she caught sight of him, she slowed down. She probably couldn’t make him out at first. Mace put on his most wounded expression and continued to wait. He didn’t make any sudden moves. He had no doubt Dez would shoot him on sight if she deemed it necessary.

Dez slowly moved closer until she could see him clearly. Then she rushed to his side.

“Jesus, Mace.” She knelt down next to him. “Oh honey.” Her soft hands slid across his face. “Who did this to you?”

He shook his head. “It doesn’t matter.” He looked up at her and blinked, startled by what he saw. Sweat drenched her face and neck, which wouldn’t seem odd—if this were the middle of summer. But it was December twenty-second, and definitely nippy out.

“Dez?”

“What, baby?”

“Are you okay?”

“Sure.” Dez swallowed, closed her eyes, and fell face-first into his lap. He stared down at her. Dammit. How many dreams and fantasies had filled his head over the years with Dez MacDermot in this very position? Only then, he expected her fully conscious.

Mace carefully cradled Dez in his arms. “Dez, baby. Can you hear me?”

She didn’t answer him. He wondered if someone had slipped a drug in her drink. He sniffed her. She smelled of hyena.

“What the hell have you been up to, beautiful?”

Why would Dez be hanging out with hyenas? He examined her body and after several long minutes found the tiniest scratch on the back of her neck. He sniffed the area and smelled the poison.

Tricky, fucking hyenas. They hadn’t given her enough to kill her. That would have been too obvious, and she would have never made it out of the club on her own steam. No, they gave her enough so she would make it outside, maybe even to a cab, and then she’d pass out. Leaving her to the tender mercies of the New York streets. Or perhaps she’d pass out at the wheel of her car.

Mace wanted to roar his displeasure and start tearing some hyenas apart, but Dez was his main concern right now. He turned her head and brushed her beautiful hair away from the scratch. He licked the wound and spit. He did it six times until he removed all the poison.

“Okay, baby. Let’s get you home.” She didn’t carry a purse; instead she had a slim leather wallet shoved into the front of her black jeans. He pulled it out and quickly glanced at her driver’s license. He grimaced. Brooklyn. Christ, the woman lived in Brooklyn.

“Sure, you couldn’t live uptown, could ya?” Mace stood up, Dez in his arms. Without much effort, he got her keys and got the woman safely bundled into her SUV. He sat on the driver’s side and started the vehicle up. He glanced at her, a rumbling sigh coming from his chest. His beautiful Dez. He rubbed her cheek with the back of his hand.

“Let’s get you home, gorgeous.”