Beast Behaving Badly (36 page)

“Okay. And?”

Grigori shrugged. “You've been asking questions about that old farmhouse near the beach. It seems the town strays have been coming from there. But they're not just raising fighting dogs, Blayne.”

Bo, not sure he was hearing correctly asked, “Are you saying they've been running these things on shifter territory all this time?”

“Looks that way. Coming in from the Pacific, using the storms to cover for them.”

“How did full-humans know about Ursus County much less that farm?” Bo asked.

“We're working on that,” Van Holtz said. “Diligently.”

Blayne looked around at the men in the room. Except for Bo and her father, they were all avoiding eye contact.

“What?” she finally asked. “What aren't you telling me?”

When no one stepped up to say anything, Niles Van Holtz did. He'd been standing quietly off in a corner all this time.

“We've not only come here to take you back, Blayne. But we've just sent a team in to take down the entire thing. Right now.”

Bo still wasn't sure why everyone was acting so strange though. But one look at her father, had Blayne turning on both Van Holtz males. “You're going to kill them all . . . aren't you?”

“They're full-humans,” Bo said. Not in the least bit of mood to see Blayne defend the same assholes who would have used her like meat. “Tell me you're not crying over them.”

“Not them,” she snapped. “They're going to kill the hybrids.”

Bo looked to his uncle and saw the truth of it on his face. He understood why but that didn't make it right. And how could a pure breed ever understand that?

“Blayne, it's for the best,” Van Holtz told her in a calm, even tone that made Bo's scalp itch.

Blayne stared at Van Holtz for a very long moment. Bo would admit, he expected her to snap, to cry and kick and scream. That was Blayne. Always fighting for the helpless. But, her head dropping, she only nodded and walked over to her father.

“I understand,” she practically whispered.

Van Holtz looked at his Alpha and the older wolf nodded, pulling a two-way transmitter from his pants pocket.

“It's a go,” he said into it.

Because none of the weak males in the room wanted to focus too closely on Blayne, they all found other things to do. Lots of bullshit “command center” type chatter. The only one who didn't join in was Bo and Ezra Thorpe. His daughter had moved behind the wolf, her forehead resting on his shoulder. Bo looked at the wolf and that's when Mr. Thorpe motioned to the empty spot next to him.

A little confused but seeing no reason not to do as he wanted, Bo walked over. The wolf stepped closer, their arms almost touching. Mr. Thorpe was only about six feet tall and they must have looked ridiculous standing right next to each other. But when Bo saw Blayne slip out the backdoor, it suddenly all made sense.

Bo glanced down, and the cold-hearted wolf who couldn't stand his daughter and hated everyone—as per Blayne—shrugged and quietly waited for all hell to break loose.

CHAPTER 28

“W
here you goin', teacup?”

Dee-Ann watched the wolfdog freeze in her confused tracks. She'd already walked off one way, turned around, and headed another, only to come racing back the other way. Never once noticing, sensing, or scenting that Dee was standing right there watching her.

Of course, Dee knew this would happen. Sure. The males thought they could control the teacup poodle with their overwhelming maleness, but Dee knew Blayne would try to do something stupid about the hybrids who'd been trapped by those full-humans. And it wasn't that Dee didn't understand. She did understand. Hell, she'd been building her own little hybrid team for months now. They were young, but every one had potential. But there was a difference between some streetwise stray and a hybrid that had been through absolute hell for weeks, maybe even months. No. They couldn't bring them back. They couldn't unleash them on New York or even Ursus County. So her team would go in fast and quiet and take care of them all at one time. Just like they'd been trained to do.

But what Dee wouldn't deal with was having anything else happen to this idiotic wolfdog. She was tired of getting blamed for it all; she was tired of people she considered her friends not speaking to her; and she was tired of having to even think about any of it. So, she let the males do their thing and she'd waited out here. She'd waited out here because she knew the wolfdog would come . . . and she did.

“Dee-Ann.”

Dee ambled on over to the wolfdog. “I know what you want to do, darlin', but that can't happen.”

“It's easy for you, isn't it?” Blayne asked. “Killing? Wiping out your own? Oh. That's right. We're not. We're just mutts. Strays.”

“Whatcha think I should do Blayne? Really? Take 'em home with us? Maybe call in that Dog Whisperer guy, see if he can get them under control? Turn 'em into respectable hybrids? And then sit around prayin' that they don't up and tear someone's throat out while they're waiting in line at McDonald's for a Big Mac and fries?”

“I think you at least have to give them the chance. We're not all the same.”

“I know. Some of them are even more unstable than you are.”

“Insult me all you want, Dee, but I'm going to help them.”

Done with this conversation and this irritating little heifer, Dee-Ann grabbed Blayne's arm.

The wolfdog stared down at where Dee's fingers gripped her. “Get off me.”

“We can do this easy or not, teacup, up to you.”

Blayne raised her gaze to Dee's. “I said let me go.”

“I'll let you go when I get you home. Now move, little girl.”

Blayne did, too, awkwardly swinging her fist at Dee's already bear-abused face. Bored nearly to tears, Dee caught Blayne's fist and twisted the wolfdog's arm until she had her on her knees.

Turns out that was right around the time Blayne pressed the barrel of the .45 Dee had tucked into her side holster against Dee's inner thigh.

Not doing anything too sudden, Dee slowly glanced down at the weapon Blayne held. The safety was off and Blayne's finger was on the trigger. She didn't even feel the girl pull the weapon from Dee's holster.

“Let's be calm, Blayne.”

“Forget about losing a leg here, Smith. I pull this trigger and I blow a major artery. You'll bleed out before they can do a damn thing to help you. So get your fuckin' hands off me.”

Dee released Blayne, the wolfdog turning out to be full of all sorts of backbone.

Holding Dee's own weapon on her, Blayne got to her feet and took a step back.

“You used me,” Blayne said, not sounding like the teacup poodle Dee had been watching the past few months. “You've been using me all along and then you had the nerve to fucking tag me? Are you kidding me?”

Dee slowly raised her hands and said, “Blayne—”

“All this time you've been waiting for them to grab me. When would you have moved in? After they put me in my first pit fight? Or after they put me in my twelfth? Or would you have not bothered because you don't like me much anyway?”

“You've got this all wrong, Blayne.”

“No. I don't.” And that's when Blayne punched her. Not some pansy, teacup poodle punch either. But a Muhammad Ali punch with her left hand . . . and Blayne was a righty!

Dee grabbed her freshly healed but now rebroken nose.
“You crazy little whore!”

“What are you going to do now, bitch?” Blayne demanded. “What are you going to do now?”

It was a rarely seen thing and she'd gotten it from her momma, not her daddy. The Lewis Pack She-wolf rage. She'd grown up hearing how Smith males had always found that rage “sexy,” but the Smith males weren't right in the head.

Blayne had the .45 aimed right at Dee. “Pull the trigger, bitch,” Dee challenged. “Do it.”

And the crazy bitch did! Twice!

One of the bullets grazing Dee's ear before hitting the tree behind her. And something told Dee that Blayne wasn't a bad shot. Not the way she held that weapon, the way she grinned at Dee. Why she'd purposely missed her, Dee couldn't fathom, and she was simply too angry to try.

Hands shaking, Dee grabbed her ear, felt blood on her fingers. Rage tore through her like a wild fire.

“So what are you going to do now, Dee-Ann? Huh? What are you going to do now to your teacup poodle?”

Tossing the gun past her, Blayne laughed and took off running.

And the last thing Dee consciously remembered doing at that moment was tracking her weapon down and charging off into the woods after Blayne Thorpe.

 

 

They heard the shots behind the chief's office, and the younger Van Holtz looked past Ezra. “Where the hell is Blayne?”

“Where's Dee-Ann?” Niles Van Holtz wanted to know.

The big buck hybrid who was locked on Ezra's kid like a tick went out the backdoor, the rest of the males running after him. Ezra shook his head and followed, stepping outside in time to see the big She-wolf charging off into the woods after his baby girl.

“The farmhouse is that way,” Grigori Novikov told the males.

“If Dee-Ann gets her hands on Blayne—”

“That won't happen,” Blayne's hybrid said, and shifted. Shifted into something only Blayne could truly love.

Grigori Novikov shifted with his nephew and took off after the two females. The black bear police chief charged back to town to put a call out to his deputies. MacRyrie and the younger Van Holtz went to follow after the Novikovs, but Ezra grabbed the males from behind and pulled them back.

“To the chopper,” he said.

Ezra knew what his daughter was doing, knew what she was risking. Because that was who she was. He'd accepted that about her a long time ago, but he'd always have her back.

“Let the bears get them from land. We're going by air, gentlemen.”

 

 

Blayne saw where bear country ended. It was clear because through the snow and ice center, she could see that it was a beautiful, sunny day on the other side. She pushed harder, running straight into that cold pocket that would kill a full-human in his or her tracks. She burst out the other side and right into cold but snow-and-ice-free weather.

Breathing hard, her gloved hands feeling like ice, Blayne kept running. She heard a grunt behind her and knew that Dee had made it through and was coming after her.

She'd laugh if she had the breath, but she hadn't pissed off a goddamn Smith She-wolf because she was bored with living. She did it because she needed Dee-Ann's help. But Dee-Ann didn't take Blayne seriously. She called her teacup. Rude! So Blayne had taken a page from the Ezra Thorpe philosophy manual on losing friends and irritating enemies. She'd basically instigated a fight.

It had worked, too. She'd pissed off Dee-Ann Smith something fierce. Now Blayne would have to figure out how to live long enough to get her help. But as Blayne made it up that last ridge, strong hands caught hold of her by the shoulders, lifting her off her feet and slamming her into the closest tree. Dee-Ann shoved her forearm against Blayne's throat, pinning her in place.

Fangs out, blood covering her face from broken nose to sweater-covered chest, Dee-Ann was one step from feral. But Blayne knew there was one thing that might get Dee back. One thing that she did care about.

“Look,” Blayne spit out, finding it really hard to talk with a forearm against her trachea. “Look,” she pushed, using her eyes to gesture to the left since she couldn't with her body. “Please. Look.”

Keeping her in place, scowling in distrust, Dee glanced over...

Blayne coughed when the forearm moved away, her hand rubbing what she knew would be a big fat bruise. But at least Dee hadn't crushed anything vital. That was something.

“I think they knew you were coming,” Blayne said, staring down the ridge.

The full-humans had Dee's team pinned down behind a building. Cut off from their transport near the beach and the land behind the farm. They weren't dead yet, but they would be.

“The whole town will be coming this way,” Blayne told Dee.

“I guess there's no point in telling you to go back, is there?”

“I'm getting the hybrids out, Dee. But feel free to kill all the full-humans in between me and them.” Blayne grinned when Dee didn't pop her in the face. “You know, since you're so good at that and all.”

 

 

By the time Bo and his uncle stepped into the middle of the never-ending storm, half the town was with them. The locals came for two reasons. They came because full-humans were using their territory to torture others. And, more important, because Blayne needed them.

As one rampaging clan of bears, they came through the storm and to the other side. They could hear the gunfire now that they were clear of the torrential winds. The team that the Van Holtzes had sent in were in the middle of a firefight. Standing on the ridge, Bo could see Blayne and the Smith She-wolf moving down, using the trees for cover. Bo wouldn't try to stop Blayne. No point. But he could help. They could all help.

He charged down the ridge and up to the first full-human male he found. A full-human who turned quickly, his machine gun tight in both hands. Before he could pull the trigger, Bo slapped the gun down, ripping off one of the full-human's arms in the process.

Oh . . . that was totally an accident. Sorry
.

A bullet grazed his side and Bo lowered his head, charging the shooter, accidentally ripping off a leg in the process.

 

 

While the bears stomped and slapped around full-humans and Dee-Ann shot the rest while helping to unpin her team, Blayne found where they kept the hybrids. There was a thick chain and padlock on the doors, but she was able to open the doors enough to slip inside.

Some of the hybrids, probably the newer ones, called out for help. But many simply watched her, their bodies covered in old scars and new wounds, their eyes dead. She didn't care. She was getting them all out.

There was just one problem . . . unlike pure-bred wolves, Blayne wasn't real good with opening locks. At least not without keys.

She tried several times and was about to go looking for a hammer or ax when a disgusted She-wolf grabbed hold of the padlock Blayne held. “Didn't your daddy teach you nothin', teacup?”

“Trust me. He tried.”

Tucking her weapon back in its holster, Dee crouched in front of the first cage and began to work on the lock. Blayne stood and looked around. The place was simply inhumane. Cages sat on top of cages, and in each one was a hybrid shifter. Some were badly wounded, some were dead, and some were silent, simply watching them. Something told Blayne that they'd been here for a while. That they'd given up hope of ever being found.

Dee got the first cage open and moved to the next. Blayne helped the shifter out of the cage and led him to the door. “Shift and run,” she said. “Head to Canada. Don't look back.” Unfortunately, Blayne simply didn't trust that Dee's group would not harm the hybrids, so sending them to Canada was her best option at the moment.

Blayne assisted each shifter that Dee released, the pair getting into an excellent team mode Blayne would have never thought they could manage.

They got to the last cage, and Dee didn't go right to the lock. Instead she stared at the hybrid inside.

“I'll come back for her,” she said, and Blayne caught her arm before she could move away.

“We're not leaving her.” Blayne glanced at the silent female watching them. “She can walk.” Hell, she looked like she could skip, jump, and dance, too.

Dee pulled her arm loose only to catch Blayne's arm instead and drag her away from the hybrid's cage.

“Let her out and that female is gonna rip us apart. You can see it in her eyes.”

“How do you know that?”

“Ever seen a pit bull that's been in one too many dog fights? They got eyes just like hers. We leave her.”

“Hell, you say. We're not leaving her.”

“Don't argue with me on this, teacup.”

“I'm not leaving her. And I thought you never left a man behind.”

“I don't leave Marines. She ain't no Marine.”

“No. But she's one of us. I'm not leaving her.”

“You'll do as I tell ya.”

“Like hell I—” Blayne's ear twitched, hearing footsteps behind her, coming in the way she'd let the hybrids out. She tackled Dee, the pair slamming into the last hybrid's cage, bullets ripping up the air around them.