A low growl came at her from the darkness and Dee stepped out of the kitchen, letting the door swing closed behind her. The growl moved closer, and eyes reflected the light from the few lamps that were lit.

Smiling a little, despite the problems she and her team had walked into, Dee moved away from the kitchen door and more into the hallway.

“Now what do you think you’re doing, Mr. Van Holtz? To some poor little gal all alone in the middle of your big ol’ apartment. Defenseless.”

Big paws padded softly against the marble flooring, the wolf circling around Dee-Ann, staying hidden in the shadows, but she knew where he was at every second.

Thinking that play should wait, Dee-Ann said, “We need to talk, Van Holtz.” But he snarled at that. “I know what you’d rather be doing but that’s not the point. We should talk. About business. Like two professionals.”

He stepped out of the darkness, all rippling muscle and power passed down from ancestors hundreds of years gone. He lowered his head, bright blue gaze locked on her face.

Dee stepped back and shook her head. “This ain’t professional, Ulrich.” And that’s when he charged her.

Dez walked into the Brooklyn home she shared with her husband and mate. Her two purebred Rottweilers met her at the front door, greeting her with wet kisses and excited tail wags. She’d refused to dock their tails like some owners and she was glad she hadn’t. Nothing drove Mace crazier than when her dogs knocked shit down with their tails.

She petted them and scratched the spot where their tails met their rumps until they were nothing more than wiggling dog flesh on the floor. Standing up, she pulled off her jacket and placed it over the banister. Her backpack dropped at the front door, Dez walked toward the kitchen, but before she got too far, the door opened and the most important thing in her life charged straight at her. Dez fell to her knees and opened her arms wide, laughing as the hyperkinetic bundle slammed into her body, knocking both of them to the ground.

She showered Marcus with kisses, knowing that everything she did during these long days and many nights was to ensure that one day he’d be able to roll around on the floor with his own son or daughter or both and all their dogs—because her son would have dogs. Even if he was a cat. Because what was a life without dogs?

“What is this on your face?” she asked him, realizing it was probably all over her face now, too.

“Okay,” Blayne Thorpe told her, barreling through the kitchen door. “It was just a slight mishap with the brownie mix. No reason to panic!”

Except Blayne appeared worse off than Marcus. Christ, the kid was covered. Did they actually bake any brownies?

“But I called in the heavy artillery,” Blayne went on, “to get this place spic and span.” Dez got to her feet, lifting Marcus upuntil he wrapped his arms around her neck. “You called your boyfriend in to clean my apartment?”

“Someone had to do it,” came a voice from behind the kitchen door.

“Any other problems?” Dez asked, turning toward the front door as it opened and her husband walked in, his dog beside him. Apparently the mixed Rottie rescue was too good to stay at the house among Dez’s average, run-of-the-mill purebreds. Instead, she had to go into the city with Mace to help him endure the work day and keep Smitty’s dog, Shit-starter, from bothering him.

The little whore.

“Sorry I’m late,” Mace said. “Job ran long.”

“No problem,” Blayne chirped. She was perhaps the chirpiest person Dez had ever known.

Marcus adored her and Mace . . . tolerated her more than most. And that said a lot. “No derby practice tonight.”

“My son,” Mace said, pulling Marcus out of Dez’s arms without an invitation and holding him high above his head. “Future of my bloodline.”

Dez shook her head in disgust, Blayne giggled.

Marcus scowled down at his father, pulled back his arm, and slashed at Mace’s handsome face with nonexistent claws.

“Viper child!” Mace snarled.

Holding out her arms, Dez ordered, “Give me my son, Llewellyn.”

“Momma’s boy. That’s what you’ve turned him into.” He shoved his son back into Dez’s arms.

“An ungrateful momma’s boy. I allow you to live, boy! Don’t you forget it!”

“Thank you, Blayne,” Dez said over all the bellowing and her son’s giggling. “Are you sure we can’t pay you?”

“Absolutely not!”

“Yeah, because everything should be for free,” Bo Novikov complained from the kitchen. “So we can live in a Blayne-like utopia.”

Blayne smiled and said, “Excuse me a moment.”

Dee waited until Blayne had gone back into the kitchen before she faced her husband. “We need to talk.”

“What did I do now?”

“Nothing.”

“Because whatever it was, I’m sure I didn’t mean to do it.”

“You’re not helping yourself, Captain Ego.”

“And if I want to help a friend,” Blayne bellowed from behind the kitchen door, “I’ll do it! And you’re not going to give me any shit over it, you oversized Visigoth!”

“ ‘They’re such a cute couple,’” Mace imitated back to Dez from a recent wild dog party where she’d had a tad too many margaritas.

“They are a cute, if unstable couple.”

“He’s more bear than lion.”