“You’re not training this morning?” Novikov asked.

Ric yanked Dee back to his lap before she could bury her knife in the hybrid’s throat and snapped, “Novikov!”

“It was just a question.”

Novikov lumbered out as silently as he’d appeared and Dee relaxed back into Ric’s chest. “You should have let me kill him.”

“I need him for the team. It’s the price I’m forced to pay.” Ric brushed the hair off her neck and kissed her throat. “It would make this weekend tolerable if you came with me.”

“I’ll probably have work.”

“Doubtful. And I’ll make sure you don’t get anything thrown at you at the eleventh hour.”

“That don’t seem fair.”

“I don’t care about fair. I care about you relaxing with me on Long Island.”

“With Teacup and Mr. Fussy Pants?”

Ric laughed. “Can I call Novikov that forever?”

“Be my guest.”

“Plus Lock and Gwen will be there.”

“Gwen hates me,” she reminded him.

“Don’t be narcissistic. She hates everyone.”

“You have a point.”

“Besides, when was the last time you had a little vacation from killing stuff?”

“When I left the Marines and before I got this job.”

“But you were staying with your parents—so is that really a vacation?” Dee shrugged. “I enjoyed it.”

Ric held her tighter. “Come with me.”

Feeling real regret, Dee admitted, “You know I can’t. I gotta be with the Pack.”

“You’re going to Tennessee?”

“Nah. Just to the Shaw house, with the Shaw brothers, my cousins, the New York Smith Pack, and the Kuznetsov Pack. It’ll be hell on earth but . . . it’s family.” Still holding Dee, Ric moved them both closer to the side of the bed until he could reach his cell phone. He speed dialed someone and smiled at her while he waited for the other end to pick up.

“Morning, Jessica.” He’d called Bobby Ray’s mate and Alpha of the Kuznetsov wild dog Pack?

Good Lord, but the man played dirty. “It’s Ric. How are you? Great. Great. Listen, I know this is last minute, but how would you like to come out to my house on the Island for the July Fourth weekend?

Uh-huh. Well, you can bring anyone you’d like. I understand, though, if you’d rather spend the weekend with the Shaw brothers. Watching them eat . . . and sleep. That is when they’re not ordering everyone around because it’s their property or they’re snoring while you try to get the baby to sl—oh? Really. Are you sure? That will be wonderful. Blayne, Lock, and Gwen will be there, too. Yes. And the lunkhead, butI’m sure he’ll practically live in the pool, so it’s not like you’ll have to communicate with him in any way.

I’m not being mean. I thought everyone called him lunkhead. It’s so fitting,” he finished on a murmur.

“All right. Yes. Bring anyone who wants to come. There’s more than enough room. Just send me a list later today so I can get enough food. Great. See you then.” Ric disconnected the call and grinned at her. “See? Now no excuses.” She pressed her hand against his forearm and looked into his eyes. “Exactly how big is this house you bought?”

He kissed her shoulder before replying, “Pretty big.”

Holding his son in his arms, Mace Llewellyn tried to stop scowling when Ulrich Van Holtz opened his front door. Of course, anytime Missy was involved, scowling always seemed to be involved.

The wolf waved him in with his hand before covering the mouthpiece of the phone he had to his ear with his fingers. “Give me a moment, Mace. I’m ordering meat.” Okay. “No problem.”

“No,” Van Holtz said into his phone. “I’ll need more sea lion than that. Do you have the steaks?” He pointed down the hallway. “Go on into the living room. I won’t be long.” Mace walked down the hallway and into the living room, stopping short right at the entrance when he spotted Dee-Ann Smith sitting on the floor in cutoff shorts and a tank top, cleaning her guns.

He knew Dee-Ann worked for Van Holtz and the Group but . . . she seemed awfully comfortable.

“Dee-Ann?”

“Hey, Mace,” she said, not looking up from methodically using a chamber brush to clean the barrel of a .45.

“What are you doing?”

“Cleaning my guns.”

Mace had forgotten that he was dealing with Dee-Ann. One of the more literal females he’d known over the years. “I mean, what are you doing in Ulrich Van Holtz’s apartment?”

“Cleaning my guns.”

At that point he decided to let it go. It took too much energy to care.

“Watcha got there, Llewellyn?” Dee-Ann asked, squinting up at Marcus and smiling.

“A spoiled brat who clearly needs more time around males. Or you know . . . you.” Dee chuckled and got to her feet, wiping her hands off on a cloth. “How would this spoiled brat like some ice cream?”

Marcus hissed at Mace and swatted at him, trying to get him to let go. “Stop doing that!”

“You male cats. Ornery ain’t even the word for it.” She took Marcus from Mace. “Come on, handsome. Let’s get you some fancy, overpriced ice cream.” She walked out of the room as Van Holtz walked in.

“I’ll have you know, Miss Smith, that gelato is superb.”