Jess covered her mouth with her hand. “Oh, God.”

May rested her head on Jess’s shoulder and kept her eyes down, but her entire body shook. Sabina simply stared... blindly.

When they’d first thrown Mitch up on the stage it was mostly to torture him. Dogs merely trying to embarrass the cat. Three power ballads later and Jess knew she’d created a monster.

“I don’t think I’ll ever listen to Bon Jovi the same way again.”

“‘Dead or Alive’ has taken on a whole new meaning to me,” May got out between bouts of hysterical giggling.

“And let us not forget Whitesnake’s ‘Here I Go Again.’”

Sabina snorted. “I think that one made my ears bleed.”

May wiped her eyes and sat up. “We have to have him back next time we come. It’s an absolute must.”

“I say we send him with the rest of the Pack next week. Kerri and the girls will love us forever.” Because someone had to protect the pups at all times, the Pack rarely did these sorts of late-night events together. So this week it was the Original Five and about twenty other wild dogs. Next week, the rest of the Pack would go, and Jess and the others would stay home with the kids. It wasn’t the best system, but it was the safest, and that’s all that mattered.

“And,” Jess added, “it does not hurt he’s severely hot.”

“No,” May and Sabina sighed together, “it doesn’t hurt at all.”

Finally, probably because Phil shoved him, Mitch relinquished the stage. As he walked past the three of them, he gave them a big grin, a wink, and said “Ladies” with a smugness that rivaled Napoleon Bonaparte’s.

Under the table, they each grabbed hold of the other’s leg and dug their nails in so they wouldn’t burst out laughing.

“Mitch,” they said together.

“Oh, my God,” May cleared her throat after Mitch walked by. “This is the best Karaoke night ever.”

Half an hour later and, as Kenshin Inu walked away from the table, Smitty realized he’d somehow worked himself into a business deal... maybe. To be honest, he still wasn’t sure if he could trust this guy, and he had no idea if this would turn out to be anything. He certainly wouldn’t worry about it. He had more important things on his mind.

Like the hot little wild dog walking back over to him. But before she could get close, Kenshin grabbed her hand and dragged her on stage. And when he sang “Love Me Tender” to her while holding Jessie tight against him and the rest of the females squealed at his Elvis impersonation, Smitty did seriously consider killing the man. Killing him a lot.

Lighters in hand, arms waving, the dogs enjoyed Phil’s version of “No Woman, No Cry.” Not exactly Bob Marley,but close enough.

Laughing and trying not to burn her hand, Jess glanced over her shoulder to see if Smitty had finally bailed—especially after one of her Pack mangled Poison’s “Every Rose Has Its Thorns”—but to her eternal surprise, he was still in the same spot she’d left him. However, he wasn’t alone.

Jess’s eyes narrowed as she locked on to the four females from Kenshin’s Pack happily settled into Smitty’s booth with him and Mitch.

Disgusted, she turned back around and tried to force herself not to care. Didn’t work, but she did try.

“What’s wrong?” May asked against her ear so only she could hear.

“Nothing.”

“Liar. Tell me.”

Jess gave a small motion with her head and May glanced around behind them. When her eyes narrowed like Jess was sure hers had, she knew May saw it too.

“Bitches.”

“No. No. They’re friends.”

“Bitch friends.”

Sabina leaned over. “Who?”

May leaned over Jess and whispered, “Over at Smitty’s table.”

Surprisingly discreet, Sabina looked and her eyes narrowed. She gave a little sneer. “Those bitches.”

Now Jess could only laugh. Could this get more ridiculous?

She knew it could when Phil leaned over his wife and asked, “Who’s a bitch?”

Thankfully, they spoke English. Smitty’s Japanese was rusty at best. And the words he could clearly remember would only get his face slapped. Besides, they seemed less than interested in him. Their focus locked right on Mitch. And Mitch lapped up every bit of it like the greedy, never-satisfied cat that he was.

Bored and wondering how much longer this would last, Smitty stared at his empty beer bottle. Nonalcoholic beer. Christ, could getting laid be worth all this?

“Hey.”

Jessie stood at the edge of their table and he couldn’t quite understand her expression.

“Hey.”

“So”—she motioned to the stage—“what are you going to sing for me?”

“Sing?” Panic, cold and desperate, swept through his system. “I’m not singing.”

“Why not?”

“I don’t sing, Jessica Ann.” Not after that school recital when he was nine. No. Never, ever, ever again.

“Oh.” Jessie shrugged. “Okay, then.”

She walked over to the table with her Packmates and grabbed her coat. She was leaving. Because he wouldn’t sing?

“Jessie, wait—” He looked for a way around the lovely woman sitting next to him and he finally picked her up and handed her over to Mitch, who seemed more than happy to take her.