CHAPTER
32
Ric watched as Blayne Thorpe slowly opened
her eyes and looked around the hospital room she was in. She gazed
at Gwen, Ric, Dee, Lock, her father, Ezra Thorpe, and, eventually,
her gaze returned to Gwen. That’s when Blayne wailed,
“I’m dead!”
They all jerked a little and Gwen
snapped, “No you’re not!”
“Then why are you here? In a hospital? In what you so
lovingly call a ‘death trap’?” Blayne demanded. “And how can you
even hear me if I’m on another plane of existence?”
“Plane of . . .” Gwen snarled and
claws sporting the Philadelphia Eagle’s team colors extended from
her hands. “You idiot, you are not dead. You’re recovering from a stab
wound to the side—but you’re not dead!”
“Don’t yell at me when I’m the one
who’s dead! Who had so much to live for!”
“You are not dead, Blayne, but I can
easily change that fact.”
“If you’re my spirit guide to the next
world . . . you’re not very good at it. Perhaps you should seek
another line of work. Like Angel of Death or something.” Blayne
looked at her father and waved. “ ’Bye, Daddy. I’ll miss you
so.”
Ric glanced over at the wolf and all
Ezra Thorpe could do was shrug and admit, “I adored her mother and
she made me promise to always take care of her. No matter how
idiotic she may be acting.”
“Now what’s that supposed to mean?” Blayne
demanded.
“Sir!” one of the nurses called from
outside the hospital room. “I’m sorry but you can’t go in there.
There are too many people already. Sir!”
Bo Novikov, ignoring the nurses trying
to stop him, stomped into the room. He still had on his training
gear without the skates or helmet. They’d asked Eggie to go get him
because they’d rightly assumed he was the one male completely
unafraid of the Neanderthal.
Novikov pushed Ric and Lock apart and
stepped up to Blayne’s side.
He glared down at Blayne as if
she’d done something
wrong, and Ric wanted to grab her and make a run for it. That she
managed to get past the glare some players still woke up screaming
from was a testament to Blayne’s capacity to love just about
anything .
“Are you my new spirit guide?” Blayne
demanded of Novikov. “Because I’m not real impressed with the last
one they sent me.”
“Spirit guide?” Novikov
asked.
“To lead me to the next plane of
existence.”
“And I’d need to do that because . .
.”
“I’m dead. Don’t you people get paperwork on this
sort of thing?”
With his hands still covered in his
hockey gloves, Novikov poked Blayne on her wounded
side.
“Owwww!” she screeched.
“Did that hurt?” Novikov
asked.
“Yes!”
“Then you’re not dead.”
With her hand resting over her
now-agitated wound, Blayne looked around at everyone and finally
asked, “Well, why didn’t anyone tell me?”
That’s when Gwen tried to get her
hands around Blayne’s throat and Lock was forced to lift the
hissing feline up and away while Novikov held Blayne down by
pressing his hand against her forehead. The wolfdog swung her arms
wildly, trying to slapfight her best friend. Fortunately, the need
for IV drugs to help speed Blayne’s recovery had been unnecessary
since Blayne had begun to heal even before they’d left Desiree and
Mace’s house. So there was no abuse of IV bags or lines when the
fight broke out.
Chuckling, Ric turned to say something
to Dee when something strong grabbed his shoulder and yanked him
out of the room.
Dee wandered out of Teacup’s room,
already bored by all the fighting—did these people not know how to
simply be grateful they were alive? She walked over to Desiree and
Mace, Marcus asleep on his momma’s lap.
“Y’all all right?” Dee asked. “Want me
to get you something?”
“No,” Desiree answered for them all.
“We’re fine. How’s Blayne?”
“Arguing over something ridiculous
with her freak-necked friend Gwen—so I’m going to guess she’s just
fine.”
“I owe her so much,” Desiree said and
Dee shook her head.
“Please, Desiree. No more tears. I
can’t handle any more.”
“Look, bitch,” Desiree snapped. “If I
wanna be fuckin’ grateful for you people protecting my son, I’m
going to be mother-fuckin’ grateful.”
“My delicate flower,” Mace
muttered.
“Shut up.”
He grinned, winked at Dee. Yeah. Some
couples were just meant to be together.
“You seen Malone?”
“Yeah. She’s down there talking to
Abby and Hannah.” At the mention of the two young shifters, it
looked like Desiree was tearing up again, so Dee quickly escaped to
a spot next to Malone.
“MacDermot still crying?” Malone
murmured.
“Lord, yes.”
“Give her some time.”
Dee understood. It was hard to come so
close to losing the most important thing in your world and not feel
it.
Focusing on the two girls, Dee said to
Abby, “You going to spend a little more time being human from now
on?”
She shrugged, tugging at the
loose-fitting hospital scrubs the nurses had given her when she’d
come in naked, unwilling to leave Blayne or Marcus yet.
“Maybe.”
“Well, just so you know . . . you’re
not ugly.”
Malone snorted and Hannah raised a
brow.
“That was the bet in the office. That
you wouldn’t shift because you were ugly. But you’re not. You’re
cute enough.”
Malone pressed her hand to her mouth,
but the snorts of laughter slid past her fingers.
“Gee. Thanks.”
“Welcome.” Dee looked at
Hannah.
“You going to tell me I’m cute enough,
too?”
“No. I’m going to tell you that I
better not see even a moment of you looking ashamed for what you
did tonight. Not in front of me. Not unless you want to get punched
in the face a few more times. Understand me?”
“Yeah.”
“Oh, my God,” Malone laughed, unable
to contain it anymore. “Is this your rallying pep
talk?”
“Yep. What do you think?”
“Don’t quit your day job,” the three
females told her in unison.
“That was kind of rude.” Dee turned,
thinking she could use a soda from the machine when she saw Mitch
and Sissy Mae standing there, staring at her. “What’s
wrong?”
“We thought . . .” Sissy Mae and Mitch
glanced at each other, Mitch grimacing and looking
away.
“Sissy, what is it?”
“We just saw your daddy walking off
with Ric and—the other stairs, Dee!” Sissy yelled after her. “He
took the other stairs!”
Ric shook Eggie Smith’s hand and
nodded. “Thank you, sir.”
But before he could pull his hand
away, Dee-Ann charged into the basement parking lot and, except for
the blood and powder burns, she looked absolutely gorgeous in that
dress.
“Hey,” he said.
She eyed the males closely. “Hey.
Everything all right?”
“Yes.” Ric smiled at Dee’s father.
“See you for dinner tomorrow?”
“If I have to.”
Dee’s eyes widened. “You’re staying,
Daddy?”
“That a problem?”
“No, no. Of course not.”
“Your momma deserves a vacation.” He
looked back and forth between the pair, then said, “ ’Night.” Got
into a car and drove off.
“Why were you shaking my daddy’s
hand?”
“He gave me his
blessing.”
“There’s no call for lyin’, Ric Van
Holtz.”
“I’m not lying. He said it. I think he
meant it.”
“Are you sure?”
“Pretty sure. I mean, he didn’t stuff
me in his trunk and drive me out of here. So I take that as a good
sign. Don’t you?”
“Yeah.” Still . . .
“I met your mother, too. She’s really
amazing, Dee.”
“Did you say that to my daddy? In that
same way?”
“Yes, but she is,” he argued. “There’s
just something about her.”
“You did it,” Dee told
him.
“I did what?”
“Found the way to my daddy’s heart
despite your tragic birth into the Van Holtz family. And that is to
go through my momma’s heart first.”
“Oh.”
“No call to look so cocky,
though.”
“Fair enough. Now, come here,” Ric
told her and she eagerly went into his arms, the pair hugging each
other tight after such an incredibly bad day. But it had ended
well, and that’s all that mattered in the long run.
“When we have kids,” Dee told him,
“we’re getting Blayne, Abby, and Hannah to babysit.”
Ric laughed. “Absolutely.” He hugged
her once more. “You ready to head home?”
“Not yet. Not quite done for the
night.”
“Funny, that’s what your father
said.”
“Hmmm,” she replied, but that was
it.
Holding hands, they headed back to the
elevator, but Dee suddenly stopped and looked into his eyes. “Love
ya,” she said.
Ric grinned. “I love you, too,
Dee.”
She nodded and together they returned
to Blayne’s hospital room and what had turned into a very nice
mini-brawl.
Together, the three females dressed in
designer gowns hauled the duct-taped, white-haired female from the
back of the old Chevy one of them had stolen and dumped her into a
dirt hole in the middle of a Staten Island landfill.
The She-wolf reached down and yanked
the duct tape off her mouth. “Got anything to say?”
“Do you really think you’ve changed
anything?” the white-haired woman demanded. “Do you think you’ve
done any real good here? Or that you’ll do any good by killing
me?”
“I think,” the She-tiger replied,
“that your mistake was fucking with the wrong mother.”
The only full-human among the small
group stepped forward, raised the .45 she held and squeezed the
trigger—once.
Afterward and together, they filled in
the hole and cheerfully chatted about big dinner plans for the
following day.