CHAPTER 17
Blayne sensed a presence in front of her. She knew it wasn’t Bo. He was behind her and had been the entire night, holding her in his big arms, those razor-sharp claws near extremely vital organs, but she’d never once felt unsafe. Not with Bo. Not ever again. But someone else in their human form was coming at them from the front, leaning in close. Blayne didn’t even open her eyes before she wrapped her mouth around the face close to her and bit down.
It was a male, and he went down screaming, trying to throw her off.
“Fabi found ’em,” someone said off in the distance.
“Get her off me! Get her off me!” She guessed the one called Fabi screamed.
Large, human arms wrapped around her and pulled her back. Since she knew those arms belonged to Bo, she released the male she had a good hold of.
More bears in human form showed up, surrounding them. Some on snowmobiles and some on foot. They all wore T-shirts that read URSUS COUNTY POLICE. The older polar Blayne had met the night before walked up to them. He was the only one not wearing any police department gear.
“We’ve been looking everywhere for you two. Get back to the hospital and get dressed. Her people are coming for her.”
Her people? Blayne didn’t have any people but her father, and good God, she hoped that he didn’t know anything about this. He still hadn’t let her live down when she’d gotten lost in a department store when she was ten. So for her to get caught off guard and picked off by trackers? Christ, Mr. Cranky Wolf would make sure to have it put on his tombstone to ensure she’d never forget.
“She nearly bit my nose off!” Poor Fabi. But who sticks their face near the muzzle of a sleeping wolfdog? Why not just put your arm in their mouth or try and take their food? Either of these would make as much sense.
“You shouldn’t have gotten so close, you idiot,” Bo said in that friendly way he had. But how he wasn’t freezing to death, she’d never know. Then again, how could any of them not be freezing to death? The grizzlies and black bears had on long sleeve tees and jeans while some of the polars had on T-shirts and shorts.
Even with fur, Blayne was cold, and she knew she’d be colder if she weren’t being held by Bo. Even human his body kept her warm.
“I see you haven’t changed, Speck,” the polar she’d bitten shot back at Bo.
And without Bo saying a word, Blayne sensed his change. Felt his body become tense, his attitude darken. She immediately responded to that change, her own body tensing, a low growl rolling past her muzzle.
Fabi stepped back and the older polar watched her close.
“I don’t know,” Fabi said. “Seems to me she has enough wolf in her that we should put her down now.”
Blayne didn’t have a chance at a good bout of panic over that particular statement before Bo dropped her, shifted, and leaped at the polar. He took him down, Fabi shifting in the process, but his twelve hundred pounds and average, mundane fangs were nothing compared to Bo’s bear-cat sexiness—and yes, that’s how she thought of his shifted form.
Bo landed on top of Fabi, keeping the polar pinned to the ground with his weight alone, leaned in, and roared. The sound echoed and the rest of the bears began to move nervously, their jaws popping, their fangs coming out. All except for the older polar. He rolled his eyes and said, “Let him go, Bo. He ain’t worth the trouble, and he’s your cousin.” Yet Bo didn’t move; he didn’t back down. Finally the older polar added, “You’ve got my word, I won’t let anything happen to the wolfdog. Promise.”
That seemed to be enough for Bo. He nodded and stepped off his cousin—His cousin calls him Speck? Not okay—moving back and back until he had Blayne pinned against the tree with his big bear butt. She swiped at him, yelped, and she felt his body shake. Laughing at her! He was laughing at her! What a bastard! She caught hold of his long cat tail with her teeth, tugging at it. With a snort, Bo walked off, dragging a tugging, growling, completely ineffectual Blayne behind him.
Oh, but she’d show him. She never gave up. Even when it made complete sense to give up and run away, she wouldn’t.
They made it back to the hospital with Blayne attached to Bo’s tail the entire way. It amazed him those were the same teeth that had torn into a deer the night before with such gusto. Maybe she was going easy on him, because he didn’t feel a thing. He climbed back into the window he’d gone out of, Blayne right behind him since she still held on to his tail. He lifted his tail and placed her on the bed, whipping his tail around until she released him. She rolled off, shifting from wolfdog to naked hottie in seconds, laughing as she rolled across the bed.
Bo shifted and quickly shut the window, knowing how cold it was to everyone else not born and raised in Ursus County, Maine.
“I can’t believe you bit his face,” he laughed.
“I can’t believe that asshole is your cousin. And Speck?”
“The town nickname because I was so small.”
“Small? In whose world are you small? And your shifted form?” She rolled to her stomach and rested her chin on her fists. “Wow,” she said. “Just . . . wow.”
“You’re making fun of me, aren’t you?”
“No way.” Blayne scrambled to her knees. If she remembered she was naked, she didn’t seem to care. “Bo, I think you’re amazing.”
“I have tusks, Blayne.”
“Those aren’t tusks. Those are fangs. Like the mighty saber-toothed cats of prehistoric times. If I had those, I’d never be human. I’d run around with my cool, über-long fangs, daring anyone to fuck with the mighty Blayne of the Thorpe Dynasty.”
“You have a dynasty?”
“I would if I had those cool fangs!”
Bo grinned, surprising himself. He’d never discussed his fangs before without getting in a fight or walking away hurt, swearing never to shift again. He grew out of that stage, though, and simply stopped shifting unless he was by himself. But he couldn’t ignore Blayne’s enthusiasm. She really should represent all hybrids. She loved each of them, with all their quirks and foibles and unholy-size body parts, individually. He had to admire that.
“We better get dressed,” he said, noticing the pile of clothes someone had put out for them.
“You don’t think my father’s coming to get me, do you?” And she winced when she asked, making him a little worried.
“I don’t know. My uncle is the king of the unclear.”
Still kneeling on the bed, Blayne sat back on her haunches. “Wait . . . that was your uncle? The big polar?”
“Yep.” The clothes put out for Bo were also his uncle’s. He recognized the scent. He nearly smiled again. For the first time, he’d be able to wear his uncle’s clothes and not swim in them.
A pillow hit him in the back of the head, and, startled, Bo faced Blayne. “What was that for?”
“Your uncle? Who you haven’t seen in ten years? And you don’t hug him or kiss him or show him any affection? Because unlike Flabby”—and that totally made Bo laugh—“he was nice to you. And seemed concerned.”
“The Novikovs don’t hug, Blayne.”
“Neither do the Thorpes, but that never stopped me before, much to my father’s annoyance. No wonder your uncle looked so hurt,” she said.
“Hurt? About what?”
“An ungrateful nephew!”
“I didn’t see him trying to kiss me or hug me or anything else.”
“So?”
“What do you mean, so?”
“Sometimes, you idiot, you have to show affection to get it. Sometimes, you have to suck it up, be a man, and show the people you care about that you actually do care!”
Marci lingered outside the hospital door, listening with avid interest to the argument going on inside. Normally, she’d never be this nosey, but that wolfdog was saying all the things she’d never been able to say before to either idiot, er, Novikov. For years she’d watched them play the “Novikovs don’t show emotion” game and for years she’d watched them never get as close as she knew they not only could but should.
And she knew what it was, too. Bold had convinced himself that his uncle was only doing what he morally felt he should do, not that he loved the boy more than he could ever put into words. And Grigori had convinced himself that Bold was so standoffish because he didn’t like him, let alone love him, and that he’d been biding his time waiting to get away from him rather than the entire town who still called him Speck. They were both foolish and incredibly stubborn males who never listened to anyone, and although Marci still tried when she could to get both past all this, she’d given up hope.
Until this very moment. Until this very wolfdog.
“Why are you yelling at me?” Bo asked, and as usual, he didn’t sound hurt or angry, merely confused. Male bears . . . the most confused of any carnivore on the planet!
“Because family is all, Bo. You should stay,” she suddenly said.
“I am not staying.”
“I’ll go back with whoever is coming to pick me up and you can stay a couple of extra days.”
“I’m not staying, Blayne. So forget it.”
“Do we really need to have the ‘when was the last time you went on vacation’ discussion again?”
“The Cup Finals begin in two weeks. Do you really think that I’d miss one day of training before Finals?”
“You know what I just heard? ‘Blah blah blah blah blah . . . finals.’”
Marci quickly covered her mouth with her hand and bit the inside of her cheek to keep from laughing.
“You need to stay and see your family.”
“No.”
“You’re being unreasonable.”
“And you need to get dressed unless you want me to drag you on that transport naked. And don’t you dare cry!”
Marci heard the wolfdog sniff loudly and dramatically three times before saying, “Fine. Be that way. Alone, bitter, friendless.”
“Don’t alone and friendless kind of go together?” Marci heard something crash, then Bo growl, “And stop throwing things at my head!”
Straightening her clothes and trying to wipe the smile off her face, Marci stepped in front of the doorway and knocked.
Blayne was still seething when the doctor from yesterday knocked and stepped into the room.
“Morning,” she said, looking kind of serious.
“Morning,” both Blayne and Bo mumbled.
Blayne knew Bo was pissed at her, but she didn’t really care. Family was family, in her mind, and unless they were stealing from you or abusing you, a body just had to put up with them. That’s what being blood meant. Most hybrids didn’t even know their families; shunned from birth, their birth parents forced out, they often ended up living a hard life if anything happened to the ones who raised them. Blayne knew she was lucky that her father had decided to keep her and raise her. Others, unable to survive without their pride, pack, or clan, often deserted their young pups and cubs who then ended up roughing it in the system. It was hard enough being a shifter in a world of nonshifters, but to be a hybrid . . . Blayne couldn’t imagine it and didn’t really want to. And like her, whether he realized it or not, Bo was one of the lucky ones. He may have lost his parents, but to find a family member willing to take him in was no small feat. So the fact that he didn’t slather that polar with love and adoration stuck in her sensitive paw like little else could.
“How are you both feeling?” the doctor asked, stepping farther into the room until she stood between the bed and the side table where someone had put out clothes.
“Fine,” Bo mumbled.
“Much better,” Blayne said.
“Good.” She clapped her hands together, startling Blayne and Bo, causing both of them to snarl a little, but if she noticed, she didn’t show it. “So I guess Grigori told you that Blayne’s people are coming for her. In fact, they may already be here.”
Blayne couldn’t help but wince. “My father?”
“Your father is a Van Holtz?”
Blayne not only laughed out of relief, but the thought that some “born with that stick up his ass”—as her dad put it—Van Holtz would deign to claim any wolfdog as their child made her fall back on the bed.
Bo threw clothes at her, his anger already gone as he watched her. “Put some clothes on, Giggles.”
“Hey! I could be a Van—”
“Don’t even,” he cut in, already smiling, which was good because she was laughing again. “Just get dressed.”
“I guess the answer to your question then, Blayne, is it’s not your father.”
Blayne pulled on thermal underwear, sweatpants, and a sweatshirt.
“Hmmm,” the doc said. “I was afraid of that.” She motioned for Blayne to stand on the bed, and she examined the bottom of the sweats. “These are fox cut pants, but, as I feared, they’re too short for you.”
“We’ll be here another half hour. Tops. She can suck up the shortness.”
Before Blayne could point out that no one had asked his damn opinion, the doc did it for her.
“And who asked you, Bold Novikov?” Marci said, tossing shiny black and gray hair off her forehead.
“Bold?” Blayne giggled. “Did you call him Bold?”
“That’s his name.”
“Dude, your name is Bold?”
“First off, stop calling me dude. And second, you got a problem with my name?”
“Not if you were on the cover of one of my mom’s old romance novels.”
“Bold is actually a very old and respected Mongolian name,” the doctor interjected. “It means steel, and as you know the early Mongolians were all about the power of steel.”
“Steel Novikov,” Blayne said, ignoring Bo’s head dropping forward in defeat. “How cool is that?”
“Do not run around telling people my name is Steel or Bold or anything else.”
“But—”
“No.”
“But—”
“No.”
“Just let me—”
“No.”
“Someone’s Mr. No Fun!”
Laughing, the doctor headed toward the door. “I’ll come back for you when Grigori shows up to take you to town. I can’t miss the chance of meeting an actual Van Holtz,” she said, a teasing smile on her face.
Before walking out, she stopped in the doorway and said, “Oh. One other thing.” She walked back to Blayne, pulling something out of her hospital coat and putting it in Blayne’s palm.
Staring down at the tiny electronic item, Blayne asked, “What’s this?”
“A microchip. It was in your back, right beneath your shoulder blade. Your body was trying to expel it. Probably why you had such a harsh reaction from that last badger attack Bold told me about.”
“I don’t understand. Microchip?”
“You know,” the sow said as she walked to the door. “The kind you’d use to microchip your pet dog or cat. I had the lab check it out, and this one actually has a homing beacon. The lab technician said someone could track you for up to three hundred miles. I’ll be back in a few,” she promised before walking out the door, leaving Blayne to stare at the chip in her hand.
No way. No. Way.
They wouldn’t, would they? They wouldn’t actually . . . microchip Blayne, would they?
But the way she went to sit on the bed, missed it completely, and ended up with her butt on the floor, Bo knew that, at the very least, that’s what Blayne thought.
He went down on one knee in front of her, his hand on her shoulder. “Blayne?”
“Ric . . . microchipped me? Like a house pet?”
The jealous, devious side of him—he liked to call that the lion side—wanted to scream, “Yes! That bastard microchipped you, and you should never see him again! Or I can kill him for you! Let me kill him for you!” But the expression on her face tore into Bo more than her fangs had torn into Fabi’s face. So the nicer bear side replied, “I doubt that. And, if he did, I’m sure he did it for a good reason.” That last part made Bo want to retch, but he said it anyway. Although he did adore the look on Blayne’s face when she raised her head: her brows pulled in, one corner of her top lip lifted, and she gawked at him as if he’d lost his mind.
“Grigori’s here,” Dr. Luntz said, walking back in the room. She’d taken off her lab coat and wore a Boston Bruins sweatshirt and a Boston Bruins knit cap. “We better get moving. Storm’s coming.”
Bo nodded and focused back on Blayne. “You ready?”
She let out a breath and stood. “I’m ready.”
And he had to say, the coldness coming off her rivaled any storm coming off the Atlantic that this town had experienced in the last hundred years or so.
Ric paced restlessly in front of Niles Van Holtz until Van finally grabbed his cousin by the arm and held him in place. The nervous pacing didn’t bother him, of course, but it sure did bother the twenty bears standing around waiting for nothing more than for them to leave. They’d even brought Ric’s friend Lock to accompany them, but the bears seemed to care less about the Van Holtz’s grizzly escort. These bears didn’t like wolves and they really didn’t like Van Holtzes, so they wanted nothing more than to see the back of them.
They waited outside the police chief’s office, the bears unwilling to allow them to even sit and wait for Blayne’s appearance in a warm room. Whatever. Van could do nothing but smirk at all the bullshit from the uptight bears. His wife used to ask him why he rolled his eyes anytime someone mentioned bears, and as he always said, “Because they don’t matter nearly as much as they think they do.”
“Ric,” Lock said, and both Van and Ric turned, watching the big SUV turning the corner and pulling to a stop a few feet away. A polar boar and a black sow stepped out from the vehicle, followed by the Marauder, a player who had always impressed Van with his unparalleled ruthlessness on the ice and his unwavering lack of approachability off it. And, apparently nothing had changed, his always-there scowl locking on Ric with something akin to a homicidal intent Van found a little unsettling, considering.
Then after all of them came the small wolfdog. She had her eyes down and didn’t look at all like the Blayne he’d met in late October of the previous year. That wolfdog had been full of life and laughter, but this Blayne, beyond the bruises and healing wounds littering her face and neck, seemed miserable. Devastated. Christ, what had those full-humans done to her? Or was it these bears who’d hurt her?
He knew his cousin was thinking the same thing as he seemed to grow taller, his back snapping ramrod straight, his head dipping down, and a low growl easing out of him. Lock stepped up beside him, showing whose side he was on should things get ugly and protecting his friend all at the same time.
The small group walked up to them and, after taking a calming breath, Ric asked, “Blayne? Are you all right?”
“Yeah,” she said softly. “Yeah. I am.”
Lock’s gaze moved around the group of bears that, Van abruptly noticed, had grown in number.
“Let’s get you both back home,” Lock said.
“Yes,” Ric agreed, his gaze still on Blayne while she continued to stare at the ground. “Let’s get you home, Blayne. Home and safe.”
And that’s when Miss Thorpe’s dark brown eyes fastened on Ric, her gaze ripping into him with a rage that nearly took Van’s breath away.
“Blayne?” Ric asked softly, taking a small step toward her.
Growling, Blayne stalked away from all of them. Ric began to go after her, but Grigori Novikov stepped in front of him, blocking him.
The Marauder followed after her instead, the pair stopping once they reached the corner.
Van didn’t know what the hell was going on, but he knew it wasn’t good. Not even close to good.
“I don’t want to go back,” she said simply.
Bo blinked, surprised. So this was what Blayne was like when she was really mad. Good to know. “Okay.” He wouldn’t force her to go back. “Where do you want to go? I have houses in Tahiti, Paris, London, Edinburgh—”
She looked around. “I want to stay here.”
“Here . . . where?”
“Here. In Ursus County.” She took another look around. “I like it here.”
“You can’t stay here, Blayne.”
“Why not?”
“You can’t stay here, Blayne,” Bo repeated. “Trust me on this.”
Grigori strode up to them, the wolves and MacRyrie waiting for them at the end of the block. “What’s going on?”
“Nothing I can’t handle,” Bo told him.
“Can I stay here?” Blayne asked, and Grigori appeared as stunned as Bo felt when she’d first told him she wanted to stay. Never before, in the history of the town—and it had a very long history—had any non-bear or non-fox not mated to an Ursus County resident ever wanted to stay.
“Stay . . . here?” Grigori’s low voice even cracked a little on that question.
Blayne sniffed once, then again. “You . . . you don’t want me to stay?”
“Uh . . .”
“That’s all right. I understand.” A lone tear trailed down her cheek. “If I were you, I wouldn’t want me around, either.”
“No, no,” Grigori rushed to explain, panicking. “Don’t misunderstand. It’s just—”
“What is going on?” Dr. Luntz demanded as she stomped over. “Those wolves are getting snarly.”
Grigori turned to Dr. Luntz. “Blayne wants to stay.”
Dr. Luntz watched Grigori for a moment, focused on Bo, and finally focused on Blayne.
“You want to stay here?”
“Not forever. It’s just—”
“Of course you can stay, Blayne.”
“What?” Both Bo and Grigori said at the same time.
“We’re not turning this poor, sweet girl away. Besides, it’s not forever. Right, Blayne?”
Blayne nodded quickly, recognizing an ally when she found one. “No, ma’am. Not forever.”
“Just until these rude bastards learn a lesson about how to treat you. Right?”
Blayne threw her arms around Dr. Luntz’s shoulders, going up on her toes to reach them, and hugged her tight.
Dr. Luntz chuckled and hugged her back. “You can stay at Grigori’s house.” She winked at Grigori. “He won’t mind.”
Knowing his uncle, Bo was sure Grigori was about to argue that particular point, but Blayne released Dr. Luntz and looked up at Grigori with those wide, imploring eyes. Not wolf eyes. Dog eyes. And who, with a soul, could turn down dog eyes? Bo couldn’t, and he now realized, neither could a polar he would have thought was as hard-hearted as they came.
Grigori sighed, big and heavy, before saying, “Of course you can stay, Blayne Thorpe. Wouldn’t be right to turn you away, now would it?”
The smile she unleashed nearly knocked all three of them on their asses, it was so bright and wide, and her eyes filled with tears again. This time from gratitude. “I promise, Mr. Novikov, I won’t get in your way or bother you or anything.”
“Grigori’s the name, and I don’t think you’ll get in my way. Little thing like you.”
“You sure about this, Blayne?” Bo asked. “You sure you want to stay?”
“Just until I feel . . . better about going back.”
“What’s better for you? Groveling or crawling through glass?”
“Anyone can grovel,” she grumbled.
“Broken glass it is.” Bo shrugged at his uncle and said, “Guess you better get my old room and the guest room ready for us, and I’ll tell Van Holtz.”
“You can’t,” Blayne said.
“But I look forward to telling Van Holtz. I’m really hoping on sobbing so I can point at him and laugh.”
“I don’t mean you can’t tell him. Actually, you can tell him because I’m not talking to him ever again . . . or until I get over it, which may or may not be ever or even longer.”
Grigori and Dr. Luntz exchanged confused glances, but what really freaked Bo out was that he now understood exactly what Blayne meant.
“I mean,” she went on, “that you can’t stay.”
“I’m not leaving you in Ursus County alone.”
“I won’t be alone.” She leaned against Grigori, resting her head against his arm. “Grigori will take care of me.”
Dr. Luntz snorted, quickly looking off, while Grigori raised a brow at his nephew.
“Like I’ll let that happen,” Bo told him, and to Blayne he said, “I’m staying.”
“Llewellyn Cup Finals.”
Then Bo Novikov said something he never thought he’d ever say. “The Cup Finals will be there next year.”
Blayne knew her mouth was hanging open but . . . but . . . he was willing to miss Cup Finals? For her? Had the world gone off its axis? Were volcanoes erupting while rivers and lakes overflowed? Had the world ended? She looked up at the sky. Nope. No pigs flying overhead, either.
“What’s that look for?” he asked.
“You’re willing to miss the finals . . . for me?”
“I attacked a van for you.”
“But that didn’t interfere with your schedule.”
When Dr. Luntz and Bo’s uncle burst out laughing, Blayne knew Bo had always been this way. And for some reason, that made him cuter.
“I’m staying, Blayne.”
“Yeah, but—”
“You wanted me to have a vacation. This will be my vacation.”
“All right. But I don’t want any whining about it later. Or any latent bitterness used against me when you’re at your lowest.”
“Where do you come up with this shit?”
“The Dr. Phil show.”
“I like that you admit you watch it.”
“I’m brave that way.”
“Sorry to interrupt the mutual weirdness of you two,” Grigori cut in. “But the wolves and that grizzly are getting anxious.”
“You want to tell Van Holtz? Or me?”
“I’m not speaking to him.” She folded her arms over her chest. “So you tell him.”
“You’ve got it.” She got the feeling he’d enjoy it, too.
Bo started to walk back over to Ric and the others when Blayne grabbed his arm, thinking of one more thing that could really make this hell on earth for Ulrich Van Holtz.
“You need to tell him one other thing.”
“Will it make him even more miserable?”
She laughed. “Oh . . . yeah.”
“She’s laughing,” Lock said next to him. “That’s a good sign. Right?”
Ric didn’t know. Blayne wasn’t acting like Blayne. She was closed off from him. He expected a lot of things from Blayne but that hadn’t been it. And he definitely didn’t expect her to walk away from him. That last look she’d given him . . . it was like she wanted to rip out his throat. Did she blame him for this? For being taken? For being dragged to Ursus Fucking County of all places?
Maybe she did. And maybe she should.
Although part of him was grateful to the bears for taking her in and patching her up, he also couldn’t believe they simply hadn’t taken her to the closest shifter-run hospital right there in Brooklyn. They’d transported her out of the state and away from those who’d protect her and didn’t see her as “nearly too much wolf to tolerate” as one recently mauled boar with facial lacerations had muttered.
Well, whether she blamed him or not, and whether she was right to blame him or not didn’t matter. All that mattered at this very moment was getting Blayne Thorpe back to the city and absolute safety.
“They’re heading back,” Lock said low, and Ric turned to face them.
That idiot Novikov led the way, and Ric was kicking himself he’d hired the prick for the team. Sure, they were heading to the Cup Finals because of said prick, but that wasn’t the point. He was much too close to Blayne for Ric and Lock’s liking, and once they had her back home, Ric was going to put a stop to all the bullshit.
Novikov walked up to him, looked him over, and said, “We’re not going back.”
Ric waited for some kind of punch line, some kind of indication the big oaf was joking. Unfortunately, Ric kept waiting.
Lock, however, didn’t wait. “What do you mean she’s not going back?”
Like Ric, Lock could give a flying fuck what Novikov did or didn’t do and who he did or didn’t do it with, but Blayne was another story all together.
“Was I not clear in my word usage?” Novikov asked with a condescension worthy of British royalty. “Should I simply use smaller words or speak slower to help you understand?”
Lock stepped into Novikov and Ric quickly got between the two. Something he knew was kind of stupid, but he couldn’t help himself. Besides, he didn’t have time for their boar-posturing bullshit.
“Are you telling us,” Ric said, trying to pretend that two males much bigger than him were not snarling and snapping at each other over his head, “that Blayne isn’t coming back ever?”
“No. That’s not what I’m telling you. But Blayne doesn’t feel safe in New York. She feels safe here. And I’m on vacation. I need a vacation.”
“Blayne feels safer in Ursus County?” He couldn’t help but take a quick glance at all the bears standing around . . . scowling. “Did she hit her head?”
“Heh. Funny,” said the man with absolutely no sense of humor.
“Blayne’s coming home with me, Novikov.”
“No, Van Holtz. She’s not. But,” he said before Ric could put up a worthy fight, “she will go back to New York when her father comes to pick her up.”
Now Ric was completely confused. He immediately looked at Lock, and the grizzly had the same expression on his face.
“Her father? Blayne’s father? Ezra Thorpe?”
“Does she have more than one father?”
“I . . . I didn’t think you’d want him to know,” he said to Blayne who stood behind Novikov and it hurt that she’d feel safer behind the asshole who was known for smashing players’ heads into the ice than Ric who’d been watching her back for the last few months.
“She does now,” Novikov replied for Blayne. And even that seemed wrong! Had they brainwashed the woman? A woman who barely let anyone speak even when it was their turn? A woman who talked so much that she’d been known to almost pass out from lack of oxygen. That Blayne Thorpe was letting this idiot speak for her?
What in holy hell is going on?
“You want Blayne back in New York, you’ll need to get Ezra Thorpe to come here and get her. It’s that simple.”
“Yes, but—”
Novikov turned away from him, dismissing Ric that easily in the middle of his sentence and walking away. As he did, Blayne suddenly moved forward, and for a brief moment, Ric thought she’d gotten her sanity back. She walked up to him but didn’t speak. Instead, she held her fist out in front of her body. Not to hit him, he didn’t think, but to give him something. He held his hand out, palm up, under her fist and she opened her fingers, something small and nearly weightless dropping into it.
Without another word, she turned and walked away, Novikov right with her. The older polar stood in front of them.
“You city folk better get in your chopper and fly away. There’s a storm comin’. Hate for you to get caught on the wrong side of that.”
Ric closed his hand over what Blayne had given him and said, “I’m not leaving without—”
Van stepped in front of Ric. “Thank you for your hospitality. We’ll be in touch.”
“As ya like. But don’t waste your time coming back here without Blayne’s father. We won’t like that one bit.”
“Of course.” Van turned, facing both Ric and Lock. “Let’s go, gentlemen.”
“You can’t be serious,” Lock said, stating out loud what Ric had been thinking.
“I rarely am serious, but what I can tell you is these bears are serious. Would you like to hang around and wait to find out how serious they are?”
Lock glanced around and, eventually, shook his head. “No. He’s right, Ric. We have to go.”
Ric nodded, and they all headed back to the rented vehicle they’d picked up at the small airport more than seventy miles away.
Once in the bear-size vehicle and heading out of town, predatory bears of every type watching them from the surrounding forests, Lock asked, “What did Blayne give you anyway?”
Ric realized he’d forgotten all about that and slowly opened his tightly clenched fist so they could look. Lock briefly stopped the SUV, and the three males leaned in and studied what Ric held. It was Van who recognized it first, being that he was one of the rare shifters who, on occasion, enjoyed having pet dogs or cats of his own.
“Holy shit, someone microchipped her.”
And as fury washed over Ric, leaving him nearly breathless, he knew there was only one person in the entire universe who’d have the goddamn nerve, the unmitigated gall, to microchip a goddamn shifter.
“I’ll kill her!”