Read Online Big Bad Beast by Shelly Laurenston - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Shelly Laurenston
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through all this effort for mutts?”
Van saw Morrighan’s left eye twitch the tiniest bit. The only sign she’d show just before she went completely postal and attempted to kill everyone in the room. Holding his hand up to stop her, he said, “They start with them, but they’ll end with us. We protect all of us. You. Them. All of us.” He grabbed one of the pictures: a lovely shot of a young female dog-tiger hybrid torn in half with her insides spread out across the dirt floor she’d died on. “This is Trisha Barnes. She worked full-time as a waitress in a diner and went to nursing school in the evening. One night she was snatched off the street and used as a bait dog for the screaming entertainment of a myriad of scumbags.” He picked up another photo. He knew the victim in each one. Had studied the information about each, knew how they’d died, how they’d suffered. And he’d done all that just for this reason. For what was happening right here—at this moment. “This is Michael Franks. A mechanic. Had a wife and four pups. His injuries were so bad, we were forced to put him down on-site.” And another picture. “And this is—”
“All right. All right.” Hutton cut in, waving her hand dismissively. “I get your point. God, you’re such a drama wolf.”
“But now that Katzenhaft is involved,” Matilda Llewellyn suddenly volunteered, “perhaps they can take the lead—and the financial hit.” Matilda was one of those ancient shifters who just wouldn’t die. She-lions had a tendency to live a long time anyway and Matilda seemed to be ready to outlast everyone if she could manage it. Van was afraid that she could manage it quite nicely at the rate she was going.
“Katzenhaft is involved now?” Melinda Löwe sat up straight. “Katzenhaft doesn’t get involved in anything to do with hybrids.”
“Apparently their philosophy has changed—as has ours. And perhaps you should talk to your niece Victoria, since she runs KZS.”
Melinda, who’d known him for what felt like centuries, rolled her eyes. “Oh, come on, Van. This is KZS we’re talking about. Even the Prides don’t have control over them.”
“That’s probably why they get things done,” Clarice Dupris of the Dupris hyena Clan muttered loud enough for everyone to hear.
Seeing where this would quickly be heading, Van stood. “Meeting adjourned. Because I’m rather sick of all of you right now.”
With shrugs and eye rolls, the predators he was forced to work with for the good of his kind, got up and headed out for the lunch he had set up in one of his Pack’s restaurants on the top floor of this Chicago hotel. Really, Van would rather get to his jet and head home to his wife, kids, and kitchen, but he’d make it through lunch. That was the great thing about predators—little talking while they ate, and they all ate quickly. In another hour, he would be heading home.
Thinking about that, he motioned to his assistant and began to pull the papers together when Matilda made her slow way to his side with the help of a cane and one of her young great nieces.
“So young Niles,” she greeted, flashing those fangs that could no longer retract. That’s how old she was. It was like she was turning into a very large and lean cat full time. It was weird. Even for fellow shifters . . . it was weird. “How’s it going with that She-wolf? Egbert Smith’s daughter.”
“She’s working out well.” Matilda always had problems with the hiring of Eggie Smith and then Eggie Smith’s daughter. Van didn’t know why, nor did he care. What Matilda always failed to understand was that sometimes one needed killers when they were protecting more than a few dollars in the bank or some jewels in a safe. And Eggie and Dee-Ann Smith were both born killers.
“Best watch her, though,” Matilda warned, slowly moving around him, and heading toward the door. “Just like her father, she kills for fun.”
Van’s assistant stood next to him and
Van saw Morrighan’s left eye twitch the tiniest bit. The only sign she’d show just before she went completely postal and attempted to kill everyone in the room. Holding his hand up to stop her, he said, “They start with them, but they’ll end with us. We protect all of us. You. Them. All of us.” He grabbed one of the pictures: a lovely shot of a young female dog-tiger hybrid torn in half with her insides spread out across the dirt floor she’d died on. “This is Trisha Barnes. She worked full-time as a waitress in a diner and went to nursing school in the evening. One night she was snatched off the street and used as a bait dog for the screaming entertainment of a myriad of scumbags.” He picked up another photo. He knew the victim in each one. Had studied the information about each, knew how they’d died, how they’d suffered. And he’d done all that just for this reason. For what was happening right here—at this moment. “This is Michael Franks. A mechanic. Had a wife and four pups. His injuries were so bad, we were forced to put him down on-site.” And another picture. “And this is—”
“All right. All right.” Hutton cut in, waving her hand dismissively. “I get your point. God, you’re such a drama wolf.”
“But now that Katzenhaft is involved,” Matilda Llewellyn suddenly volunteered, “perhaps they can take the lead—and the financial hit.” Matilda was one of those ancient shifters who just wouldn’t die. She-lions had a tendency to live a long time anyway and Matilda seemed to be ready to outlast everyone if she could manage it. Van was afraid that she could manage it quite nicely at the rate she was going.
“Katzenhaft is involved now?” Melinda Löwe sat up straight. “Katzenhaft doesn’t get involved in anything to do with hybrids.”
“Apparently their philosophy has changed—as has ours. And perhaps you should talk to your niece Victoria, since she runs KZS.”
Melinda, who’d known him for what felt like centuries, rolled her eyes. “Oh, come on, Van. This is KZS we’re talking about. Even the Prides don’t have control over them.”
“That’s probably why they get things done,” Clarice Dupris of the Dupris hyena Clan muttered loud enough for everyone to hear.
Seeing where this would quickly be heading, Van stood. “Meeting adjourned. Because I’m rather sick of all of you right now.”
With shrugs and eye rolls, the predators he was forced to work with for the good of his kind, got up and headed out for the lunch he had set up in one of his Pack’s restaurants on the top floor of this Chicago hotel. Really, Van would rather get to his jet and head home to his wife, kids, and kitchen, but he’d make it through lunch. That was the great thing about predators—little talking while they ate, and they all ate quickly. In another hour, he would be heading home.
Thinking about that, he motioned to his assistant and began to pull the papers together when Matilda made her slow way to his side with the help of a cane and one of her young great nieces.
“So young Niles,” she greeted, flashing those fangs that could no longer retract. That’s how old she was. It was like she was turning into a very large and lean cat full time. It was weird. Even for fellow shifters . . . it was weird. “How’s it going with that She-wolf? Egbert Smith’s daughter.”
“She’s working out well.” Matilda always had problems with the hiring of Eggie Smith and then Eggie Smith’s daughter. Van didn’t know why, nor did he care. What Matilda always failed to understand was that sometimes one needed killers when they were protecting more than a few dollars in the bank or some jewels in a safe. And Eggie and Dee-Ann Smith were both born killers.
“Best watch her, though,” Matilda warned, slowly moving around him, and heading toward the door. “Just like her father, she kills for fun.”
Van’s assistant stood next to him and
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