“This ain’t no dogfight, Malone. They’ve gotta transport these people, house them, feed ’em, and it ain’t like feeding some pit you keep in your backyard. Plus, you didn’t see the office we took down back in February when they went after Blayne. It rivaled Group offices. That’s serious money. And that’s what we need to find.”

“Then we need to find a fight.”

“I don’t know about y’all, but the last three we got a line on were closed down by the time we got there.”

Malone and Desiree nodded, silently agreeing they’d had the same problem.

“So someone’s warning them when to get out.”

“You think our people—”

“No, no.” Dee shook her head. “I’m not saying we’ve got anyone on our teams rattin’ us out. But there’s always chatter. One of us talks to another to another . . . until it ends up in someone’s lap.” Malone leaned in a little closer. “But you do think the money is coming from our kind?”

“Don’t you? And something tells me KZS thinks either some if not all of that money is cat money.

Otherwise, why else would y’all get involved?”

“You haven’t changed, Smith. You’d love to put this on us,” Malone accused.

“I’d love to put this on the ones doing it. I don’t expect much from the full-humans—no offense, Desiree”—Desiree shrugged, ate more toast—“but I do expect a lot from my own. If it’s one of us behind this, I wanna know. I don’t care what species or breed.”

Malone nodded. “I feel the same way. So does my boss.”

“Good. So we need to track down a fight and we need to be quiet about it. We keep it among the three of us, pull a team at the last minute, and no one says anything to anybody until we’re done.

Sound good?”

“So how do we find a fight?”

“I’ve got a contact.” Desiree pulled out her cell phone. “He works with the ASPCA.” When Dee and Malone only frowned, she added, “His thing is shutting down regular dogfights. But I’m guessing he’s got a line on one of the other types without even realizing it.” Ric dropped into a chair in his Aunt Adelle’s kitchen and announced with little preamble, “I am so screwed.”

Adelle, who’d left the setting up for lunch service in the hands of her sous-chef so she could “get up when I damn well feel like it,” placed a cup of coffee in front of Ric and kissed the top of his head. “All right, darling cousin. Tell me what’s going on.”

“I don’t think I can.”

Adelle sat down at the wood table that Lock had built for her a couple of years ago and studied the small pile of cinnamonbuns she had on a plate in front of her. “Is this about your father?”

“Maybe.”

“Because he’s stealing from the business?”

Ric gaped at his aunt. “You know?”

“Who do you think told Van?” She sipped her coffee. “You might as well accept the fact that your father’s a scumbag.”

“Adelle!”

“What? Am I lying?”

Ric put his head on the table and sighed into it, “No.”

“Why are you so upset?”

“He’s my father.”

“Only genetically.”

Ric looked up at his older cousin.

“Look,” she argued, “we all realized a long time ago that you were an at-risk pup. So Van and my brothers all decided to quietly raise you themselves. You were such a smart child, we knew your father would feel threatened.”

“Dad always said you guys babied me.”

Adelle placed her cup down on the table—hard. “First off, we never babied you. Not killing you while you slept is not babying you, Ulrich. No matter what your father may have told you. We, as a Pack, decided to raise you. Properly. And, as a humble She-wolf, I’m happy to say that we did a wonderful job.”

Laughing, Ric sat up. “Unbelievably humble. The world is filled with humble chefs.”

“Exactly. Now”—she picked up a cinnamon bun, waved it in the air—“you’ve got two choices, young man.”

“Two choices about what?”

“Spending July Fourth weekend with your father and the Pack at the Macon River Falls house or—”

“I could set myself on fire.”

“That is not the second option.”

“Well, anything but go to another disastrous holiday weekend with my father.”

“If you don’t go,” she teased, “who will apologize for your father’s fuck-ups? You can’t expect me to do it.”

“Second option, Adelle?” Ric pushed.

“You attend the children’s hospital charity ball after the Fourth as the Van Holtz representative. I think Van donated something like forty thousand this year.” Ric hated charity events, but he realized he could invite Dee as his date—then he just as quickly realized she’d turn him down. But still, anything was better than ruining his holiday weekend by spending it with his father. He’d rather sit home alone, watching the fireworks on TV.

“Charity ball.”

Adelle nodded. “That’s what I thought. I’ll let Van know.” Ric watched her bite into her cinnamon bun and admitted, “Mom came to me the other day . . .

asking for money for Dad.”