Of course, he’d been planning to be standing here with Dee-Ann at his side, but she’d told him to go on without her and he had. It wasn’t that he intended to regularly torture her with these kinds of events, but tonight was different. Tonight was the night that Matilda Llewellyn would meet her end for the crimes she’d committed against her own kind. To limit backlash, not only among the shifter community but any full-human legal entities as well, those who might normally be suspected of the crime would be making an appearance at this event. Including, but not limited to, Mace Llewellyn and his sisters, Dee-Ann, Cella Malone, Dez MacDermot-Llewellyn, and Ric.

Although dealing with Matilda probably wouldn’t stop the hybrid fights completely, it would definitely put a dent in their well-funded and well-oiled fighting machine. Things like that needed money to survive and those who weren’t making money often walked away to find other illegal activities that would. Not that any of that made Ric feel better, but he could only help one disenfranchised group at a time.

Eventually Lock walked up to the ballroom with his arm around Gwen’s waist.

“You look gorgeous,” Ric told her, leaning down to kiss her cheek.

“Thanks. Although, I gotta admit. I hate this shit.”

“I know. But I appreciate you being here. You can be my alibi.”

“Because that’s always fun,” Lock told him. “So how did it go with Van?”

“Great. Until he found out I’d marked Dee. Then he went a little hysterical.” The pair gawked at him, eyes wide and mouths open. Then Gwen laughed. “Holy shit, Ric, you actually pulled it off.”

“You and . . .” Lock shook his head. “She didn’t mind?”

“Lock!” Gwen squeaked.

“No,” Ric told him with a smile. “She didn’t mind.”

“And what about her father?”

“After this gets done, we’ll head down to Tennessee and tell him together.”

“Do you really think her presence will stop that man from killing you?” Ric admitted, “I’m hoping.”

“Tell me,” Dee pushed. “Do I look stupid?”

“No.” And Malone seemed kind of surprised by that. “You look great.” Dee again fussed with the deep blue, full-length gown with swaths of material that wrapped around her shoulders. It wasn’t really sleeveless, which wouldn’t work for her upper-body type, but it didn’t really have sleeves either.

“Honestly, you look great,” Desiree told her again.

Dee turned back to the mirror. If they really thought so . . . “You don’t think he’ll want this sort of thing too often, do you?” she asked Malone and Desiree. Because the damn dress alone had cost as much as the casket Dee knewshe’d one day be buried in.

“Doubt it.” Desiree took another sip of the coffee she’d brought with her. “He’s usually too busy for these charity things. He mostly just gives money and makes his excuses.” Thank the Lord for some small favors.

“Let’s get out of here so we can get this over with,” Malone said, picking up her purse.

Dee grabbed a few extra clips from the top drawer where she now kept her underwear and dropped them into her purse. She already had her .45 holstered to one thigh under her dress and her bowie knife holstered to the other thigh. The fact that she could easily hide weapons under this dress did make it more tolerable that she’d been forced to spend so much money on it.

“Do you think you have enough ammo?” Malone asked her.

Dee shrugged. “A girl can never be too prepared.”

“What are you doing here, Mitch?” Gwen demanded, and Ric quickly faced the cats in the extremely juvenile hope that he’d get to see his best friend toss the lion male around before he had to go inside the ballroom and deal with all that boring politeness the richer shifters insisted upon. “You better not start anything,” Gwen warned.

“This isn’t about you, O’ Narcissistic One.”

Ric glanced at Lock. “House. Stone. Glass. Throwing.”

Lock chuckled and Mitch Shaw pointed at Ric. “I’m here for the puppy.”

“Why? To perhaps thank me for the wonderful weekend I provided you?”

“Hardly. Not enough food. But I’m sure you’ll fix that for next time.” Horrified, Ric asked, “Next time?”

But Mitch didn’t answer, he simply stepped to the side and Ric saw that Sissy Mae was standing behind him with an older She-wolf.

“Ric,” Sissy said, “I’d like you to meet Darla Lewis. Dee-Ann’s momma.” Ric stepped forward, took the She-wolf’s hand. “Miss Lewis. It’s an honor.”

“Darla,” she said sweetly.

“Miss Darla,” Sissy corrected. “So’s not to get yourself slapped around by some cranky wolves I call Daddy and my uncles.”

“Of course.”

The She-wolf leaned forward and pressed her hand against Ric’s cheek. She closed her eyes, silent for a long moment. When she opened her eyes again, she announced, “As pretty on the inside as he is on the outside. My Sugar Bug chose well.”

Mitch snickered. “Sugar Bug.”

Lips pursed, a gesture that was all Dee-Ann, Miss Darla asked the lion, “Do you still want that key lime pie I brought for you, Mitchell Shaw?”

Mitch ducked his head. “Yes’m.”

“Then you be nice.”