CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO

Dee-Ann stopped the rental car in the driveway, a healthy distance from the mansion. She looked through the windshield and gave a little whistle. For a bunch of classless, lowlife bikers—her daddy’s words—the Magnus Pack must have some serious cash lying around in order to live so well in Northern California.

Opening the driver’s side door, Dee-Ann stepped out onto the gravel and went to stand in front of the vehicle. She just stood there, waiting. She didn’t go to ring the doorbell. She didn’t howl to get anyone’s attention. It was how one shifter wolf handled entering another shifter wolf ’s territory.

Dee had been standing there for a good twenty minutes when she heard the roar of engines behind her. She glanced over and saw several tricked out motorcycles ride up the curved driveway. They passed the car and kept going a bit farther before pulling to a stop. The wolves got off the bikes, took off their helmets, and headed into the house. Only one, a female, stopped to look at Dee. She looked but said nothing, and eventually walked into the house, closing the door behind her.

It was another five minutes before that front door was flung open and a female in nothing more than a Dallas Cowboys T-shirt and holding a shotgun came marching out. Yep, this could only be Sara Morrighan, Alpha Female of the Magnus Pack and all-around crazy bitch, according to any other Pack, Pride, or Clan leader who’d had the misfortune of meeting her.

As the She-wolf stormed over to Dee, she cocked the shotgun she had in her hands and Dee really wondered if the insane heifer was just going to shoot a strange wolf on sight or if this was all for show.

A familiar-looking Latina dressed in a very tiny nightie came charging after the angry She-wolf and grabbed hold of the shotgun. The two females struggled over the weapon until the Latina rammed her foot into Morrighan’s knee.

“Ow! You whore!”

Yanking the shotgun away from her friend, the Latina backed up and snarled, “I thought we discussed this! No shooting without actual signs of aggression!”

“Just her presence on my territory is aggression!”

“That was not on Miki’s list!”

That’s when Miki stumbled out of the front door, her hand immediately shielding her eyes from the early morning sunlight.

“What the fuck is going on?” the small full-human asked her friends.

“Sara tried to shoot strangers again.”

“Sign of aggression!”

Studying Dee through narrow slits, Miki asked, “Hey . . . don’t I know you?”

“Dee-Ann Smith.” Miki frowned at that reply. “Mate to Ric Van Holtz?” The confused frown worsened. “We met through Irene Conridge?”

“Well . . . I know Irene.”

“How,” Morrighan asked, “doyou have a photographic memory but not remember people?”

“Is that a trick question?”

The Latina sized Dee up. “Didn’t I help you get a dress once?”

Eyes wide, the other two females now gazed at Dee.

Annoyed, Dee snapped, “I’ve been known to wear a dress or two over the years.”

Morrighan cringed. “With those shoulders?”

Miki had ripped her bag apart but the notebook was gone. Gone. And she hadn’t even realized it.

“Well?” Angelina pushed.

Letting out a breath, Miki faced her friends and the She-wolf she should remember but didn’t. “I . . . uh . . .”

“Miki.”

“Okay. Lady Fullback’s right—”

“Hey,” the She-wolf immediately complained at the nickname.

“—one of my notebooks is gone.”

“What’s so special about this notebook?” Sara wanted to know. And when Miki glanced out the window, trying to figure out how to answer, her friends threw up their hands and began saying, “Oh, Miki! No! Not again!”

“You know, bitches, I don’t need that accusatory tone.”

“Why would you take one of your world-ending notebooks out of this house?”

“It’s not world-ending, Angie. I mean . . . whole countries can be destroyed but not the world or anything. You know, plant life would survive. And cars.”

That’s when Angie came at Miki and they’d barely gotten in a few slaps before Sara got between them and pushed them apart.

“Cut it out! Both of you!”

“What are you blaming me for?” Angie demanded. “She’s the one running around with dangerous weapons in her raggedy-ass bag!”

“Not everyone is willing to spend more than fifty bucks on a goddamn bag, you vapid bitch!”

“Stop it!” Sara ordered. “I mean it.”

“Besides,” Miki went on, pretending that she didn’t feel guilty about all of this. “How was I supposed to know that Freddy would go into my bag and steal one of my notebooks?”

“Oh, I don’t know,” Angie suggested, “maybe because from what you’ve told us the kid’s just like you.”

“But why would he steal from me?” Miki desperately tried to rationalize. “He loves me.”

“Which according to his sister,” Lady Fullback of Big Woman Land interjected, “is why he would steal from you. Because he wanted something that belonged to one of his favorite people.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah. Oh.”

“The bigger question is who would want that notebook?” Sara asked.