“Will you stay for a while?”

Her smile grew just the smallest bit. “I will.”

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

She got lost trying to find Toni. That’s what she got for trying to understand that phone message rather than calling to confirm everything. But she’d been sleeping when her phone went off and she was not the friendliest bitch when someone woke her before she was ready. So she’d ignored the call and listened to her messages later.

Now here she was, wandering around this goddamn Sports Center. She’d never been here before. Had no interest. She hated sports on principle. It didn’t matter to her who was playing. Full-humans. Shifters. Whatever. Sports was just something that bored her into a rage.

Pulling open the doors, she walked through what turned out to be an ice rink. That probably meant hockey. She hated hockey.

She walked across the ice, stopping by some lion male and another female who were talking.

“Excuse me,” she said, stepping close. “Do you guys know—”

“Hey,” the lion male said, glaring down at her, “do you see I’m in a conversation?”

She nodded. “I do. And I’m sorry to interrupt. But I’m lost and I just need you to—”

The lion leaned in, sniffed her. Confused, he leaned back. “Great. Another hybrid freak.”

Actually, she wasn’t a hybrid. She was simply a shifter breed that wasn’t much talked about. Her kind kept to themselves, avoided most other shifters, and didn’t take kindly to being sneered at.

Just like she was being sneered at by this lion.

“Look, freak, I’m busy,” the lion said, waving her away with his big, strong, overly tanned hand. “If you want help . . . go find it somewhere else. ’Kay?”

She nodded. “Sure.” Walked about ten feet away. Then she carefully placed her backpack on the ice, cracked her neck, her knuckles, spun around—and charged.

Toni was heading to the Starbucks in the food court to get herself another much-needed coffee when she saw Cella Malone and Dee-Ann Smith.

“Did you find that photographer yet?” Cella asked.

“Lord, Malone,” Dee-Ann snickered. “Can’t you even say ‘hi’ first before you jump down the girl’s throat?”

“I didn’t jump down her throat. Did I jump down your throat?” Cella demanded.

Kind of fed up with the woman’s general bitchiness, Toni admitted, “You’ve been jumping down my throat since I started and this is only my second day on the job.”

Dee-Ann snorted, and Cella turned and slammed her fist into the She-wolf ’s shoulder. Toni was sure that if Cella had hit her like that, she’d have a demolished shoulder. But Dee-Ann was a She-wolf, and most She-wolves were built like NFL playersanyway, so the wolf just readjusted her shoulder and said, “Don’t know why you’re gettin’ so testy.”

“Because you’re irritating me.”

“The wind blows and you get irritated, feline.”

“Shut up.” Cella pointed at Toni. “Look, I’m sorry if I’ve been hard on you, but I’ve got a lot to get done and no time to fool around with this bullshit.”

“Then let me handle it.”

“You?”

“Yeah. Me. If you’re going to get all annoyingly psychotic, I’ll just handle it my damn self.”

Cella and Dee-Ann glanced at each other and back at Toni. “I think the little jackal has grown some balls since yesterday,” Dee said.

“I think it’s the clothes,” Cella remarked. “I told you that suit was a bad idea. Besides . . . it made you look hippy.”

Insulted by that—she was not hippy—Toni said, “Just e-mail me a list of things that need to get done. I’ll take it from there.”

“And the photographer?”

“I already have a call in with someone who should be able to do the job. If you’re around later and she comes in today, maybe you can meet with—”

A pained roar exploded from the training rink, and ten seconds later, the newly hired lion burst out of the double doors. But what had Toni sighing in exasperation was the female who’d attached herself to the lion’s back and dug her exceedingly long front claws right into his face, a mouthful of fangs biting into the back of his head.

“Goddammit,” Toni muttered.

“Hey,” Dee-Ann said. “Isn’t that your—”

“Yes.” Toni sighed, typically appalled.

“She’s the photographer you called in for the team?” And that’s when Dee-Ann Smith, She of the Few Words and the Scary Eyes—as the Van Holtz pups had named her—threw back her head and laughed. Why? Because she also knew the female attached to the lion male. Knew her well. Probably too well after that fistfight at the Christmas dinner they all had in the Van Holtz Washington compound.

“Who is that?” Cella asked.

“Olivia Kowalski,” Toni said. “We grew up together. She’s a brilliant photographer. She’s worked for AP, Reuters, National Geographic—”

“But?”

“But what?”

“She’s worked for Reuters, AP, National Geographic, and yet she’s here to do sports shots for her friend?”

Toni shrugged. “She has issues.”

Cella glanced over at the grappling female and lion. “Really?” she said with great sarcasm. “I find that so shocking.”