Paul, the first and only born of his hippie mom, loved that directness. He loved that he knew his beautiful mate would always be safe around Irene Conridge because she never bothered to lie. And, when they started having pups, that his kids would be safe around her. He hadn’t been crazy about the wolves that became part of their lives when Irene had hooked up with Niles Van Holtz, but it made sense. Irene simply didn’t fit in with full-humans even though she was one. She needed a predator for a mate . . . even if that predator was an obsessive-compulsive wolf.

And, over time, Paul and Van had become buddies. Sort of. And Van treated all the Jean-Louis Parker kids as family and Pack, which meant a lot. So it had all worked out.

Like now. Having Irene around while they were staying in New York was great because it kept Jackie happy. The pair of them could sit around gabbing or making fun of the kids or obsessing over the future of the kids’ educations. And while they did that, Paul could do what he really loved to do . . . watch TV, read a book, and fix up old cars.

It was turning out to be a really nice summer with Irene around.

The trio reached the stone steps outside of their rental house and began to climb. Paul glanced over his shoulder and saw a limo parked a bit down the street. He didn’t know why it was there or why he noticed it.

Jackie pulled out her keys and had them in the lock when the door opened and that country wolf was standing there. Man, this kid was really making a hard run at Paul’s baby girl. Something that would normally set Paul’s hair on fire, but after that last idiot had made her miserable, the wolf seemed like a good way to transition away from that past relationship and into more promising ones.

“Richard Reed?” Irene said, because she wasn’t about to call anyone Ricky Lee. “Why are you here?”

“Miss Irene. Miss Jackie. Mr. Paul.”

“Please don’t call me that,” Paul practically begged as they all moved into the hallway and Paul closed the door. He felt old enough without adding “mister” before his first name like he should be wearing an ascot.

“I need y’all to do me a favor and just go along with what’s about to happen.”

Paul blinked. “Why? What’s about to happen?”

There was a knock on the door Paul had just closed and he pulled it open again. “Good Lord,” he muttered, staring up at the behemoth standing in his doorway. He looked at Ricky. “Toni’s bringing stray hockey players home with her now?”

“Actually I asked Mr. Novikov here. To help out.”

“Help out with what?” Irene asked, her gaze locked on the man lumbering into their home. “Are you planning to kill all the children so they’ll no longer be a bother?”

“Irene,” Jackie chastised. “Not the right response.”

“Because it’s morally wrong orbecause you’re afraid he’ll get mad and kill us, too?”

“Both!” Jackie snapped.

“Hi!” A pretty black woman popped out from behind Novikov. She had a bright, wide smile and adorable dimples, but Paul didn’t understand why she was here or why Novikov was here. What the hell was going on?

“I’m Blayne. Bo’s fiancée. I’m here to help, too.”

“Except I didn’t ask her here to help,” Novikov replied, his cold blue eyes looking around the hallway like he was trying to figure out how to destroy the walls to get to the weak pups within. “But she’s worried I’ll make your kids cry.”

“No, no,” his fiancée quickly cut in, trying to laugh it off. “He’s very good with children. He has to be.” The wolfdog gripped his thick arm with very strong-looking hands. “You have to be.”

“If you’re once again talking about our future offspring, I already told you that as long as they understand schedules and time management and focus . . . we’ll be fine.” He locked those cold, dead eyes on Ricky Reed. “Where are they?”

“I’ll show you.”

“You will?” Paul asked, trying to ignore the fact his voice broke.

“Just go along with this,” the wolf said again before heading down the hallway.

Paul looked at Jackie and Irene. Both females shrugged and, not knowing what else to do, followed after the wolf and the two unstable-looking hybrids.

Their children were in the living room arguing. Paul had left them that way more than an hour ago, and it didn’t seem as if much had changed except that Toni had joined the fray.

She was standing next to a dry-erase board that had a very large claw mark ripped through it.

“This,” Toni said, pointing at the dry-erase board, “was not helpful, Oriana.”

Paul’s fifteen-year-old baby girl had started shifting her entire body at fourteen and was now learning to control that power, which meant that she liked to whip her claws out at the slightest provocation.

“You always side with Kyle and Troy,” Oriana accused. “I’m sick of it.”

“I do not always side with them.”

“No,” Kyle corrected, “she always sides with Cooper and Cherise.”

“Why are you even here, Cooper?” Troy demanded.

Raising his hands and dropping them, Cooper asked, “What are you attacking me for? I’ve been trying to help you little bastards.”

“Well, good job, big head.”

Cooper’s eyes narrowed and he took several steps toward Troy, but Toni caught his arm and held him back. It was a rare thing to see Cooper’s temper, but Kyle and Troy always managed to get that anger out of him.