“You could have said something, Vic,” Ricky told him.

“People don’t hire me for my opinion, Reed. You know that.”

“I’m not people,” Toni said. “I’m desperate. I need your opinion. I have to get home before my entire family is decimated by their insanity. And I have to point out . . . that’s a real short trip for them.”

“You gonna help us, hoss?” Ricky asked.

“I’m not used to getting involved.”

Toni moved close behind Ricky, laid her chin on his shoulder, smiled sweetly. “Please?” she begged. “For me?”

“You don’t even like me,” Barinov accused.

“I could learn to like you . . . if you help me.”

He chuckled. “Yeah. All right.”

Toni gave a happy yip, but Barinov barked back and said, “Do not make that noise around me. It makes me want to go outside and tear the bark off trees.”

“So what’s the first thing we should do?” Ricky asked.

“First . . . we cancel today.”

“Cancel?”

“If they want to play hardball . . . so will you. Besides, we have to meet someone.”

“Someone who can also help?” Toni asked, trying not to sound too hopeful.

“Yep. Someone who can also help.”

She yipped again and now both males barked, “Toni!”

“Sorry. Sorry. Habit.”

It was late when Livy worked her way through an open window in the kitchen.

Yes. She had keys. Toni always gave her keys to whatever home or hotel suite she and her family were staying at when Livy was around. And if Toni didn’t give the keys to her, because they were having one of their ridiculous arguments, then Toni’s parents gave Livy the keys. Paul and Jackie loved Livy. She didn’t know why, though. Most shifters, without even knowing what Livy was, didn’t like her, but especially jackals. In the wild, full-blood jackals and her kind went at it like dogs and cats.

Then again, nothing stopped their kind from fighting anyone off. That’s what they did. That’s what Livy’s ancestors, mostly witches and healers, liked about the animal. How vicious and fearless it was. So while a lot of others were learning to shift into giant, apex predators, her people were becoming small and deadly.

When Livy was a little girl, she didn’t understand how come she wouldn’t be shifting into a cool animal like the other shifter kids her parents knew. But now that she was an adult . . . she loved what she was. Adored it. Just like she adored her best friend.

Toni was an unusual girl. She didn’t think she was. She saw herself as average. And, compared to the rest of the Jean-Louis Parker brood, it wasn’t surprising she felt that way. Yet Toni was definitely unique. Naturally maternal.Naturally kind. And constantly on Livy’s ass.

That’s when Livy realized that she’d been accepted as family by Toni when the woman—a girl at the time—began to manage Livy’s career. Or, at the very least, manage Livy’s agent, while attempting to get her to live a certain way. It drove Toni nuts that Livy could and often did live anywhere she had to. She had no problem taking over someone’s house for a couple of days when she saw them leave with some luggage. She made sure not to destroy anything and to replace anything she may have used. True, Livy could afford her own place and she had one in Washington, but she really liked living in other people’s space. It was always so fascinating. You never knew what you’d learn from complete strangers.

Livy opened the refrigerator and reached for a bottle of orange juice.

“Hi!”

Livy spun and hissed, baring her mouthful of fangs.

The wolfdog jumped back, her hands raised to protect her face. “Sorry! Sorry! I didn’t mean to startle you!”

Actually . . . she hadn’t startled Livy. But the wolfdog was just so damn perky. It was irritating. Really, really irritating.

“Still here?” Livy asked, being bitchy.

The wolfdog glanced down at herself. “I think so . . . right?”

Letting out a sigh, Livy turned back to the refrigerator and took out the orange juice. She opened the bottle and was about to start drinking from it when the wolfdog held out a glass for her.

“What’s that?” Livy asked.

“Something for you to pour your juice into. So that you don’t have to drink right out of the bottle.”

Gazing at the wolfdog, Livy put the bottle to her lips and drank. For a real long time.

The wolfdog’s eyes narrowed and a little spot on her cheek twitched.

When Livy was done, she smacked her lips—loudly.

“That was good.” Livy sighed. Then she held the bottle out to the wolfdog. “Want some?”

“No, thank you.”

“You sure?” Livy pushed, shoving the offending bottle with her saliva all over the rim closer. “It’s really good. No pulp!”

“No. Really. I’m fine.”

Shrugging, Livy screwed the top back on and put the juice back in the refrigerator.

“You’re just going to leave it in there?”

Livy closed the refrigerator door. “Yes! It wouldn’t be right not to share, now would it?”

“But . . .”

Livy stepped close. “But . . . what?”

When the wolfdog didn’t say anything, Livy started off toward the swinging door.

“But you slobbered all over it!” the wolfdog yelled before Livy could make it through that door.