His brother turned away from the elevator and snarled, "You wish-"

"Shut up." Brendon snapped at his brother while staring at her. "Promise me."

Exasperated, she rolled her eyes. "All right. All right. For the sake of family harmony, I'll stay. But not like for twelve hours or something. My Pack might notice if I'm gone that long."

"Don't worry. I'll be back." He started to close the door, but he stepped back and looked at her. "One other thing."

"Yeah?"

"What is your name?"

She looked torn between being amused, embarrassed, and appalled.

"Rhonda Lee Reed. Everybody calls me Ronnie Lee or Ronnie."

"Anybody ever call you Ron?"

"Not and live to tell about it."

Brendon grinned. Yup. He liked her.

"All right, Ronnie Lee. Make yourself at home and I'll be back in a bit."

"Yeah. Yeah. But you better have TV," she mumbled as he closed his front door.

He walked over to his brother and the elevator doors slid open. Grabbing the younger man by the back of the neck, he threw him inside. "And that's for trying to rip my throat out, you little shit."

How she could initially miss the fifty-inch, flat-screen plasma TV attached to Shaw's wall, she had no idea. Then again, his tongue down her throat and his hands on her tits might have had something to do with it.

Settling down onto the man's butter-soft leather couch and picking up his gargantuan remote to start flipping channels, Ronnie shook her head. He hadn't even known her name. She almost fucked a man who didn't even know her name. Lord, she hadn't done something that trashy in a very long time.

So then why wasn't she running for the exit instead of sitting on a lion's couch, reprogramming his inadequately programmed remote?

Because...because she liked him. Stupid idiot that she was, she liked a cat. She liked a male who would never want more from her than a quick, anonymous fuck so he could tell his friends he did a She-wolf.

Even as she thought it, though, she realized that didn't seem Shaw's way. He could have anyone he wanted. Human or shifter. Any breed. But he wanted her. He made that clear in front of Bobby Ray's room. She just couldn't figure out if this was a mistake or not.

Then again, as long as she kept it simple, maybe it wouldn't be. Maybe they could have a fun, meaningless fling. Lord knew it wouldn't be her first.

Of course, if it was all so damn easy, why had her stomach tied itself into knots?

She should go. She should write a little note telling the cat thanks but no thanks. She should. Really.

Ronnie kept thinking that, too, even as she stretched her legs out on his couch and smiled when she realized she'd had the good fortune to catch some CSI reruns.

Brendon scrubbed his face and leaned back, staring at his brother. After three hours and two enormous sandwiches from the kitchen-he knew the kid hadn't had a decent meal recently-he still didn't know a damn thing.

"At least tell me why you showed up in my apartment after all this time."

Mitch paused for a moment, truly contemplating his answer. Brendon knew that expression. Knew Mitch would only tell him enough truth to get Brendon off his back. He'd done it enough times before. Eventually, Mitch shrugged and took another bite. "Marissa left a message on my voice mail," he grumbled around a mouthful of food.

"She did?"

"Yeah. And she was way pissed. She blames me for this, doesn't she?"

"Don't worry about her. So you came here to check on me?"

Mitch rolled his eyes. "If that helps you sleep better, bruh."

"It's nice to know you care."

The middle finger salute given, Mitch went back to his steak sandwich. "So who did it?"

"Doogan brothers." For a split second Brendon saw surprise register on his baby brother's face before he quickly masked it. The kid had a talent for that.

"They killed Petrov before Christmas," Brendon continued. "Shot him in the back of the head."

"They used guns?" Mitch made a sound of disgust. "Tacky."

"Doogans," Brendon reminded him, leaning back in the chair. "They wanted the Llewellyn Pride. They killed Petrov. And they almost killed me."

"Is that what happened to your face?"

Brendon chuckled. "Yeah. That's what happened to my face, but it's healing."

"Where are they now? The Doogans?"

Brendon knew that look on his brother's face. He'd seen it on Marissa's enough. Knew what the kid would do if he had the chance. Too bad for him he wouldn't have the chance.

"Hyenas ate 'em."

Mitch stared at him for a long time. Nearly a minute. Until he said, "Excuse me?"

"Hyenas ate them." Brendon lifted his hands and let them drop. "Like forty of them. Ripped the three of them apart. Considering the bastards were about to shoot me in the back of the head-they kind of deserved it."

"Good point. Although I don't see a bunch of hyenas helping you."

"They didn't. A really well-endowed cop and a Pack of wolves helped me."

"Is that where you met She of the Sexy Shorts?"

"She stayed with me through my fever. She protected me from a couple of guys. Got me out of the hospital and stashed me at her aunt's."

Again that look passed across Mitch's face clearly stating he knew more than he was spilling. Only, for once, he looked a bit panicked. "What guys?"

"I don't know. White. Humans. That's all anybody knows." Completely useless information in a court of law.

"You didn't...uh...I mean..." He cleared his throat. "How badly did you...uh..."

"They're still breathing, if that's what you're asking me."

Mitch nodded, guzzled his beer.

"Anyway, she stayed with me, man. She didn't desert me. And she looks amazing in those cowboy boots."

Mitch put down his beer. "You like her."

Brendon grinned. He couldn't help himself. "Yeah. I like her."

"And what's your precious Pride have to say about that?" He never could keep the disgust out of his voice when he mentioned them. Just like Marissa. They'd hate it if they knew how alike they were.

"I've only been hanging around lately because of the Doogans. I wasn't going to let them get near my kids. But we've been done with each other for a while now. They got what they wanted out of me and I got what I wanted out of them. So everyone's happy."

Mitch smiled. "How are my niece and nephew?"

"Beautiful. Kitten-cranky."

"I love that age."

"They'd love to see you."

"Maybe."

"What's going on, Mitch?" Brendon asked yet again.

His face perfectly blank, Mitch stated, "Nothing."

A stranger might have believed him, but Brendon knew better. Unfortunately, Mitch had the Shaw stubbornness. He wouldn't tell anyone anything until he damn well wanted to.

"So basically you came to check up on me. You were worried about your big bruh."

"I wasn't worried. But I knew if you were dead, I'd want your stuff."

"Oh, that's very nice."

"Come on. Can you blame me?" Mitch gestured around the opulent room. "This gorgeous hotel. Staff waiting to do my bidding. Beautiful woman right upstairs...even if she is a dog."

Brendon ignored the flash of uncharacteristic jealousy over a female he suddenly experienced. "She-wolf."

"Whatever."

"You'd still have to fight Marissa for it all."

"I could take her. Once I took a bat to her head."

"Such family love we have."

"We're like the lion equivalent of The Waltons."

Brendon laughed and shook his head. "You're the biggest idiot."

It made him feel really good when Mitch smiled.

Chapter Seven.

B rendon opened his front door not expecting but hoping to find Ronnie still there. And he did. Asleep on his couch, the television playing an X-Files repeat low in the background. Her body curled into a tight ball, her feet and hands twitching in sleep as she dreamed. She sort of looked like she was...well...running. In her sleep.

Forcing himself not to laugh, he crouched in front of her. Carefully, Brendon brushed her brown hair off her face. She made little whimpering sounds in her sleep and then her lip pulled back in a snarl.

Perhaps the cutest damn thing Brendon had ever seen in his entire life. He kissed her cheek and Ronnie snapped awake...and up. Their heads slammed together. You could almost hear the "thunk."

"Ow!" Brendon rubbed his nose where her cheek made contact. Christ, his body had taken more abuse in the last few days.

"Sorry," she said while gripping her own head.

"I didn't mean to startle you."

"No. No. It wasn't your fault. I dreamed I was fighting a puma. A full one," she added, which explained why she might be so jumpy. A Pride of shifters might decide not to attack a lone wolf because they know her Pack would come after them, but the full-bloods had no such worries about repercussions.

Which explained why Brendon left hunting in wild animal parks to the hearty and insane, of which his father turned out to be both.

"Did I hurt you?" she asked with a giggle.

"No. I'm fine."

She felt his forehead. "I still say that fever is there. Not a lot, but a bit."

"My fever's gone. Stop worrying."

"My daddy thought he was over the fever once after he got in a tussle with a wild boar. Then he passed out in the Piggly Wiggly. Went down head first. Bam! Took out their entire candy display."

That quick, the woman had his heart right in the palm of her hand. To quote her, "Bam!" She probably didn't even realize it, and Brendon sure as hell had no intention of telling her.

"I'm okay," he reassured her before he could say something stupid. Like "marry me."

She shrugged. "Fine. Males wanna take chances with their health, no female around can convince 'em different."

Ronnie sat up, scratching her head and yawning. "You work everything out with your brother?"

Brendon gave a sharp snort. "Not really. My brother's not big on telling me or my sister anything."

"Y'all from the same Pride?"