"If you have to think about it, darlin', you haven't had great sex."

"What exactly is the point of this conversation?"

"Simply pointing out a fact." With that, Smitty got up and disappeared again.

Now it seemed to be Dez's turn to growl. "Okay, now I'm starting to hate him."

Mace grinned. He was so okay with that.

Dez's face burned. She could probably fry an egg on it. How had this evening gone so terribly wrong so goddamn quickly? She'd lost control. Again! She never lost control. Whether during an interrogation or a perp walk or a tactical maneuver, Dez MacDermot never lost control. But with Mace staring at her and his country bumpkin friend twisting her words around, she felt like she dangled off a building without a bungee cord.

She'd already regressed to her old nervous habit of running her damn hands through her hair, saying the word ain't in a sentence where she wasn't mocking someone, and getting that damn accent back. Maybe Missy Llewellyn was right. She would always be that Bronx girl, no matter what she did.

"Dez. Look at me."

"No." Absolutely, unequivocally, kill-herself-first no.

"Desiree. Look at me."

Clenching her hands into tight fists, Dez raised her head and froze, trapped in that gold gaze. Trapped there as if the man had put shackles on her wrists and sat on her. Dez had no idea how long they were staring at each other. She felt Mace sliding through her body. Touching everywhere. Making himself quite at home. She couldn't look away and she didn't want to.

He didn't say anything to her. He really didn't have to. He said it all in those beautiful eyes of his. He wanted her. Would do anything necessary to get her. And, if she let him, he'd give her more than great sex. He'd give her never-able-to-walk-straight-again sex. The kind where she'd lose her soul.

Finally, Mace motioned for the check, but his eyes never left her face. "Come home with me, Dez."

On a sigh, "Okay." Dez blinked. Helllloooo! Idiot alert! Have you lost your mind? "Uh...I mean..." Dez pinched her leg to snap herself out of it. "I can't."

"Why?"

"Because I don't do one-night stands."

"I don't want a one-night stand. I want us to-"

"I don't do relationships either," she burst out suddenly, completely cutting the man off.

Calmly. "Why?"

"Because I'm a cop. Always was. Always will be."

"Not quite sure why that affects us."

"It does." She'd already been through this. Learned the hard way. Never again. "I've actually got somewhere to be." Thank God.

"At eleven-fifteen at night?"

"It is the city that never sleeps."

The check came, and she figured she needed to grab this chance to bail.

"I'd like to help with the tip." She tossed two twenties on the table. "Thanks so much for dinner, Mace." She stood up and walked around to his side of the table. She leaned over and kissed the top of his shaggy head. "I had a really nice time."

"You could continue to have a nice time."

Relentless bastard. She ruffled his hair like she used to when they were fourteen. "I'm outta here." She hadn't taken a step when Mace grabbed her hand. His fingers, warm and dry, interlaced with hers. In that one move the man went through her entire body. And that's when she realized they were no longer fourteen. They were no longer just pals. Dez suddenly saw them naked, sweaty, and fucking like there was no tomorrow. She knew Mace saw it too. Those gold eyes screamed at her, and she knew hers were screaming right back.

Nope. She needed to go. Now.

She took in a shaky breath. "Mace, I have to go." Oh hell. She needed to stop whispering.

"Don't. Stay, Dez. Stay with me." And she knew he didn't mean at the restaurant having more coffee and another piece of cake. He meant in his bed. With him inside her. And he'd make her scream. Again and again.

"I can't." She pulled her hand away. He let it go but not before dragging his big fingers across her palm. Who knew a simple move like that could rock her right down to her toes? And rock her it did.

Jesus Christ. What a man that boy had grown into.

Dez looked into those gold eyes. She knew a few more moments of him and she'd end up doing something really tacky. Like crawling under the table and giving Mace Llewellyn a blow job. She shook her head and backed away from him. This kept spiraling out of control. "I have to go, Mace."

He smiled. "Okay." She raised an eyebrow at that calm response but decided to let it go. Especially when she so clearly saw him slamming her facedown on the restaurant table and fucking her into oblivion. Yeah. In that moment she realized she'd overstayed her welcome.

"Have a great Christmas, Mace."

Then she practically ran out the door, heading to the club a few blocks away.

Mace had to wait a good five minutes before he could hope to comfortably stand and not embarrass himself.

That woman...that woman was everything he'd ever wanted. He'd known it all those years ago. Tonight only confirmed it for him. The kiss and that simple touch practically blew his boots off. And she felt it too. He could see it on her face. He could smell it. Her desire rolled off her in waves and practically knocked him from the room.

No, he wasn't letting Dez MacDermot get away. He'd take her down like his ancestors took down full-grown zebra.

Smitty finally returned to the table as Mace signed the credit card receipt. He smiled at his friend. "Well? Where did you go?"

"Well, nothin'. That girl's got a temper. I wasn't about to stay around for that."

"You were pushing her."

"Well, if I waited on you two to quit pussyfootin' around and get down to it, my grandchildren would be runnin' the Pack."

"I don't need your help, Smitty. I've got this under control."

"Really? Then why are you here alone?"

Mace stood up. "It's all about timing, Smitty."

"Yeah. Sure. Hopefully timing will keep you warm tonight, hoss."

The two men walked out of the restaurant. "You don't understand Dez. You can't push her. She needs subtle, refined encouragement."

"You forget. I watched that woman put away a steak. She ain't subtle."

"This is true. Excuse me." Mace moved past three men. "But then again, I'm not really that subtle either."

"Mason Llewellyn?"

Mace stopped and turned. He knew before he even turned around what he would find. If he hadn't already smelled them, Smitty's growling would have been a dead giveaway. He tolerated Mace well enough, but that was about it.

There were three of them. Large. A good ten years younger. Raw. Hoods. One didn't meet a lot of lion hoodlums these days.

"Yeah?"

"Wow. It really is you. I told these guys it was."

Mace watched the man closely as Smitty paced behind him. His wolf buddy did not like this one bit. Of course, he didn't like it much himself.

"You know, you and your Pride are real well known around this city. It's a real honor to meet you." He held his hand out. "Patrick Doogan. These are my brothers." Mace grasped the man's hand with his own. Cold, gold eyes sized Mace up. Debating his strength. His power.

"So, Doogan. What can I do for you?"

He glanced at his brothers. "Smart, ain't he? I told you he'd be smart. He knows we aren't stopping him in the street to just say hi."

"I know you didn't simply find me in the street by accident either. So can we cut the bullshit?"

Doogan grinned. A true predator this one. Not a soft bone in his mammoth body. "I wanna tawk to youse sometime 'bout ya sistas." The man's New York street accent painfully assaulted Mace's ears. Dez's made him laugh and turned him on, especially when she struggled to hide it. Not Doogan's. Mace wanted to slash the man's vocal cords with his paw. "See if we can discuss some...uh...possible business arrangements regardin' the Llewellyn Pride."

Mace shrugged. "Sure. That would be great. And you have sisters that I can have...and fuck. Right?"

Doogan's eyes narrowed, while Smitty softly chuckled next to him.

"Since that is what you want my sisters for, right? To mate with you? To breed with you? To rub your fuckin' feet?"

"I don't like to be fucked with, Llewellyn."

"Then you shouldn't bend over and hand me the lube."

Mace couldn't believe how angry he felt, but discussing his sisters like high-priced collateral galled him to no end. True, on any given day he detested them severely, but still...they were his sisters. His sisters. You don't talk about a man's sisters like you're buying hookers for a bachelor party.

He watched, fascinated, when the faade of one cat chatting with another turned to outright hatred. Doogan hated what Mace represented. What Doogan and his equally large brothers would never be.

"I'll have your sisters, Llewellyn, and I'll fuck 'em all."

"You're underestimating the women of my family. They don't play nice with others. They'll rip your cock off and show it to ya. And when they do, I'm going to laugh my ass off."

Mace turned to walk away, but Doogan's voice stopped him cold.

"Tell me, Mason. How's Petrov doing these days?"

Mace sighed. "You know why you'll never have the Llewellyn Pride?" He looked back at Doogan. "Cause you have no class."

In less than a second, Doogan was on him.

Dez pushed past the fifty or more people standing in line, waiting to get into the hottest club in the Village. She told the bouncer her name and watched him stare at her breasts for a good ninety seconds before letting her into the club.

Immediately Dez knew she didn't belong. This was not her kind of place. An Irish cop bar. A biker bar. The local bowling alley. Those were her kinds of places. Here she felt...old. Her gun pressed into her back under her leather jacket. She was glad that the bouncer hadn't checked her. She wouldn't like to be here without her weapon.

Packed to capacity, the club had the rich and the connected mixing with the famous and the drug dealers. Vice would have a field day in this place.

She walked to the bar. "I'm looking for Gina Brutale."

"Yup. In the back bar."

She headed toward the back part of the club, pushing her way through a throng of barely dressed, overperfumed people. She'd almost made it to her destination when she caught sight of him. All gold and beautiful. Talking to a lean, dark-haired woman. Dez moved over to him and tapped him on the shoulder.

"Mr. Shaw?"

He turned to her, and he was as beautiful as the picture of him in the Petrov file. Only now he seemed really annoyed. And not nearly as beautiful as Mace. She laughed to herself. Hopeless. Absolutely hopeless.

"Do I know you?" It would be real nice if he directed that question to her and not her breasts.

She leaned into him. She couldn't announce to the bar she was NYPD, but the man clearly had idiotic tendencies if he insisted on being out in the middle of the night after one of his business partners had so recently been blown away.

"Mr. Shaw, I think you'd be safer back at home, don't you? At least until we get a handle on this Petrov situation."

"Ah, you must be one of the detectives. Must be the one Missy threw out of the house." Shaw leaned into her and sniffed her neck. He grinned. "How is Mace tonight, anyway?"

Dez pulled away from him. What? Did the entire Llewellyn family know she had gone out with Mace? And did they all go around sniffing each other? Oh whatever.

"Mr. Shaw, I really think you should go home. Now."

Shaw leered at her and she raised her eyebrow, daring him to give her real attitude.

"I was leaving anyway, Detective."

"Good. Thank you. Cause I'd really hate to have to watch Forensics catalog pieces of your brain-like we did with Petrov."

Dez headed off to the back bar. As she came around the corner she caught sight of five women. At least, she was pretty sure they were women-they were a tad butch-sitting at the bar. They looked very similar, and Dez guessed a blood connection between all of them. It was the one nursing a straight scotch and staring sadly at the floor that had her complete interest, though.

The fourth kick to his ribs sent him flipping up and over. He landed on his hands and knees. Ready to shift, but holding back until he had absolutely no choice.

He saw one of Doogan's brothers going for the weapon he had hidden under his silk jacket and long cashmere coat. Mace didn't wait for him to get a good grip on it. He moved, catching the man's arm and twisting it back until it snapped. The roar of pain he let out shook the block and made people run. Doogan moved toward him because Smitty had the other brother and was definitely seconds away from snapping his neck.

"Ah, ah, ah." Mace pulled the man in his arms back so that his body practically resembled a U.

"Don't make me break him in half-cause I can."

Doogan stopped. He could see both of his siblings were seconds away from meeting a rather ugly death. Who would the cops believe? Three criminal hoods from the projects or Mace Llewellyn and his out-of-town Southern friend? Two decorated officers from the Navy.

No. Doogan wasn't stupid. Mean and evil, but not stupid. He held his hands up and backed away from Mace. Once far enough away, Mace pushed the man in his arms toward Doogan, and Smitty did the same.

Doogan took them both and backed away down the street.