Big Bad Beast by Shelly Laurenston Page A

and he kept pressing his left forearm into his side.
    Ric stepped forward and Stein immediately backed away, eyes down, head dipping low. If he were wolf, his tail would be tucked between his legs, and he’d be pissing himself. Definitely not the kid Ric had known.
    Once Ric backed Stein up against the alley wall, he took hold of the kid’s T-shirt and lifted. Stein immediately pulled away from him, eyes still down, but Ric had seen enough.
    Catching him by the neck, Ric dragged Stein back into his restaurant.

    Dee-Ann circled around to the back of the Queens house. She kept low, and stayed down wind. She peeked around the corner, but saw no one in the backyard. She hated dealing with hyenas but it seemed the most logical place to start. At least one of the properties that had hosted a hybrid fight belonged to the Allan Clan, although they’d buried the fact that they owned that property under many layers. Why they would bury that information was what Dee wanted to know.
    True, she could ask that question directly of the matriarch of the Allan Clan, but after what had happened earlier in the day it was decided that wouldn’t be a good idea.
    “If we want them beaten up and terrorized, Smith, we’ll call you,” Malone had snapped at one point, after they’d left a cheetah sobbing in the middle of Public Records.
    All right, so maybe Ric was right. Her strengths lay in other areas. At least she had a supervisor who understood that and appreciated the skills she did have.
    The Allan Clan territory was a simple place. Nothing remotely fancy, although large enough for a Clan of its modest size. The backyard was spacious enough and had its own swing set. There was also a detached garage, locked. Dee got the lock open and eased inside. It seemed the Clan had a healthy taste for really nice cars, but still . . . nothing that suggested they were rolling in money covered in the blood of hybrids.
    Not finding anything that she could yell out “a-ha!” over, she slipped outside, barely ducking in time to avoid the baseball bat aimed for her head.
    Snarling, she looked up into the faces of two male hyenas. The one with the bat was pulling back for another swing, while the other one had a small blade, lashing out with it and slicing across Dee’s arm.
    She felt the first trickle of blood slide down her forearm and, Dee would admit later, that’s when she got a little ornery.

    Cella Malone sat across from the three hyena females in the Clan living room and tried to figure out how she’d gotten here. Not the physical place she was in at this moment, but more a philosophical question.
    She had the full-human sitting next to her, reeking of lion—one of her least favorite scents—and a She-wolf, who’d always annoyed the fuck out of her, outside. And she had to work with them. Maybe her father had been right. Maybe she should have just focused on playing hockey. Or she could have joined the family business.
    But Cella always believed in protecting her kind. It was a flaw that her parents blamed on Cella’s grandmother. She was another “helper,” and the one who’d suggested Cella should join KZS after her time in the Marines. Katzenhaft Security might sound like any old security company where you get big guys to cover the front door of your daughter’s sweet sixteen party, but it was much more than that. For hundreds of years, KZS had protected felines from all over the world. It was necessary, since most cats were solitary. They might live with their families, if they settled down like Cella’s parents did, but unless they had the power of a Pride behind them, the lone tiger or leopard or any other feline could find him or herself in serious trouble with nowhere to turn.
    She’d been proud of her work over the years and loved that the job still allowed her to play pro hockey, something that meant a lot to the Long Island girl who started skating with her father when she was barely three years old. And with four,