Shelly Laurenston - Big Bad Beast

It wasnt his idea of an ideal place to discuss such matters, but he was willing to be flexible considering whom he was meeting with. And, to be honest, Niles Van HoltzVan to his friends and familypreferred that this meeting take place in a large, open area, in neutral territory with lots of people around.

He stepped out of his car and allowed his young cousin to follow. Six-year-old Ulrich was staying with Van and his mate for the summer because, to quote his relatively new bride, Irene, That young man needs to realize that his fathers an idiot now rather than later when the damage is done. The kid wasnt exactly a challenge, though. All he did was read and work on his knife skills in the kitchen. He didnt even need TV, and seemed to find it a distraction from his books. He didnt talk much at first, but Irene had a surprising way with kids, drawing Ric out of his self-imposed shell until hed turned into quite the chatty pup when the mood struck him.

So Van knew he could have left the kid back in Seattle, but in just a few weeks, Ric had become, as Irene called him, Vans shadow. And that meant that leaving him behind just didnt sit right.

Besides, it was just a business meeting. Nothing dangerous or anything. Even if it was with one of his Packs sworn enemies. Business was business to Van, and he assumed everyone else felt that way as well.

Stay right here, Ric. Van placed the kid on the hood of his rental car: a speedy little Porsche hed picked up near the Memphis airport before traveling out for the meeting in this neutral territory. Ill be right over there, okay?

Okay. The kid pulled out a book from his backpack and began to read. The Count of Monte Cristo. A six-year-old was reading the Count of Monte Cristo. A book Van had been forced to read in high school and only after the teacher warned him that the CliffsNotes edition wouldnt help him during the midyear exam. But the kid had picked out that book himself at the store. Along with twelve others and a pocket dictionary for any words he might not understand.

And the newest handheld video game Van had gotten for Ric straight from Japan? That was still sitting on the kids bed, in the box, untouched.

Van patted Rics head, adoring him despite his lack of priorities, and turned to head off to the meeting, but he quickly jerked back. The wolf hed been coming to see stood right in front of him in a worn Led Zeppelin T-shirt, torn jeans, and old combat boots. A long chain hooked to one of the front loops of his jeans snaked around his leg to his back pocket and probably his wallet. His dark brown hair reached his shoulders, the front nearly obscuring yellow eyes. His beard was full and covered the entire lower half of his face. He looked like a crazed homeless vet who hadnt yet gotten over what hed been forced to do during the Vietnam War.

Mr. Smith? Van asked, almost hoping he was wrong.

He wasnt. The grunt told him this was, in fact, Egbert Ray Smith of the Tennessee Smith Pack.

Niles Van Holtz. Van held his hand out. Nice to meet you.

The wolf didnt take his hand or look away from glaring into his face. Van had to remind himself he was the Alpha Male of his Pack now. He wasnt going to be intimidated by this possible serial killer.

Watcha want, boy?

This wasnt exactly starting off well, now was it? Im here to offer you a job, Mr. Smith. With my organization. The Group.

The Groups a bunch of pussies.

Perhaps, but Ive taken over and Im moving them forward. Making them more like the Unit. Smiths eyes narrowed a bit. Hed been in the Unit for yearsand it showed. From every line on his not-that-old face to every scar on his neck and probably all over his body. But things inside the Unit had changed recently, the shifter-only military team within the U.S. Marine Corp was planning to move its members out of the Unitwhether they wanted to go or notafter ten years. Smith had been in the Unit for nearly the entire time he was in the Corps and hed been the first casualty of the new procedures. From what Van had heard, Smith had been non too happy with his choices of taking an honorable discharge or assimilating with his full-human Marine brethren. Hed taken the discharge, but that was probably because he would never assimilate with anything full-human. Smith had gone straight from boot camp to the Unit, and in the process made quite a name for himself. As a killer.

Because thats what Egbert Smith was. He was a killer and a very good one. And Van was sure that Smith would be a perfect addition to his team, because he was moving the Group in a new direction. Molding it into a protection unit that would neutralize any dangers to shifters within the United States. All shifters.

An important step now that things were getting more and more dangerous for their kind every day.

I need people like you on my team, Mr. Smith. The pay will be excellent with full benefits, safeguards for your immediate family, and the kind of flexibility a man like you needs. Vans nice way of saying, We both know you could never hold down a real day job, sport.

The wolf grunted again, his yellow-eyed gaze unwavering.

Van dug into the back pocket of his jeans and pulled out a slip of paper. He handed it to Smith. That would be your starting salary. Yearly.

The wolf glanced down at the piece of paper, looked at Van, then glanced at the paper again. Van was sure that Smith had never expected to get that kind of money from any job, but the Group had ample resources and had no problems using them for the right recruits.

That sum will, of course, go up the more time you put in with us and depending on how well you do your job.

The wolf glanced off across the big parking lot where the flea market had been set up on this Saturday afternoon. He cleared his throat and finally admitted, Promised my mate Id settle down. His voice was low and gravelly and, if Van looked close enough, he could see an old scar right over where the wolfs vocal chords should be. Dont think shed like me leaving her again for so long.

You wont need to relocate for this job, Mr. Smith. Theres no base for you to live on, no country youll need to go to. Although, trips to Alaska and Hawaii may be necessary. Short trips. To be honest, Ill need you to merely be available when youre called. But whether youre working a day a week, every day for three months, or sitting around with nothing to do for six months, you will get paid. Every other week, like clockwork.

And if something happens to me?

Your family will be taken care of and your Pack reimbursed for the loss of its Packmate. The Group takes care of its own, Mr. Smith.

While Van waited for the wolf to say or do something in response to his offer, a young girl walked up. She couldnt be more than nine or ten, unable to even shift yet. But she had her fathers eyes. Bright yellow and cold. So very cold.

She glanced at Van, seemed to deem him non-threatening, and tugged on her fathers shirt. This one, she said.

Her father looked down at the enormous bowie knife she held in her hand. He took it from her, examined it closely. Why? he asked.

Its a good weight. The blade is well-made steel and a length thatll penetrate chest bone. The handle is strong, and when my fingers get longer, Ill still be able to use it. I thought Id want one of those folding knives, but Ill be able to pull this out faster and use it quicker. If I have to use a weapon, I wont have time to be fumbling around with a folding knife to get it open.

Her father nodded in agreement while Van could do nothing but gawk at the girl. Sure, hed spent the last few weeks with Ric teaching the kid how to use his knife set to quickly and efficiently butcher deer and wild boar, but that was for cooking purposes only, so he could one day take his place in their Packs restaurant business. This little girl, however, was talking about knives going through chest boneVan didnt think she meant the chest bone of a zebra.