Fair enough. And hell, if it worked, Dez wasn’t going to complain.
But listening to this kid ramble was getting on her nerves. She finally decided to cut it short. She had the feeling he would keep going forever if she let him.
When he took a breath, she looked over at the woman who’d accompanied the kid and his two oddly sized friends. Imani Ako.
Before they’d worked together on a few joint NYPD-Katzenhaus cases, Dez had met Imani at some all-lion event a few years back. Imani had introduced herself by explaining that her Pride had wanted Dez’s husband as one of their males but the Pride he’d been born into had put a sizable amount on the mating contract. A contract Mace had not been part of or even aware of. He’d been too busy fighting for their country as a Navy SEAL. Even if he had been in town at the time, Mace was not a fan of binding sex contracts with women he didn’t know. Especially when that deal was whipped up by his older sister.
“Imani, I—” Dez began, but the kid cut her off.
“Imani is just here to observe,” he said, stepping in front of Dez so her view of Imani was also cut off. As if that would miraculously stop her from knowing that Imani was in the room with them.
“Oh . . . Observe. Okay. And you want me to . . . ?”
“Observe as well. Oh, and we’d like you to provide a couple of entry teams and three units for what should be simple arrests. Oh, and one of your conference rooms here,” he said, gesturing to the rooms that he could see through the glass windows of Dez’s office.
Entry teams? Why would they need entry teams? Those were the SWAT teams that crashed in doors during drug raids or dealt with mass shooters. Her department had its own SWAT units, made up of the biggest shifter breeds: grizzlies, Siberian tigers, and lion males. All of them former military. And such teams were necessary for the kind of gangsters they took on. Because nothing in the world was more terrifying than a grizzly drug lord with a meth addiction.
She just didn’t think her entry teams were necessary for the kid’s project.
Wanting a minute to consider his request but knowing the kid wouldn’t stop pushing for an immediate response, Dez used the same technique she employed when she was trying to stop her Rottweilers from attacking neighborhood dogs on a walk: distraction. For her dogs, she just needed treats and a ball. But for these arrogant pricks . . . ?
Dez looked at one of the lion’s friends. “So you’re a maned wolf, huh? I never heard of those,” she lied. “What’s the name of your Pack?”
He rolled his eyes and she guessed that he’d had this conversation before. But he still didn’t have to sound so bitchy when he said, “I’m not a wolf.”
“Then why are you called that?”
“Maned wolf is its own species.” It was a statement but he said it like it was a question, with the last word going up a notch. As if he was questioning her intelligence, which just annoyed Dez even more.
“But that doesn’t make sense because you have wolf in your name. Are you, like, half wolf and half lion because of the mane?”
“No.”
“Are you a werewolf?”
There was a moment while all three men gawked at her until the maned wolf arrogantly informed her, “There’s no such thing as werewolves.”
“I’m not sure why the tone? I was told there were no such things as shifters, too—and yet here we are.”
Imani cleared her throat behind the lion but Dez kept her gaze right on the maned wolf. Even if the women weren’t particularly close, Dez knew that if just one look passed between them, the hysterical laughing would begin.
“Miss MacDermot—”
“Captain,” she corrected the lion. “Captain MacDermot.”
“Gurl, did you get a promotion?” Imani happily asked, leaning over so they could see each other.
“I did! I am now Captain Desiree MacDermot of the division that no one knows exists.”
“Good for you!”
“Ladies!”
Dez looked up at the lion, one eyebrow raised. And she was sure Imani had the same expression.
“Can I continue?” he asked.
Dez tapped her fingers against her desk. That was because what she wanted to do was pull her gun and shoot the kid in the leg. Just to hurt him. But she knew that wouldn’t work out well for her. He was representing the Group. Wait. Was he?
Imani, from what Dez remembered, always made it clear she would never willingly work for the Group. She had a thing against hybrids and she wasn’t a fan of the Van Holtz wolves that ran the organization. And she didn’t seem like the kind of woman who would change her mind about anything.
“Who do you work for?” Dez asked and she immediately felt the tension in the room go up ten clicks. But the lion male simply rolled with it.
“We work for a new organization. A sort of offshoot of BPC, Katzenhaus, and the Group. Our work is . . . very specific, though.”
“Does your group have a name?”
“I’m sure we do. But you don’t need to worry about that. At least not at the moment. I just need you to provide what I’ve requested. I’ve been told you’re the one woman who can make things happen.”
Oh, Christ, this guy.
“I can,” Dez replied. “But what about the no-knock warrants you’ll need? Those I can’t get you. I can, however, call our D.A. She’s a coyote. Among the full-humans her nickname is ‘Rabid She-Demon.’”
His smile was blatantly insincere. “No need to call the rabid she-demon. We’ll take care of any necessary paperwork.”
“You’ll take care of the warrants?”
“Uh-huh. Any other questions?”
“Well—”
“Great! So we’re good?”
Dez glanced over at Imani. Was she really okay with this? But, again, she got back that tiny, imperceptible nod from Imani. She clearly wanted this to move forward, which confused Dez even more. Before Imani’s retirement, Dez had worked several cases with her and Imani was almost Marine-like in the way she ran her operations. As a former dog handler in the Marine Corps herself, Dez had quickly grown to trust Imani’s judgments and decisions. But she didn’t trust these . . . males. Not yet anyway.
However . . . Imani was here and Dez still trusted her.
So, with a resigned sigh, she said, “Okay. Just give me dates and times and I’ll make sure the teams are ready to go.”
The lion smiled but this time it wasn’t forced. As far as he was concerned, he’d gotten his way.
chapter NINE
“I thought we were here to get me clothes,” Zé complained when Nelle strutted by in her fifth ball gown.
“I know,” Max sighed. “But I forgot how she likes to shop for herself first.”
“I’m not going to want anything from here. I’m not really a designer kind of guy.”
“And I’m not a designer kind of girl. So I get it.”
Nelle spun in front of them. “Thoughts? Concerns? Opinions?”
“No,” they both said at the same time.
She rolled her eyes. “I don’t know why I bother.”
“Neither do we,” Max informed her friend. “Can we just get him clothes? Please.”