if she pissed off the wrong people in doing so.
That was why Max knew she had to show this woman exactly how dangerous a MacKilligan sister truly was. How much she risked.
“Dee-Ann?” she asked softly without lifting her head; without turning around.
Leaning so close Max could feel the canine’s breath against the back of her neck, Smith replied low and soft, “Well, hey there, darlin’.”
Girding her loins, Max moved.
“Dee-Ann!” she squealed, then spun around, throwing her arms around the woman’s broad shoulders and hugging her close.
Smith went rigid and the Siberian tiger partner she had with her all the time—something Malone—stumbled back, eyes wide in shock.
“I’m so happy to see you! How long has it been?” Max stepped back and grabbed Smith’s hands in her own. When Smith attempted to pull away, Max held on tight. “Look at you! Gurl . . . did you lose some weight? So pretty!”
“What the fuck are you—”
Max cut off Smith’s next words by kissing her on the mouth. When she pulled back, the She-wolf was shaking with rage. Shaking. She wanted to wipe the very existence of Max MacKilligan from the entire universe. But she couldn’t and they both knew it.
Keeping hold of one of Smith’s hands, Max moved to the counter as the line seemed to have abruptly cleared away.
She swung Smith’s arm like two girlfriends holding hands—which was making Smith nuts—and said to the barista, “Honey Macchiato with three extra shots of honey, please. And you, sweetie?” she asked Smith. When the wolf was too stunned or pissed to speak, Max pushed, “Do you want something? Bear claw? Croissant? Donut? Coffee?”
Smith only managed to shake her head.
Max pointed to the Siberian tiger. “You, hon?”
Tears poured down the cat’s face, her arm around her stomach, her laughter silent only because she couldn’t catch her breath. She waved a hand at Max, but that was all.
Max shrugged. “Okay,” she said to the barista. “That’s it.”
She glanced at Smith, swung their clasped hands a little more widely so they resembled friendly toddlers. “New makeup regime?” she asked the face that had clearly never had makeup on; a seen-better-days Tennessee Titans baseball cap was pulled low to make that plain face appear even more terrifying. But despite that cap, Max could see those angry, yellow dog eyes glaring at her. “You have to tell me your secret, beautiful. You look awesome for fifty.”
The wolf glare turned into wide eyes of horror and the Siberian tiger dropped to her knees, choking on her laughter so hard, Max was worried she’d have to get the feline an ambulance.
* * *
They stood around the treadmill, Kyle’s older sister actually taking the time necessary to explain everything to Stevie. It was a nice gesture and Oriana was incredibly patient considering Stevie was a grown woman who should have known how to use a treadmill. It was especially entertaining when Stevie became so enraptured by the device that she started to take it apart while Oriana was talking, but Shen easily distracted her by pointing at the various options on the display.
“Press Feline,” Oriana continued, “and that takes you down to the submenus where your options are Lion, Tiger, Leopard, Mountain lion, and Cheetah. But I wouldn’t suggest the Cheetah setting unless you’re really fast. Are you really fast?”
Stevie shrugged. “For short periods of time.”
“Okay, so you press Tiger and then press here for location. Siberian landscape or Indian jungle.”
Another shrug. “Uh . . . Siberian landscape?”
“Okay. We’ll try that.”
Once the machine started to go, Stevie jumped on and began running.
“You seem to know a lot about treadmills,” Shen observed.
“When I was in high school I used to put in a few hours at a local shifter-only gym. They had the same kind of treadmills. Although these look top-of-the-line,” she added, gesturing toward the machine . . . which was when they realized that Stevie was no longer running, but somehow had gotten her entire body tangled between the dashboard and the rails people used to balance themselves during their run.
“Geez!” Kyle ran over to Stevie. “What did you do?”
“I . . . have no . . . idea,” she gasped out.
Kyle couldn’t figure out what to grab to get her off the treadmill so Shen quickly stepped in. He gripped her under the arms and managed to untwist her and pull her off.
As he held her there, dangling in midair, bruises already starting to show on her calves and, somehow, her throat, Oriana nodded and offered, “Maybe we should