Page 133 of Beware of Dog

“Right.” Devin smiled in an alarming way; it was charming, but hungry-wolf sharp. “But then he was just Shep. Now he’s to be my son-in-law. I want a proper introduction.”

“Really?” she complained, but Devin stared expectantly at Shep, undeterred. “Okay. Dad, this is Shep. Frank. Frank Shepherd. Shep, this is my dad, Devin, which you already know.” She flapped a hand between them, more pomp than the moment deserved, really.

After a beat, Shep stepped forward, and stuck out his hand. A muscle in his cheek twitched, and Cass knew he wanted to saythis is bullshit. Instead, he said, “Good to meet you. Sir.”

Cass bit her lip. Hard.

Devin left Shep hanging a long, ridiculous moment, then finally withdrew his arm from around her shoulders and clasped hands with him. Gaze on Shep’s face, he said, “Cass, dear. Let me have a word alone with your man a minute.”

“Dad…”

“No, it’s fine,” he said, cheerful and unconvincing. “We’re just going to have a nice little chat.”

She huffed.

Shep’s gaze cut over, quickly. “Yeah, we’re good. Go catch up with Shaman or something.”

She threw her hands up. “I tried!”

~*~

“Let’s step out and get some fresh air, eh?” Devin said, and what was Shep going to do? Say no?

“Okay,” he said, and led the way out onto the front porch, which was thankfully empty.

Devin folded his arms over the rail, peering out at the driveway, the detached garage, the freshly-mown lawn studded with tiki torches for tomorrow. There was a white Rover in the driveway, and Shep figured Devin and his chaperones had arrived in it.

The brothers had been annoying, but nothing Shep couldn’t handle. He found, though, as Devin gazed serenely out across the vista, that a cold, hard anger toward the man was building behind his sternum. If Raven wanted to shriek and fume at him, then, sure: she’d all but raised Cass. She had every right to threaten him. But Devin? Nah.

“Lovely evening,” Devin said, took a deep breath, and let it out slowly with an air of satisfaction.

“Yeah.” Shep kept several feet between them when he stepped up to the rail and rested a hand on it. “But I’m not really a sit-on-the-porch kinda guy, so if you’ve got something to say, let’s just get it over with.”

Devin half-turned his head, eyes sparkling in the porch lights, his grin sly and amused. “Oh, he’s in a hurry.”

“Nah. He’s tired of the bullshit.”

Devin straightened, mirroring Shep’s pose with one hand braced on the rail. He gestured between them with his free hand. “Why don’t you elaborate on that.”

Why don’t you kiss my ass?Shep swallowed his kneejerk response and said, “Candyman’s a lot older than your granddaughter. Walsh got married at gunpoint, basically. Fox won’t marry his woman, and you were here for that whole shitshow with Toly and Raven.”

“Your point being that none of my children have what you’d call normal marriages?”

“My point being I didn’t see you take Toly out for a lecture, and he was fucking double-dealing with the bratva.”

Devin cocked his head, that birdlike angle Tenny got, as if, though his face was doing all the human things, the thoughts behind the mask weren’t human at all.

“Your boys have been giving me shit,” Shep said, “and now you’re gonna give me shit, and none of it’s gonna scare me off, so why don’t we cut it out already?”

Devin studied him a long, unblinking, eerie moment, then nodded, and the life flooded back into his expression. “Fair enough. But I’m still going to say my piece.” He shifted his weight, cocked a hip. Ready? Or relaxed? God knew. “Son—”

“Don’t call me son. I’m not your son, and I hate your fucking guts.”

Devin’s brows twitched, but mildly, and not with anything like surprise. “That’s a bold statement.” His lips quirked. “I’ve not heard the old ‘hate your guts’ since the boys were in short pants.”

“I don’t believe that.”

“Smart. They’ve said it since.” He tilted his chin. “Them I understand. Why do you hate me, then, Francis?”

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