The Mane Squeeze (12 page)

G
wen was inputting the information from recent receipts and was taking her sweet time about it, too, when Blayne received yet another text message. She responded quickly and shut her phone. Placing the phone in her backpack and her backpack over her shoulder, Blayne got up and headed toward the office door.

Gwen kept typing, waiting until Blayne’s hand was on the door handle before she said, “Where you going?”

Blayne stopped, her body tensing. “Huh?”

She continued to work. “I said, where are you going?”

“Out.”

“For drinks? I haven’t had a Guinness in forever.”

Blayne stared at her. She’d been a nervous mess all day, jumping when the phone rang, tearing papers she had on her desk into shreds, and twisting and untwisting poor, defenseless paperclips. When it came to emotions, Blayne was always an open book.

“No,” she finally answered. “Not drinks. I’m…uh…” Gwen could see her out of the corner of her eye, struggling with what she wanted to say. Struggling between lying and telling Gwen the truth. After a minute, she went with the lying. “I’m going to the hospital. Again.”

“The volunteering. Right. Okay.”

Blayne nodded, stared at Gwen for another moment—her frustration evident in the way she was twisting and untwisting her fingers—and went out the door.

Gwen went back to work…for about thirty more seconds. Then she shut off her monitor, pulled her backpack onto her shoulders, and ran to the office door. She stopped long enough to lock the doors and took off running. It still amazed Gwen that Blayne had finagled office space in the Kuznetsov Building. It was a small space, barely big enough for their two desks, small fridge, and coffeemaker, but the rent was too good to pass up and there was basement space to accommodate their company trucks and supplies. Really, Gwen couldn’t ask for better, especially in this city.

Stopping at the main doors of the building, Gwen stuck her head out and looked both ways. She could see Blayne running west and she took off after her. She didn’t get too close, though, not wanting Blayne to catch sight of her.

Thankfully Blayne didn’t grab a bus or take the subway, which was good because Gwen was still learning her way around this nightmare town. Still…the door Blayne disappeared into nearly fifteen minutes later did nothing but convince Gwen that she’d have to rescue Blayne from herself yet again.

Gwen walked to that door, stopping immediately when she stepped inside. Nope. Not a hospital—a place Blayne knew Gwen would never willingly go into—but an ice-skating rink. The entire floor teeming with full-humans watching their children skate, all of them hoping to be the breeder of the next gold Olympian.

Yet Gwen’s powerful sense of smell told her that full-humans weren’t the only ones using this building.

Sniffing like a bloodhound on the trail of a murderer, Gwen followed her nose to a discreet door behind a set of stairs. That discreet door led to another discreet door. She pulled it open and came face-to-face with several bathrooms and closets filled with cleaning and maintenance supplies. She almost got sidetracked by some copper pipes in the maintenance closet but made herself focus.

She sniffed the air and went to another set of stairs and a locked door. She sniffed at the door and pawed at it a couple of times. It opened, a wolf standing on the other side.

“Hi.”

“Hi.” Gwen walked in, ignoring the way the male automatically sized her up, and quickly examined everything around her. This area of the building was huge, with its own set of elevators, a food court, several sports-related stores, and a Starbucks. This was a shifter-only space, huge and all-inclusive. A safe zone for every breed. That meant no fighting of any kind, including Pack, Pride, or Clan wars, and no hunting or bloodletting. Shifters got bitchy when they had to clean up any messes that required cops or disposing of carcasses.

“Can I help you?” the wolf asked.

“Uh…yeah. I’m looking for my friend. She’s a little taller than me, black with brown hair…she was probably talking to herself.”

He grinned. “The wolfdog? Yeah, she went down those stairs over there.”

“Thanks.”

“Want me to help you look for her?”

Gwen chuckled at that, sure of the kind of help the wolf wanted to give her. “No, thanks.”

“If you change your mind, let me know.”

“Yeah, yeah, sure.” Because she obviously had nothing better to do than hook up with some horny wolf for ten minutes. How She-wolves tolerated any of them, Gwen would never know.

As directed, she went down the stairs and stopped in the hallway. The really big, multidoor-filled hallway. Because finding Blayne shouldn’t be easy, now should it?

Sighing, Gwen went from door to door. Some were locked, and some opened to a practice or training session. She wished she could have stayed and watched the gymnasts. Nothing like watching all those eight-year-old cubs and pups vaulting themselves twenty to thirty feet in the air and then screaming on the way back down because they had no real idea yet how to land properly.

She didn’t have time for that, though. She was snooping, and she wouldn’t let anything get in her way. Because who knew what Blayne was up to? Gwen was betting it had something to do with a man. She’d already seen the basketball players working out and Gwen was surprised she didn’t find Blayne there in the stands, watching and waiting on some freakishly tall loser to come over and smooth talk her. The woman had the worst taste in males. She picked what seemed to be the nicest, sweetest guys, and they always turned out to be full-fledged sociopaths. And if she was sneaking some guy in behind Gwen’s back that meant one thing—another nutbag Gwen was going to have to deal with down the road.

Why did she have to work so hard to protect her friends and family? Why couldn’t Blayne find normal, cranky shifters with dominance issues like the rest of them?

Gwen heard male voices coming from a door close to her and she reached for the handle, figuring she’d find Blayne. But before Gwen could get a grip, the door flew open and she barely moved out of the way in time. She caught sight of ice skates and knew it was the hockey players. Her uncle Cally had played hockey on a shifter team for years when he was younger.

She was trying to move around the player, when he snarled, “Do you not answer your phone?”

Gwen tensed and looked up—and kept looking up until she burst out laughing. “
You
play hockey?”

“What do you mean by that?”

“It can’t be fair. You battin’ the other players around the ice with your giant arms.”

“I don’t have giant arms.”

She kept laughing and shook her head. “Forget it. Is Blayne in there?”

“No. And why didn’t you answer your phone?”

“I shut it off because my brother was driving me crazy after I lacerated his ass this morning. Why?”

“I found out who jumped you and Blayne at Macon River.”

Gwen stared up at the grizzly. To be honest, she’d forgotten about that Pack. Forgotten they’d existed or had attacked her and Blayne. Not that she didn’t care, but the past few weeks had been so crazy busy, it had gone to the bottom of the heap of concerns she already had.

“Who was it?”

“I was calling to tell you that, but when I thought about it, I realized I couldn’t tell you.”

“Why not?”

He took several gulps of water from the bottle he held in his hand. His hair and skin were drenched in sweat and he was panting. He must have had a hell of a workout. “Because it’s been handled, and I don’t want you going over there to start it up all over again.”

“I won’t.”

“You say that now, but then you’ll be sitting around…thinking. And you’ll remember what went down—and the next thing I know, I’ll be hearing about you in the news.”

Disgusted he was probably right, Gwen ignored him with a flip of her hand. “Whatever.”

“‘Whateva,’” he mimicked back at her and then smiled.

Goofball
.

And Gwen was about to tell him that, too, when she noticed seven females dressed in black latex minidresses and carrying black-and-gray pom-poms walk by in latex boots with six-inch heels. She peered at Lock, figuring she’d have to get his attention back to ask him a question, but he was still gazing down at her. Or maybe he had a really quick response time like Mitch.

“Who are they?”

“Who are who?”

Did he really not see seven big-breasted females in black latex walk by? Or was he the biggest liar this side of the Atlantic?

“The chicks in latex.” She pointed and he glanced over, but focused back on her in less than a second.

“Oh, yeah. They’re the derby pep squad.”

Oh, no. No. No. No. No. No. No!

“
Derby
pep squad?”
Please, Christ! Let it be something other than what I’m thinking!

“Yeah. Some leagues use cheerleaders and some use pep squads. The New York Roller Derby League uses a pep squad.”

Goddamnit!
Gwen took a breath, trying her best to stay calm. “Is there a bout tonight?”

“Yep. In the stadium, one floor beneath us.”

Without saying another word, Gwen walked off.

“You’ll never get in.”

She looked at him over her shoulder. “Why not?”

“The bout’s already sold out.”

She faced him and quickly realized he was wearing a practice jersey for one of the professional shifter league teams. “But you play for the New York Carnivores.”

“I do.”

“So I’m sure with your connections you can get me in.”

“I can.”

Letting out an annoyed breath, she walked back over to him. “What do ya want?”

“I don’t want anything, Mr. Mittens.” He leaned down until their noses nearly touched. “In fact, all you have to do is ask me.”

“That’s it?”

“Yeah, that’s it. I try to avoid blackmail. It always works out badly in the end.”

“Can you get me into the bout?”

“Sure. Wait here.” He walked off and the door he’d come through opened up again, more hockey players streaming out. She barely noticed any of them, too busy stressing out over what she’d see in a few minutes, until one walked over to her and sniffed her hair. Normally she’d be pissed off at some strange wolf sniffing her hair without permission, but he was gorgeous and…friendly

“Honey shampoo,” he said with a smile. “You must be Gwen.”

“Do I know you?”

“We have a mutual friend. Lock. I’m Ric.” He pulled off his glove and held his hand out. Gwen shook it. “Nice to meet you.”

“You, too.”

“I recognized your scent from when Lock came back to the house after his run-in with that invading Pack. Sorry about all that, by the way.”

“It wasn’t your fault.”

“Perhaps. But it was brought to the attention of the Board, and you and your friends should see some recompense for the attack.” She would? But before she could ask for more details—because ya-ha! Free cash!—Lock returned. He’d changed into sweatpants, sneakers, and a light gray T-shirt that looked like it had been molded to his body. And…uh…
yowza
.

“Hey,” Lock said to Ric.

“Hey,” Ric said back. Then he walked away.

Nope. Gwen would never really
get
guys.

Lock smiled at her. “You ready?”

Lock had never been so grateful for being on the hockey team before today. It was an excellent way to work off nervous energy and earn a few extra bucks. He’d joined the team about six months after his return from the Marines. Nearly a year after that, Ric had become the team captain and Lock his backup. Which meant he had access to all the cool little benefits that all the team captains and managers had…like primo seats at derby bouts.

What he didn’t expect was to find half the Kuznetsov wild dog Pack taking up most of those primo seats.

“Hey.”

Jess Ward-Smith glanced up from her program and broke out in a huge grin…until she saw Gwen standing next to him. Then her eyes grew wide and…yeah. He definitely saw panic.

“Hi!” she said, way too brightly. “What are you guys doing here?” She elbowed the wild dog next to her without giving Lock or Gwen a chance to answer her. “Hey, Phil. Look who’s here.”

Phil glanced over and then barked, “Oh, shit.”

He then elbowed Sabina, who elbowed Danny, who elbowed Maylin, who yelped at the sight of them. Considering the wild dogs had actually allowed Lock to be around their pups on a regular basis, he somehow doubted they suddenly feared him.

“Where is she?” Gwen demanded, confusing Lock more by her aggressive tone.

“Whoever could you mean, Gwen?” Jess replied, again, way-too-brightly and with a higher pitch to her voice than Lock could ever remember her having.

Gwen pointed her finger at Jess. “Don’t lie to me, Benji. Where is she?”

“What’s going on?” Lock had to ask. And, as if in answer, the lights shut completely off and a rough female voice came over the speakers.