The Mane Squeeze (28 page)

That was all he said in a thirty-hour stretch and Dee knew, knew it was time for her best friend to go. Go before he did something they’d be forced to put him down for. And now that she’d seen him again, spent time with him, she knew she’d made the right decision that day three years ago…when she told Lock MacRyrie that he had to leave not only the Unit but the Corps. It had been the right call for both her team and for Lock. She was sure of that now.

“So if you don’t work for him, what will you do?”

“I’ve got some lines on things.”

“If you need anything, just let me know.”

“Thanks, darlin’. Much appreciate it. Do have a question, though.”

“Sure.”

She leaned in a bit and asked, “He gonna keep starin’ at me?”

The Van Holtz wolf smiled at her when she glanced his way. Funny, she’d been raised that Van Holtzes were nothing but stuck-up rich boys. Although her daddy always added that they weren’t as easy to kill as they looked.

“We’re going to ignore Ric, because he’s lost his mind. Temporarily, I’m sure.”

“We all need to do that from time to time.” She winked at the wolf, and he let out a breath.

“Marry—”

“You know—” Lock said loudly, cutting the wolf a hard glare “—um, you know lots of Pack gossip, right?”

“Not of my own doing to find out, but I hear things. Why?”

“You know anything about the McNelly Pack?”

Chewing her bacon nice and slow, Dee asked, “Now why would you bring them up?”

“My girlfriend has been having problems with them, but from what I can tell she hasn’t had any past problems with that Pack. So I’m thinking it’s some old problem come up, ya know?”

Dee knew well enough because the Smiths were all about holding grudges. It was one of the reasons they were so feared, they didn’t forget anything. Of course, she was far more interested in something else. “That feline you were talking to earlier is your girlfriend?”

Lock’s grin grew, revealing pure male satisfaction. “Damn right she is.”

“All right then. Who’s your girlfriend connected to?” When Lock gave a small frown, she added, “You mentioned her first name but not her kin connections.”

“Oh. She’s an O’Neill.”

“An O’Neill?”
Oh, Lord
.

“Yeah. From Philly.”

“And she’s been having problems with a McNelly?”

“Yeah.”

Dee put down her fork and focused on her friend. “She an O’Neill through her momma or daddy?”

“Her mother. Roxy O’Neill.”

The laughter poured out of her before she could stop it and then she couldn’t stop at all.

“What? What’s so funny?”

But Dee was laughing too hard to even answer.

“What I can’t believe is how he acted, Blayne!” Gwen yelled, her hold on the leashes tightening as the three dogs tore down the Manhattan sidewalk. “Like he had the right to be jumping out at me from closets, demanding to know where I’d been!”

“You know how your brother is!” Blayne yelled back. “He’s always been superprotective! He doesn’t know any better!” She had four dogs pulling her and was doing much better than Gwen would have hoped.

Actually…they both were.

“And then I was lying to him on Saturday! Like a child! What’s wrong with me?”

“Nothing! He took you by surprise and he did it for that reason! I’m glad you lied!”

So was Gwen. It had led to the best weekend of her entire life.

“What I want to know is—” Gwen let out a brief squeal when she hit a rough patch of sidewalk and almost fell on her ass, but she caught herself and kept going “—how the hell did Lock know?”

“Know what?”

“That I was coming over. He wasn’t surprised at all. Nobody was! They all can’t be such good liars.”

“Uh…it was Jess.”

“What do you mean it was Jess?”

“She told me Sissy called to complain to Smitty that Mitch had lost his mind. Smitty told Jess, and she called Ric.”

“Why?”

“Why?”

“Yeah. Why?”

“Uh…she knew Ric was going over there?”

“Are you asking me or telling me?”

“Look, woman! All I know is that Ric, Jess, and Lock are good friends.”

“Yeah,” Gwen muttered. “I know.”

“Truck!” Blayne called out cheerfully before she easily maneuvered herself and the dogs around an eighteen-wheeler that had backed into a loading dock. The loading dock’s entrance cut through the sidewalk and Gwen tried to halt the dogs by pulling on their leashes the way she saw people in movies pull on a horse’s rein. Sadly it didn’t work; the dogs kept going. But, thankfully, they went off the sidewalk and into the street—causing Gwen to screech like a full-human—went around the truck, and then back on the sidewalk. Gwen jumped the curb, all her preteen training coming back to her during that forty-five-second nightmare. The dogs she held followed behind Blayne and the others, making a right onto a main avenue. And wasn’t that wonderful?
More
people yelling at them to “slow the fuck down!” or “get off the fuckin’ sidewalk!” or a myriad of other suggestions, some of which involved Gwen’s mother.

Her phone rang and Gwen called out, “Phone! Need to get phone!”

“Okay!” Blayne happily yelled back. She easily stopped her dogs and Gwen’s dogs automatically followed suit. Gwen rolled to a stop until she was standing right in front of Blayne.

Panting, Gwen asked her friend, “How much do we rock?”

“Like gods.”

Laughing, Gwen answered her phone. “It’s Gwen.”

“It’s Lock.”

She bit her lip and rolled away from Blayne. “Hey. What’s up?”

“Hey. Um, an old Marine buddy of mine showed up this morning. She’s in the Smith Pack—”

“She?”

“Yeah. And I mentioned McNelly to see if there was any Pack gossip that she may know that we don’t.”

“Yeah?”

“And…uh…”

“What, Lock? Spit it out.”

“You’re going to be mad.”

Gwen shrugged. “Tell me anyway.”

“Okay, but…”

“But what, Lock?”

“It involves your mother.”

Blayne held the leashes for all seven dogs while Gwen took her call. She crouched down and petted them, adoring each one. They were all so cute. Every one of them mutts, rescues that the Kuznetsov Pack had picked up over the years, and every one happy and healthy and adorable.

As was Gwen at this moment. Sure, she was pissed at Mitch, but few days went by where she wasn’t. But this…this was amazing. Gwen exuberant, Gwen happy…Gwen satisfied. Blayne felt like buffing her nails against her T-shirt because she was
that
damn good. She’d known Gwen and Lock were perfect for each other the second she saw them together.

Even better was how amazing everyone was at helping out! She didn’t think they’d come through like they had, but wow. Everyday she learned to love the Kuznetsov Pack more and more. And Ric? What a great guy!

Mitch, however, was still a problem, but Blayne had her surprise ace in the hole. A sneaky She-wolf who knew how to text message. No, no. She hadn’t
lied
to Gwen…officially. It was more about massaging the truth to help her friend. And that was okay, wasn’t it? Of course it was! Because it was all coming together and Blayne couldn’t be happier!

Really, could the day get any better?

“Goddamnit!”
Gwen yelled out, making the dogs bark and Blayne realize the day apparently would
not
be getting any better.
“That woman will be the death of me!”

Blayne knew “that woman” could only be one woman and she wasn’t even sure she wanted to hear the rest of it.

L
ock waited until he heard the shower shut off and then he made her a mug of hot tea. When he walked into the room with it, he found her sitting naked in the middle of his bed, her knees up and her arms tight around them. He sat down next to her and offered her the tea, but she shook her head.

Sitting next to her, he quietly said, “Gwen—”

“She fucked McNelly’s husband!” she screeched, causing his upstairs neighbor to bang on the ceiling with a broom. But Gwen unleashed that combo hiss-roar and, not surprisingly, the banging stopped.

Lock grimaced, and offered, “Wolves don’t really get married.” Gold eyes filled with rage fastened on him and he quickly amended, “What I mean is, I don’t think they were mated or anything. Wolves are big on that. They take it very seriously. I think this fight was more of a ‘You took my man’ kind of thing. Rather than ‘You took my mate.’ And it sounded like it happened years ago. Like before you were born.”

“And everyone knows?”

“Not everyone. Ric had no idea. And Dee-Ann—”

“Right. The—” she made air quotes with her fingers “—‘Marine buddy.’”

“She is. And one of my trainers. When I started, we were—”

“Does it look like I care?”

“O…kay.” He held up the mug. “Tea?”

“I hate hot tea.”

“All right.” He put it down on the side table.

“I thought New York meant a new start,” she said. “But not when you’re the idiot daughter of Roxy O’Neill. A woman determined to haunt me!”

“Gwen, you’re not an idiot.”

“Whatever. It doesn’t matter. Right? Because I’m an O’Neill and that’s what O’Neills do. Fuck other people’s husbands, get shot at, fix boxing matches, and set things on fire for money.”

Lock blinked. “What?”

“And we do that because we’re O’Neills and that’s what O’Neills do. I might as well accept it. And
you
need to accept it, too. Because according to you I’m your girlfriend and I’m also an O’Neill—
so prepare yourself for the humiliation!
”

Letting out a breath, Lock lifted Gwen into his arms and moved her around until she was sideways on his lap, her head against his chest, her legs resting over one of his thighs. He held her and his hands smoothed up and down her back.

“What are you doing?” she asked, sounding pissier than he’d ever heard her.

“Being nice to you. Whether you want me to or not.”

Gwen didn’t struggle; there didn’t seem to be a point. Instead she sat there while he held her. He didn’t try and make a sexual move, he didn’t do anything but hold her. She had no idea what he was waiting for, what he wanted from her.

Gwen was too busy seething to notice the tears until they fell on her chest. Mortified, she tried then to pull away, but Lock wouldn’t let her go.

Would he understand these weren’t tears of sadness, but of frustration? Her frustration for having a mother she adored but who somehow managed to torture her without trying?

And all this violence and fighting, poor Blayne turned into a human shotput, over an old grudge that involved Roxy, Sharyn McNelly and, tragically, Donna McNelly’s
father
.

And here was this thing, this precious, delicate,
amazing
thing between her and Lock. An amazing thing she could see growing into more. But how could she hope to keep a man used to intellectual discourse over grilled salmon and wineglasses of cranberry juice, when her own mother was busy nailing the wolves of her derby rivals? An event so well-known it had once been the hot topic of conversation as far away as frickin’ Tennessee. A place O’Neills never ventured willingly until Mitch and Sissy hooked up.

Yet Lock wasn’t running away from her. He’d picked her up at work, taken her back to his apartment, and made her vile tea. Even now he was holding her, stroking her naked body while managing to not make it sexual, but comforting. And as much as she tried to hold back from him, as much as Gwen tried to keep this part of her life separate from Lock, she couldn’t. He wouldn’t let her.

Gwen gripped his T-shirt, knowing she should push him away, knowing she shouldn’t drag him into any of this, but she ended up burying her face against his chest and crying. She cried until she couldn’t cry anymore.

She had no idea how long they stayed like that; even after she stopped crying, they stayed like that. But when Gwen was done, she was done. She sat up straight, but Lock’s arms stayed loose around her.

“I’m done now.”

“Okay.” She adored that he didn’t want to talk things out or psychoanalyze the situation. She hated that.

“And we can’t let my mother find out what happened Labor Day weekend, or she’ll do something stupid.”

“You don’t think Mitch—”

She waved her hand, cutting him off. “He’s so freakin’ occupied with trying to get in the middle of my business, it won’t even cross his mind.”

“Okay.” He brushed her hair off her cheek. “You’re staying tonight, right?” he asked.

“If you want—”

“Good.” Lock kissed her forehead. “Now, do you want to feel better?

Oddly phrased question, but okay. “Sure.”

“Do you really want to feel better or would you rather sit around wallowing?”

She chuckled. “No. I’m done wallowing.” And she really wanted to feel better. Of course just having Lock here was making her feel better.

“I can help you feel better.” He lifted her off his lap and placed her carefully on the bed, before he scrambled off.

Gwen wasn’t exactly surprised when he took his clothes off, nor did she mind.

Naked, Lock got back on the bed and stretched out next to her. “Lay down.” She reached for him but he shook his head. “No, no. Stretch out. Next to me.”

That seemed weird but whatever.

“Now…you lift your legs up straight.” Not sure what the hell he was doing, Gwen lifted her legs up. It was kind of humorous to see the two pairs of legs raised up considering how much longer his were. “And using your hands…grab your toes.”

Gwen dropped her legs and sat up. “You want me to do what?”

“Trust me. You’ll feel so much better.”

She quickly scrutinized the room. “You don’t have a hidden camera around here or something?”

“Of course not.”

“This isn’t going to end up on the Internet or something, right? I’ll be really pissed if this ends up on the Net.”

“Trust me,” he said again. And when Gwen looked at him he was playing with his toes.

With a shrug, Gwen stretched out beside Lock, lifted her legs up, and grabbed her toes.

“You can roll back and forth, too.”

All right then
.

“What do you think?”

“This is…uh…kind of…nice actually.”

“I know. I do it anytime I’m really pissed or depressed or bored or…playing.”

“You do it every day, don’t you?”

“Sometimes. There’s no shame in the toe grab. And look! You can cross arms and grab opposite toes.”

“Rebellious.”

“I live on the edge, Gwen.”

Laughing, Gwen dropped her legs and curled into Lock’s side.

“What? What’s so funny?”

Sharyn McNelly pulled her truck into the strip mall and parked in front of the hair salon.

Walking inside, she didn’t bother to look around. For the last two years, she’d been coming to this salon every other week just before closing. The owners were cats, but they were cheaper than the other places and worked fast. She dropped into the chair and opened her bag to toss in her phone. “The usual, Ling,” she told her stylist. “And make it quick, I’m meeting someone tonight at the bar down the street.”

There was a rare moment of silence from the chatty stylist and then, “Man, you got fat.”

Sharyn’s head came up, her fangs instantly extending as anger roared through her system.
“You.”

Roxy O’Neill grinned back at her in the mirror, seconds before she gripped the back of Sharyn’s head and slammed it into the table that held the stylist’s tools.

Stunned, Sharyn fell back in the chair as Roxy moved around her. “You went after my daughter? What made you think that was okay?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about, bitch.”

Sharyn’s head hit the small table in front of her again.
“Goddamnit!”

“
My
baby girl. Did you really think I’d let you get away with that?”

Gripping her head and panting, Sharyn watched the cat. “She was there. It was convenient. And I still
owe
you.”

“Are you kidding? You did it over that idiot?” Roxy leaned down and stared Sharyn in the eye. “He fucked everybody in the league, sweetie. And actually, it was Marie who fucked him. I just gave him a blow job.”

Sharyn wrapped her hands around Roxy’s throat and they crashed to the floor, but the cat wasn’t alone, her sisters grabbing Sharyn’s arms and pulling her off, dragging her across the floor.

Roxy stood, shook out her gold mane of hair. “There’s a thing about the O’Neills you need to know, pooch. Mixed-blood or full. Dark hair or gold, we always protect our own.”

Even though she struggled, the cats easily yanked Sharyn into the chair and held her there.

Roxy smiled down at her. “The other thing. Never start shit with a lion when it’s lions that are doing your hair.”

“And FYI,” Marie tossed in. “Just because she and her sisters are Asiatic lions, doesn’t mean her name is Ling.”

“It’s actually Tracey. And look!” Roxy held up clippers. “She’s letting me use her equipment. Now let’s see if we can fix that mess you call hair.”

Marie patted Sharyn’s shoulder. “You know, hon, conditioner? It’s your friend.”

Gwen pulled on one of Lock’s T-shirts and laughed when it went past her knees. He grinned at her from his bed. The lone white sheet was pulled up to his waist, but he had one leg out and raised. She’d always enjoyed the male body but…

She sighed softly. All that hard muscle and so damn much of it. And she’d spent the last three hours enjoying every inch of him. It simply dazzled her how he went from goofy bear, rolling on his back and playing with his toes, and right into sexy-beyond-belief Jersey grizzly who’d worked her body like a love god.

“It looks like you’re wearing a muumuu,” he joked.

“And if I were wearing a muu-muu?” Gwen asked, her hands on her hips. “Then what?”

“Gwen, I don’t care how big you get, you’re never wearing a muumuu around me. But…feel free to wear any of my shirts, anytime you want.”

The way he looked at her sometimes…it wasn’t cute and cuddly, that was for sure. And it made her feel sexier than she ever had before. “I’m going to call Blayne before she calls me, panicking. I ended our training session a little abruptly this afternoon.”

“Okay. I’ll scrounge up something for us to eat.”

“Sounds good. I won’t be long.” She started for the door, but she heard the grizzly grumble and then what she could only describe as tongue clicks. She faced him. “Yes?”

“I want a kiss.”

Gwen shook her head. “Uh-uh.”

“Why not?”

“Don’t give me that innocent bear look. I start kissing you and we’ll never eat and I’ll never call Blayne and then we’ll starve while crazy Blayne tries to track us down in all the wrong places.” She pointed at the door. “So I’m going out there and you’re going to get us food.”

“Not even a little kiss?”

“Stop it.” She again moved toward the door, but paused before she went through it. “And stop humming.”

“I didn’t know I was.”

She looked at him over her shoulder. “You do it while you sleep, too.”

“And you purr in your sleep.”

She didn’t normally. Of course, the last few nights in Lock’s bed she’d been purring a lot.

Leaving the bedroom, Gwen grabbed her phone and speed dialed Blayne. She dropped facedown on Lock’s couch as Blayne answered.

“Chello?”

Gwen smiled. “You sound in a good mood.”

“I am! Cherry says I’m doing so much better since I’ve been training with you. Everybody’s really happy. Thanks so much, Gwenie.”

“Anytime, Blayne. You know that.”

“Well…since you mention it—”

“I’m not joining the team, Blayne,” Gwen cut in, knowing exactly where this conversation was headed.

“But they like you
so much
.”

Lock sat down in the big king chair across from the couch. He wore boxers and was eating honey from a jar with a spoon.

“That’s really sweet, but—”

“Won’t you even consider it?”

“No.”

Gwen glanced over at Lock, watched him trying to shake the spoon off his right hand. When that didn’t work, he used his left to pull it off and then tried to shake it off that one. Since he seemed more entertained than frustrated she didn’t bother saying anything.