The Mane Squeeze (38 page)

“I have to be honest,” Ric admitted, looking away from Gwen and Blayne in the infield and at Lock. “I’ve never found a handshake so frightening before.”

“I can’t argue that observation.”

“I do have a question for you.”

“Sure.”

“Why is my family name on the Babes’ asses?”

“Because apparently you’re a sponsor.”

Ric let out a sigh. “I was afraid you were going to say something like that.”

Gwen rolled out on the track, Blayne beside her. When they separated, they tapped fists and got into position. McNelly rolled by Gwen, winking at her. Lifting both hands, Gwen gave her the finger—twice.

The two teams laughed, as did the audience. But Gwen wasn’t laughing and neither was McNelly.

As she’d done before, Gwen crouched and waited for the second whistle that would be her signal. The Furriers’ jammer stood next to her. She remembered this one from Blayne’s first bout. A superfast cheetah with a mean streak named Pussy-N-Boots.

“You sure you’re up for this, Fresh Meat?” she asked, grinning at her.

Gwen shrugged shyly. “I hope so,” she replied in a small voice.

She saw the cheetah’s grin get wider. “You’ll be fine, kid,” she said.

The first whistle blew and the pack took off. A moment later, the second whistle. Pussy-N-Boots shot forward and Gwen came up after her…behind her. Reaching down, she caught hold of one of those long cheetah legs and gripped it with both her hands. Spinning around and using the upper-body strength she’d inherited from her mother, Gwen lifted the Furriers’ jammer up and flung her out and over the railing. Without waiting to see where the female landed or if she’d cleared the railing, Gwen spun completely around and took off after the pack.

As she moved in closer, she saw McNelly waiting for her even as the She-wolf kept skating forward. So focused on Gwen and her desire to take her out, she didn’t see the wolf-coyote, Lethal Lacey, until she’d slammed into her, forcing McNelly into the railing. At that point, Gwen picked up speed and took hold of the gloved hand held out for her. Blayne’s fingers closed over Gwen’s and she said, “Hold on, Gwenie!”

Gwen did, waiting as Blayne grabbed the neck of one of the Furrier blockers right in front of her and shoved her aside. Once she’d cleared the way, Blayne whipped Gwen through the cleared path through the pack.

Knowing she was the lead jammer, Gwen ripped around the track, passing the Furriers’ jammer as she was climbing back over the railing. Gwen ignored her and kept going until she reached the pack again. The team needed the points, so Gwen pushed her way through the pack, unable to use Blayne this time since she was having a bit of a scuffle with two Furriers. That meant she had to get through on her own and McNelly was back and tearing across the track right for her. She kept going, hoping to pass one more Furrier before she stopped the jam or McNelly dropped her.

But she’d forgotten something important. For once, Gwen and Blayne weren’t on their own. For once, they had someone else watching their backs.

McNelly was inches from her, snarling, her fangs beginning to show when a busty liger crashed into McNelly and dropped her right there on the track. Gwen passed the Furriers’ other blockers and pivot for three more points and then quickly brought her hands to her hips twice to call off the jam.

Gwen rolled into the infield, Blayne coming up beside her. She threw her arm around Gwen’s shoulders and said cheerily, “That went well, huh?”

“Yeah.” Gwen glanced at her as they stopped. “Sweetie, what’s wrong with your finger?”

Blayne shrugged, trying to be nonchalant. “Nothing.”

“Your forefinger always points
back
at you that way?”

“It does now.”

Gwen held out her hand. “Give it to me.”

“Gwen—”

“Give it.”

Growling, Blayne held her hand out. Gwen took hold, felt around a bit, and said, “Blayne, look. Mr. Squirrel.”

Blayne looked across the track. “Where?”

Lock heard that bone snap back into place from where he was sitting and it took everything in him not to just get up and leave.

Jess barked out, “Holy shit!” before burying her face against Lock’s neck while Ric dropped his face in his hands and visibly shuddered.

“War wounds!” Roxy cheered, her sisters laughing and clapping along with her.

When Roxy realized Lock was gawking at her, she patted his knee and promised, “She’ll be fine, baby-boy.”

“When you say ‘fine’ do you mean she’ll be unharmed when this is all over, or do you mean that she bounces back really well from life-threatening injuries?” When Roxy opened her mouth to speak, Lock quickly added, “If you’re not going to say something that will make me feel better, please don’t say anything at all.”

Roxy’s mouth slowly closed and she looked back out over the track. “Oh, look, baby-boy. Next jam’s starting. Why don’t we watch?”

“Yeah,” he sighed, trying not to panic. “Why don’t we?”

I
t happened every time Gwen rolled out on the track. They would chant her name…“Tasty!”

Okay, so it wasn’t her name, but Lock felt it was close enough. And those from Philly who’d attended seemed to love it.

Lock had to wait until the cleaner had wiped off the glass in front of him before he could see Gwen getting in position on the track. She wiped off the blood leaking from her nose and then popped it back into position using both hands.

Ric let out a breath, quite pleased they’d had Heineken beer among all the Millers and Buds the roaming sellers were hawking. “You know how we always thought we were so much tougher than the football players because we play hockey?”

“Yeah.”

“It’s official. We’re all pussies.”

Lock laughed but absolutely agreed.

The ref blew the whistle and the pack took off. The “jostling” from earlier had turned into a “melee” Sun Tzu would have been afraid of.

The second whistle blew and Gwen moved. God, his woman was
so
fast. Between her lighter weight combined with those powerful tiger legs of hers, none of the other jammers could hope to get close to her. The only thing that helped them was whether Gwen could get through the pack. She tore up the track, catching up to the pack in seconds. One quick hyena slammed into her, but Gwen shoved her off, sending her spinning into her own teammate, both of them crashing into the railing and flipping over.

Gwen grabbed hold of Blayne’s arm, and Blayne held her back, using her free hand to grab the blocker in front of her by the neck and yanking her out of the way. Once she had the opening, she flung Gwen through it. Free of the pack, Gwen took off, the ref tagging her as the lead jammer as she shot around the track.

Lock glanced at the scoreboard. They’d been ahead for a while, but now they were four points behind with thirty seconds left on the board. Gwen had to make it past the pack at least one more time to tie.

A hyena and a lioness went for her, but Cheeky Charming—a ligress who was bigger than Lock’s mom—took them both out, allowing Gwen to zip past. McNelly went for her, but Pop-A-Cherry slammed into her from behind, sending the She-wolf spinning and landing in front of Gwen, but Lock’s tigon went up and over. Unfortunately, because her skates weren’t touching the track, McNelly wouldn’t count for any points. But at least Gwen was able to keep going, shooting around the track for another pass. She’d passed another Furrier, tying the teams, but before she could go past the next Blocker, the Pivot hit her from the side and slammed her into the rails. The Furriers came at her and would probably tackle her to the ground. So, with only two seconds left on the clock, she called off the jam by putting her hands to her hips twice.

Then the Furriers took her down anyway, slamming her to the track.

The crowd cheered and booed with equal vigor and Lock let out a breath.

“You’re worried about her,” Roxy observed, although her eyes stayed focused on the track.

“Of course he’s worried,” his mother answered for him. “They’re going after your daughter like a polar after a baby seal. He doesn’t want her irreparably harmed.”

Suddenly incredibly strong hands gripped Lock’s face, squeezing his cheeks so hard his lips pursed out and it hurt.

“
You
,” Roxy said, with what Lock would consider an inordinate amount of enthusiasm, “are a sweet, sweet grizzly.” She squeezed harder. “I just adore you, baby-boy.”

Struggling with his desire to knock Roxy out of the stands merely to get her hands off his face, Lock said, “T’ank you.” Which was the best he could manage with her squeezing so hard.

“Mom approval,” Jess whispered in his ear once Roxy had released her hold. “Check.”

“Quiet.”

Gwen waited in the infield with her team while the refs conferred with the coaches and captains.

“They’re probably going to go into overtime. You up for that?”

Gwen nodded at Blayne’s question and took the clean rag she handed her so she could wipe off some of the sweat and blood.

“What about your shoulder?”

“It’ll hold up. I just need Ma to shove it back into place.”

Cherry rolled over to them and stopped in front of Gwen. “This is the deal—their team has four girls out, we have about five.” Only two from each team were out due to injuries. The others had been thrown out of the game during a particularly nasty melee, which led to the four game-ending injuries. “Plus, they called a personal foul on Gwenie.”

“Which means what?” Blayne asked.

“They’ve suggested a two-lap duel with Gwen.”

The Babes rolled their eyes, threw up their hands, and made all sorts of noises suggesting annoyance, but Gwen didn’t. Yet she could understand their annoyance. If she made it around the track twice, she’d get two automatic points and they’d win the East Coast championship. But she wouldn’t be out on that track alone. One player from the other team would be out there with her and there were even fewer rules in the two-lap duel than there were in general. That player could cut through the infield, use the bodies of other teammates to slow Gwen down, or stomp on Gwen with her skates. A no-holds-barred event.

“Who suggested it?” Gwen asked while her teammates grumbled.

Cherry smirked. “McNelly.”

“Forget it,” Blayne said.

“I’m in.”

Blayne grabbed her arm. “Excuse us.” She dragged Gwen a bit away from the team and asked, “Have you lost your damn mind?”

“I’m in, Blayne. I’m doing this. Just me and her.”

“I love you, Gwen. I really do. But you’ve lost your fucking mind. That bitch could care less whether you get any points out there. All she cares about is killing you. Killing you
a lot
.”

“I’m doing it.”

“Why?”

“Because she needs to learn there are liabilities to being a prick.”

“Good plan if she weren’t a sociopath.”

“I’m doing it.” She looked over at Cherry. “I’m in.”

“You sure?”

“No!” Blayne barked.

“Yeah. I’m sure.” She focused back on Blayne. “I’m doing this.”

“You’re an idiot.”

She leaned against her friend. “You sweet talker you. Now shove my shoulder back, I can’t wait for Ma.”

“That’s right, folks!” the announcer gleefully intoned. “It’s going to be a two-lap duel. Two minutes have been put on the clock. If the jammer makes it around the track twice, the Assault and Battery Park Babes win. If the blocker keeps her from getting around the track in those two minutes, the Staten Island Furriers win!”

“Oooh!” Brody MacRyrie applauded behind Ric. “A two-lap duel! How exciting!”

But when Ric looked at his friend, all he could see was panic in the bear’s eyes and he worried that the grizzly was about to do something stupid.

“I’m sure it’s fine,” Ric tried to assure him, using his most calming voice. Always best to keep the grizzlies calm and rational. Did these people have any concept what a crazed bear could do to their precious stadium? “Right, Roxy? It’s going to be fine, right?”

Roxy was busy chewing her lip until she realized both men were staring at her, waiting for their fears to be assuaged. She stopped, forced a smile, and said, “I’m sure she’ll be fine.”

“You are
lying to me!
” Lock growled, making Smitty tense up since Jess was still resting around the bear’s shoulders like a mink stole.

“Baby-boy, now calm down.” Roxy took Lock’s hand in hers and patted it. “My Gwenie knows what she’s doing.”

“Your Gwenie will do anything to make sure her team wins, because she hates that woman so much. And although your daughter is, on most days, a little psychotic, Donna McNelly is a
sociopath
. She just wants to kill her.”

Roxy let out a sigh. “I know.” Wait. How was
that
helpful?

“She’ll be fine,” Ric said again, hoping he was right. Of course, as he watched the battered, bruised, and weary-looking Gwen roll onto the track and then the barely bruised, much bigger, and wide-awake She-wolf roll on after her, Ric realized that he definitely had his doubts.

Panting, Gwen rested one hand on the railing and one hand on her waist.

“How ya doin’, little kitty?” McNelly taunted. “You sure you’re up for this? I don’t know, you took some bad hits during that last jam. And you look so tired. You tired? People never realize how long two minutes can be, huh? But we know, don’t we, little kitty?”

While McNelly kept going on, Gwen looked down at the hand on her waist. Her eyes narrowed. Was her nail polish chipped or had she cracked her nail? She leaned in a bit, examining it a little more. Letting out a sigh, she relaxed back.
Nail polish chipped
. That was good. She had no desire to pay Blayne five bucks.

The ref stood diagonally from her but still in the infield. “Just a reminder,” he said. “To make two complete laps your feet have to mostly be on the track. Any leaps over ten feet—whether vertical or horizontal—won’t be counted, understand?”

Gwen nodded.

“She can come at you from any direction and in any way. Fangs and claws are now
allowed
. Whatever you do, don’t stop. You’ve got two minutes, hon.” He briefly glanced at McNelly before adding, “And good luck.”

He clamped the whistle between his lips, pointed his arm at her, and blew. Gwen took off, but McNelly wasn’t behind her. As the game had progressed, Gwen had become really good at sensing where the blockers were coming from. And this time McNelly had cut through the infield and was going to meet her on the other side.

Gwen ignored the sound of the screaming crowd, focusing instead on just McNelly, the track, what was in or near her space, and Blayne’s voice. As she made it halfway around, McNelly was there, coming right at Gwen.

Twisting her body, Gwen spun out of her reach, McNelly slamming into the rails so hard she almost went over. Gwen kept going, not even looking back. The crowd got louder, but she could still hear Blayne over them all.

“Five feet, Gwen! Five feet!”

Gwen took a breath and waited until she heard Blayne yell, “Hard left!”

She jerked to the left and McNelly flew by a second after, landing hard on the track, her body splayed out.

Again, she kept moving, never looking back. She heard the announcer scream, “Lap one!” And she knew she’d have to get through this next lap to win.

“Head-on, Gwen!” Blayne screamed. “Head-on!”

Gwen looked up and there NcNelly was, coming right at her, fangs and claws out, her long arms open wide.

Gwen could leap over her, but anything more than ten feet, she was screwed. And she’d have to go at least that high because she had no doubts the big bitch would jump with her and catch her legs.

No. She couldn’t leap up and over her, but she could go off the track into the infield to run away. Yet she’d have to push through all those Furriers who’d be beating the shit out of her to stop her. So that left her with one option…

When Gwen’s fangs and claws came out, Lock sat up straight.

“What the hell is she doing?”
he snarled, barely realizing Mitch Shaw asked the same question at the same time.

“Now this,” Roxy sighed, “this is going to be ugly.”

“I’m right there with you, Rox,” Alla sighed behind him.

But Lock didn’t dare look away from the track to glare at either Gwen’s mother or his own. Not when the action was moving so fast.

They were about five feet from each other, McNelly about to scoop Gwen up in those massive arms of hers, when Gwen finally went airborne. But instead of leaping over McNelly, which was what Lock had assumed she’d do, she went right into her.

She hit McNelly full force, her mouth open and wrapping around the She-wolf’s face. Gwen clamped down, her claws digging into McNelly’s shoulders. They hit the ground in a bloody, violent mess, McNelly’s claws slashing at Gwen’s shoulders and arms as the female desperately tried to get Gwen off her.

Gwen sat up, spitting out the blood that wasn’t already running down her chin and neck and twice slammed her fist into McNelly’s face.

“Thirty-five seconds!” Blayne yelled from the infield.

Gwen scrambled over McNelly and started to get to her feet. But McNelly caught hold of her ankle, flipping over on her stomach to drag Gwen back.

“Twenty-five, Gwen! Twenty-five!”

Gwen yanked her foot away from McNelly, but the She-wolf took hold of the other one.

“Twenty! Twenty!”

Lock watched as the two friends looked at each other and he thought exactly what Roxy had said,
This is going to be ugly
.

“House cat her, Gwen!” Blayne yelled.
“House cat the bitch!”

And Lock finally found out what it meant to “house cat” someone as Gwen turned so fast, if he’d been more human he would have missed it. She turned and using both hands, raked her unleashed claws down McNelly’s face three…oh. Nope. Four times.