The Mane Squeeze

CHAPTER 19

Gwen woke up starving and annoyed someone woke her up. But it was Lock, and she stopped feeling so annoyed. “What’s up?”

He held out his cell phone. “It’s for you.”

“Me?” She’d forgotten Mitch still had her cell phone. It was probably him, too. Good. Let him find out she’d spent the night with a bear.

Sitting up, Gwen ran her hands through her hair and glanced at the clock on the side table. It was almost noon. She took the phone and said, “What?”

There was an incredibly long pause and when she didn’t hear her brother say anything, Gwen squeaked out, “Blayne?”

“You’re with the bear?”

“Blayne Thorpe—”

“Ha-ha-ha!”

Then her best friend disconnected the call. “Goddamnit!”

Laughing, Blayne closed her cell phone. When it rang again two seconds later, she yanked out the battery and threw it out of the wild dog’s dining room.

“He’s in!” she cheered, arms in the air, and the wild dogs who’d invited her over for Sunday brunch cheered and badly howled right along with her.

Lock watched as Gwen kept redialing Blayne. She must have tried six times before she threw the phone across the room, flipped over, and buried her head in the pillows.

“Is something amiss, my love?”

“Shut up!” she screamed with her head still buried in the pillows.

“Okay.” Lock stretched out beside her and began kissing along her back, down her spine.

Gwen instantly scrambled away. “Oh, no, you don’t! I need food before we can start all that again.”

“Can’t we eat after—”

“No!”

“We’ll order in then.”

“No, because we’ll have to wait and you’ll look at me with those big bear eyes and before I know it, I’ll be flat on my back again, and afterward I’ll be too weak to eat.”

“You know I’ll feed you.”

She slipped off the bed, stumbling as her legs almost went out from under her. He reached for her but she backed away, holding her hand up to ward him off. “I’m taking a shower and then we’re going out to eat.”

“Like boyfriend and girlfriend?” he asked, making sure to look particularly eager.

“What are you? Twelve?”

“Perhaps in an alternate universe where bears rule.”

She rolled her eyes. “Geek,” she muttered, turning away from him.

Lock stood up. “I need a shower, too.”

“Back off, Jersey. I go alone.”

He let his shoulders slump. “Okay. Of course…it’ll take us longer to get to the food.”

“Don’t even.” She headed to his bathroom.

Should he mention he had a second bathroom? Nah. “I thought you were hungry.”

“Fine. But don’t touch me!”

Should he mention that the shower was almost too small for him alone? Nah. “Okay. I’ll try not to.”

Mitch watched his mother file her nails at the kitchen table. “You know, Ma, you don’t seem real upset that Gwenie didn’t come with me.”

“I’m disappointed. I miss my Gwenie.”

Funny, she didn’t look disappointed. “If you miss her so much, tell her she has to come back home. Tell her she can’t just walk away from her Pride.”

“Oh, baby-boy, you know how your sister is when she makes up her mind.” She studied her nails for a moment, then went back to filing. “She’s an adult and can do what she likes.”

“You didn’t have that attitude when Patty Anne took off.”

“Because Patty Anne can’t handle living on her own. She can barely handle not setting herself on fire when she makes soda bread. My Gwenie doesn’t have that problem.”

“Because she hates soda bread?”

Roxy glanced at her son over her reading glasses. It was still early—for them—barely noon, so she’d yet to put in her contacts. She looked more…motherly with her glasses on and less Rockin’ Roxy as the neighborhood kids called her.

“You don’t consider Gwen part of the Pride, do you?” He’d had that thought since his mother had come to New York and then left again without Gwen. Before that moment, he’d never considered it—even when Gwen had told him as much over the years.

“My daughter,” Roxy answered, her gaze still focused on her nails, “has no constraints on her. She can do whatever she wants as long as she has the guts to follow through.”

“But she doesn’t belong here. Just like I don’t.” Although he didn’t belong because the males born to a Pride never stayed with that Pride. Some were bartered off, although that mostly happened in the richer Prides, but most left when they hit eighteen and found a Pride of their own or, like Mitch, a life. Yet it had never occurred to Mitch that Gwen wasn’t considered part of the Pride, if for no other reason than she was Roxy O’Neill’s daughter. Yet even without that, Gwen had lived her life for the Pride, she’d taken care of them, helped them, and at least eighty percent of the gang fights she found herself in the middle of was because of her cousins. How could they not make her part of the Pride? Hell…how could they not put her in charge of it? Just because she wasn’t full lion?

Roxy looked up from her nails and leveled gold eyes on her son. “The O’Neills will always be your blood, always your family. For you and Gwen. And we always protect our own, whether you’re in the Pride or not.” Roxy smiled at him. “Now how about waffles for breakfast? Or is too late for breakfast?”

Mitch rested back in his chair. “Maybe too late for breakfast, but it’s never too late for waffles.”

“Good.”

A newspaper landed in the middle of the kitchen table and his Aunt Marie sat down across from him, taking the seat his mother had just vacated, with a glass of orange juice in her hand. “Morning, handsome.”

“Hey, Aunt Marie.”

“Where’s your girl?”

“Sleeping.”

She smiled and began to read the business section.

Mitch watched his mother with her sudden urge to be domestic and his Aunt Marie not gossiping or yelling at him about leaving the toilet seat up again, and it hit him that they were relieved he hadn’t brought Gwen home with him. That they wouldn’t have to explain to her that she was family but would never be Pride. He felt anger for his baby sister and, more importantly, worry. Who’d take care of her now, if not her Pride? Who’d protect her? Did they understand that she’d be nothing more than another hybrid wandering the streets with no Pack, Pride, Clan of her own? Did they care?

Well, if nothing else, Gwenie had him. She had Bren. The Shaw brothers would protect Gwen O’Neill. It was perfect actually. She’d stay in New York, where they could keep an eye on her, but that bear…that bear was going to have to go. Between the grizzly’s clearly unstable mother—Mitch was never one to trust those “intellectual types”—and Gwen’s tendency to be squirrelly, the whole thing was a recipe for disaster. Mitch couldn’t take the risk his baby sister’s beautiful face would be mauled should that bear misplace his vat of honey or she startled him by hissing or something.

But first he needed to figure out who was helping Blayne in her evil plan to destroy Mitch’s happiness…

Tamping down his growing rage that things weren’t working out exactly as he wanted them to, Mitch brought up to his mother the one thing he’d sworn to Sissy he wouldn’t. “So Gwen and Blayne got jumped while away at Brendon’s on Labor Day weekend.”

Not remotely surprised by this information—am I the only who didn’t know?—Roxy nodded and pulled eggs and milk from the refrigerator. “I know. She told me. Couldn’t hide that limp from me.”

“Her leg healed up nice, though, huh, Rox?” Marie asked.

“Better than I would have thought from one of those Jersey doc-in-a-box centers.”

“Yeah.” Mitch scratched his chin, watched his mother walk back over to the counter. “But did Gwenie mention she was jumped by the McNelly Pack?”

When the eggs and milk hit the floor and his aunt’s juice sprayed across the room, Mitch leaned back in his chair and reminded his mother, “Uncle Cally warned you McNelly would never let that go.”

It wasn’t until the waitress slammed the food down in front of her that Gwen opened her eyes.

“Don’t worry,” Lock told her while he reached for the ketchup. “You weren’t snoring.”

She sneered but kept her fangs in, since it was a full-human restaurant. “It would be your fault if I was snoring.”

Lock grinned around the burger in his mouth. He seemed to be a regular in this place. The waitress didn’t blink an eye when he ordered four of their “Big Enuf 2 Kill a Man” Burgers. But the way the same waitress eyed her, Gwen got the feeling he’d always come in alone before, and the waitress was hoping she’d one day be the one sitting on the other side of the table with him.

Too bad. He’s with me, and apparently I’m his girlfriend.

For the moment, anyway.

Gwen gave a big yawn before she dug into her pancakes. It was almost two o’clock, but she’d been all geared up about getting some breakfast. Thankfully, this diner sold breakfast twenty-four hours a day.

“You knew them, didn’t you?” she asked.

“Knew who?”

“The guys in that blue van from last night. You knew them.”

“Probably.”

She didn’t mention the Unit, because she didn’t have to. Mitch had told her once what they did. Portraying prey to lure out the full-human hunters who focused on shifters—and then killing them. “It’s been three years. They’re still following you?”

“Maybe. There’s been a few problems lately with former members, so they may be checking up on me.”

He wiped his hands on a napkin now that he’d finished devouring those four burgers in record time and dug into his basket of fries, leaving it in the middle of the table to share with Gwen.

He pulled out his cell phone and Gwen tensed, thinking it was Blayne again. Lock let out a sigh after reading a text message, glanced at Gwen, and asked, “Would you mind if we hit a bar after we’re done here?”

“A few hours with me and already you need a stiff drink?”

He grinned. “No. But I figure you could use a little more rest before we head back to my place.”

And damn him…he was right.

Lock walked into the Jersey bar with Gwen behind him. He’d given her what Ric called “The Speech” when they’d driven over. “They’re mostly full-humans there. Don’t talk to anybody. Don’t look at anybody. If someone moves toward you, let me know and I’ll deal with them.”

He’d practically grown up in this bar and he’d seen enough over the years to know what the lowlifes at the bar went for and what they didn’t. Lock had learned early that full-humans were worse than any predators he’d ever encountered in the wild, and being in the military had only driven that belief home. Yet it wasn’t what was in the main bar that he wanted. It was in the back room.

As soon as they entered, every full-human eye turned their way. They immediately turned away from Lock’s direct gaze as they always did, but they all latched on to Gwen the second after that. He popped his jaw and those who’d watched him grow from five-foot nothing to what he was now instantly refocused on their drinks or racing forms. A few of the newer, younger ones were unaware of past incidents and their gazes stayed right on Gwen. Lock could see them debating whether she’d be worth the fight—and she was. For him.

Gwen, being a true feline, seemed not to notice anyone or anything. She moved casually through the bar, her gaze examining the framed pictures tacked to the wall and the ancient jukebox shoved into the corner. But as they neared the hallway leading to the backroom, a new full-human Lock had never seen before spun his bar stool around and made a move to stand. It wasn’t that Gwen turned to look at him. It was that only Gwen’s head turned to look at him. A good 180 degrees if Lock were to guess. She didn’t say a word, she didn’t hiss, she didn’t do anything because that one move was all it took.

Freaked out, the full-human spun his stool right back around and faced the bar again. Smirking, Gwen moved into the hallway, and together they walked to the last door. Gwen reached for the doorknob, but Lock pushed her hand away and shook his head. He raised his fist and knocked. Two times. Pause. Two times. Pause. Three times.

A minute passed and the door slowly opened. The seven-two glaring Scotsman stared down at Gwen, and Lock felt her press her body closer to his. Not that he blamed her. He could see her nostrils flare as she caught the scent of a bear-filled room. The grizzly raised his gaze and the scowl turned into an enormous grin.

“Lachlan, my boy!”

Lock grinned back. “Hi, Uncle Nevin.”

Gwen discreetly let out the breath she’d been holding. They were related. Thank Christ, they were related! For a minute there, she’d thought Lock had lost his ever-loving mind bringing her to a bear den. But the way his uncles descended on him, she realized Lock was greatly loved here.

“You’re looking fine, boy. Fine.”

“Thanks.” He grabbed Gwen’s hand and pulled her forward. Although she felt like running, she plastered on a fake smile instead. If she could handle his parents, she could handle his uncles.

“This is Gwen. Gwen, this is my Uncle Nevin, my Uncle Duff, my Uncle Hamish, and my Uncle Calum.”

“His Scottish uncles,” Calum said, bowing low from the waist. “The MacRyrie bears. The loving, caring side of his family. Not those rough brutish Russian bears, the Baranovas.”

“Don’t let Mom hear you talking crap about her family…again.”

Calum took Gwen’s hand and kissed the back of it. “And such a beauty you are, dear Gwen.”

Lock pushed his uncle aside. “Lay off.”

“I was greeting her properly.”

“Yeah. Right.”

Lock’s Uncle Duff moved behind Gwen and sniffed her neck. “Mmm. She smells like the sweetest honey.”

“That’s shampoo,” Lock said, moving on Duff. “And don’t crowd her.”

“Who’s crowding her?” Hamish, who seemed to be the youngest, asked. They all seemed to have held up well for men in their late fifties and early sixties. He sat on the round table in the middle of the room and added, “We’re trying to get a better look at her, is all.”

“Where do you come from, sweet Gwyneth?”

“It’s Gwendolyn,” Lock corrected Calum. “And she’s from Philly.”

“Well we can’t hold that against her.”

Gwen laughed while Nevin rested his butt on the table, his arms crossed. “And who are your kin in Philly, dearest Gwendolyn?”

“The O’Neills.”

“A lioness? You seem too pretty to be a mere lioness.”

“I’m half lioness, half tiger. A tigon, if you want to be technical.”

Calum raised a brow. “Ahhh. The delicious fruit of forbidden love.”

Gwen laughed harder and Lock pulled her against him. “All right, that’s enough. Leave her alone.”

“What’s wrong with you, boy?” Calum asked. “You’re not attached to this one, are you?”

“Attached enough to keep her away from you.”

“That’s because you have the sense of your dear mother,” Hamish laughed.

“And we’re not staying long. You said you wanted to see me, so I’m here. What’s up?”

The uncles exchanged glances and then Calum said, “Your father’s birthday is coming up in December.”

“Yes.”

“We thought we’d throw him a party this year.”

“No.”

Duff crossed his arms over his chest. “Why not?”

“After what happened last time?”

“That was twenty years ago!”

“And Mom has not forgotten.”

Apparently, it wasn’t just Lock that Gwen had this effect on. His uncles were falling over themselves to be accommodating. Wiping off a chair so she could sit down, getting her a clean glass for her beer, and offering her some of their honey-wheat pretzels to munch on.

What Lock found really interesting was the way she giggled and fluttered those eyelashes like some average female. He’d thought she must have banged her head at some point and lost her mind until she said, “So what are you gentlemen doing with these cards?”

Nevin gathered the cards together and showed off his Vegas-learned shuffling skills. “Just a little five-card stud.”

“Oooh. Can I play? I’ve always wanted to play.”

“Gwen—”

She turned pleading, wide cat eyes at him. “Please, Lock? Can I?”

He was so stunned she was asking his permission to do anything, he could only manage to say, “Uh…”

“Thanks.”

She dropped a wad of cash big enough to choke a goat on the table. “Is this enough?”

Before Lock could blink, three of his uncles had grabbed chairs and quickly sat down.

Lock crouched next to her and whispered in her ear, “Where the hell did you get that cash from?”

“I don’t know. Some guy outside.” He’d be shocked if it was anybody but Gwen. “I didn’t like the way he glared at you.”

“So you took his cash?”

“It’s a skill.”

“Out of the way, boy.” Calum pushed him back. “We need to teach sweet little Gwen here how to play poker.”

“I’m not sure you want to—”

“Don’t argue with me, boy.”

Hamish shoved a racing form in Lock’s hand, then grabbed his arm. “While they do that, I need to talk to you outside for a minute.” He smiled and winked at Gwen. “We’ll be right back, gorgeous.”

She giggled—giggled!—and focused back on the rest of his uncles. “So…um…how does this game work?” she asked sweetly.

While the rest of his uncles practically fell over each other in an attempt to “assist” Gwen, Hamish pulled Lock out the back door that led to the alley behind their bar. More than once, his uncles had used this door to get out during police raids. The fact that none of his father’s brothers were in prison still amazed the entire MacRyrie family. Lock loved each and every one, but the only difference between his uncles and the average felon was that the MacRyrie brothers had never done any hard time.

“What’cha bring the girl for?” Hamish asked once he’d closed the thick metal door.

“Why wouldn’t I bring Gwen?”

“Why do you always answer a question with a question?”

“Why are you always upset when I do?”

Hamish gritted his teeth and briefly closed his eyes. “I swear, some days you are just like your old man.”

“I no longer find that an insult.” Lock shrugged. “So what’s going on?” He knew something must be up, because his uncles had never cared before when he brought a girl over…of course it had been more than ten or twelve years since he had. And then he’d only brought the girls to impress them with his bad-boy side—important since he didn’t really have a bad-boy side—but he’d brought Gwen because he hadn’t been ready to let her go. And he wasn’t sure when he would be.

His uncle motioned him farther into the alley. It was one of the few in New York that didn’t have a few people living in it—even before they’d “cleaned up” the city—but that was because who’d be crazy enough to set up house near bears? Even full-humans who didn’t know the MacRyries were bears knew better.

Hamish crouched down and pulled back a large piece of cardboard. Heart sinking, Lock crouched beside him.

“How long?”

“We found it this morning.”

“Is this the first?”

“No. The third one in the last five months. Always male…always a mixed breed.”

This one was a wolf-coyote mix. Lock leaned in closer. “He hasn’t been shot.”

“No. I’m thinking he died from the bites.” Hamish let out a breath. “This isn’t hunters, is it?”

“No. They sometimes use dogs for tracking, but these bites are too deep for dog bites. And they wouldn’t go for such lethal spots. Hunting dogs only track the prey, corner them, but these wounds are to kill.” Lock sat back on his heels. “These are fight marks.”

“The first two, we got rid of the bodies ourselves. But third time’s the charm, ya know?”

“I’m glad you told me.”

“You gonna take care of it?”

“No. I don’t have any connections any more. No authorization to do anything. And lately the Unit has been watching me, I’m still not sure why.”

“’Cause of this?”

“Doubt it. We were never sent out on assignment over a hybrid.” Mostly because the other breeds didn’t care about the hybrids.

“So we should just get rid of the body, then?”

“No. Don’t touch anything.” Lock pulled out his cell phone and hit his speed dial. “There’s someone who does have connections.” By the second ring, Lock heard that familiar voice through the phone. “Ric…we’ve got a problem.”

Gwen set up her cash into little piles based on denomination. The MacRyrie bears glowered as she did, since all that money she was organizing had been theirs.

“You certainly did pick up the game real quick,” Nevin observed.

She smiled and kept piling and counting.

“You said you’re an O’Neill?” Calum asked.

“Yes.”

“And exactly who is your mother, sweetheart? Maria? Mary Patrice?”

“Roxy.”

And, as she expected, the four males turned and now glowered at their nephew.

“You idiot!” Hamish yelled.

Lock looked up from the racing form he’d been studying and marking for the last two hours. Whatever he and his Uncle Hamish had discussed while they were gone, it had bothered the bear, but he was doing a good job of hiding it. She didn’t think it had anything to do with her, because his uncles seemed to like her…and Ric was outside that back door. She’d scented him and a few others nearly ninety minutes ago. Since the wolf didn’t come inside and Lock didn’t mention him or go out to greet him, she knew they were hiding something. Did they really think she wouldn’t notice? Or did they think that their metal door and thick concrete walls blocked her senses? Well, whatever. She’d just get it out of the grizzly later.

“What did I do?” Lock demanded.

“Roxy O’Neill is her mother? You could have warned us!”

“Warn you?” Lock frowned. “Why?”

“You bring a baby shark into our den and it doesn’t occur to you to mention the baby shark’s mother?”

“That analogy makes no sense to me.”

“Anybody have something I can carry all this money in?” The bears returned their glares to Gwen. “What did I say?” she asked, attempting to keep it innocent.

“Here.” Calum slammed a bank-deposit bag on the table. “Take your winnings and go, feline.”

“Where did the love go?” Gwen pouted.

“It went with our money,” Nevin muttered.

Duff snatched the racing form out of Lock’s hand, scowled, and turned accusing brown bear eyes on his nephew. “What is this?”

“Uh…”

“You were supposed to mark winners and times and everything else we need on the races.”

“What did he write?” Hamish looked over his brother’s shoulder, easy for him since Duff was only about seven-one. “A door? You drew a door?”

“For Dad’s birthday.”

Gwen stopped putting her money in the bag. “You’re giving your father a picture of a door for his birthday?” And she’d thought Mitch marking up pages in her copy of Vogue and telling her, “This is what I’d get you for your birthday if I had money” had been cheap.

“I’m not giving him a drawing of a door.”

“Then what are you giving him?” Gwen liked Brody and she wouldn’t have Lock give him some half-ass birthday gift.

“Don’t worry about it.”

“But I do worry about it. Because you’re male and instinctively lame.”

“There are those claws she’s been hiding,” Duff chuckled.

“Well?” Gwen pushed, ignoring Lock’s uncles.

“I’ve got it covered.”

Hamish folded his arms over his chest. Or, perhaps it was more like his massive arms over that massive chest. Huge didn’t even begin to describe the size of these men. She knew she should feel uncomfortable around them, but she didn’t. Not anymore. And honestly? She’d never felt safer in her life. “You haven’t told her?”

“Quiet.”

“Told me what?”

Calum grinned. “What Mr. Sensitive Bear does in his spare time.”

“Shut up.”

“Which is what exactly?” Gwen pushed.

“It’s nothing.” Lock motioned toward the door. “Let’s go.”

Gwen rested her hands on the table and began to tap her fingers. She tapped and she stared.

“You can stop that right now,” Lock said. “Because there’s nothing to tell.”

Gwen kept tapping. Gwen kept staring.

“It’s not going to work.”

Tap. Stare. Tap. Stare.

“I don’t have to tell you anything. I don’t owe you an explanation. So let it go.”

Gwen never changed her expression, she never said a word, and she never stopped tapping her nails.

With a short roar, Lock snatched the racing form back from Duff. “Fine! This will allow me to take care of something tonight anyway. Now move your skinny butt!”

Gwen shoved the rest of the money in the pouch and headed toward the door. Lock stopped her.

“Where is it?”

“Where’s what?”

He raised a brow—and she now knew where he’d gotten that particular expression from—and Gwen gave a short snort of disgust before handing him the small wad of money. Small compared to what she now had.

“This better be all of it.”

“Like that guy would know one way or the other.” He probably didn’t even know Gwen had taken his money, and she wouldn’t have thought about giving it back to him if it wasn’t for Lock. To her way of thinking, the guy owed Lock big for being so gracious.

Lock opened the door and motioned her out.

“We’ll see you soon, Lovely Gwen.”

She turned to wave at the MacRyrie bears, but the door had already slammed closed and Lock stood in front of her, glaring.

“What?” she demanded. “I like them.”

“Figures.” He spun her around and pushed her. “Come on. If we’re going to do this, let’s do this.”