The Mane Squeeze

CHAPTER 24

An envelope appeared in front of Lock’s face, his name embossed in silver on the front and his response was immediate, “Not in this lifetime.”

“You have to go,” Ric said, leaning against Lock’s desk, ignoring all the papers, CDs, DVDs, hard drives, and small tools he had littering it. “If you don’t, I assure you there will be tears. You know you can’t handle that.”

“I’m not putting on some stupid costume and parading around—”

“Already discussed and you’re off the hook.”

“I am?”

“Yes.”

“You have that in writing?”

“For a costume party?”

“Not just a costume party. A wild dog costume party. That means a costume, a copious amount of chocolate, and an inhuman amount of knowledge on the Lord of the Ring movies.”

“Why are you arguing this with me?” Ric demanded with a laugh. “She already said if you say no, she’s coming over here to sob until you agree.”

“Why? She didn’t care I didn’t come to last year’s party.”

“That was last year. Not this year. This year she wants you. And I have yet to see you turn down a sobbing, wailing wild dog.”

Because he couldn’t! His weakness sickened him.

“I’ll think about it.”

Ric smiled. “Of course you will. And then you’ll say yes anyway.” Ric glanced around. “So…are you here alone?”

Lock dropped back in his industrial-strength office chair. “I wish I could believe you were asking to be nosy about Gwen and me. But you’re not. You’re asking about Dee-Ann.”

“Well, is she here or not?”

“Not. And if I were you, I wouldn’t try and track her down.”

“Why not?”

“Because when it comes to Dee, you’re better off not knowing where she’s going or what she’s up to. You’ll only have to lie to the authorities later.”

“Oh. All right then.”

Smitty looked away from his computer monitor and over at the big feet resting on his desk. Relaxing back, he interlaced his fingers and rested them on his belly.

“Look who’s put her big, fat hooves on my desk.”

“And a good day to you, too, Bobby Ray.”

“Where the hell have you been, Dee-Ann?”

“I didn’t know I was on some sort of schedule that I might be late for.”

“I thought you would have been here a couple months back.”

“I told you I’d think about it.”

“And why didn’t you tell me you were in town as early as last week?”

Dee smiled. She had her momma’s warm, pretty smile, but her daddy’s eyes. Eyes like the wolf she shared her body with. And although when Smitty shifted to wolf he had the same eyes, Dee’s and Eggie’s never seemed to change, whether they were human or wolf. They remained as watchful. As cold.

He loved his cousin, but Smitty would never cross her. Because the older she got, the more like her daddy she became. Just as dangerous, just as lethal.

“How did you hear I was in town?” She asked, watching him closely.

“A Van Holtz said one of my cousins was in town. He didn’t give me any names, but I figured it was you.”

She studied him for a moment. “You want me to leave?”

“No, darlin’. I want you as part of the Pack.”

“I don’t like feeling hemmed in.”

Smitty had to smile. “And the one thing my daddy always taught me was to never hem in Eggie Smith—or Eggie Smith’s daughter. You join the Pack on simple terms. We’re always here for you and, when I need you, you’re there for us.”

Dee-Ann nodded. “Give me a few days.”

“If you like.”

Dee-Ann swung her long legs off Smitty’s desk and stood.

“And there’s a party this weekend. You’re more than welcome to come.”

“I’ll think on it.” She walked to the door, stopped. “And which Van Holtz told you I was in town?”

Smitty glanced back at his monitor, an e-mail from Jessie Ann with a silly subject line making him smile. “Uh…one of the younger ones. Um, Ric? Ulrich? He’s a friend of—”

Staring at the empty doorway, Smitty let out a breath. How his cousin always did that whenever the mood struck her, he’d never know.

Gwen pulled open the door to her office and stepped inside. Only to get slammed back into the wall by a five-eleven wolfdog.

“Paaaaaarrrrrrrttttttyyyyyy!”

Not entirely in the mood for this, Gwen snapped, “What?”

“Party! Party! Party!”

“I’m not going to any party.” Gwen pushed past Blayne and headed toward her office, but she was yanked back by her hair and a thick envelope held up in front of her.

“Party! Party! Party!”

“Would you stop saying that!” Gwen snatched the envelope from her. Both their names were on the front, the letters raised, the paper thick and high quality. Opening it, Gwen pulled out the card inside.

You are viciously invited to the most bloodthirsty party of the century. Dress as the most ghoulish, most frightening, or most terrifying fiend of the known world and dance the night away with other like-minded terrors. Costumes are mandatory. Drinks are free. And chocolate! Chocolate! Chocolate!

—The Kuznetsovs

“Is it really hard for them to be normal?”

Blayne yanked the invite from her. “We’re going.”

Again pushing past Blayne, Gwen at least this time made it in to the office. “You’re going. I’m not.”

“Why not?”

“Not in the mood.” Why would she go to some goofy Halloween party with a bunch of goofy dogs? Her life was too short and getting shorter every day. She didn’t plan to spend a minute of it bored out of her mind, if she could help it. “But go. Have a good time.”

Gwen slipped off the straps of her backpack and she was pulling out her chair to sit down and get her paperwork together before they headed out to the snake farm, when Blayne tossed in, “Your mother’s going.”

Gwen froze in midsit. “What?”

Blayne shrugged. “She was invited and you know how she—”

“Dammit!” Gwen dropped into her chair. Now she had to go. Her mother at a party filled with predators and an open bar…Gwen couldn’t even stand to think about the damage the woman could do. And the damage would be around all of Lock’s friends.

“If you’re really not going to go, let me know now because I have to R.S.V.—”

“I’ll be there,” Gwen snarled, opening drawers as if she was looking for something, but really it was simply so she could slam them shut again.

“Okay.”

Blayne stepped into the hallway and walked around the big pillar that blocked the view of their office from people wandering through the lobby. Jess stood at the front desk with the receptionist, Mindy. When she saw Blayne, Jess faced her.

She gave Jess a thumbs-up, then raised her brows in silent question.

Jess lifted her hand, her thumb and forefinger in a circle, her three other fingers raised, letting her know that Lock was…well…a lock.

They grinned at each other like goofballs and then Blayne headed back to the office. She’d only opened the door when she heard Gwen roar, “Where the fuck are the receipts from the construction site?”

When it came to the task of babysitting her mother, Gwen would have only one volume level until it was all over. Thankfully, Blayne only had to put up with it until Saturday night.

Jay Ross reached into his girlfriend’s car and yanked the keys out of the ignition. He quickly stepped away as the car door flew open and Donna stumbled out. She might be drunk off her ass, but that didn’t make her any less strong.

“Give me my fuckin’ keys!” Normally he would, never in the mood to bother with her when she got like this, but he had something else in mind. The timing was perfect.

He held the keys over her head. “Okay, so your mother popped you in the face—” again “—but why go storming off when I got a better idea of how to get even with the one who is really to blame for this?”

Trying to reach her keys, “I ain’t goin’ into Philly to get into it with a whole Pride. I ain’t stupid.” He wasn’t so sure about that, but she gave a hell of a blow job, so he was willing to overlook her major flaws.

“You wanna hurt the mother…you hurt the kid.”

Donna slowly lowered her arms and stared at him through the eye that wasn’t swollen shut, although it was pretty glassy from all the Jack Daniel’s she’d guzzled. “What are you talking about? Beatin’ her up? We already did that.”

“Nah. I’m talking about something a little more…permanent.”

She turned away from him. Donna tried to pretend she didn’t know what he did for cash, but she knew. They all knew, they just liked to pretend they didn’t.

“Both?” she finally asked, no longer sounding nearly as drunk.

“Yeah. Both.” He could practically feel the money in his hands. And Christ, it felt good.

Jay put his arms around her shoulders and nuzzled her ear. “Trust me, baby. They’ll both get what they got comin’.”

“How? The bitch isn’t stupid. It’s not like we can call her up and tell her to meet us somewhere.”

“Gotta start thinkin’ different, baby. Gotta start thinkin’ a little more human.”

Donna’s lip turned up a little at that, but then she asked, “When?”

He smiled, his mind already turning. “Soon. Real soon.”

She felt wonderful against him, all sweaty and soft, her exhausted body pressing down on his. He dragged his hand down her spine and across the curve of her ass.

“Use your claws,” she murmured, snuggling closer.

He did, carefully dragging them down her back and up again. He didn’t know if she realized she fell asleep like that, with his claws caressing her back while they lay on his kitchen floor.

They’d just arrived home after she’d met him at the training rink and he’d taken her to the diner down the block. They’d eaten dinner but decided to have dessert back at the apartment. He’d been heading for the ice cream in his freezer when she’d wrapped her arms around his waist from behind. She had his jeans unzipped and her hand inside his boxer briefs in less than five seconds. After that their clothes went flying and they ended up abusing his kitchen floor.

She only slept twenty minutes before she lifted her head from his chest, pretty eyes blinking as she looked around the room.

“Ice cream?” she asked.

“Freezer. I’ll get it.”

“No. I’ll get it.” Placing her palms flat on his chest, she levered herself up and scratched her head. Then she stretched, arms above her head, chest pushed out. Lock grew hard again and reached for her.

“Ice cream,” she insisted, pushing his grasping hands away. “And don’t pout,” she ordered before she got up and walked to his freezer.

Gwen stared into Lock’s freezer. How much ice cream did the man eat on a daily basis? The top three shelves were filled with pints of ice cream, from the expensive brand names to the cheap store-brand versions. He had every flavor possible.

While holding the door open, Gwen turned to ask Lock what kind he wanted, but he had his legs up in the air, his hands gripping his toes.

“Enjoying yourself?”

He grinned, nodded.

Did he really have to be so cute? Was that really fair to her at all?

“Which ice cream do you want?”

“Rum raisin.”

She glanced in the freezer. “Any particular brand? You’ve got like ten rum raisins in here.”

“Doesn’t matter.”

She grabbed the rum raisin at the front and dug around until she found butter pecan for herself.

“Where are the spoons again?”

“Second drawer to the…” he pointed with one leg “…left.”

“That is not an attractive position for any man to put himself in.”

He laughed and went back to playing grabby toes or whatever he called it.

Ice cream, spoons, and paper towels in hand, Gwen walked back over to Lock and sat down on the floor.

“We can go into the living room if you want.”

“Nah.” She took off the top to the rum raisin and stuck the spoon in it. “I’m getting a perverse enjoyment out of sitting naked in your kitchen, something my aunts would never allow because ‘That’s just nasty.’ So, I want to savor that.” Lock sat up, his back against the thick wood breakfast-table leg. But instead of taking the ice cream from her, he first pulled her over until she sat between his legs.

“Comfortable?”

Surprisingly, she was. Who knew she’d like having his thick cock pressing into her back like a lead pipe? “Yep.”

Long arms reaching around her, he took hold of his ice cream and scooped spoonfuls out of the carton without Gwen worrying about him touching her with the cold container. His legs were so long, his toes kept pushing the swinging door open that led to the dining room. She felt completely dwarfed by him.

After a few spoonfuls of her ice cream, she finally had to ask, “Are you uncomfortable with your size?”

“No. I’m uncomfortable with how uncomfortable everyone else is about my size.” He dipped his spoon into her butter pecan, which annoyingly left rum raisin residue behind. “There’s only so many times you can hear, ‘Holy shit, look at the size of that guy’ before it gets old.”

After scraping any rum raisin out and dumping it into a paper towel, Gwen said, “So Blayne and I were invited to this party on Saturday.”

“It’s Halloween.”

She was waiting for more to that statement but it didn’t seem like more would be coming. “Yeah. It’s Halloween.”

His spoon came in for another pass at her ice cream and she moved the container. “At least clean your spoon off better.” She scrunched up her face. “I hate rum raisin.”

“Blasphemer.”

“Like I’ve never been called that before.” And by actual men of God, too.

She took another scoop of her ice cream and offered it to Lock. Smiling, he cleaned off the spoon, and Gwen took a spoonful for herself. “Anyway, the party.” She cleared her throat. “Blayne and I can bring someone with us, if we want, and I thought I’d see if you wanted to come with me. Although I should warn you that my mother’s coming and I’ll most likely spend a good portion of the evening stopping her from getting others drunk so she can make them do things they’ll regret in the morning.”

“I’ll be working in my workshop on Saturday.”

“Oh. Right. No problem. I mean, it was just a—”

“So I’ll meet you there, if that’s okay. Ric’s gonna pick me up in his limo.” He gulped down another mouthful of ice cream. “Afterward we can come home together like we did tonight.”

“Okay. Sounds good.” She scooped up another spoonful of ice cream but didn’t eat it, instead placing the spoon back in the container. “You were already going?”

“Yeah.”

“You hate parties.”

“I know. But Jess threatened me with tears. It was either go or endure the crying. I hate when she cries.”

“Right.” Gwen picked up the spoon but ended up shoving it back into the ice cream. “So what is your attachment to her?”

“Jess is my friend,” he explained while he continued eating.

“And?”

“And what?”

“Did you date her or something?”

“Jess?”

“Yeah. Jess. She of the weepy eyes and the excessively clingy hold on you. That Jess.”

“She doesn’t have a clingy hold on me.”

“So if she told you to jump off a bridge…?”

“It would depend on what she wanted me to jump off the bridge for.”

Glaring at the bear over her shoulder, “What kind of answer is that?”

“Look, if she asked me to jump off the bridge because she was bored and wanted to see if I would die a painful death in the Atlantic, then no, I wouldn’t. If one of her pups had fallen in or it was Jess or one of her Pack, then of course I would go in and try to get them. Because it’s Jess.”

“Oh, my God,” Gwen blurted, feeling incredibly stupid for not seeing it before. “You’re in love with her.”

Lock’s head snapped up, the spoon hanging out of his mouth like a lollipop. “What?”

“You heard me!” She tried to pull away from him, but he gripped her around the waist, holding her against his chest. “Why don’t you just admit you’re in love with her?” she demanded when he wouldn’t let her go.

“Because I’m not in love with her.”

“Bullshit.”

“Gwen…” He took the spoon out of his mouth and stuck it in what was left of his ice cream, took hold of her container, and placed them both aside. He then turned her around and lifted her into his lap so they could look directly at each other.

“I love Jess,” he said. “But I’m not in love with her.”

“Then—”

“Let me finish, because this is not an easy story to tell.” He took a breath and went on. “Jess talked to me when no one else would. She gave me a job when no one else would. She has my loyalty.”

“Fresh out of the Marines, advanced college education, and you were having trouble getting work?” She did try to keep the disbelief out of her voice but she failed.

“I wasn’t simply fresh out of the Marines, Gwen. I was fresh out of the Unit.”

In anger she’d forgotten, but she did know there was a difference. A large one. “Right.”

“I was specifically recruited to be in the Unit. All my training, every year I was in…always with the Unit. After eight years I was honorably discharged with a substantial bonus and a year of mandatory, five-times-a-week therapy.”

Five times a week?

“I met Jess in a coffee shop near her office. I was using my mother’s laptop to try and hack into my service records to see if I could find out why they cut me loose. At the time I wasn’t ready to face why they sent me home two years before I should have been, but I knew why. Everyone knew why. Anyway, I hadn’t shaved in about ten weeks. Hadn’t had a haircut since I’d been discharged. Was still wearing my uniform…I definitely looked like the guy who was about to go up to the roof of some building and start picking people off with a bolt-action rifle. So I’m sitting there, doing something I know I shouldn’t be doing, and when I looked up—” he shrugged “—she was standing there. Holding two big cups of coffee. Staring at me. I expected her to run. If not from a general fear of the grizzly, then at least from my stench—since it had been a few days since I’d showered. But she didn’t run.”

“What did she do?”

His smile was warm, and Gwen felt that pang of jealousy again. She hated feeling it, hated knowing she even had it. “She handed me one of those cups of coffee, along with six honey buns, sat down next to me and…and she talked to me. I don’t even remember for how long or what was said. And, in the beginning, she did most of the talking. For a week, though, I came back to the same coffee shop around the same time and every day she was there or she’d show up a few minutes later, and we’d talk some more. Before I knew it, she’d hired me to write code for some of her company’s software and when that went well, they hired me to do more. I started shaving again, showering every day, and I put all my military stuff in my trunk and put it in the back of my closet. Soon I had goals and plans for my future that were months or years ahead rather than days or hours. She helped me move on…well, her and the therapy. And that’s not something I can ever forget. So, yeah, if Jess told me to jump off a bridge, and there was a good reason to do it, I probably would.”

Gwen swallowed, torn between feeling grateful to Jess for helping Lock when he needed it most and resenting her for being closer to Lock then Gwen might ever be. “So you do love her,” she said softly, determined to face the truth.

“Yeah, I love her. But I’m not in love with her. I’m not in love with anybody.”

Gwen felt her heart drop at Lock’s words, but she wouldn’t come down on him for being honest. She’d rather that now than later.

Nodding, Gwen reached for her ice cream and said, “I understand.”

“I mean,” he went on, unwittingly turning the knife, “not in love with anybody but you.” He thought a moment and added, “God, I’m crazy in love with you. But yeah, I love Jess. Wait…what’s wrong?”

He was probably asking that because her hand was frozen in the action of reaching for her ice cream, but she’d been so stunned, she left it dangling there. Staring at her nails, she asked, “You’re in love with me?”

“Crazy in love with you. You know, that whole ‘can’t imagine my life without you’ crazy in love with you.”

She dropped her hand back in her lap and gazed up at him in astonishment. “How do you just toss that into a conversation?”

“Not tossing, clarifying.”

“You see, this is what I’ve been talking about with you. It’s like the whittling—”

“I never said I whittled. I said it was a hobby. You thought it was whittling and there would be birdhouses.”

“But the way you described it to me—in your quiet, understated way—made it sound like whittling. Instead you’re like the Ansel Adams of wood!”

“And that’s a problem?”

“No. That’s not the problem, your way of telling me things is. You do this constantly.”

“I do what constantly?”

Using her most calm, relaxed, “surfer dude” voice, Gwen replied, “Hey, just want you to know…sky’s falling. Hey, nothing to worry about but…uh…tsunami.”

“Oh, come on!”

“Hey,” she went on casually even as her heart slammed hard against her ribs as she realized the grizzly loved her, “I invited this old buddy of mine over for dinner. He’s president of the United States of America, and he’s bringing about three hundred people with him, but no problem, I’m sure we have something in the freezer.”

Lock pouted. “I’m not that bad.”

“Yeah, ya are. You’re lucky I can overlook it.”

Then Gwen reached up, her fingers stroking his cheek, his jaw; her eyes focused on his beautiful face.

“It’s okay, Gwen.” He gave her that sweet smile. “Say it when you’re ready.”

“Okay. I will.” She slid her hands into his hair and tugged so he would move closer. She sat tall in his lap, raising her mouth to his. When they were barely a breath apart, Gwen said, “I love you.” She smiled, shrugged. “I was ready.”

Lock’s hands bracketed her face, long fingers stroking her skin. He studied her like he wanted to absorb every part of her, take in every detail. No one had ever looked at her like that and, if they had, it clearly hadn’t meant as much.

Lock’s lips met hers and, as his tongue slipped inside her mouth, she leaned back onto the kitchen floor, taking Lock with her.

“Table Six up,” Ric called out as he placed the two large and expertly roasted and plated slabs of venison on the counter. The server grabbed both plates and walked out.

Grabbing a bottle of water out of the fridge, Ric said to his sous chef, “I’ll be back. Taking a break.”

He walked out without waiting for an answer and headed into the alley behind the restaurant. Drinking water, he stared up at the sky. It was a nice night. A beautiful night.

“Planning to run away?” a voice asked.

Ric’s grin was wide and real as he threw his arms around the man’s shoulders. “Uncle Van! It’s so good to see you.”

“Hello, cousin.” Niles Van Holtz, Uncle Van to the younger cousins of the Pack, stepped back and studied him closely. “Busy night?”

Ric let out an exhausted sigh. “You have no idea.” He gestured with his water bottle. “So what brings you to this coast?” His shoulders slumped. “Do I need to involve my father?”

“Oh, God, no. I’m still recovering from Memorial Day weekend.”

Ric cringed, remembering the family event that had turned ugly rather quickly. “I sent Aunt Irene flowers.” Complete with groveling apology. “She said she liked them.”

“She loved them. Although I had to hear, yet again, how it’s my fault that we didn’t take you from that, and I’m quoting here, ‘Visigoth’ when you were five and realized your IQ was higher than your parents’ and brother’s combined.”

Laughing and appreciating the compliment from a bona fide genius like Irene Conridge-Van Holtz, Ph.D., Ric shrugged. “So what do you need?”

“The information you sent me a few days ago?”

“Yes?”

Van held out something and Ric took it. It was made of studded leather and when he unraveled the pieces, he realized it was a very large muzzle. A very large, blood-encrusted muzzle.

“I think it’s time, cousin,” the older wolf said and, sadly studying the piece of equipment in his hands, Ric had to agree.