The Mane Squeeze by Shelly Laurenston
Really? Has my life come to this? Really?
Now here they all stood, the grizzly gazing down at her, then at Mitch, Bren, Ronnie, Sissy, and finally back at her. Gwen was seconds from giving up and saying, “Fine. Take me back to Philly,” when Lock said, “You’re late.”
She almost collapsed right there, at his feet. She fought the urge.
“Traffic,” she managed to get out.
“Lucky for you that when it comes to dinner parties, my mother is always running late.” He stepped back and held the door open for her. “You have time for a drink before dinner.”
“Great!” Mitch said, pushing past his sister and walking inside, the rest of the psychopaths following.
Panicked, Gwen turned to Lock, and he shrugged.
Acting like the King of the Jungle Idiots that he and Bren were, the brothers walked right through the MacRyrie house like they owned it until reaching the dining room.
Gwen rushed in behind them, skirting around Ronnie to get to her brother. “I thought you were just dropping me off.”
“We’ll leave in a minute. What’s the rush?”
“Hi, Gwen.”
Gwen forced a smile at Ric Van Holtz—because why should she keep her embarrassment between her family and the bear? She shouldn’t. Everyone should know!—“Hi, Ric.”
Grinning, Ric smiled at Bren. “Brendon Shaw. Nice to see you again.”
“Ulrich.”
“Did you get the payout from the Board for the territory encroachment and the attack on your sister?”
Uh-oh.
Bren’s eyes grew wide in panic and Mitch asked, “Someone attacked Marissa?”
“Uh…”
“No,” Ric answered, probably trying to be helpful. Maybe. “Gwen. And Blayne. By the McNelly Pack out of Staten Island.” It was a toss-up of who Mitch would go after first—but he went with Brendon.
“My sister was attacked on your territory, and you didn’t tell me?”
“I can explain—”
“My baby sister!” Mitch threw his arm around Gwen’s shoulders and pulled her into his side. So tight, she was positive bones were breaking. “The most important woman in my life—”
“Hey!” Sissy snapped.
“—and you don’t tell me this?”
“Ronnie said not to.”
Outraged, Ronnie snapped, “No you didn’t just toss me under the bus!”
“I was going to call him from the medical center, but you said not to.”
“Medical center?” Mitch glared at Gwen. “Why the hell didn’t you tell me you’d been attacked?”
“I was too weak…you know, with dying and all.”
“What?”
“I’m kidding, Mitch. It wasn’t a big deal.”
“Like hell it wasn’t! And what exactly did you or Blayne do to start this fight?”
Gwen pushed away from her brother. “Blayne and I didn’t do a goddamn thing! It was an assault!”
“Yeah. Right. You and Blayne—the innocents. When did that happen? Did hell freeze over, too?”
“You are an asshole. And you know what else?” she hissed “You’re getting split ends!”
Mitch gasped and stepped back while Sissy shook her head and said, “Low blow, Gwenie. Low blow.”
Lock leaned in, studying Mitch’s hair. “Kind of accurate, though.”
Eyes narrowed to slits, Mitch scowled at the bear. Lock leaned back, shaking his silver-tipped hair out of his face. “I’ve never had that problem. It must be genetic.” He glanced at Brendon. “On your father’s side.”
Gwen snorted before quickly covering her mouth, which was around the same time Lock’s sister, Iona, came out of the kitchen, three children behind her. She stopped and stared at Gwen. “Why are you here?”
But before Gwen could reply with an adequate lie, Alla burst from the kitchen, her arms wide.
“Gwendolyn!”
Shocked, Gwen stumbled back, but Lock stood behind her, keeping her from panicking and running. Alla smothered her in a warm hug, the embrace only lasting a few seconds, but Gwen could feel the strength running through Alla and she had to admit—it humbled her.
“Hello, Alla.”
“You’re late,” she said with a wink, “but that’s okay.” Gwen smiled at the She-bear, adoring her for eternity in that instant. “And who do we have here, dear?”
“This is Mitch, Brendon, Sissy, and Ronnie.”
“Nice to meet you. I’m Dr. Baranova-MacRyrie.”
“Doctor?” Mitch asked, raising his brows to his sister.
“A Ph.D.,” Gwen happily tossed back, as if she’d spend more than two seconds with an actual butcher.
“And this is my daughter, Iona, my husband, Brody. You all know my wonderful son Lock, his friend, Ric, and the always-emaciated Judy.”
That’s when they all noticed the weak-looking sow sitting at the table.
Glaring at Alla, her mouth briefly twisting in hatred, the too-thin She-bear said, “Nice to meet you all. I’m Lock’s date.”
Alla’s mouth dropped open and Iona’s blinked wide in confusion while the silence in the room grew oppressive as everyone waited for Lock’s response. But he was too busy staring out the window. Then, as if he’d suddenly heard her, Lock glanced down at Judy. “Since when?”
“Oh, Lock,” she giggled and Gwen thought about strangling the bitch. “I’m sure Iona told you I was here to be your date.”
“Not that I remember.”
What kind of answer was that? And if she was lying, why wasn’t he livid? Gwen was used to men who got livid over not having enough maple syrup for their pancakes, much less some heifer lying about being their date while standing in front of their date for the following day.
Lock shook his head, “I’m pretty sure I’d remember that conversation with my sister.”
“Oh, my God!” Gwen suddenly burst out, startling the bears in the room, which made the rest of the predators nervous. She grabbed Lock’s arm in order to drag him outside so she could slap some sense into his big bear head, but he didn’t actually move when she tugged, pulled, and yanked. He simply kept looking at her with those big, innocent bear eyes.
His mother tapped Lock’s shoulder. “Son, remember when I taught you how to give the smaller, weaker ones the illusion they’re dragging you places? This is one of those times.”
“Oh. Right.” He smiled and let Gwen drag him out to the backyard.
“She’s your date?”
Lock stared at Gwen, wondering what she was going on about. Why was she here? Why were her brothers here? Why did his mother and Ric seem to know what was going on? When had Judy Bennington lost her mind and started thinking they were dating? And how could Gwen be even prettier than the last time he saw her? Not a spot of makeup, wearing only jeans, a T-shirt, jacket, and sneakers—and she easily outshined all the overpaid Judys of the world.
“Not that I’m aware,” he answered.
“Not that you’re—” She gritted her teeth together, her hands curling into fists. “You’re not getting this, are you?”
“Not really.”
Pacing in a circle, Gwen snarled, “Are you fucking her?”
Shocked and hurt, Lock said, “I’m not fucking her. Or anybody,” he rushed to add. But especially Judy—skin and bones does not a good time in bed make.
“Is that why you walked away last night? Is that why you couldn’t see me today? Because of her? Because you were planning to be busy fucking her while you’re busy turning me down? Is that what’s going on here, Jersey?”
It suddenly occurred to Lock that Gwen’s scent had changed, but it wasn’t a new scent. No. It was the same one she had when she’d slammed her fist into that She-wolf’s face and spit blood in her eye.
So Gwen having that scent now…probably not a good thing.
While Sissy unknowingly kept the bears busy by rambling—and Christ knew, the woman could ramble—Mitch slipped into the bears’ kitchen. No matter what his baby
He didn’t know, but he was determined to find out. Determined to know who was getting between him and his ultimate goal of getting Gwen back to her Pride and her family. New York was no place for someone so sweet and delicate and vulnerable as his Gwenie. And he definitely wouldn’t leave her in the hands of some…some…bear.
Oversized, larvae-eating, easily startled, toe-playing, carcass-stealing bears! His sister deserved a nice, solid lion…well, maybe not a lion. A tiger? No. He detested tigers. A mountain lion? Eh. Perhaps a full-human? He rolled his eyes at the thought, but at least a full-human was easily controlled. Unlike those bears.
Moving over to the landline phone attached to the wall, Mitch eased the receiver out of the cradle and hit star six nine. Less than a full ring later, the other end was picked up and he heard a female voice ask, “Alla? Did it go okay?”
His eyes narrowed. He knew that voice. Where did he know that voice from? He was waiting for the voice to speak again so he could narrow it down, when a very large arm reached around him and disconnected the call. Swallowing, the scent of She-bear nearly choking him, Mitch turned and looked directly into large brown eyes.
The She-bear took the phone from Mitch’s hand and placed it back in the cradle. He watched her closely, refusing to cower in the face of an old bear. Sure, she was his height—and wider—but she was older and the intellectual type. Nothing to be worried about.
“You and your sister have the same cheekbones…and eye color. But you look more much more like your brother.” She gently placed big hands on Mitch’s shoulders. “She had so many funny stories about growing up in Philly with you and her mother’s Pride.”
“Her Pride,” Mitch was quick to correct. “Gwen’s Pride.”
The sow’s head tilted to the side. “Really?” She blinked, then said, “Anyway, while we were exchanging stories, I did tell her about a family vacation we had in Alaska one year. A bison bull, about seventeen hundred pounds or so, came out of nowhere and I guess I just panicked, but…” she shrugged, her gaze drifting up to the ceiling “…it did provide a lot of meat for the rest of the camping trip.”
That’s when Mitch tried to walk away, but she gripped his shoulders tight, and it took all of his strength not to drop to his knees from the pressure of it. “I guess I just felt my cubs were being threatened by that bison. Silly, huh? They do say that the most dangerous place anyone could be caught is between a bear sow and her cubs, but both Lock and Iona were adults when this happened, so I thought I’d be over all that by then.” Her hands briefly tightened again and Mitch was sure he heard something “pop” in his shoulders. “But I discovered that one is never too old to feel protective of their cubs and to destroy whatever may be threatening the life and happiness of their offspring. Isn’t that fascinating?”
Not waiting for an answer, she put her arm around Mitch and steered him back out to the dining room.
“Well,” the sow said sweetly to everyone in the room, “it looks as if it’s time for us to get our dinner under way.” She smiled over at Van Holtz. “I think it’s time to get that steak in the oven, Ric.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
As the wolf passed, she added, “And remember, very rare.”
“As if I’d cook it any other way.”
She focused back on Mitch and the rest of the interlopers. “I’m so glad I had a chance to meet and chat with Gwen’s friends, and I’m sure we’ll all be seeing each other again soon.” Her arm still around Mitch, she ushered them out of the dining room, briefly pausing by the way-too-thin She-bear. “You, too, Judy. Time to go.”
“Yes, but I was invited—”
“Not by me, and I don’t like you.” Her daughter started to disagree, but when her mother jerked her hand up, the younger sow quickly moved behind her father. And Mitch didn’t blame that female one bit.
“But it’s been great having all of you over!” the older sow said cheerily. “It’s so rare for us to have so many wonderful breeds in our house at one time. For some reason, only bears ever come here.”
CHAPTER 16
Gwen walked around Lock, heading back to the house. “I’m going to Philly with Mitch, get some dinner, and let my family harass me into moving back.”
She was only a few feet from the door when she went airborne. She gave a short squeal, her body preparing to be flung across the small backyard, but luckily, he didn’t fling her anywhere, simply lifted her up until she could look him right in the eye…which was still a hell of a drop if he decided to let her go.
“Listen to me, Mr. Mittens. I have not, nor will I ever, fuck Judy ‘I desperately need a sandwich’ Bennington. I wasn’t mean to her because she’s friends with my sister and poor Iona never had many friends. It’s really hard to make them when you’re twelve and smarter than most multidegreed scientists. So I put up with Judy being around, but I have no interest in her. None. And never will. Understand?”
Not wanting to be dropped on her head, Gwen nodded.
“Good.” He lowered her to the ground. Gently. “And before we go back inside, I want you to understand something.” He released her arms and rubbed his hands against his thighs. “I am really not complex. I eat, I sleep, I work. That’s it.”
“Don’t forget the woodworking and playing with your toes.”
He chuckled. “Right. But that’s it. When I’m with someone, I don’t screw around on them, whether we’ve started having sex or not. I’m not one of those guys who can manage more than one woman at a time. And to be really honest, Gwen, emotionally you’re like three women. There’s a lot going on around you and I have to keep my focus at all times.”
“Gee, thanks.”
“It’s true. Besides, you’ve come to mean way too much to me to screw it all up now.”
She wanted to believe him and, to her surprise, she did. She wasn’t using her head here, either, but her gut. Her gut was never wrong. “Fine, but if there’s anything else you need to tell me, now is the time. I don’t want to find out later.”
Lock let out a breath. “Uh…there is something I haven’t told you that I’ve been avoiding telling you.”
Gwen nodded. “Let’s hear it.”
“You’re not going to like it.”
“Tell me anyway.”
Lock licked his lips and admitted, “My sister’s a neurosurgeon.”
Gwen didn’t say anything, but the blank expression on her face said it all.
“She’s not an organ thief,” he argued.
“Uh-huh.”
“This is why I didn’t tell you before.”
“Because we both know she’ll try and kill me if she thinks I know too much?” she asked flatly.
“You’re insane.”
“Have you paid attention to the last twenty minutes with my family?”
She did have a point. But instead of arguing with her about any of that, he did what he’d wanted to do since he saw her standing on his parents’ porch.
Lock leaned in and kissed her. Instantly, her arms wrapped around his shoulders, and she groaned into his mouth, the sound making his knees feel weak and his stomach clench. From only a kiss. Damn.
“Lachlan, my dearest,” Alla called from the back door. “Sorry to interrupt, but dinner’s almost ready.”
Lock pulled back and gazed into Gwen’s face while he answered. “Okay, Mom. We’ll be right in.” He brushed stray curls off her cheeks. “What is it about you that makes me so crazy?”
“My incandescent charm?”
“Heh.”
“You’re not supposed to laugh.”
“Oh.”
“You’re supposed to agree.”
“Painting your nails with the team colors and logo of the Philadelphia Flyers does not mean you have incandescent charm. It just m
She held her nails up, making his skin itch to feel her hands on him. “But tonight they’re playing against the Islanders. It’s all about team loyalty.”
With a wink, she slipped her hand into his, and together they walked into the wonderful-smelling kitchen.
The first day Abby Vega could shift, she knew two things: She wasn’t crazy—no matter what her foster mother said—and she needed to get out on her own. That was three years ago, and she’d been living on the streets ever since. Of course, she’d lived on the streets as a canine. Much easier than as a girl. This was one of her favorite spots, too. An alley that had a restaurant on one side—amazing the kind of stuff they threw out—and a bar on the other. That gave her a good sideshow while she was eating.
Tonight would be no different. The guy opening the doors of the white van owned this Staten Island bar. Other than the liquor, she still wasn’t sure what else he sold, all those deals happening in this alley, but she knew it wasn’t anything legal. She’d seen him do all sorts of stuff in this alley, too, and not once, in all the time she’d come here, had she ever seen him picked up by the cops. She had, however, seen him giving money to cops.
And that’s who Abby thought she was at first. The woman crouched on top of the van, watching the deal go down. But she wasn’t, was she? Too many scars, and her eyes…
Abby’s own eyes narrowed, trying to get a closer look.
There were three men now, haggling over whatever they had in that van, completely oblivious to the woman watching them. Was one of them setting up the others? Were there a bunch of cops around here? It didn’t matter to Abby. If and when she bolted out, tail wagging, the cops would let her go. They always had before. Always patting her on the head, giving her a few treats. They never bothered calling Animal Control. Although they all asked the same question: “What the hell kind of dog is that?”
Abby chewed the steak bone, trying to get the marrow, and watched the men and the woman above them. The woman was silent until she pulled out a gun complete with silencer. Not a tacky homemade one, either, but a real one that was made for her gun. The woman sized up all three men, but shot only two. They dropped, and Abby’s bone fell from her mouth. The other man, the bar owner, turned to run. The woman didn’t shoot him. She did, however, take a large hunting knife from the back of her jeans and throw it.