The Mane Squeeze

by Shelly Laurenston

  He shook his head. It was probably the cops. They were always watching him, trying to find something on him, but never could. And they never would.

  CHAPTER 14

  Lock parked his SUV in his allotted space under his building and climbed out. He took the stairs to the first floor, checked his mail, and then was heading to the elevator when his nose lifted, catching the air…and that scent.

  Honey. Honey shampoo.

  Making a quick turn, he walked out the front door and stopped at the top step. She was sitting at the bottom of the building stairs, staring across the street at the twenty-four-hour deli. She didn’t make a move, even as he sat down next to her. His narrow hips had no problem fitting in beside her on that stoop, but his shoulders nearly shoved her off.

  Startled, she viciously hissed, but cut it short when she saw his face.

  “Do you need to take lumbering classes or something?” she demanded. “Where is the lumbering?”

  “I thought I was lumbering. I was definitely not walking on my tippy-toes.”

  She didn’t say anything, her attention returning to the deli across the street. After five minutes of silence, Lock asked, “How was work?”

  “Found snakes.”

  He blinked. “Actual snakes?”

  “Yup. The kind that rattle.”

  “Are you…are you okay?” He felt like checking her for bite marks.

  “I’m fine. Blayne had a nice little hack and slash party and I got to see a couple of cute guys from Animal Control.” She looked at him. “Do you wanna have sex with me?”

  “Uh…”

  “Good enough,” she said, getting to her feet. She grabbed his hand and pulled. “Come on. Let’s get a hotel room and have sex. Or we can go up to your place to have sex. Let’s go have sex.”

  “Or you can tell me what’s really bothering you.”

  “Nothing. Nothing’s bothering me. Are you saying you don’t want to have sex with me?”

  “Well…”

  “If it takes you that long to think about it, I’ll find someone else to have sex with.”

  And with that, she headed off down the street.

  Lock watched her go. He still felt where her fingers had held his, could still smell her shampoo all around him, and he’d woken up that morning thinking about how he’d kissed her from the night before.

  And after all that did she really think that he’d let her walk off?

  Gwen was moving down the street, heading toward a corner where she could see cabs. She needed to get out of her head. She felt trapped by doubt, by insecurity. Even worse, she didn’t think she’d ever escape it. Would she still be like this in another ten years, another thirty? Would her family still be able to walk in her life and simply fuck it up by their mere presence?

  And what the hell did the grizzly mean by “Well…”? What did “Well” mean? She couldn’t figure him out. He kissed her like he could eat her alive, but then he turned down an offer of sex. Why? It drove her insane that she couldn’t figure him out, couldn’t label and box him away appropriately.

  “Hey, legs,” some little prick standing on the corner with his friends called out to her. “Where you goin’? Want some company?”

  In the definite mood for a fight, Gwen stopped and turned to them. “What do you want? What have you got to say? What do you think you’ll do, little man?”

  The full-human sneered, looking ready to give her that fight she needed, but then he backed up, his friends stumbling away from him. By the time they were charging down the street and Gwen was wondering what the hell happened, big hands caught hold of her and spun her around.

  Lock gripped her denim jacket in both hands and leaned over, forcing her to bend back until she was practically U-shaped.

  “I want you to listen to me very carefully, because I’ve never liked repeating myself. First off, don’t come here, dump your shit at my door, and then walk away before you’ve even given me a chance to figure out what you’re trying to tell me. Second, don’t ever assume, for even a second, that my pauses imply anything. I’m a thinker, O’Neill. Thinkers pause. And third, you’re absolutely right that I want to have sex with you, but I’ll be damned if I let you fuck me because you’re in a pissed-off mood and you want to get even with whoever the hell you’re pissed with. When I have you, it’s because we’ll both want the same thing, at the same time. Not because you think you can walk all over me. Do you understand what I’m telling you?”

  “Hello, Lachlan,” an elderly man said as he leisurely walked by with a female on his arm. The couple appeared to be about the same age, and Gwen could only guess they were married.

  “Hello, Mr. Guzman. Mrs. Guzman. Nice night, isn’t it?”

  “Very nice night. Very nice.”

  They continued on their way, apparently oblivious to Lock intimidating some poor feline with his overwhelming boar-rage.

  “I’m still waiting for my answer, Mr. Mittens.”

  Gwen’s eyes narrowed, but she checked her desire to punch his face and chose to nod instead.

  “Good.”

  He stood tall, but kept his hands on Gwen’s jacket so that he pulled her up in the process. Tugging her jacket into place, he said, “Let’s get something to eat. I’m starving, and we can talk at the restaurant. Does that work for you?”

  “Well—”

  “Good.” Keeping hold of her jacket with one hand, he pulled her along behind him as he stepped off the sidewalk and into traffic.

  Lock moved in front of a taxi and the driver hit his brakes, the vehicle’s grille stopping no more than an inch from him. Walking around to the passenger side, Lock opened the door and pushed Gwen inside.

  “Fifty-first and Fifth,” he said.

  Shaking, the terrified driver pulled back into traffic and Gwen wondered if going out to dinner with her mother and brother would have been that bad an idea after all.

  “Okay, okay. Can I have everyone’s attention?” Blayne Thorpe smiled at the room full of people and Bobby Ray Smith, Smitty to nearly everyone who hadn’t grown up in Smithtown, Tennessee, or were related to him by blood or Pack, wondered yet again what he was doing here. “Great. I wanted to thank all of you for coming tonight on such short notice. As you know, we’re all involved in Project: Code Name Bear-Cat. And things seem to be moving along very nicely.”

  The audience applauded and Smitty let out a bored breath, which got him a kick from a tiny little wild dog foot under the table.

  Blayne pointed at an older bear couple and said, “The MacRyries said the reunion went better than expected and they got a new water heater at cost!” More applause and Smitty debated slamming his head into the table until he blacked out. “And although yesterday’s bout was a bit of a surprise for all involved, it worked out well! So thanks to everyone for all their help and involvement. That being said, we do seem to have two unexpected obstacles to our intended goal. Uh…the first is…uh…Danny, could you?”

  Danny tapped on his laptop and an image of a long-haired, air-guitar-playing, eighteen-year-old Mitch Shaw came up on the big TV screen beside Blayne. “Sorry about the oldness of the pic. I don’t have anything more recent of Problem Number One. We’re working on what to do about him, but he’s not an easy one. Especially when he’s a big, fat tattletale who calls his mother at the slightest provocation!” She let out a breath. “However, I think we may have some assistance there. Right, Jess?”

  “Right!” Smitty’s beautiful, if annoying, mate cheerily replied. Why she was involved in this weirdness, he had no idea. “The Insider. And the Insider is working on our behalf as we speak.”

  “Excellent! Now on to our second problem. No pic for that one because, well, he’s sitting right over there.”

  Smitty looked around, wondering who Blayne was talking about, and then quickly realized that she was talking about him.

  “Me? How am I in the way of something I didn’t even know was going on?”

  Jessie Ann slammed her hand down o
n the table. “You told Mitch what happened at the bout last night!”

  “I didn’t know that was a secret.”

  “Of course it was!”

  “Then you should have made that clear when you told me.”

  Jessie’s mouth dropped open and Smitty knew he was in for it, but then that other wolf spoke up. Just ’cause he liked the man’s Aunt Adelle, didn’t mean he liked him none. Of course, Smitty didn’t know him either, but he still didn’t like him.

  “Out of curiosity,” the wolf asked, “what did you say to Mitch Shaw?”

  “What Jessie Ann told me. That his baby sister spent the whole night on the bear’s lap. Cuddlin’.”

  The wolf laughed, but the wild dogs, the one wolfdog, and the pair of older bears gasped as if he’d called up Satan himself. Even worse, Jessie slapped at his arm. He hated when she did that. Those hands may be little, but they could still cause pain.

  “What did I do now?”

  “You are such a…why do I…Oh! Never mind!”

  “Fine. Does that mean we can go?”

  “You sit your ass back down, Bobby Ray Smith!”

  Grumbling, he did just that.

  Blayne walked over to him and smiled again, but he wasn’t fooled by that smile. Like a weak, two-dollar poodle collar worn by a pitbull that smile did nothing but lull a man into a false sense of security.

  “Hi, Smitty.”

  “Blayne.”

  Still smiling, “You know it would really help us if you kept things about Gwen and Lock that you may hear from Jess to yourself. At least until Project: Code Name Bear-Cat is finalized.”

  He had to say it. “That is the dumbest name I’ve ever heard.”

  And “snap” went that collar.

  Blayne slammed her hands against the table and leaned in. “Now listen up, you Navy-loving son of a bitch! If my friend wants that bear, she’s gonna get that bear. And neither hell nor you nor some big-haired, twenty-hour-sleeping king of the idiots is gonna stop me from making sure she gets that bear!”

  Van Holtz took careful hold of Blayne’s shoulders and pulled her back. “Excellent, Blayne. Very effective.”

  He gently pushed her back toward the front of the room and faced Smitty. He wasn’t an Alpha, was he? But he was no one’s Omega, either. Smitty could dismiss him as a Beta, but that didn’t fit this one either. Naw, this wolf was…something else. And as laid-back, nonconfrontational, and fancy-talkin’ as he was, Smitty didn’t trust him for a damn second.

  “Smitty…is it okay if I call you Smitty?”

  “As you like.”

  “Excellent. Smitty, we’re trying to achieve something here with two incredibly difficult yet loving people, and the assistance of our friends would be greatly appreciated.”

  “I ain’t your friend.”

  Blayne stormed back over to the table and the wolf held up one finger, stopping her in her unhappy and ranting-ready tracks.

  “Understood. But Lock is friend and family to almost everyone in this room—especially your wife. They’ve been so close for years. I’m sure she told you about that.” And they both knew she hadn’t. MacRyrie had been at their wedding, but so had three hundred other people. If the grizzly had a special connection with Jessie Ann, neither had mentioned it. “She was there for him during his hardest time. Fresh out of the military, really not adapting to civilian life after all those years in the Unit.” The back of Smitty’s neck tightened with tension. The bear they were talking about had been in the Unit? The same Unit his cousin Dee-Ann had been in? Even Smitty’s shifter-only SEALs team stayed away from Unit members. The job requirements for the Unit made them more…troublesome than others.

  More than once, Smitty’s team had been called in to “put down” a Unit member who had “snapped his bolt.” It was always one of their worst assignments. Not only because it was one of their own but because the Unit team members were the hardest to track and kill. And God forbid they ever came up behind you. God forbid they ever caught you unaware.

  And leave it to Jessie Ann Ward to go waltzing up to one of ’em and say, “How do ya do? Come on over to my wedding, which is chock-full of defenseless people!”

  Damn, but that woman was going to drive him into an early grave!

  “I’ll admit, I’d hoped that something would develop between Lock and Jess, but…well…it didn’t work out that way, now did it? Although I think Lock was open to it. Of course, she’s with you now, and I’m sure her heart is forever yours, but wouldn’t it make us all feel a little better if we could get Lock settled with a girl of his own?”

  Smitty sized the wolf up. Typical Van Holtz. Not much brawn but wily.

  “You smooth-talkin’ mother—”

  “Problem!” Adelle yelped as she ran into the room. “Mary was throwing out the trash and she said she saw Lock and a female who sounds like Gwen heading this way!”

  The dogs scattered in seconds. Like the cats, they were good at that. But one wild dog wasn’t going until she got Smitty to move…and he wasn’t in the mood to move.

  “Smitty, please!” she begged, holding on to his leather jacket and trying to pull him out of the chair.

  “Not sure I’m in the mood to go. You promised me steak and I’m still waitin’.”

  “He has to get out of here,” Van Holtz practically snarled.

  “I’m trying,” Jessie said. “But he’s in a mood.”

  “Y’all do know I’m still in the room?”

  The older bears cleared their throats. “Uh…and we’re a little too old and big-boned to scatter,” the She-bear kindly explained.

  “Okay, okay.” Van Holtz took a moment. “Let’s do this. Adelle, please take Doctors MacRyrie through the side exit.” Adelle nodded and showed the older couple the way out while Van Holtz focused on him. “And what do you want, Smith?”

  “World peace?”

  “Bobby Ray!”

  He didn’t even look at Jessie, too focused on the conniving wolf in front of him.

  “How about information?” Van Holtz offered.

  “What information can you give me?”

  The wolf leaned in and what he whispered in his ear had Smitty’s body tensing as he scowled at him. “You’re lyin’.”

  “I don’t have to.”

  Smitty stood and stormed out of the dining room, Jessie behind him, desperately trying to keep up.

  Gwen stared around the restaurant and again looked down at her clothes.

  “We are so out of here,” she whispered.

  “Why?”

  “One…I’m still in my work clothes. And two, there’s no reason for you to pay so much for a lousy steak dinner.”

  “There are no lousy steak dinners at the Van Holtz.” Gwen blinked in surprise as the wolf she met from the night before appeared beside her and leaned down to kiss her cheek. “Hello again, Gwen.”

  “Uh…hi.”

  Gwen couldn’t help but eye him. He was wearing a chef’s coat and a dark-green bandana around his forehead. Last she heard, only Van Holtzs cooked in Van Holtz restaurants.

  “Dinner?” he asked Lock.

  “Is that a problem?”

  “Not at all.”

  Grabbing two menus from the hostess, he motioned them past the extremely long line of those waiting to be seated, through the packed dining room, and into the back. She knew she was dressed badly, but were they going to have to eat in the alley?

  It seemed, however, that the Van Holtz flagship restaurant was more than a dining room and a kitchen. It also had a huge reception hall, and several private dining rooms in the back.

  As they passed one of the bigger dining rooms, Lock abruptly stopped, his head lifting, his nose casting for a scent. “Were my parents here?”

  Ric stared at him for a long moment before finally answering, “Yes. Earlier. For dinner.”

  “My parents came here for dinner? Why?”

  “Why?”

  “Yeah. Why? There’s an IHOP down the road from their
house. That’s usually all they need.”

  “Um…your father was feeling…romantic.”

  “What?”

  “Frisky, might be a better word.”

  “Okay, that’s enough. I don’t need to know any more.”

  “If you’re sure.”

  “I’m sure. I do not need to hear about my ‘frisky’ father.”

  With a shrug, Ric led them to a smaller private dining room with a small table and two chairs. Everything was draped in dark reds and browns, the furniture made of dark wood.

  “Does this work?” Ric asked.

  “Perfect.”

  Lock held her seat out and Gwen stared at it. “What are you doing?”

  “Would you get in the seat?” She did, since he snarled at her, and then he took his own seat.

  Ric handed them both menus. “Whatever you want. Your waiter will be with you shortly.” He started to walk out and then said, “Oh. Wine?”

  Lock and Gwen looked at each other and both shook their heads at the same time.

  “Okay. Let me guess.” Ric studied Gwen before offering, “Sprite?”

  She grinned. Shrugged.

  And without looking at Lock said, “Big glass of milk?”

  “Several.”

  Shaking his head, Ric walked out. “An award-winning wine cellar at your disposal and you want milk. Philistine!”

  The door closed and Gwen said, “What’s Ric’s full name?”

  “Ulrich.”

  Cute. “And last name?”

  “Van Holtz.”

  That’s what she’d thought! One of the richest and most powerful Packs in the world and Lock was best friends with one of the direct bloodline. “It never occurred to you to tell me that?”

  Lock gazed at her. “Tell you what?”

  And she got the feeling…he really didn’t have a clue what she meant.

  Although Lock couldn’t shake the feeling Ric was hiding something from him, he would still remember this night as the best one he’d ever had at any Van Holtz restaurant. Perhaps the addition of Gwen had in fact made it his best night anywhere. Ever.