The Mane Squeeze

by Shelly Laurenston

  It didn’t take long for him to get out of her what had her so upset and even less time to get her to smile and stop thinking about it. He understood her frustration with her family, though. Understood it more than she realized. He also knew she was braver than him because she’d taken the leap while he was still working up the nerves and the cash.

  But soon, instead of ruminating about their frustrations, they focused more on talking about their childhoods, swapping stories about growing up in Jersey and Philly. About his time working as a bouncer at one of the many bars on the Jersey Shore and her early days taking her school’s plumbing apart to see how it worked.

  They had no idea how late it was until Ric finally stuck his head in. “Sorry to do this, guys, but we’re shutting down for the night.” That’s when Lock knew they were the last there; Ric wouldn’t toss him out unless they were.

  So he took Gwen back to her hotel and they stood outside in the chilly night, the hotel still alive with activity, even at the late hour.

  “Do you want to come inside for a drink?” she softly offered.

  “No. No. No, no, no, no. No.”

  Gwen stared at him. “One ‘no’ would have been clear.”

  “Those ‘no’s’ weren’t for you. They were for me. I was simply saying them out loud.”

  Smiling, her hands stuffed into the front pocket of her cargo pants, she said, “It seems like you’re fighting with yourself there, Jersey.”

  “I am. Because I want to come up with you, but…”

  “But…” she pushed when he didn’t go on.

  “Something tells me not now.”

  She blew out a breath and it was cold enough to see it. “Why not?”

  “I have no idea where this is going, Gwen. But I’m not going to wake up tomorrow and find myself dismissed. And I think if I go upstairs with you now…that’s exactly what’s going to happen.”

  “You’re that sure?”

  “Yeah. I’m that sure.”

  She nodded. “Okay. Then how about a date?”

  Lock smiled. He couldn’t help it. “You’re asking me out?”

  “I’m asking you out.”

  “I’d love to.”

  “Tomorrow? It’s Saturday.”

  He winced. “I can’t tomorrow. Family thing at my parents’ house. Unless you want to—”

  “For our first date?”

  He shook his head. “Good point.”

  “What about Sunday?”

  “Sunday’s great.” And if it wasn’t, he’d make it great. “How about I pick you up here? Around one o’clock? We can get lunch, maybe catch a movie or something, and then dinner.”

  “Perfect.”

  “Okay. Sunday. One o’clock.”

  “Sunday, one o’clock.”

  Lock had no idea how long they stood there, grinning at each other like a couple of idiots, but when she turned to walk away, he snapped out of it.

  Catching her arm, he pulled her back. “I said I wouldn’t go up with you tonight. I didn’t say anything about not getting another kiss.”

  “Good. I was afraid you were going to leave me hanging.”

  He leaned down and took her mouth gently, wanting to show her how much he liked her beyond the mere physical. But there was something about this woman that short-circuited every synapse he possessed. Because right there, in the middle of Manhattan, he pulled her close, his arms tight around her, his kiss moving from gentle to territorial in seconds.

  And she gave it right back to him. Her arms so tight around his neck, an average shifter might be strangled, her mouth hot on his as their tongues met.

  She was driving him crazy! How was this fair? And how was he supposed to make it until Sunday without seeing her again?

  Pulling away and standing up straight, Lock let out a shuddering breath. “You’re trying to kill me.”

  “Not yet,” she teased, stepping away from him. “But give me time.”

  Her gold gaze moved over him, the tip of her tongue swiping across her top lip. Then she smiled and said, “Night.”

  Without another word, she walked off, leaving him—and his hard-on—devastated.

  Lock headed back to the sidewalk. He wouldn’t bother with a cab. He’d walk. The cold air would do him good and as late as it was, he never worried about anyone bothering him. Because no one ever did.

  Well, except for…

  “Hey, you bear son of a—”

  Lost in thoughts of Gwen, the growling voice startled him and Lock spun around. Immediately the two lions stumbled back and Mitch shoved Brendon ahead of him.

  “Take him!” Mitch ordered Lock.

  Brendon glared at his brother. “What do you mean ‘take him’?”

  “Well, bruh,” the lion explained, grinning, “I am the pretty one.”

  “You betraying son of a bitch!”

  “There’s no need to get nasty, you big baby! Take your bear-mauling like a man!”

  Once again glad he’d never had brothers, Lock headed down the street, leaving the Shaws to beat the crap out of each other in front of their five-star hotel like ten-year-olds.

  He’d only gone a couple of blocks, debating about getting a taxi, when he saw the dark-blue van behind him. He stopped and studied it closely. The van rolled to a stop, those inside not even trying to pretend they weren’t following him. So Lock didn’t pretend that it didn’t bother him. Instead, he charged the van, flat out, slamming his body into the side and putting most of the power in his shoulder. He heard roars and yelping from inside as he shoved the van over.

  It landed with a loud crash and Lock stepped back, grinning. They must be new. And apparently no one had warned them about how to handle the “difficult and highly emotional” bears as per the Unit’s breed breakdown.

  Hands in his pockets, still thinking about Gwen and humming to himself, Lock headed on home.

  CHAPTER 15

  “Gwennnnnnnnie! Gwennnnnnnnie! Gwennnnnnnnnnnie!”

  Gwen tried to cover her ears, but something had her hands trapped. She started kicking and fighting but something was on her, holding her down.

  “Gwen! Wake up!”

  Gwen’s eyes opened and she stared into a face she knew all too well.

  “You idiot!”

  “And an excellent afternoon to you, too, lazy head!” Mitch, still holding her hands, leaned down and breathed in her face.

  “Jesus Christ!” she screamed.

  “That’s right! Just got up myself and haven’t brushed my teeth yet!”

  “You asshole! Get off me!”

  He started slapping her in the face with her own hands, something she’d hated when she was six and, twenty years later, she still hated.

  “Why are you hitting yourself, Gwen? Why are you hitting yourself?” he demanded while laughing maniacally.

  “Get off!”

  “I’m taking Sissy to Philly with me today,” he said, still slapping her with her own hands. “You’ll come, too. Mom says you haven’t been home in weeks. Not okay.”

  “Can’t. I have plans!” she yelled, trying to kick him off her.

  “With who exactly? It’s not Blayne, because I already checked in with her and she’s spending the day with her dad, or as I like to call him, Petty Officer Thorpe, Master of the Sea.” He took her hands and pulled them down her face. “Now look at you, Gwen! You’re trying to scratch your own eyes out! This is a cry for help!”

  “Stop it!”

  “A cry for help that only Ma and someone else’s apple pie—” because Christ knows Ma can’t bake “—can fix.” He released her, but when she went to slap the living hell out of him, he leaped neatly away. “And pack a bag. We’re staying a couple of days.”

  Quickly sitting up so he couldn’t pin her to the bed again, Gwen scowled at her brother. “I said I can’t. I have plans.”

  “If it’s not Blayne, then who? It’s not like you have any other friends.”

  Gwen’s hands balled into fists. “You are such a
n asshole.”

  “But an honest asshole, baby sister. Painfully honest. Now let’s get going.”

  He was determined to get her back to Philly and she knew why. The O’Neill Family Pile-On. It was a horrifying event where every O’Neill aunt, uncle, and cousin in a hundred mile radius would be at her mother’s house for dinner so they could spend the entire time telling Gwen what a fuck-up she was.

  They’d had their chance to do this before she left, but none of them had taken her very seriously, figuring she’d be home after a week or two.

  But Gwen didn’t want to go home…wait. She briefly closed her eyes. She didn’t want to go back to Philly. She was already home. True, she didn’t have an apartment of her own yet, but she would. The business was doing well, their client list was healthy, and the wild dogs had cut her and Blayne an unbelievable deal on their office space.

  And the family is testing you.

  Yeah. She knew that. Although not as purely evil as a cult, Prides had their pull on a lioness. There was no denying that, and Gwen would be no different. But she wasn’t ready yet, and her mother knew it.

  “I accepted another invitation for tonight. Sorry.”

  Mitch crossed his arm over his chest. “Uh-huh. An invitation with…?”

  “What do you care?”

  He chuckled. “Look, the rest of the Philly cops may believe your line of bullshit, but I’m your brother. I know better. So stop fooling around, get your shit, and let’s go.”

  He turned to walk out, completely dismissing her and pissing her off so badly that she lied like she hadn’t lied since Philly P.D. found her ex-boyfriend’s gun on her in the tenth grade.

  “I’ve been invited to Jersey to spend time with Lock MacRyrie’s family. They’re expecting me for dinner and no way I’m not going.”

  Mitch slowly faced her. “The bear? You’ve made dinner plans with a family of bears? You sure you’re not just dinner, Goldilocks?”

  “That’s very funny,” she replied flatly. “Hilarious. But yeah. Plans to spend time with the family. They like me.” She hoped. She liked them and they seemed to like her, but who the hell knew and she was having such a bad day already. “Tell Ma I’ll see her at Thanksgiving, when I plan to be back in Philly. Not before.”

  She was expecting her brother to throw one of his lion-male hissy fits, but it seemed Mitch was in as much of a game-playing mood as Gwen. Smiling, he said, “Even better…why don’t we drop you off in Jersey on our way home?”

  “That’s not necessary. It’s out of your way.”

  “Not by much, I’m sure,” he said easily. “And it’s no big deal. We’ll drop you off, I can meet the family, and even apologize to your bear. I think Bren and I might have startled him last night…after seeing you two making out in front of the hotel.”

  Don’t you dare cringe, Gwendolyn O’Neill!

  And drop her off? Meet the family? Oh, he was good. Gotten better in fact. She’d bet money he’d picked up tips from that damn ho-billy girlfriend of his! Manipulative canines!

  Yet the one thing Gwen knew, she couldn’t back down now. “Sounds good.”

  “Excellent.”

  He turned away from her and Gwen reached for her phone to call Lock, but Mitch spun back around so fast, she immediately moved her hand away, trying to appear as if she hadn’t moved at all.

  “And, to make it really interesting—” he walked over to her bedside table and picked up her cell phone “—why don’t I keep your phone, so you’re not tempted to let your bear know I’m coming? It’ll be a surprise! Doesn’t that sound like fun?”

  Bastard! “Surprising a bear? That sounds like fun to you?”

  “Oh, come on. He knows me now. I’m sure it’ll be great. I can’t wait!” He grabbed the in-room phone and yanked it off the table, ripping the cord from the wall.

  This had quickly gotten out of hand. And Gwen knew why. Because Mitch expected Gwen to do what she always did when it came to her family. Take the path of least resistance. If it kept them quiet, Gwen usually did it simply to keep the peace and to avoid the whining, complaining, and roaring.

  But not this time. This time she was going to play this out. Even if it blew up in her face—and she kind of knew it would—she had no intention of backing down. None!

  “You better get ready,” Mitch said cheerily. “We’ll be leaving soon.”

  “Fine,” she said, also with a cheeriness that could kill a twenty-foot boa constrictor. “Sounds good.”

  She kept smiling until he walked out of the room, then she went to her closet and grabbed the high school football jersey Mitch had kept at their mother’s house. Gwen had taken it, because she liked to wear it even though she knew her brother would lose his mind if he found out. She dropped it to the floor, unleashed her front and back claws, and proceeded to rip the living shit out of it!

  When she was done, she put the shreds in a paper bag and stuck it in the back of her closet. When the time was right, she’d hand it right back to him. Maybe with a bow on it.

  Lock had his nephew on his lap and one of his nieces hanging from around his neck. His mother was in the kitchen arguing with his sister, and his oldest niece, the seven-year-old, was learning how to flirt on Ric.

  Ric had an open invitation to the monthly MacRyrie meal, even attending when Lock was in the Marines and didn’t come home for over a year. And Lock didn’t begrudge Ric a moment of that time, either. Because he knew it was one of the few times Ric truly felt like he was part of a family as opposed to just part of a Pack.

  Tragically, however, Iona had also brought a friend. For the first time in ages, she’d dragged that unhealthy looking carcass over, Judy Bennington. A one-time supermodel and now an agent, Judy was a sun bear who needed to eat more. No bear, boar or sow, should be that thin. Even worse…she apparently still had a thing for Lock, and she’d had that thing since he was a senior in high school. Yet unlike most predator males, Lock’s libido was actually attached to his brain and nothing about this woman had ever gotten him hard or even made him smile. She was a shifter who’d walked into his parents’ house wearing real mink, for Christ sakes!

  Lock was also smart enough to know that Judy’s current interest in him was more about the fact that, at least in modeling terms, she’d passed her prime. She wanted a man to take care of her as she grew older. Not that he’d begrudge her that, but he wasn’t that man. She was so busy being “fabulous” that she was never very interesting. Lock liked interesting.

  I like Gwen, he thought with a smile. And if there was nothing else he could say about that woman, he could sure say she was interesting.

  “So how have things been going with you, Lock?”

  His real smile faded and he forced on a fake one. “Fine, Judy. And you?”

  And that, as he knew it would, sent Judy off on a good ten minutes of talking about herself. At the seven-minute mark, he looked across the dining table at Ric, who crossed his eyes and tried not to fall out of his chair with boredom. If Lock were more of a predator and less of a bear, he’d toss Ric to Judy and hope for the best. But Judy detested wolves and Lock couldn’t do that to any man.

  Iona placed two large bowls of berries on the table, swiped up the empty cheese and crackers tray, slapped her son’s hand away from the berries, and said to Lock, “Did Judy tell you about her newest client?”

  “She’s in Paris,” Judy said, gripping her glass of chardonnay. “For a photo shoot. She’s gorgeous and I snagged her young. Thirteen.”

  Lock glanced over at his young niece and could only think of one response. “Eew.”

  Ric snorted and looked away, but his sister cuffed him in the back of the head. A skill she’d picked up from their mother.

  “Lachlan!”

  “Sorry, but she’s thirteen! She should be dealing with zits and telling boys ‘no.’ Not whoring herself out to European designers so Judy can make her twenty percent.” And before his sister could yell at him, Lock snarled to Ric, “And are you goi
ng to answer that phone or am I going to break it?” The wolf had it on vibrate and the sound of it was driving Lock insane.

  “I know it’s my father. We had one of our…disagreements earlier today.”

  “Then either turn that phone off—” Lock said, standing when he heard the front door bell “—or throw it out the window. But do something.”

  Lock walked through the house and had his hand on the doorknob when he heard his parent’s home phone ringing and Ric urgently whispering at him, “Don’t look surprised!”

  Jumping a little, Lock glared back at him. The wolf had his phone to his ear and was watching him. “What?”

  “Don’t look surprised.” He was still whispering. “Whatever you do.”

  “Okay.” Shaking his head, wondering when everyone around him had lost their minds, Lock pulled the front door open—and stared.

  Gwen gazed up at Lock, her eyes wide. What a nightmare this had all been! First, her brother had to drag her into the car. Not because she’d been fighting him on going—oh no, she was more than ready to take this stupid, ridiculous sibling fight all the way to its stupid, ridiculous conclusion if it killed them both!—but because Ronnie Lee felt the need to come along and Gwen had refused to get in to the car with her. In the end, Gwen had sat up front while Bren, Sissy, and Ronnie Lee got the back. Although any time Gwen had heard any strange noises from the backseat, she’d look at them—and while Sissy was busy texting someone from her cell, Ronnie and Bren just looked horrified. Gwen didn’t know why, though. She was just looking at them over her shoulder…or maybe more her spine. But so what?

  Tragically, that wasn’t the end of the evening…it was only the beginning. Now she was trapped on the MacRyrie porch with Mitch behind her, his hand gripping her shoulder. He’d insisted on walking up to the house with her, and Bren had insisted on coming with Mitch because, “They’re bears, dumb ass…they kill.” And that had meant Ronnie insisted on coming with Bren because, “The Lord knows I gotta protect that pretty face from those bear claws,” and of course that meant Sissy had tagged along, “’Cause I don’t wanna be left out, y’all!”