“If she’s back…” Gwen went back to the front door and snatched it open. She blinked in surprise. “Oh. Hi, Jess. Uh…”
Gwen stood in Lock’s doorway with a wild dog now hanging off her neck and she had no idea why. Although she was grateful to see Blayne behind her.
“What is she doing?”
“Thanking you.”
“For?”
Jess answered before Blayne could. “For what you did for Kristan and Johnny.”
Oh, that. She’d completely forgotten about that, but she sensed it wouldn’t be a good idea to say that out loud.
“No problem. It was—” She let out a breath and focused back on Blayne. “Okay, she’s still hugging.”
“You’re part of our Pack now, Gwen,” Jess said fiercely. “You’re one of us.” Jess stepped away from her and she had tears in her eyes. “You ever need us, you ever need anything. You or Lock…because he protected Johnny, too. My Johnny. My son. You two will always be one of us.”
“Thanks.”
Then she was being hugged again. Gwen stood there, waiting for the wild dog to release her. Blayne finally helped by gently taking Jess’s shoulders and pulling her away. “Why don’t you head on home and let me talk to Gwen? She’s not good with her raw emotions and she needs some time to experience the love you’re giving her.”
Gwen rolled her eyes, but Jess had her back to her and didn’t see.
“No problem.” Jess walked to the door, stopped right outside, and looked straight at Gwen. “I love you, Gwenie.”
Gwen blinked. “Okay.”
Blayne walked to the door and waved at Jess until the elevator doors closed. Once the wild dog was gone, Blayne stepped back into the apartment and closed the door. Then she was on her knees, laughing so hysterically that Gwen walked away, snarling over her shoulder, “I can’t believe you brought that shit here!”
Blayne rolled to her back, kicked her legs. That’s when Gwen went and made coffee. By the time she walked out with two mugs, a grizzly with a sheet around his waist was stumbling out of the bedroom.
She pointed. “Coffee. Kitchen.”
“Love you more and more.”
Blayne was standing now and she dug into her backpack, pulling out a bakery bag. “Honey buns! I brought them for Lock.”
“Smart move.”
Gwen put the mugs down on the coffee table and sat on the couch. “So why are you here? Because it’s not even nine yet, and unlike me, you’re not a morning person.”
“You’re a morning person?”
“Why are you here?”
“Okay, okay.” Blayne dropped on the couch. “As you can tell, there’s been much drama since you and your honey bun left last night.”
Gwen chuckled. “Honey bun.”
“The McNellys are up in arms, mostly about what Lock did to their two—” Gwen shook her head, cutting her off. She didn’t want that shit hanging over Lock’s head and, thankfully, Blayne understood her immediately. “Your mother also arrived.”
“She was just here.”
“Yeah. She got here last night, along with your uncles and aunts.”
Gwen put her coffee down on the table. “Oh, no.”
“They were at the hospital, along with the Smiths, Mitch and Brendon, and the Kuznetsov Pack.”
“Okay,” Gwen said, wanting to cut to it as quickly as possible. “How bad is this?”
“The Smiths are calling for war.”
Gwen held up a hand. “Wait. What?”
“The Smiths are calling for war, and Ric had to put in emergency calls to the Board—which, to be honest, I didn’t know we had a Board—who sent over his cousin Niles, who happened to be in town for some reason, don’t know why. And can I just say…hottie?”
“Ric?”
“Niles.”
“Mated.”
“I can look.”
Gwen gestured with her hand. “Just get to it. Why are the Smiths calling for anything, much less war?” Packs always seemed to be getting into wars with someone. She didn’t understand it. They were either fighting each other or some Pride or Clan. The wars could get really ugly, too, lasting for decades.
“Who’s threatening war?” Lock asked as he walked out of the kitchen with a mug of coffee in one hand and the sheet still held around his waist with the other.
“The Smiths,” Blayne answered.
He sat down hard on the couch, his eyes wide. “Why? Because of last night?”
“Yeah. But not because of you two. It seems they don’t care about you two at all. Kristan and Johnny, however…”
“What about Kristan and Johnny?” Gwen demanded. “When I called Mitch last night he said they were fine.”
“They’re completely fine. But they were threatened, and they’re still pups.”
“And part of Jess’s wild dog Pack,” Lock answered, understanding the dynamics of the wild dogs better than Gwen.
Blayne grinned, obviously loving this. “But Jess is with Smitty now, which means she’s family. If she’s family, her Pack is family.”
“Okay…and?”
Lock put down his coffee and buried his face in his hands. “I see where this is going.”
“I know you do.”
“I don’t,” Gwen snapped. “Neither pup was hurt.”
“True,” Blayne explained. “But they were traumatized.”
“Traumatized, my ass. They’re just overprotected and spoiled.”
“And,” the wolfdog happily went on, “the Smiths consider it a hate crime.”
“Oh, stop it!”
Laughing, Blayne nodded. “I am so serious. Word is it’s so bad that someone they call Uncle Eggie is, and I’m quoting Smitty here, ‘Fixin’ to come on up here and wipe the land clean as if the Lord himself had decided Staten Island was Sodom and Gomorrah.’”
“Nice accent imitation,” Gwen sneered.
“I try.”
“This isn’t good,” Lock said. “Uncle…” His chin lifted and his nostrils flared. “Honey buns?”
Gwen handed the bag to him. “Honey buns for my honey bun.”
He stared at her. “You’re going to start calling me that now, aren’t you?”
“You going to keep calling me Mr. Mittens?”
Pulling a bun out of the bag, the bear shrugged. “I can live with being your honey bun.”
“All I know,” Blayne said, “is that Uncle Eggie must be some major badass, because everyone’s in this rather hysterical tizzy, even Mr. Smooth Move Niles.”
“Niles Van Holtz is here?” Lock demanded around his bun.
“Yes. And hot.”
“Stop saying that!” Gwen snapped.
“Why is he here?”
“According to Ric, he was in town.”
“For what?”
Not caring about Niles Van Holtz, Gwen cut in and asked, “This is all because my mother shaved McNelly’s head?”
Lock choked on his bun. “I forgot about that.”
“McNelly won’t.”
“Well,” Blayne said, “this all goes deeper and further back than that. And it looked pretty much like war was coming.”
Gwen studied Blayne. “It looked like war was coming?”
“I do believe I’ve come up with a satisfactory solution to resolve all this once and for all—and have managed to get everyone to agree. Now you just have to agree, Gwen.”
Gwen stared at her best friend. “I have to agree? Why me? I thought I didn’t matter and it was all Kuznetsovs and Smiths and pups.”
“Right. And the Kuznetsovs, Smiths, O’Neills, and McNellys have all agreed to let all bad blood end here…if you’re in.”
Confused, Gwen shook her head. “If I’m in to…” Blayne gave Gwen her biggest grin and Gwen’s confusion quickly turned into righteous anger. “Oh, come on!”
Laughing around Gwen’s bellow of rage, Blayne said, “You and only you, Gwen O’Neill, can prevent this war.”
Gwen rubbed her forehead. “And o
f course this is your shitty idea, Blayne Thorpe.”
“Wait.” Lock looked back and forth between the two friends. “I don’t get it. What’s Gwen going to have to do?”
CHAPTER 28
Gwen rolled around and around that little hallway about a hundred feet away from the locker rooms. She should stop, take a breath, but the fact she couldn’t breathe was making at least one of those impossible.
With her hands clasped tightly together, Gwen kept focusing on trying to force herself to breathe and not vomit.
Vomit, bad. Breathing, good.
She couldn’t do this. She couldn’t. And she’d been a fool to agree to this. But now Gwen was in and couldn’t get out.
Why? a sane person may ask.
Because, in the end, Gwen had been unable to pass up the chance to take the trophy out of McNelly’s mannish grip. And that’s exactly what Blayne had used to get Gwen to agree to this stupidity knowing that Gwen didn’t give a fuck about Pack wars or Smiths or men named “Eggie.” No, it was Gwen’s ego that had gotten her here. And either this would go down in history as the bout that stopped a war or it would go down as the time an O’Neill vomited on the track.
What had never occurred to Gwen, what she hadn’t thought about when she’d agreed to this, was her fear of facing the screaming crowd—again. That’s what had gotten her nailed during her first bout all those years ago and it seemed that fear hadn’t changed. And that’s why she felt ready to vomit.
God, what if I do vomit on the track? There will be no coming back from that! she thought hysterically.
The door to the small hallway where she’d been hiding opened. “I’ll be fine, Blayne,” she said without looking up. And she knew it was Blayne, because the wolfdog had been trying to calm her down for the last two hours, but she’d only managed to make Gwen ten thousand times more nervous. “No need to worry. I’m fine.”
“And you call me a lousy liar.”
Gwen’s head snapped up and she never thought there’d be a day where she’d be ecstatic to be startled by a grizzly.
He would have walked right by her if it hadn’t been for her scent. That would never change—thank God—but the rest of her sure had. At least for the moment.
She had on thick black eyeliner and her naturally long lashes were even longer and thicker. She wore blush on her cheeks, and her lipstick was dark red and glossy. She had her curly hair pulled into two small ponytails and a black headband covered in skulls and crossbones tied around her forehead.
Lock had debated about coming back here, not wanting to make her any more nervous than he already knew she was, but then he’d gotten that text from Blayne. It had one word…“Help!”
Gwen rolled over to him and right into his arms. “Oh, my God! I’m so glad you’re here!”
Rubbing her back, Lock decided not to be too freaked out about her wardrobe. He didn’t mind the glittery, bright red four-wheel skates. They were cute. But Gwen was hot when she wore her cargo pants and an old Eagles sweatshirt. Now she was volcano-hot in black fishnet stockings with kneepads over them, a miniscule red pair of shorts, three layered tank tops with red on the bottom, black over that, and white on top, black elbow pads, and body glitter smeared on her biceps and neck that made the tattoos on her arms pop.
He was torn between wanting to show her off to everyone and covering her with his jacket.
But before he could worry about that, he had another concern at the moment…
“Why do you have Van Holtz on your ass?”
Startled, Gwen glanced at her ass as if expecting to find Ric there. Thankfully for the wolf, he wasn’t. However, his name was there…right on Gwen’s ass. Or, in this instance, her shorts. Her derby name—TastySkate—and her number “59” were on her tank top.
“According to Blayne, he’s a sponsor.”
“Does he know his family name is on the asses of a Roller Derby team?”
“Doubt it.”
Okay, that was actually kind of funny. “And TastySkate?”
She let out a sigh. “You know…like Tastykake.”
“You mean the fine makers of my favorite Krimpets?”
She glared up at him and hissed, “Yes. Like the Krimpets and cupcakes and the pies that we of the Tri-States all grew up loving. It was either that or Philly Killsteak.” When Lock frowned, she added, “You know…like Philly cheesesteak?”
When he laughed, she scowled, so he stopped.
“Gwen, you’re going to be great. You shouldn’t be worried.”
“Oh, I know. I’m sure I’ll be fine.”
She was lying again. He knew that because Gwen was shaking. His Gwen. Fistfight with an entire derby team? Nothing. Taking his intimidating uncles at poker? Nothing. Getting in a vicious revenge fight with crazy wolves in the basement of a club? Eh.
Putting on derby skates and facing off against her mother’s reputation? A mess.
“Gwenie?” He tightened his grip on her, hoping that talking would get it out of her. Although, Gwen wasn’t much of a talker. “What is it? What’s really bothering you?”
Gwen may not be much of a talker, but once she got going…
“What if I screw up? What if I blow it? What if I let the team down? What if I make a complete fucking idiot out of myself? In front of everybody? What if I lose to that humongous bitch? What if I get so injured I can never walk again? What if there’s a war anyway? What if I embarrass my mother? What if I embarrass myself? What if your parents find out? What if your sister does? What if—”
“Okay, okay.” He had a feeling she could run with the “what if” scenarios until the next millennium and he knew they didn’t have that kind of time right now. So what should he do? Tragically, he knew what he had to do. As much as it appalled him, he knew there was only one thing he could do at this moment to snap his Gwen out of this.
So, taking a page from the Alla Baranova-MacRyrie handbook of motivational techniques, Lock said, “Hey, I totally understand if you can’t do this.”
“You do?”
“Sure. I mean…McNelly’s good.”
Gwen snorted. “She’s brute force. That’s different from being good.”
“But she’s bigger than you, weighs more than you, and you can’t shift into cat or pull out that razor blade when you’re on the track, so you have no real advantage over her. And…to be honest—” Oh and this would be the hardest part to say “—I don’t want you out there. I want you home, safe…where I can protect you.”
Gwen eased out of his arms, her body gliding away because of her skates, her gold eyes peering at him curiously. “What?”
“I said, go put your clothes back on and let me take you home. This is no place for you. You’re mine now and I want you safe and preferably unmarred.”
Her hands went on her waist, her red, white, and black nails tap-tap-tapping against her hips. “You don’t think I can do it.”
Lock shrugged. “Sweetie, she’s gonna kick your ass.”
“Did you just call me sweetie?”
“You rather I call you baby?”
Without another word, Gwen rolled past him and into the main hallway that led to the stadium.
“Good,” he said behind her as the Babes rolled out of the locker room, Blayne moving in front of them. “I’ll take you home and we can forget all about this. I’ll always take care of you, Gwenie. You’ll never have to worry about anything.”
Blayne’s eyes grew wide and her gaze bounced back and forth between Gwen and Lock.
Slowly Gwen faced him. “I don’t need anybody to take care of me. Especially freakishly sized bears with kumquat heads.” She held her hand out and one of the Babes slapped a helmet into her palm. “Now get the fuck out of my way.”
She rolled toward the stadium entrance, where they’d wait to make their grand entrance, and the team followed right behind her.
Reaching out, Lock snagged Blayne by the forearm and pulled her back. “When this is over, she still better love me.”
<
br /> “Don’t worry about anything,” Blayne promised. She leaped up and kissed his cheek. “You’re the bestest bear ever.”
“Yeah, but I better not be the loneliest,” he called after her.
Typical. Absolutely typical. Show a man a moment of weakness and he figures he can turn you into a barefoot breeder making him honey-soaked meals all day.
“You all right, Gwenie?” Blayne asked.
When all Gwen could manage was a growl, Blayne didn’t say another word.
As they waited in the long hallway that led out to the stadium, the Furriers rolled in. Their uniforms were cute little plaid skirts and tiny pink and black tops to match. But it didn’t matter. McNelly still looked like a big bitch in a cute-girl’s outfit.
McNelly stopped in front of Gwen and stared down at her. What was happening between McNelly and Gwen was something that went back to their mothers’ time when the derby queens wore a lot less makeup but lived the life of the true derby girl.
Now all that past shit was coming down to this and Gwen wouldn’t back away. Yeah, her mother embarrassed the holy hell out of her, but she was still her mother and Gwen was still an O’Neill.
“See you out on the track, O’Neill.”
McNelly followed after her team and Blayne muttered, “I hate her.”
“Yeah…but I hate her more.”
And that was why if Gwen went down tonight, she’d go down fighting—and she’d make sure to take McNelly with her.
Lock stood at one of the entrances to the VIP seats, searching for his parents and Ric. His father had insisted on coming. “How could I miss something so interesting?” Of course, his mother was no better. “Females in a battle of strength? Why would I miss that? Besides, it’s our Gwenie!” Iona, however, had simply stared at him when he mentioned it to her. But she did promise to have the emergency room on alert should any of the players need medical care.
After a few moments, Lock saw Ric with Brody and Alla sitting behind him, but when he saw who surrounded them, he started to back away until two sets of strong hands grabbed him from behind.
“Oh, no you don’t.”
The two lion brothers hauled him toward Ric.
“You didn’t really think we’d let you get out of this so easy, did you?” Brendon Shaw asked.
The Mane Squeeze Page 33