Lock reached out for the coffee, but Ric pulled it back. “Why don’t you come to the kitchen first?”
In response, Lock roared, the windows rattling behind Ric.
“Or I could just hand this over now.” Ric gave him the mug as Lock’s upstairs neighbor slammed a broomstick against the floor. So Lock roared again and the sound immediately stopped.
“As always…the perfect neighbor you are.”
Gripping the mug and baring a fang, Lock let out a small snarl. What his sister called the MacRyrie family’s “Early Warning System.”
Knowing that warning system as well as anyone, Ric headed toward the bedroom door. “I’ll just go and get that French toast started. And you’ll just ease your way out.”
By the time Lock had finished his coffee, taken a shower, and put on a pair of jeans, Ric had a full breakfast waiting for him.
Sitting down at the table, Lock looked over the platters of freshly made French toast, scrambled eggs, bacon, sausage, and rolls, as well as bear claws from the nearby bakery. There was also butter, honey—European, from the scent of it—and warm maple syrup. Lock reached for the French toast first, but Ric slapped his hand away and placed a carefully prepared plate in front of him. As Lock waited, Ric went to the counter and returned with a small strainer. He tapped the side, covering the French toast with powdered sugar. Somehow the wolf managed not to get any on Lock’s bacon or sausage.
“There. Isn’t that nice?”
“I have to say our relationship is getting stranger and stranger as we get older.”
“Why? Because I enjoy taking care of you?”
“Now you’re freaking me out.” But that didn’t stop Lock from digging into his food. As always, it was perfectly cooked, but he expected no less from any of the Van Holtzes. Many of them, including Ric, were known for their superior chef skills among the most elite food snobs. Each Van Holtz pup was taught from very early childhood to cook, with the plan that one day they would work in or manage one of the family restaurants spread across the States and Europe.
“I thought you were working today,” Lock said when he got to his third helping, and the coffee had finally done its work of making him a tolerable human being and bear.
“I was, but Adelle is covering for me. I wanted to do something before practice tonight and I’m hoping you’ll come with me.”
“Where are we going?”
“Staten Island.”
“What are we going over there for?”
“To talk to Sharyn McNelly of the McNelly Pack.”
“Why?”
“Because they were the ones who attacked your little feline and her canine friend.”
Lock looked up from his food. “You sure?”
“Of course I’m sure. And I’ve gotten the approval of the imperious Board to handle it.” Ric had gotten the Board involved? Yikes.
“And that’s why we’re going over there?”
“Yes.”
Pushing a piece of bacon around his plate with his fork, Lock asked, “Why do you need me to go?”
“To kill them all.”
Lock’s gaze snapped to Ric’s and then they both burst out laughing.
“You’re such an idiot.”
Smiling, Ric filled up his own plate with food. “I know. I know.”
“Why do you really need me to go?”
“To watch my back, of course.” Ric shrugged and bit into a piece of bacon. “And, you know, just to be your usual wonderful and interesting self.”
Sharyn McNelly, Alpha of the McNelly Pack, cringed again as she heard bending metal snap like a toothpick.
“Oh. Wow.” The bear lumbered out from her laundry room, holding a piece of broken pipe in his hand. “This kind of snapped off.” She’d lost track of how many things had “kind of snapped off” in the ten minutes the grizzly had been on her territory. From the second he’d walked into her house, he’d been “exploring” and the level of damage was killing her. “I was just trying to see how sturdy it was…not very, I’d have to say.”
“I’m sure it was an accident, Lock,” the Van Holtz wolf said casually while watching Sharyn. That bastard had unleashed that beast on her home, proving what she’d always known—the Van Holtzes were assholes.
“It was. Definitely.” The bear gave a small shrug. “I’m really sorry about that. I’ll be happy to replace it.”
Shaking her head, Sharyn focused back on the wolf. “So we were on your territory? So what? Who gives a fuck?”
The bear stood in front of Sharyn’s prized curio cabinet. She’d spent years getting that together. Hitting yard sales all over Staten Island, Long Island, and Jersey. She swallowed as the bear leaned around to examine the back of the case.
“The Van Holtzes give a fuck, Miss McNelly. Even more troublesome, your Pack attacked guests on my territory.”
She didn’t bother to hide her sneer. “Mixed breeds? That’s what you’re protecting?”
The wolf smiled. “Mixed breeds…and guests. That’s the important part, don’t you think?”
Fed up, Sharyn pointed a finger at the wolf. “You show up at my fucking house in your fancy limo and you think I’m just going to roll over and give you what you want? Over some crossbreeds? Is that what you think?”
“No. I think you’ll do what I want because it’s the right thing to do and because…”
He let the sentence dangle out there as the bear tugged on her cabinet and her hands turned into fists, her eyes cutting back to the wolf. He smiled at her.
“Don’t mind him. He’s naturally curious.” His head dipped down a bit. “You know how bears are.”
Yeah, she knew. That’s why she wasn’t surprised when she heard something tear and turned back to see the bear easily holding her six-foot-tall cabinet in one hand and feeling around the now-tattered wall it had once been attached to with the other.
“I didn’t know this was attached to the wall until it came out.” The bear winced. “Sorry.”
He pushed the cabinet back into place, but with such force the curios inside were slammed together. “I’m sure I can fix it.”
“No!” She stood up and the wolf rose with her. “Just leave it.” The bear stepped away from the cabinet, but his attention was quickly snagged by her television. Since that television was worth nearly seven grand and she’d only paid one grand for it in a back alley, she wasn’t about to lose it to a frickin’ bear. “Spit it out already, Van Holtz. What do you want?”
“What the Board says anyone with a first-offense territory breach is owed. Twenty-five hundred for me and twenty-five for Brendon Shaw.”
“You want me to pay that cat?”
“The Board represents all of us. It protects all of us.”
“Fine. Whatever. Just get out.”
“Of course. And thank you for your assistance. You can send the money directly to the Board secretary. He’ll be expecting it and it will be split up appropriately.”
He headed toward the door. “Lock? You—”
A snap of thick plastic cut off the wolf’s words and they both looked over. The bear held the sixty-five-inch flat screen in one hand like it weighed nothing and half of the TV’s base in the other. “Um…do you have another stand for this TV?”
“Just put it down,” Sharyn growled out between clenched teeth.
“I can get you a new stand or—”
“Down.”
The bear did as she asked and she walked the two interlopers to her front porch.
As the limo pulled off, Sharyn’s daughter and her idiot boyfriend walked up to her.
“Everything okay?”
Staring after the limo as it drove off her Pack’s Staten Island territory, Sharyn calmly asked, “You went off neutral territory to nail that mixed cat on Labor Day weekend?”
Donna Noreen Maire McNelly blinked a few times, which meant she was debating whether to lie or not.
“Well…you said to get her. So we got her.”
“G
ot her where?”
Donna licked her lips. “We tracked them to lion territory. Found the mutt first, went after her, and O’Neill showed up.”
“Then you chased them into Van Holtz territory?” And brought that rich asshole wolf right to her door.
“Well…yeah.”
Sharyn backhanded her daughter, sending her flying across the porch.
“What the fuck was that for?” Donna screamed, blood dripping from her cut lip, while her useless boyfriend, Jay Ross, leaned against the porch railings and kept busy by texting his “clients.”
“First you didn’t even kill the bitch like I told you to. Then you opened that fat yap of yours and led a goddamn Van Holtz to my fuckin’ door!”
“It wasn’t me!”
“Then who?”
Sharyn looked over at the boyfriend and without even looking away from his phone, he said, “Don’t even.”
“I look at you,” Sharyn sneered at her daughter, “and I think again why didn’t I make him wear a goddamn condom? Too bad I never have an answer that doesn’t make me throw up a little.” That said, Sharyn went back in to her house and slammed the door shut.
Donna McNelly glared at the hand held out to her, then slapped it away. “Fuck you!”
“Whatever.” Jay went back to his cell phone and her eyes narrowed. Useless. He was absolutely useless!
Pushing herself off the ground, she wiped the blood from her lip. “I can’t believe you didn’t do anything.”
“I’m not getting between you and your mother.”
Angry and needing to take it out on somebody, Donna slapped the phone from her boyfriend’s hand. He stepped toward her but stopped when she didn’t back down, their eyes level as they were the same height, the same build.
“Why do I bother having you around?” she sneered. “You’re fuckin’ useless.”
“You have me around because I give you what you need.”
She blinked, briefly studied him. There were only two things she ever really needed from the man. Money, to keep her mother off her back, and a good fuck.
Oh, wait. There was something else her boyfriend provided—information. “You know where they are.”
“’Course I do.” He smiled, showing his fangs. “And those bitches are closer than you ever knew.”
CHAPTER 10
Gwen was inputting the information from recent receipts and was taking her sweet time about it, too, when Blayne received yet another text message. She responded quickly and shut her phone. Placing the phone in her backpack and her backpack over her shoulder, Blayne got up and headed toward the office door.
Gwen kept typing, waiting until Blayne’s hand was on the door handle before she said, “Where you going?”
Blayne stopped, her body tensing. “Huh?”
She continued to work. “I said, where are you going?”
“Out.”
“For drinks? I haven’t had a Guinness in forever.”
Blayne stared at her. She’d been a nervous mess all day, jumping when the phone rang, tearing papers she had on her desk into shreds, and twisting and untwisting poor, defenseless paperclips. When it came to emotions, Blayne was always an open book.
“No,” she finally answered. “Not drinks. I’m…uh…” Gwen could see her out of the corner of her eye, struggling with what she wanted to say. Struggling between lying and telling Gwen the truth. After a minute, she went with the lying. “I’m going to the hospital. Again.”
“The volunteering. Right. Okay.”
Blayne nodded, stared at Gwen for another moment—her frustration evident in the way she was twisting and untwisting her fingers—and went out the door.
Gwen went back to work…for about thirty more seconds. Then she shut off her monitor, pulled her backpack onto her shoulders, and ran to the office door. She stopped long enough to lock the doors and took off running. It still amazed Gwen that Blayne had finagled office space in the Kuznetsov Building. It was a small space, barely big enough for their two desks, small fridge, and coffeemaker, but the rent was too good to pass up and there was basement space to accommodate their company trucks and supplies. Really, Gwen couldn’t ask for better, especially in this city.
Stopping at the main doors of the building, Gwen stuck her head out and looked both ways. She could see Blayne running west and she took off after her. She didn’t get too close, though, not wanting Blayne to catch sight of her.
Thankfully Blayne didn’t grab a bus or take the subway, which was good because Gwen was still learning her way around this nightmare town. Still…the door Blayne disappeared into nearly fifteen minutes later did nothing but convince Gwen that she’d have to rescue Blayne from herself yet again.
Gwen walked to that door, stopping immediately when she stepped inside. Nope. Not a hospital—a place Blayne knew Gwen would never willingly go into—but an ice-skating rink. The entire floor teeming with full-humans watching their children skate, all of them hoping to be the breeder of the next gold Olympian.
Yet Gwen’s powerful sense of smell told her that full-humans weren’t the only ones using this building.
Sniffing like a bloodhound on the trail of a murderer, Gwen followed her nose to a discreet door behind a set of stairs. That discreet door led to another discreet door. She pulled it open and came face-to-face with several bathrooms and closets filled with cleaning and maintenance supplies. She almost got sidetracked by some copper pipes in the maintenance closet but made herself focus.
She sniffed the air and went to another set of stairs and a locked door. She sniffed at the door and pawed at it a couple of times. It opened, a wolf standing on the other side.
“Hi.”
“Hi.” Gwen walked in, ignoring the way the male automatically sized her up, and quickly examined everything around her. This area of the building was huge, with its own set of elevators, a food court, several sports-related stores, and a Starbucks. This was a shifter-only space, huge and all-inclusive. A safe zone for every breed. That meant no fighting of any kind, including Pack, Pride, or Clan wars, and no hunting or bloodletting. Shifters got bitchy when they had to clean up any messes that required cops or disposing of carcasses.
“Can I help you?” the wolf asked.
“Uh…yeah. I’m looking for my friend. She’s a little taller than me, black with brown hair…she was probably talking to herself.”
He grinned. “The wolfdog? Yeah, she went down those stairs over there.”
“Thanks.”
“Want me to help you look for her?”
Gwen chuckled at that, sure of the kind of help the wolf wanted to give her. “No, thanks.”
“If you change your mind, let me know.”
“Yeah, yeah, sure.” Because she obviously had nothing better to do than hook up with some horny wolf for ten minutes. How She-wolves tolerated any of them, Gwen would never know.
As directed, she went down the stairs and stopped in the hallway. The really big, multidoor-filled hallway. Because finding Blayne shouldn’t be easy, now should it?
Sighing, Gwen went from door to door. Some were locked, and some opened to a practice or training session. She wished she could have stayed and watched the gymnasts. Nothing like watching all those eight-year-old cubs and pups vaulting themselves twenty to thirty feet in the air and then screaming on the way back down because they had no real idea yet how to land properly.
She didn’t have time for that, though. She was snooping, and she wouldn’t let anything get in her way. Because who knew what Blayne was up to? Gwen was betting it had something to do with a man. She’d already seen the basketball players working out and Gwen was surprised she didn’t find Blayne there in the stands, watching and waiting on some freakishly tall loser to come over and smooth talk her. The woman had the worst taste in males. She picked what seemed to be the nicest, sweetest guys, and they always turned out to be full-fledged sociopaths. And if she was sneaking some guy in behind Gwen’s back that meant one thing—another nutbag
Gwen was going to have to deal with down the road.
Why did she have to work so hard to protect her friends and family? Why couldn’t Blayne find normal, cranky shifters with dominance issues like the rest of them?
Gwen heard male voices coming from a door close to her and she reached for the handle, figuring she’d find Blayne. But before Gwen could get a grip, the door flew open and she barely moved out of the way in time. She caught sight of ice skates and knew it was the hockey players. Her uncle Cally had played hockey on a shifter team for years when he was younger.
She was trying to move around the player, when he snarled, “Do you not answer your phone?”
Gwen tensed and looked up—and kept looking up until she burst out laughing. “You play hockey?”
“What do you mean by that?”
“It can’t be fair. You battin’ the other players around the ice with your giant arms.”
“I don’t have giant arms.”
She kept laughing and shook her head. “Forget it. Is Blayne in there?”
“No. And why didn’t you answer your phone?”
“I shut it off because my brother was driving me crazy after I lacerated his ass this morning. Why?”
“I found out who jumped you and Blayne at Macon River.”
Gwen stared up at the grizzly. To be honest, she’d forgotten about that Pack. Forgotten they’d existed or had attacked her and Blayne. Not that she didn’t care, but the past few weeks had been so crazy busy, it had gone to the bottom of the heap of concerns she already had.
“Who was it?”
“I was calling to tell you that, but when I thought about it, I realized I couldn’t tell you.”
“Why not?”
He took several gulps of water from the bottle he held in his hand. His hair and skin were drenched in sweat and he was panting. He must have had a hell of a workout. “Because it’s been handled, and I don’t want you going over there to start it up all over again.”
“I won’t.”
“You say that now, but then you’ll be sitting around…thinking. And you’ll remember what went down—and the next thing I know, I’ll be hearing about you in the news.”
The Mane Squeeze Page 11
