The Mane Squeeze (27 page)

Good thing he’d had that condom in his pocket, because she might have taken him without it. Shocking, since there were some things Gwen didn’t fuck around about, and protection was at the top of that list.

But Christ, there was something about him. She couldn’t explain it. He wasn’t like the kind of guys she’d ever been with before. You know…assholes. Guys who kept unlicensed guns under their pillows, always walked off the other way whenever they saw a cop coming, and thought grabbing her by the back of the head and trying to force her head into their lap was sexy.

Lock wasn’t anyone’s bad boy, and there was a time Gwen thought that was the only kind of guy who could get her off. She was wrong. Really wrong. Because not only did the grizzly get her off, he kept her going. Kept her wanting more. And, even more important, he made her want to make sure he got as much pleasure as he gave to her. Even she’d admit she wasn’t a very “giving lover” and had been told so more than once. But why should she give when she didn’t think they deserved it?

For the first time ever, though…she’d met someone who deserved it. Who might deserve everything.

She moved her hips slowly at first, her gaze staying right on his because she couldn’t seem to get enough of that, either. The way he looked at her. Not like he thought she was just pretty, but like he…well, respected her or something. It was weird, she couldn’t explain it, but it turned her on more than if he treated her like the hottest European supermodel. Maybe because in this world looks only got you so far for so long, then they went on their merry way and all you were left with was what you had inside.

And that was it, wasn’t it? Lock looked at her as if he could see exactly what she had inside—and he liked it.

Realizing that, knowing it was true, Gwen got turned on more and she tightened her muscles until Lock’s eyes crossed.

His hands gripped her waist and he said her name. A few times.

She rode him harder, faster. She wanted to see his face when he came, see the pleasure she brought him. She was thinking so much about him, watching him so close that it wasn’t until she came—the strength of it tearing up her back and causing her to scream out—that she realized she’d been that close to coming.

As he watched her go over, he gripped her hips tight and brought her down hard once, twice. He exploded inside her, his entire body one rigid line of muscle. Gwen instinctively gripped his cock again, squeezing him dry until he fell back against the couch, gasping for breath. She dropped on top of him, working hard to get her own breath back when those big arms wrapped around her and held her close.

“So…you’ll stay the night?” he asked after a few minutes.

And if Gwen weren’t completely wiped out, she would have laughed. “Yeah,” she sighed against his neck. “I’ll stay the night.”

She’d never found watching other people have sex very interesting, but tonight it was part of the job. Part of what she had to do to get what she needed.

Truth be told, she had the equipment to drill a precision hole in the back of this idiot’s head and was tempted to do it. Right here, right now. But she was older now and she’d like to think she was smarter, too. She’d discovered that getting information was more important than instant gratification. Unfortunately, getting information required waiting, which she could tolerate, and watching, which was beginning to make her ill.

She’d do it, though, because it was her job now. Maybe. She was still making up her mind. And it was a nice night anyway. A beautiful night.

L
ock was still arguing with Gwen at his front door. “Let me take you home.”

“I’ll catch a cab.”

Leaning against the door frame, Lock gripped her denim jacket by the lapels and tugged her closer until she was flush against him. “It’s polite to see a woman to her door—and then make out with her.”

“Yeah, exactly. I have a job today, so I can’t afford to let you get me confused and horny when I’m dealing with a sewer line.”

“Eew.”

“Wuss,” she teased. “Besides, not all of us are artists.”

“Stop calling me that.”

“You’re so friggin’ cute when you blush.”

She went up on her toes and Lock came down so she could kiss him. “I’ll call you later today. Okay?”

“Yeah. But remember what we talked about…be careful.”

“I always am.”

Lock watched her walk down the hallway and disappear into the elevator. He wished he could have taken her home, but she was right. He would have been forced to try out that Kingston Arms bed, and she’d have lost a whole day of work. The last thing he ever wanted to do was get in Gwen’s way, but he also wanted to make sure she built time in for him.

He closed the front door and walked into his living room, retrieving the jacket he’d thrown at his couch the night before so he could hang it up. His phone went off and he pulled it out of his pocket and glanced at the text message from Sabina.

How long exactly before she got on his nerves? She was always pushy, always demanding the software jobs sooner than they were contracted for. But this wasn’t some software job and he sure as hell wouldn’t let her bully him when it came to his…Oh, God.

He’d been about to say “his art.” What had the feline done to him?

Flipping his phone so he had access to the extended keyboard, Lock focused on typing and retyping his reply. He hated these keyboards. The were simply too small for his thumbs. He ended up hitting three to four keys instead of the one.

Lock was seriously starting to get frustrated when he glanced up and saw the She-wolf standing in the middle of his living room.

The phone went flying, he roared, and before he even realized it, his claws were swinging for her face.

She caught his arm with her left hand and pressed her gun to his throat with the right.

“Easy, boy,” she said. “Easy.”

It took Lock a minute, but then he let out a breath and his claws retracted. As soon as he was calm again, she lowered her weapon—and smiled. “Miss me, hoss?”

“You crazy little—” Lock grabbed her around the waist and hugged her right off her feet.

“Dee-Ann Smith,” he snarled against her neck. “Where the hell have you been?”

Gwen eased the hotel door open and stuck her head in. The room was dark, the drawn curtains keeping the seven A.M. sun out. But she didn’t need light to see. She was nocturnal, after all. Searching carefully, her brother nowhere in sight, she quickly but silently eased inside. Closing the door, Gwen tiptoed to her room to get fresh clothes.

She closed the door behind her and tossed her bag onto the bed. Moving to her closet to grab a pair of her work boots, Gwen opened the door as her mind debated on a headband or stubby ponytail for her hair. Perhaps the ponytail in case baby rattlesnakes fell into her hair.
Ick! Snakes!
How she would manage going back into that snake farm—which is what she and Blayne kept calling the home of that poor couple with the snake infestation—Gwen didn’t know. But if she could just keep—

“Ahhhhhhhhhh haaaaaaaaa!”

Gwen yowled and spun up, her claws digging into the ceiling and holding her there as her brother stormed out of the closet.

“Where the hell have you been?”
he screamed up at her.

And Gwen screamed down,
“What the hell do you think you’re doing?”

“Don’t try and change the subject on me, missy! You’ve been gone all goddamn weekend and didn’t even let me know if you were alive or dead!”

Gwen retracted her claws and dropped from the ceiling, landing on her hands and feet.

“I want you to learn a new phrase,” she said as she stood up and shoved him with both hands. “None of your business!”

Mitch waved his hand in front of his nose. “Christ almighty! What is that
funk
on you?”

Gwen smirked. “Eau de Grizzly.”

“I knew it!” Mitch threw his hands up. “And you’re crazy if you think I’m lettin’ this go. I’m not letting my little sister hook up with some idiot bear!”

“You can’t stop me!” she yelled at him as he stormed out of the room. “But maybe you can call Ma and rat me out again,
you overgrown tattletale!
”

Gwen slammed her door shut, but she could still hear the window-rattling yell of a pissed-off She-wolf,
“Would you two shut the fuck up? Some of us are trying to sleep off a hangover!”

Lock was still laughing when he opened his front door. “Hey!” he slapped Ric on the back and ushered him in.

“Should I assume the weekend went well with the lovely Gwen?”

“It went great. But remember when I told you about the van that had been following me?”

“Yeah.”

“Well, now I know why. It wasn’t me they were interested in.”

“Aw, little bear. I’m sure someone, somewhere is interested in you.”

“Very funny. Come on.” He motioned to the living room. “I want you to meet somebody.”

Ric stopped walking, head lifting, nostrils flaring. “You have another woman here.”

“Yeah. That’s who I want you to—”

“Why do you have another woman in your house?” Ric demanded, turning on him. “What if Gwen came back over? You know women do that all the time. What if she wanted to surprise you and you, imbecile, have another woman in your house? Did you not see how she reacted to Peggy?”

“You mean Judy?”

“
Does it matter?
Don’t be an idiot!”

Before Lock could ask Ric when he’d gone completely off the rails, Dee-Ann sauntered out of his living room. “I could eat. You hungry?”

“Yeah, uh…” Ric suddenly gripped Lock’s bicep, cutting off Lock’s words and the flow of blood. “Ow! Do you mind, Van Holtz? I’m rather attached to that arm!”

Dee-Ann smiled, sauntered a little closer. “Who’s your friend, MacRyrie?”

Lock pried Ric’s fingers off his arm. “This is Ulrich Van Holtz. Ric.”

“Oh, yeah. Lock talked about you all the time.”

“And, Ric, this is Dee-Ann Smith. My old Marine buddy. We were in the Unit together.”

“Nice to meetcha,” Dee said, grasping Ric’s hand and shaking it.

Lock didn’t even realize he was waiting for Ric’s return greeting until it never came.

He watched his friend continue to shake Dee’s hand while he gawked at her, his mouth open a little.

“Ric?”

“Huh?” Ric mumbled, his eyes still on Dee, his hand still holding hers.

“You’re embarrassing me.”

Dee laughed and pulled her hand back. “Leave him alone, MacRyrie. Now you boys want to go out and get some breakfast or not?”

“No!” Ric snapped and Lock, startled, growled.

Dee’s smile faded. “No one’s twistin’ your arm, hoss.”

“What I mean is,” Ric said quickly, staring directly into her eyes because they were both the same six-two height—in fact they could probably share each other’s clothes—“
I’ll
make you breakfast.”

Dee’s smile returned, bigger this time. “Now, darlin’, you don’t have to make me breakfast. A breakfast that don’t come out of a packet is like a dream to me.”

“But a fresh, hot breakfast is what you deserve.”

Dee shrugged. “Well, if you really want—”

“I want. Oh, God do I want.”

She laughed. “Have it your way. Lock, you don’t mind if I use your bathroom, do ya? Figure I’ll get showered and changed before I see the cousins and since I’m gettin’ my very own Van Holtz-made breakfast.”

“Sure. Down the hall and to the left.”

“Thanks, hoss.” She picked up the duffel bag she’d left by the door and ambled off to use Lock’s bathroom.

Once gone, Ric turned on him, gripping his shirt and yanking. But instead of yanking Lock toward him, he only managed to pull himself closer to Lock.

“Who. Is.
She?
”

“That’s Dee. Remember? I’ve told you about her.”

“No one told me she was a goddess.”

“A…” Ignoring the strange way Ric phrased that, Lock studied the hardwood hallway floor where Dee had stood, leaving scuff marks from those damn boots of hers. “Dee? A goddess? Really?”

It wasn’t that Lock didn’t find Dee attractive but…well…hmm.

“Yes. Really.” He pushed Lock away—or tried—and began to pace. “You’ll need to run down to the store for a few ingredients.”

“What for? I’m sure I’ve got everything you—”

“Don’t argue with me!”
Ric dug cash out of his front pocket and shoved it into Lock’s hand. He stared at the amount for a moment, which had to be several hundred dollars, and then grabbed his wallet from his back pocket, pulling out a credit card and placing that on top. “I’ll give you a list. And everything
must
be of the freshest quality. I insist on that.”

The freshest quality for Dee-Ann Smith? Who’d been living the last ten years on whatever rations the Marines gave her and whatever she could take down on her own?

Lock watched as his best friend jotted a list in the small notepad Ric always kept in his back pocket.

The bear debated. Tell his friend now he didn’t stand a chance with Dee-Ann or let Ric learn it for himself? Lock flinched, remembering the ways Dee-Ann had of letting a guy down when she was done with him. Nope. Bad idea. Very bad idea.

“Hey, Ric…look, uh…”

Dee-Ann came back in the hallway and both men stopped and stared at her.

“Just came back to get some water out of the fridge.” When neither man said anything to her, she asked, “Somethin’ wrong?”

Ric stepped forward. “How many children do you want?”

Lock grabbed Ric by his hair and yanked him back, slamming him into the front door. “Ow!”

Dee-Ann smirked. “What’s going on, MacRyrie?”

“Nothing.”

Arms crossed over her chest, her foot tapping, Gwen asked Blayne, “And you said we’d do this…why?”

She shrugged. “Because it’s a nice thing to do.”

“And because you have no concept of shame?”

“Come on, Gwenie. It’s not a big deal. They
like
you.”

“I’m not sure what that’s supposed to mean to me.”

“It means they don’t trust just anybody with this task.”

Gwen stared down at the panting, slobbering animals at her feet.

“I don’t buy it, Blayne. Not even from you. There has to be a reason we’re doing this. And not ’cause today’s job was postponed.”

Hands on her hips, sweet Blayne left the room and direct, father’sa-Navy-man Blayne stepped in. “What? You think we got such a great rate on this place due to my big grin and your implacable charm? We had to make concessions.”

“So we’re walking their dogs? We’re a plumbing-and-dog-walking service now?”

“We walk ’em when we can.”

“Couldn’t you have offered them sex, blow jobs…
something?
”

“
That’s
less humiliating than dog walking?”

“In my world.”

“Gwen!”

“All right, all right. But if we’re going to do this, we might as well get something out of it…”

“So what are you doing here?”

Dee reached for the bowl of warm maple syrup. “Thinking about joining my cousin’s Pack. If the mood grips me.”

“You’ll work in his company, too?”

“Don’t know about all that.” She shrugged. “Don’t like feeling hemmed in.”

“Yeah. I remember that.”

Lock smiled easily, like he used to when she’d first met him and he was just another raw recruit from the wilds of New Jersey. To be honest, Dee didn’t know how she’d find her old friend faring. Staying in the Unit wasn’t an easy thing and those in charge had to cycle the Unit’s team members out to protect not only the other team members but the Corps itself. The Unit’s assignments took their toll and sometimes, when it got too much, shifters “broke”—the unofficial term for going rabid without actually having the disease. So, ten years was the max unless you were an officer, although some didn’t even last that long. Lock hadn’t. He’d made it through seven years before he looked at Dee one day, his eyes dead, his soul deader and said, “I missed my mother’s birthday.”