The Mane Squeeze. Shelly Laurenston

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СКАЧАТЬ grinned. “Oh, no. I don’t mind telling you!”

      Lock finished pulling on the hospital scrubs given to him by one of the nurses. He was grateful the medical center employed bears, because they had his size in stock. Nothing was quite as embarrassing as putting on pants that ended up looking like he was wearing knickerbockers. But as he pulled the green-colored shirt down his torso and shook his hair out of his eyes, he noticed that Blayne had yet to answer.

      She was still smiling at the lion, while the lion and She-wolf sitting across the small waiting room near the front doors of the center were staring back.

      Lock watched, fascinated, as the mutual staring went on for nearly a minute before the lion barked, “Well?”

      Blayne jumped, her smile fading. “Well what?”

      Gold eyes turned to him and Lock shrugged. What did the cat expect him to do?

      The She-wolf, Ronnie Lee Reed—said in an annoying, almost singsong way, as if it was one single name, “ronnieleereed”—placed her hand on the cat’s arm while asking the wolfdog, “What happened, darlin’?”

      “We got jumped.” Blayne paused, thought a moment. “Actually, I got jumped. Then Gwenie got in the middle of it and it turned into a street fight, which was kind of fun because we haven’t been in the middle of one of those in a long time. We’ve been trying to be less McFighty the last few years,” she said to Lock. “But it turned nasty fast, which really sucks, because I didn’t actually do anything wrong to deserve getting slapped around. I mean a girl is minding her own business, trying to catch a squirrel, and then she’s jumped for no good reason other than someone’s political agenda—”

      Blayne abruptly stopped talking when the cat snarled at her.

      Lock understood the cat’s frustration. It seemed he felt responsible for Gwen or Gwenie or whatever the hell the feline’s name was, and took it personally that she’d been hurt. Still, there were better ways to handle a skittish wolfdog, and snarling at her wasn’t it.

      Dropping into the chair beside Blayne, Lock cringed when the plastic squealed in protest. Sure, the center may have scrubs and operating tables big enough for bears, but they hadn’t planned far enough for their chairs. But his reaction got Blayne to laugh a little, and he knew that would help.

      “See how they treat the grizzlies?” he asked, smiling with her.

      “At least it didn’t break.”

      “Thanks. That makes me feel much better.” She giggled a little more. “Did you know the wolves that jumped you?” he asked casually, but directly. He could tell that being direct with Blayne was important if he wanted direct back.

      She shook her head, her smile again fading as she thought carefully on her answer. “No, but…”

      “But?”

      Her brows pulled down and Lock could see that she was remembering the whole fight. Of course, he could remember the fight by simply looking at her face, arms, and feet. She had bruises and cuts, but none like Gwen’s wound. Meaning Gwen had pissed someone off. Although, it wasn’t really a stretch for him to see how she could do that.

      “Earlier today we went down to the pier to hang out a bit—we used to go there every summer when we were younger—and there were lots of wolves. They may have locked on to us from there. The scents may have been the same, but I’m not sure.” She gave a frustrated little pout. “Yeah. I’m not sure.”

      “That’s okay,” Lock assured her.

      “But the She-wolf who jumped me,” Blayne went on, “she came after me like I fucked her father or something.”

      Lock snorted, then laughed. “But you…uh…didn’t?”

      Her smile came and went and came back again so easily, even as she wiped blood out of her eye, that Lock found her interesting and very sweet. “No. I’m not into the older sugar daddy-younger girl thing. But I’ve always had a father figure in my life. I call him Dad. So maybe that has a lot to do with why I can resist the temptation. I often go for unemployed losers my own age instead.”

      “Would you know any of that Pack if you saw them again?”

      “Maybe.”

      “Wouldn’t you know them if you saw them again?” the cat asked Lock, although Lock sensed there was definite sneering behind that question.

      “Not necessarily,” Lock answered honestly. “I was asleep and they woke me up.”

      “That was Gwen,” Blayne filled in, answering the question that had been bothering Lock since he’d recognized Gwen’s face as she hung off that cliff. “She aimed right for you. I thought she’d lost her mind, especially when she bit your big grizzly hump.” Blayne blinked and then, slowly—and in a pathetic attempt at nonchalance—leaned back, trying to see between Lock’s shoulder blades.

      Lock leaned back with her and said, “It’s not nearly as prominent when I’m human, Blayne.”

      She quickly sat forward. “I wasn’t…I mean…I was only…um…”

      “When I get startled awake,” Lock went on to the lion and She-wolf, trying not to chuckle at Blayne’s embarrassment, “I wake up swinging and anything in my way gets slapped around.”

      “How nice for your friends and family.” And there went that sneer again.

      “My friends and family know how to ease me out of my slumber.” He glanced at Blayne. “Coffee’s always good. Croissants with honey on the side, even better.”

      “I’ll have to keep that in mind,” the cat practically snarled.

      Lock studied the cat for a long moment before finally asking, “Do I know you?”

      The She-wolf leaned forward a bit and whispered, “You kind of slapped him around at Jessie Ann Ward’s wedding.”

      Lock snapped his fingers. “You!”

      “He didn’t slap me around,” the lion barked. “He assaulted me.”

      “You came at me from behind.”

      “You were near my sister!” As if that alone was a crime.

      “I was talking to her. That is allowed, ya know?”

      “Not in my world, it’s not!”

      As the two predators glared at each other across the room, Blayne suddenly sat up straight and said, “Uh-oh.”

      He didn’t know if it was her tone or the expression on her face, but Lock’s entire body tensed.

      “She’s awake,” Blayne said simply.

      Lock knew then something was very wrong.

      Gwen’s nose twitched, the smell of antiseptic nearly causing her to gag. Then she heard those telltale sounds—a high-pitched beeping, steadily going up; the tear of plastic on hygienically maintained bandages and equipment; СКАЧАТЬ