Читать книгу The Mane Squeeze - Shelly Laurenston - Страница 12

Gwen stumbled out of bed and headed straight into the living room. She poured herself a cup of coffee and walked over to the window. She pressed a button and the drapes silently drew back. She smiled at the sight of the Manhattan skyline.

After nearly six weeks, she’d thought she’d be bored by the same view every morning, but she wasn’t. It kind of felt like the entire world was at her feet, waiting for her. Stupid, but she enjoyed the delusion anyway.

The sun was barely rising and she had a busy morning ahead in Jersey. She didn’t look forward to the traffic, but a job was a job. She and Blayne were doing better than anyone but Blayne’s dad expected. Plus leaving Philly had not been an easy task. Her Uncle Cally gave her a hard time for leaving the family and her mother acted like Gwen was moving out of the country and joining a cult.

“I blame Blayne!” her mother had shouted dramatically, Gwen’s aunts shaking their heads in disgust and tsk-tsking all over the place.

“You love Blayne,” Gwen had to remind her. “Any new friends I’ve brought home, you were quick to compare them to Blayne and they were always not good enough.”

“She tricked me. Goddamn wolfdog!”

“Ma.”

Shoving that long and torturous argument out of her mind and lured by the delicious scent of food, Gwen wandered over to the small dining table and sat down. She pulled off the silver cover to one of the plates and smiled. Crispy French toast, bacon, sausage, and scrambled eggs. Then it hit her—she hadn’t ordered room service. She’d planned on grabbing a couple of donuts from the bakery next door to the office before she headed out.

Where did this come from?

The hotel room door slammed open, and suitcases were tossed inside, followed by her brother.

“Don’t blame this on me!” he yelled at the empty doorway. “If you’d kept your trap shut, we wouldn’t be in this situation!”

“Me?” a female voice yelled from the hallway. “Are you actually blaming me for this, Mitchell Shaw?”

“Yes! I’m actually blaming you for this!”

Mitchell O’Neill in Philly, Mitchell Shaw in New York, kicked the bags he’d just tossed down out of his way. He was uncharacteristically pissed as he tore off his leather bomber jacket and threw it on the couch.

“Is it really that hard for you to listen to me—for once?”

“I did listen to you!”

Mitch came across the room toward Gwen. She watched him closely, ready to flee if she deemed it necessary. But instead of demanding to know what the hell she was doing in his hotel suite, he snatched a piece of French toast off her plate and dunked it into the serving bowl of maple syrup. “Only when it looked like we were about to go to prison!” He leaned down and kissed Gwen on the forehead. “Yo, little sis.”

Gwen brushed her forehead against his chin in a proper Pride greeting, while forcing herself to remain calm. “Yo, Mitchie.” Christ, why was he here? He wasn’t supposed to be back in the states for another month, maybe two. “Closer to Christmas,” was what she’d last heard.

It was not Christmas! Why was he here and it was not Christmas?

Sissy Mae Smith, her big brother’s mate and Alpha Female of the New York Smith Pack, stumbled into the room loaded down with even more bags. “You pack like a woman,” she snarled when she finally dropped the luggage to the floor. “How can one man have so much conditioner?”

His mouth filled with French toast, Mitch pointed at his hair and snarled, “Tawny mane! Do you think this shit stays this beautiful on its own? It needs care and love! Which is more than I’m getting from you!”

Storming over and swiping her own piece of French toast off Gwen’s plate and dunking it in the syrup, Sissy snapped, “Keep pissing me off, Mitchell Shaw, and you won’t get anything from me!” She shoved that French toast in her mouth and headed back toward the door. “As it is, you better learn to suck your own dick, ’cause you won’t be gettin’ nothin’ from this mouth!”

“Hey! Do you mind? My baby sister is sitting right here!”

“She’s twenty-five!”

“I’m twenty-six.”

“Who cares?” the canine bellowed before the door slammed closed after her.

Letting out a sigh, Mitch dropped into the chair across from his sister. He glanced down at her breakfast plates, now with a hundred percent less French toast. “I thought I ordered more.” Mitch grabbed one of the suite phones and called down to room service.

Okay, so he was back. No reason to panic because he was back. And he looked good. Better than he had the morning he’d gotten shot after Jess Ward’s wedding. Gwen still woke up in a cold sweat from time to time, the image of her brother lying on the floor of his hotel room in a lake of his own blood. She closed her eyes, not wanting to think about that. She didn’t want to think how close she’d been to losing the big idiot. Yeah, he was a pain in the ass. And yeah, he didn’t know when to cut it out—no matter what “it” may be. And yeah, he could sometimes be the most overbearing, overprotective, and overly delusional big brother on the planet.

But he was her big brother, and Gwen loved the asshole even when he didn’t deserve it, so all that mattered to her was that Mitch was safe and very alive.

Still…it wasn’t Christmas yet!

After name-dropping Brendon, Mitch ordered several platters of waffles, French toast, and bacon, along with a vat of orange juice.

When he hung up, Gwen asked point-blank, “Why are you back so soon?”

“We didn’t get thrown out.”

Gwen glanced around the room, searching for who might have asked the question that led to that answer. “Huh?”

“Sorry. I’m practicing for when we see Smitty and Mace.” Mitch’s bosses since he was no longer with Philly P.D. Although Gwen couldn’t imagine how annoying it must be to work for a slow-talking wolf and an even more superior-acting lion than Mitch and Bren put together.

“So you were thrown out?” Gwen asked.

“Not exactly.”

She felt that distinct throbbing in her temple that she always got whenever she had to deal with Mitch or their mother. “Mitchell.”

“There might have been a slight racing incident, but we won’t mention that. Kenshin, Smitty’s partner in Japan, is taking care of it anyway, so it doesn’t matter. Kenshin loves Sissy. She can do no wrong. Besides, we were coming back for the holidays anyway; we simply came back a few weeks earlier to avoid a possible arrest.”

“Is that what you two were arguing about?”

“Nah. She was complaining, yet again, how I make her carry more stuff, which led to a fight at the airport that attracted the cops. But I got us out of it—barely. But as I told her, I make her carry more stuff because she has all that upper body She-wolf strength and I have to make sure I don’t hurt myself before football season starts.”

Gwen’s stomach grumbled, but she ignored it. “Ma said you were playing with those hillbillies, but I thought she was kidding.”

“Those hillbillies are family now.”

“That’s enough,” Gwen said, appalled her brother would even say that sentence out loud, and stood. “I’ve gotta go.”

Her brother caught her arm as she tried to pass him. He eyed her closely, taking in her too-long flannel pants that couldn’t quite cover her bare feet and her Uncle Cally’s old Eagle’s football jersey that reached to her knees while the sleeves covered her hands.

“Why are you here?” he finally asked.

Should she lie to him?

Christ, why bother? It would only put off the inevitable, which would make it much worse in the long run. Best to face up to this now and get it over with. A philosophy she’d never employed with her family until very recently. “I moved here. About four weeks ago.”

“Moved here? Ma didn’t tell me you were moving here.”

Of course Ma didn’t. She wanted to make sure Mitch didn’t have time to think about any of this rationally, time to get over his concerns and worries. Nope. Ma wanted this meeting as raw and uncomfortable as possible. Easy enough, since Gwen didn’t have the guts to call him herself and tell him.

“Yeah, well. I’m here now.” She tried to pull away, but Mitch tugged her back.

“So you’re just going to live off Brendon?”

“Live off—” Gwen slammed her mouth shut. Don’t let him goad you. Don’t let him goad you. Calmer, she replied, “I’m not living off anybody. I’ve never lived off anybody. Brendon was nice enough to let me stay here for the time being, but now that you’re back I can go stay with Blayne.”

“Blaynie’s here, too?”

She couldn’t help but roll her eyes at the annoying nickname Mitch gave Blayne from the first day he’d met her. “Yes. Blaynie is here, too.”

“So I guess this was one of her dumb ideas. You two move here and…what? Be fashion designers? Supermodels—although with your thighs…” Gwen’s eyes locked on her brother’s throat and thoughts of tearing it out with her teeth ran through her head. “Or are you just going to be party people who hang out with the stars?”

“No.” Calm, Gwen. Calm. You can do this. “She…we…have taken over her dad’s business and moved it from Queens to Manhattan.”

Mitch stared at her for a long time until he snorted, and then his snort turned into a full-blown laugh, with his head thrown back and everything.

“You…you and Blayne took over Petty Officer Thorpe’s business? The man with Navy commendations up his ass gave his business over to you two?” He still held her with one hand while he repeatedly slammed the table with the other. “That’s fabulous!” he crowed. She was surprised he wasn’t rolling all over the floor as well.

“You done?”

Mitch’s laughter sputtered off when he saw her face. “Wait.” He sobered immediately. “You are kidding, right?”

“No. It’s all done and legal. Had lawyers and papers to sign and everything.”

“You’re serious?”

“When am I not?”

Incredulous, Mitch stood, his six-four frame towering over her, his hand still gripping her arm. Only now a little more tightly. “You’re not even licensed in this state.”

“Yes, I am.”

“When did that happen?”

“A year ago.”

“A…a year ago. A year ago and you never told me?”

“Why did I have to? It’s none of your business where I’m licensed. Here, Philly, Jersey, what do you—”

“Jersey? And what do you mean it’s none of my business? Is that what you just said to me?”

“Yeah. You want me to say it again? Louder?”

He released her by flinging her arm away. “Does Ma know about this?”

“Ma?” Gwen took a breath. “Mitch, I’m twenty-six. Ma knows or doesn’t know about my life based on what I wanna tell her. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’ve gotta get ready for work.”

“Hold up! Work? You think I’m letting my baby sister out there—alone?”

“You have no choice.”

“Like hell I don’t!”

Gwen threw up her hands and headed toward the bedroom. But Mitch caught hold of the back of her jersey.

“Wait, wait, wait.” When she spun on him, he quickly released her. “Wait. I just want to talk. Let’s start over and talk. Calmly. Okay?”

Deciding a little rational conversation with her brother couldn’t hurt, “Yeah. Okay.”

Lock reached for his cell phone and brought it to his ear. “Yeah?”

“Good morning, son.”

“Hi, Mom.”

“I need a favor.”

“Uh-huh.”

“Are you awake?”

“Of course I am.”

“Is there salmon?”

“Covered with honey,” he sighed.

“Lachlan MacRyrie! You wake up this instant!”

Lock’s eyes snapped open and he realized he was yet again not in his dream river eating salmon and taking cell phone calls from his mother while in bear form. “Dammit.”

His mother laughed. “You sleep like your father. It took me years to realize that he didn’t have some sort of brain disorder, but simply was never awake when I began speaking to him in the mornings.”

“Sorry, Mom.” Lock sat up, yawning and scratching his head with his free hand. “What’s up?”

“I need you to go over and check the house this afternoon.”

Lock smirked. “Check the house or check Dad?”

“What do you think? New workmen mean new curiosity. And you know how your father is.”

“I’ve got some work to do here, but I can be there about lunchtime.”

“That’ll be fine. And make it sound like you’re simply visiting. I don’t want him to think we’re checking up on him.”

“But we are checking up on him.”

“Yes. But we don’t need to say that out loud, now do we?”

“No, ma’am. We don’t.”

“Good. And I appreciate this.”

“No problem. It’ll get me out of the house for a few hours.”

“Sounds like you’ve been working too hard again.”

“Eh.”

“If you went back to school and got your master’s, you could be doing something you actually enjoy doing.”

Lock frowned. “Which is…what exactly?”

“Teaching at university level.”

Lock’s eyes crossed. “Yeah. And I get along so well with kids, too.”

“You’d make a great professor. I don’t know why you insist on sticking with this ridiculous course.”

“Because it pays well.”

“First the Marines, now computers. All that intelligence going to waste.”

He must still be half-asleep, because he could usually steer his mother off this deadly topic long before she ever got there. Besides, he didn’t need any reminders of his parents’ disappointment with where his life was headed. And he didn’t look forward to the day they found out that creating software was only so he could earn money, retire, and finally do what he really wanted to do.

“Are you afraid to ask us for help? Is that it?”

“Mom.”

“I don’t know why you think we wouldn’t help you if you needed it.”

It was too early in the morning for this conversation. He hadn’t had his coffee or his honey bun yet. “Mom, can we talk about this later? Or do you want me getting to the house closer to four?”

“No, no. Lunch would be better. Who knows what damage that man will do by four? We’ll talk more later.”

“Great.” They both disconnected without saying good-bye—not because they were angry, but because his mother considered it a waste of words—and Lock got ready to face the day…and his dad.

Sissy and Ronnie headed down the hallway back to the suite Sissy shared with Mitch and, apparently now, his sister. Thankfully, there were four bedrooms in the suite, and like the cat she was, Gwen stayed mostly to herself, so Sissy doubted it would be too bad.

As they paused outside the suite door, Ronnie and Sissy stared at each other a long moment before Sissy unlocked the door with her keycard and pushed it open. She paused briefly in the doorway, shocked at what she was seeing, before she marched right across that room and got between Mitch and Gwen.

Not an easy task with Gwen standing up on the table so she could tower over her brother while she screamed in his face and Mitch screamed back. Plus there was finger-pointing going on, Gwen’s looking much more lethal because they had those excessively long and painted nails. Sissy had never seen the siblings act like this toward each other before. She hadn’t known it was possible.

“Y’all stop this right now!” she screamed over their yelling.

“Stay out of this, Sissy!”

“Yeah, ho-billy, stay out of it!”

“Hey!” Mitch bellowed. “Watch how you talk to her!”

“Fine! Then I’ll tell you to kiss my motherfucking—”

“Hey!” Sissy tried to cut in, but it was too late. It had turned into an embarrassing spectacle of a slap-fight. Horrified that one of her Pack could see this display from Sissy’s mate, Sissy again got between the two, shoving Mitch back. “Cut it out!”

Panting rapidly, the siblings glared at each other over Sissy’s head.

“Is this any way for a brother and sister to act toward each other?” she demanded.

Mitch’s brow went up as he looked down at Sissy. “I can’t believe that you’re throwing that particular argument at my feet. Or do I need to get out the football helmet you keep mounted on our bedroom wall as a reminder?”

“Let me rephrase. Is this any way for a brother and sister who like each other to act? Now I want y’all to stop this foolishness right now before someone—” most likely me “—gets hurt.”

“Fine.” Gwen said first. “I’ve gotta get to work anyway.”

For some reason that made Mitch snarl, but Sissy had no idea why. “That’s fine, Gwen,” she said while glaring at her mate. “Y’all can talk about this later. Right, Mitchell?”

“No! It’s not—”

“Mitchell. Shaw.”

The cat flinched. “Fine. It’ll wait.”

“Good. Thank you.” Sissy stepped away from them and took a breath. Lord, this mediator thing was a hell of a lot of work and she was glad she didn’t have to do it too often. As Alpha Female it was all about keeping her calm and appeased. Much easier.

“Hey, Sissy,” Ronnie said as she walked closer. “Why don’t I leave y’all—”

It happened so fast that if Sissy still hadn’t been looking in the feline’s direction she never would have seen it. But as soon as Gwen heard Ronnie’s voice, her entire body went airborne like a suddenly uncoiled spring, her claws unleashing on both her hands and bare feet, as she flipped off the table and away from Ronnie. She caught hold of the drapes and, to Sissy’s horror, Gwen’s head snapped around about 180 degrees so that her nose aligned with her spine.

Then she hissed at Ronnie like a terrified house cat.

She kept hissing, too, until Mitch finally walked over, grabbed Gwen by the waist, and pulled her free of the drapes. It wasn’t easy and she shredded up the drapes something awful, but he finally managed it and took her to one of the bedrooms. He tossed her inside and closed the door.

With her hand to her own throat, Sissy asked, “That thing she does with her neck—”

“She’s a hybrid,” Mitch snapped. “We don’t ask those questions.” He turned to Ronnie. “Did anything happen between you and my sister while we were gone?”

Ronnie glanced between Mitch and Sissy, her eyes wide. She shrugged. “Not that I know of.”

The smile Blayne had on her face faded as Gwen stormed into their tiny, one-room office. And she cringed when Gwen’s backpack hit the floor and then Gwen dropped into her office chair as if it had physically harmed her.

Blayne placed the printed job sheet back on her desk. “What’s wrong?”

It took Gwen a minute to answer as she seethed, but Blayne could only cringe when she did. “Mitch is home.”

“I thought he wasn’t coming back until Christmas.”

“That’s what I thought,” Gwen spat out between visibly clenched teeth. “But apparently, their plans changed. And now he’s home.”

“What did he say?”

Gwen’s expression said it all, and Blayne could only shake her head. “We both knew he wouldn’t take this well. We both knew he was going to be an asshole. That’s what Mitch does when it comes to his baby sister. But this doesn’t change anything, Gwenie. You’re here, contracts are signed, there’s nothing he can do.”

But instead of Gwen agreeing with her, she only sat up and said, “I need that job information for today.”

Blayne covered the job order with her hand. “Forget it. You can do it tomorrow or something.”

“No. I’ll do it today.”

“It’s in Jersey.”

“I don’t care.”

“Sweetie, wait until tomorrow. When you’re in a better mood and don’t look so pissed off and you’re maybe wearing a little bit of makeup—”

“Just give me the goddamn job!”

Blayne held the job order out and Gwen snatched it out of her hand. “I’ll see you later,” she said before she picked up her backpack and stormed out of the office.

Waiting until she knew Gwen was definitely gone, Blayne picked up the phone and dialed the in-building number. She waited until she got an answer. “Hey. It’s me. We have a problem.” A six-four, two-hundred-and-fifty-pound, big-haired problem.

“So what else haven’t you told me?” Mitch snapped at his brother as they walked down a quiet side street about four blocks from the hotel.

“Huh?”

“Don’t ‘huh’ me. You didn’t tell me Gwenie had moved here. So what else have you been hiding from me?”

“Hiding?”

Mitch stopped and faced his brother. “All right, bruh. You better…”

The brothers blinked at each other and then, slowly, they turned their heads to look down the street. There were seven wild dogs standing on the corner, facing them. Mitch recognized them. He’d had enough karaoke nights with them. They were all from Jess’s Pack.

The brothers looked back at each other and then down the opposite end of the street—where there were more wild dogs from Jess’s Pack.

But before either brother could say anything about it, Jess Ward was there, circling around them and glaring.

“What are they doing?” Bren asked out of the corner of his mouth.

“Trying to scare us,” Mitch replied.

The brothers looked at each other again, and this time they laughed. They laughed and laughed until…

“Long time no see, Mitch.”

“Aaaaaah!” both brothers screamed before Mitch spun around and glared at the pretty little wolfdog smiling up at him. And to say he didn’t trust that smile was an understatement. He and Blayne had always had a strange relationship. She was like his second baby sister. He’d protected her, bailed her out of jail, and loved to make her laugh just like with Gwenie. But he also knew that Blayne was the kind of woman who, if he were writing a horror novel, would always be the one shoving Mitch down the stairs, cutting the brake line to his car, making it look like he’d killed one of his girlfriends, while in the story none of the other characters would believe it was her because she looked so damn innocent, but Mitch would know. And although he knew Blayne would probably never do those things, he also knew, in that deep-in-his-bones way he had that he had to watch Blayne Thorpe closer than he watched those enemies who had actively tried to kill him.

“Blayne,” he said, watching her close—like always.

She nodded at his brother. “Hi, Bren.”

“Hi, Blayne. You startled us.”

“What are you doing here?” Mitch asked her, the hair on the back of his neck rising up.

“Came to see what the fuck you’re up to.”

“What the hell does that mean?”

“It means my best friend was upset and you upset her.”

“I wouldn’t have upset her if she were home, in Philly. Where she belongs.”

“She belongs right where she is, and who are you to say different?”

“I’m her brother.”

“Barely.”

Mitch gasped. “Blaynie!”

“Oh, don’t give me that Blaynie-shit, O’Neill! You’re going to back off my Gwenie and you’re going to do it right now!”

“Or what?” He stepped into her, his anger making him ignore what eleven years of being around a wolfdog had taught him. “What are you going to do?”

Blayne moved in closer until they were nose to neck. “Gwen is my best friend and I’m going to do what I can to ensure her happiness.”

“And Gwen is my baby sister and I’m going to do what I can to ensure her safety. Guess who wins?”

“The one not afraid to set you on fire?”

“Okay, okay.” Bren stepped between them. “Everybody just calm down.”

Blayne looked around Bren. “Don’t fuck with me on this, Mitch.”

“Don’t get between me and my sister, Blayne. She’s going back to her Pride.”

“Like hell she is.”

“Both of you stop it,” Bren said again. “You both want the best for Gwen, isn’t that all that matters?”

“Oh, shut up!” Mitch and Blayne yelled together.

Bren stepped back. “Fuck you both then.”

“Look, Unstable Girl,” Mitch said while poking Blayne in the forehead, “you know how far I’ll go to protect my baby sister. Don’t push me.”

“And,” she replied calmly, “I’ll tell you like I told Frankie Caramelli in the tenth grade after he inappropriately touched me in gym class, and while I was bricking him up in the church wall after I bound and gagged him…don’t mess with me.”

Then she punched him in the chest and walked off, the wild dogs disappearing with her.

Rubbing his chest where she’d hit him, Mitch glowered blindly across the street. “She’s up to something. She’s trying to keep Gwen here for some reason.”

“Maybe because they’re best friends and she’d rather Gwen be here than in Philly?”

“Oh, please. Blayne Thorpe has never been that linear. Trust me, it’s not that simple.”

“Uh…” Bren said, “maybe we should let this go anyway.”

Shocked at his brother, Mitch demanded, “Why would we do that?”

“Lots of reasons, but mostly because I don’t want to be bricked up in a wall like Frankie Caramelli.”

Mitch rolled his eyes. “Don’t be such a wuss! They found Caramelli after, like, eight hours. He was a little dehydrated, but he was alive.”