“Seriously?”

“I’m not that creative. Couldn’t make that up.”

“But everything will be all right now?” the cat asked. “She has the right dosage now?”

“Doubt it.”

Clearly not the answer the cat wanted. He snarled, “What do you mean you doubt it?”

The wolfdog leaned away from him, and Lock got tired of his attitude.

“Don’t yell at her.”

“I wasn’t yelling, and no one’s talking to you.”

“Now ask me if I care you’re not talking to me?”

“Why are you still here?” the cat demanded.

The She-wolf reached for him. “Brendon—”

“Stay out of this, Ronnie.” He glared at Lock. “Look, Baloo—” and if there was one thing Lock hated, it was those damn bear nicknames, even the ones from classic literature “—I think it’s time for you to go.”

“I think I’d like to see you try and make me.”

The lion actually stood, but the She-wolf grabbed the bottom of his hospital shirt, desperately trying to yank him back to his seat. At that moment, the doctor walked into the waiting room. The expression on her face was…odd. Although “confused,” might be a better word. But Lock knew that as a patient, he never wanted his doctor to look odd or confused.

“What’s wrong?” The lion stepped toward her, forgetting Lock. “What happened?”

“She’s…uh…disappeared.”

“She…she what?” The cat stormed past the doctor and into the medical suite, Ronnie Lee and the coyote behind him. But Lock noticed how Blayne didn’t move. Nor did she look very concerned.

Lock sighed. “Where is she?”

Blayne shrugged. “Knowing my Gwenie? Halfway back to Philly.”

“You sure? She wouldn’t be hiding in a closet? Or in the bathroom or something?”

“Nope. Out the window is my guess. She’ll stay in the trees. She’s got those fierce tiger legs but, because of her weight, she can go like fifty feet, easy. Double what most tigers can do. Even if she is hopping.”

“And you want me to go after her.” He wasn’t asking because he already knew that’s what she wanted before she sweetly smiled up at him.

“Would you?” she asked, those brown eyes begging. “Please?”

“Fine. For you.” Lock stood, walked out of the medical center and around the building until he caught the feline’s scent. He followed.

Gwen lounged on that tree limb, panting softly and enjoying the fresh air.

She detested hospitals. The way they smelled, the off-white or green painted walls, and that lingering vibe of death. Okay, so she hadn’t been in an actual hospitalthis time but close enough. If there were doctors and nurses, she was in a hospital.

It drove her mother crazy. Roxy had been a registered nurse for years before she opened her first salon, and two of Gwen’s aunts and several of her cousins had been doctors’ assistants or medical technicians. Roxy had tried to put Gwen on the same track, starting her off as a candy striper. But that after-school job lasted about a day before Gwen took off running and spent the rest of the night throwing up in the bathroom from her full-on panic attack. She hadn’t willingly been back in a hospital since. “Willingly” being the keyword, because Gwen had found herself in hospitals more than once. She’d wake up and boom! There she was. But she was older now and crafty. They couldn’t keep her if she didn’t want to stay. No matter how much her leg hurt or how weak she felt from blood loss, she wasn’t going back to that death motel.

Of course, no worries on that. Not with her so high up. And even if they found her, they’d never get her down from here. Even Brendon, cat that he was, couldn’t climb a tree.

Gwen rested her head on her folded arms and began to drift off to sleep.

“Comfortable?”

“Hmm,” she answered. She liked that voice. It was so low. She could imagine waking up to that voice every day, with it whispering that breakfast was ready or asking her if she wanted to share the shower. She could imagine all sorts of dirty things to be done with soap if that voice was involved. And yet…why was that dirty, sexy voice so close?

Gwen opened her eyes and blinked several times. His arms were folded on her tree limb the same way hers were and his head rested on them as he watched her with those beautiful brown eyes.

“Christ, how tall are you?”

He scowled. “It’s not that I’m so tall, Mr. Mittens, it’s that you’re not that high up.”

“Bullshit.” She had to be like, forty feet up. Maybe even fifty! Right? She glanced down. Wrong.

Still, she wasn’t exactly lying on the ground either. “You’re like seven feet tall, aren’t you?”

“I am not seven feet tall,” he snapped at her as if she’d really insulted him. “I’m six-eleven.” When she smirked in disbelief, he added, “And three-quarters.”

“And that quarter inch makes such a difference, too.”

“That’s it. I’m taking you back to the medical center.”

Like hell.

As the grizzly reached for her, Gwen unleashed her claws and quickly scrambled up higher. She knew for a fact that grizzlies couldn’t climb trees, either. So there! She was totally safe. She’d simply stay here until she healed up and then she’d head on back to the safety of her Philly streets.