“Good. I was afraid you were going to leave me hanging.”

He leaned down and took her mouth gently, wanting to show her how much he liked her beyond the mere physical. But there was something about this woman that short-circuited every synapse he possessed. Because right there, in the middle of Manhattan, he pulled her close, his arms tight around her, his kiss moving from gentle to territorial in seconds.

And she gave it right back to him. Her arms so tight around his neck, an average shifter might be strangled, her mouth hot on his as their tongues met.

She was driving him crazy! How was this fair? And how was he supposed to make it until Sunday without seeing her again?

Pulling away and standing up straight, Lock let out a shuddering breath. “You’re trying to kill me.”

“Not yet,” she teased, stepping away from him. “But give me time.”

Her gold gaze moved over him, the tip of her tongue swiping across her top lip. Then she smiled and said,

“Night.”

Without another word, she walked off, leaving him—and his hard-on—devastated.

Lock headed back to the sidewalk. He wouldn’t bother with a cab. He’d walk. The cold air would do him good and as late as it was, he never worried about anyone bothering him. Because no one ever did.

Well, except for…

“Hey, you bear son of a—”

Lost in thoughts of Gwen, the growling voice startled him and Lock spun around. Immediately the two lions stumbled back and Mitch shoved Brendon ahead of him.

“Take him!” Mitch ordered Lock.

Brendon glared at his brother. “What do you mean ‘take him’?”

“Well, bruh,” the lion explained, grinning, “I am the pretty one.”

“You betraying son of a bitch!”

“There’s no need to get nasty, you big baby! Take your bear-mauling like a man!”

Once again glad he’d never had brothers, Lock headed down the street, leaving the Shaws to beat the crap out of each other in front of their five-star hotel like ten-year-olds.

He’d only gone a couple of blocks, debating about getting a taxi, when he saw the dark-blue van behind him. He stopped and studied it closely. The van rolled to a stop, those inside not even trying to pretend they weren’t following him. So Lock didn’t pretend that it didn’t bother him. Instead, he charged the van, flat out, slamming his body into the side and putting most of the power in his shoulder. He heard roars and yelping from inside as he shoved the van over.

It landed with a loud crash and Lock stepped back, grinning. They must be new. And apparently no one had warned them about how to handle the “difficult and highly emotional” bears as per the Unit’s breed breakdown.

Hands in his pockets, still thinking about Gwen and humming to himself, Lock headed on home.

CHAPTER 15

“Gwennnnnnnnie! Gwennnnnnnnie! Gwennnnnnnnnnnie!”

Gwen tried to cover her ears, but something had her hands trapped. She started kicking and fighting but something was on her, holding her down.

“Gwen! Wake up!”

Gwen’s eyes opened and she stared into a face she knew all too well.

“You idiot!”

“And an excellent afternoon to you, too, lazy head!” Mitch, still holding her hands, leaned down and breathed in her face.

“Jesus Christ!” she screamed.

“That’s right! Just got up myself and haven’t brushed my teeth yet!”

“You asshole! Get off me!”

He started slapping her in the face with her own hands, something she’d hated when she was six and, twenty years later, she still hated.

“Why are you hitting yourself, Gwen? Why are you hitting yourself?” he demanded while laughing maniacally.

“Get off!”

“I’m taking Sissy to Philly with me today,” he said, still slapping her with her own hands. “You’ll come, too. Mom says you haven’t been home in weeks. Not okay.”

“Can’t. I have plans!” she yelled, trying to kick him off her.

“With who exactly? It’s not Blayne, because I already checked in with her and she’s spending the day with her dad, or as I like to call him, Petty Officer Thorpe, Master of the Sea.” He took her hands and pulled them down her face. “Now look at you, Gwen! You’re trying to scratch your own eyes out! This is a cry for help!”

“Stop it!”

“A cry for help that only Ma and someone else’s apple pie—” because Christ knows Ma can’t bake “—

can fix.” He released her, but when she went to slap the living hell out of him, he leaped neatly away. “And pack a bag. We’re staying a couple of days.”

Quickly sitting up so he couldn’t pin her to the bed again, Gwen scowled at her brother. “I said I can’t. I have plans.”

“If it’s not Blayne, then who? It’s not like you have any other friends.”

Gwen’s hands balled into fists. “You are such an asshole.”

“But an honest asshole, baby sister. Painfully honest. Now let’s get going.”

He was determined to get her back to Philly and she knew why. The O’Neill Family Pile-On. It was a horrifying event where every O’Neill aunt, uncle, and cousin in a hundred mile radius would be at her mother’s house for dinner so they could spend the entire time telling Gwen what a fuck-up she was.

They’d had their chance to do this before she left, but none of them had taken her very seriously, figuring she’d be home after a week or two.