Gwen’s eyes narrowed the tiniest bit, and he knew he was in trouble. “How much stuff have you given her?”

“A few things,” he hedged.

“And you haven’t charged her for any of it?”

Her voice was even and controlled, but he could still hear the outrage in it. “No. I haven’t charged her.

And I don’t plan to start now.”

As always when annoyed, Gwen placed her hands on her hips, those Philly girl nails of hers tapping against her cargo pants. “What is your deal with her?” Before he could answer, she held up her hand and went on. “What if she asks? Then will you tell her?”

“She won’t ask.”

“But if she does?”

“She won’t.

Her eyes flashed wide in warning. “But. If. She. Does?”

“Breaking one simple sentence into several sentences won’t change the fact that she won’t ask. She never asks and, like most dogs, Jess is a creature of habit.”

Gwen suddenly relaxed, which made Lock tense up instead.

“How about a bet then?” she asked.

“I don’t gamble.”

“Because once you start you can never stop or because you have moral issues with it?”

“Because I hate to lose.”

She smiled. “That’s valid.”

“Your other two options weren’t valid?”

“Valid but a little more depressing.”

Not sure where she was going with this, Lock rested his arms against the back of the chair. “Okay. So what bet?”

“We take your chair over to Jess’s and if she asks where you got it from—you tell her.”

“No.”

“Again with the ‘no’?”

“Gwen, I saw you clean out my uncles. You’re what we in the high-stakes military game refer to as tricky.” She laughed and Lock smiled but was honest. “I know you, Gwen. You’re going to slip her a note or spell out my name in semaphore.”

She frowned. “I don’t even know what semaphore is. And I swear not to say a word about you making the chair.”

“Yeah, right.”

“Seriously. No looks, notes, sema-whatevers, or smoke signals to imply you had anything to do with its creation. I won’t say, write, or mouth one word about who made this chair or any of the other furniture you’ve stupidly given rich dogs for no pay.”

He couldn’t believe she wasn’t letting that go. “I like giving Jess stuff. She’s a good friend.”

“Yeah,” she said, turning away. “A good friend with big perky tits and a round, wild dog ass, but I’m sure that has nothing to do with it.”

“Wait…what?”

“Nothing.” She headed toward the door. “Let’s go.”

“Wait.” She stopped and faced him. “The bet?”

“What about it?”

“Aren’t you supposed to have stakes for a bet?”

“According to the bookie I had in tenth grade…yeah.”

No wonder she’d beaten his uncles at cards. “You had a bookie in the tenth—”

“We’ll keep it simple. If she asks about the chair, I win and you give me that dining table free of charge.”

“I was going to—”

“If they say nothing and you win…” She shrugged. “I’ll fix your plumbing for free.”

Lock frowned. “What makes you think I have plumbing problems?”

Gwen silently walked across the large room to the one and only bathroom, far off in the corner. She disappeared inside and flushed the toilet. Lock cringed when the pipes shook and shuddered throughout the entire building.

She walked back to him and stared.

“All right!” he yelled over the shuddering pipes, flinching when the noise abruptly stopped and his voice ended up echoing around the room. “It’s a bet.”

The front door opened and Gwen could see through the metal-and-glass security door the eyes of wild dog pups. They didn’t notice her, however—too busy staring up at Lock.

“Hi,” he said, keeping his voice low and even. “Your moms home?”

The cutest little girl with big blond curls turned and yelled, “Mommmmmmm!

Bearrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr!”

“There’s a welcome,” Gwen teased Lock.

“And it only gets better.”

Sabina, the Russian wild dog that even Blayne called “prickly,” came to the door and unlocked it, pushing it open with one hand. “Why are you here?”

“To see Jess.”

“Will you be long? We are going to eat soon and I don’t want us all starving like peasants while we wait for you.”

The woman, with her thick Russian accent, did simply reek of warmth and hospitality, didn’t she? Gwen knew gang members who were nicer to crackheads who owed them money.

“No. We won’t be long. I just want to give something to Jess.”

“Then come.” Sabina started to turn away than turned back, her left forefinger raised. “We will not feed you, bear. We don’t have enough food. You and the cat must starve.”

Gwen hissed and Lock urged Gwen forward with his hand against her back. “That’s fine.”

Sabina went back into the house and Gwen asked, “Is it only fear that keeps you from tearing her head off that puny dog body?”