Sabina looked at the chair and back at Lock. “I do not understand.”

But Jessica did. “You made this, Lock?”

He shrugged, livid with Gwen. Could he wring her neck and get away with it—legally? “Yeah. I made this.” He cleared his throat. “But if you don’t like it, I can definitely—”

Lock’s words abruptly halted as Jess burst into tears, his gaze quickly swinging to Gwen’s in panic, but all she could do was shrug helplessly.

“Jess,” he began, desperate, “if you really don’t like it, I can make you something else.”

Jess took a step toward him, still sobbing, and raised her arms.

Lock briefly closed his eyes. “Jess, come on.”

She slammed her foot down, her arms still raised. Lock glanced at Gwen again before he reached down and picked Jess up.

Gwen’s eyes narrowed as Jess buried her face in his shoulder, her arms around his neck, and continued to sob.

Chewing her lip, May slowly moved around the chair and was about to sit down in it, when Jess’s head snapped up.

“Your ass hits that chair and it’s the last thing it’ll ever do!”

“Oh, come on, Jess!” May begged. “Just let me sit in it.”

“No! It’s mine!” Jess rested her head against Lock’s shoulder. “All mine. My throne of power. By this chair I rule.”

“I can’t believe you’re being so selfish!”

“Mine!” Jess screamed.

Sabina slapped Lock’s arm and pointed at the chair. “Make me one but with Russian words I will give you.”

“Hey!” May snarled. “That’s not fair.”

“What is not fair?”

“Why should you get a chair first? I’m the one pregnant again. So if he’s making another chair, it’s gonna be for me!”

“You spawn like the salmon this bear eats,” Sabina accused. “Why should you get something special for something you seem to do constantly?”

“Why? Because I’m creating the future leaders of the United States of America. You, however, are breeding thugs!” May smiled at Lock. “I’m sure Lock wouldn’t mind making my chair first.”

“He make your chair first in hell.”

“Back off, Putin!”

“I pay,” Sabina offered Lock, gripping his arm. “Three thousand for chair.”

“I’ll give him five thousand.”

“Ten, hillbilly.”

“Fifteen, Chekhov.”

With Jess still in his arms, Lock stepped between them. “Stop it. Both of you. I can make you both chairs for—owwww!” He glared down at Gwen while a spot on his thigh throbbed from where the little psychopath had pinched him. “What the hell was thatfor?”

“I’ll handle this,” she said, grabbing hold of an arm from each wild dog and pulling them out of the living room. “You show Jess her new…uh…throne.”

Lock glanced at the woman in his arms. She was no longer sobbing, but was now smiling and giving her best Queen Elizabeth wave to her nonexistent “people.”

“I,” she somberly intoned, not to Lock but her invisible “people,” “as your ruler and sovereign, do thank you for this lovely throne.”

She motioned to the chair. “You may now place me in my throne.”

“You have got to be kidding me, Jessica.”

“Place me!”

“All right. All right.” Lock placed her in the chair and Jess leaned back, sighing and smiling. “I love it, Lock,” she said. After she rocked back and forth a few times, she stopped and looked up at him again. “The other stuff you’ve given me. The desk, the dining table—where did you get those from?”

Lock let out a breath and wondered how Gwen could manage to cause so much trouble without really trying.

CHAPTER 21

“Aren’t you a little interested in finding out how much—”

“No.”

Lock got out of the SUV and slammed the door shut behind him. Gwen followed after him, trying to keep up as his long legs quickly took him across the parking garage interior.

“I didn’t break my promise, ya know?”

“I know.”

He slammed his hand against the elevator button and Gwen flinched, certain he was going to shove the entire wall back.

“Then I don’t see why you’re so ticked off.”

“I don’t like being embarrassed. Okay?”

“Then you shouldn’t be hanging around me.” Gwen blinked. “Wait. That came out wrong.”

“I’m bettin’ it didn’t.”

Gwen’s mouth dropped open, shocked at the insult. And a little hurt.

“Fine,” she finally said as the elevator doors creaked open. “I’ll go back to the hotel then. I don’t need this shit.” She turned away from him, figuring she could take the stairs back to the street. But Lock caught hold of her denim jacket and hauled her into the elevator. It wasn’t even a struggle for him. He simply caught hold of her and yanked her in like she was a bag of dirty laundry.

Christ! What was she thinking getting involved with a guy this strong? He seemed nice enough, but what if he wasn’t? What if the whole shy, sweet bear thing was a sham and he was a dangerously unstable man-eater? Then what would she do?

The doors opened on the first floor and Gwen tried to walk out, but he put that Thor’s Hammer he called an arm in front of her and pushed her back.