“No.”

“Thank you!” She skipped out of the room. Were grown adults supposed to skip?

“I said ‘no,’” he called after her. “It was definitely and unequivocally a ‘no.’”

“And I’m definitely and unequivocally ignoring your ‘no,’” she called back.

And for some damn reason that reply made him smile.

Gwen paced incessantly in the small airport’s main room, the staff that handled all the transport for wealthy shifters watching her closely, ready to bolt at any second. She, however, didn’t care. She only knew she wanted Blayne back.

The doors opened and the three males who’d gone after Blayne walked through—alone. Her muscles going tight, Gwen rushed up to Lock. “Where is she?”

“Let’s talk over here.”

“No. Tell me now.”

Lock caught her arm and pulled her toward the corner, but she knew if Blayne wasn’t back, it was one man’s fault.

Knowing that she’d never be able to get away from Lock without causing him damage, she simply turned her head to scowl at the male she blamed for all this. He and his cousin or uncle or whatever the hell Niles Van Holtz was to Ric stopped walking and the cousin or uncle or whatever suddenly screamed, “Jesus Christ! How does she do that with her neck?”

“Where’s my Blayne!” she bellowed over the other one. “What did you do, Van Holtz?”

Lock picked her up and carried her to the closest bathroom. Once inside, he said, “You need to calm down.”

“I’ll calm down when I have Blayne back. Where’s Blayne?”

“She won’t leave Ursus County.”

It was Lock’s wording that caught Gwen’s attention, and she immediately calmed down. “What do you mean, she won’t leave?”

“She says she won’t leave.”

“What did those bears do to her? Is this some kind of Munchausen syndrome or something?”

“You mean Stockholm Syndrome. And it’s Munchausen or Munchausen by proxy, which is completely different from—”

“Lachlan!”

“Okay, okay.” He blew out a breath. “Blayne’s really upset right now because someone microchipped her, so she’s not coming back.”

Gwen felt her anger spike again. “Ric microchipped Blayne?”

“No. Of course he didn’t.”

And if it wasn’t Ric, then it had to be . . . “That She-whore!”

Gwen flung the door open to walk out and find the heifer who’d done this to her friend when Lock’s big hand slammed the door closed before she could leave.

“You’re not going anywhere.”

“Like hell I’mnot.”

“Let Ric handle this.”

“Do you really expect me to leave my friend alone in bear country while these bureaucrats screw around with Blayne’s life?”

“Gwen, she’s got the protection of someone I know will watch out for her. He’s a former Unit commander and Novikov’s uncle. No one’s going to hurt Blayne.”

“She’s not planning to stay there forever is she?” Although Gwen wouldn’t put it past Blayne. Actually, she wouldn’t put anything past Blayne when she was pissed off enough. And microchipping her . . . oy.

“Of course she’s not. She simply wants her father to come for her. Probably to ensure it’s safe enough to come home.” The snort was past her nose before she could rein it in, and Lock’s eyes immediately narrowed. “What?”

Gwen shook her head. “Nothing. So is Ric going to, uh, talk to Petty Officer Thorpe?”

“Probably his Uncle Van.”

“Okay then.” Gwen turned, grabbed the handle to the bathroom door, and pulled it open.

But, again, Lock shoved it closed with his hand.

“What aren’t you telling me?”

“What makes you think I’m not telling you something?”

“Maybe because you answered me with a question?”

“Maybe you’re reading questions that aren’t there?”

“Gwendolyn—”

“I’m positive that Blayne’s father will do what is in the best interest of his daughter.”

“Really?”

“Absolutely.” She grinned because it helped her to stop from laughing hysterically. “Because if there’s one thing I know, Lock, is how much that man loves his baby girl.”

“I don’t remember what they were wearing.”

“You said earlier they were wearing ski masks. So which is it? You don’t remember or they were wearing ski masks?”

Dammit! This was why Blayne avoided lying. She simply wasn’t very good at it. It took too much to remember what she’d said and what the truth was and what she could tell and what she couldn’t. So she handled the gruff, less-than-friendly black bear police chief, Ray Adams, the way she was often forced to handle her dad when he found her crawling into her bedroom window after curfew . . .

Blayne burst into tears.

The police chief’s entire body jerked in surprise, and Grigori hit him in the shoulder. “What the hell’s the matter with you?”

“Me?”

“Apologize.”

“Fine. Miss Thorpe, I’m—where did she go?”

She heard Bo clear his throat. “She’s under the couch.”