“I’m not sure you want to—”

“Don’t argue with me, boy.”

Hamish shoved a racing form in Lock’s hand, then grabbed his arm. “While they do that, I need to talk to you outside for a minute.” He smiled and winked at Gwen. “We’ll be right back, gorgeous.”

She giggled—giggled!—and focused back on the rest of his uncles. “So…um…how does this game work?” she asked sweetly.

While the rest of his uncles practically fell over each other in an attempt to “assist” Gwen, Hamish pulled Lock out the back door that led to the alley behind their bar. More than once, his uncles had used this door to get out during police raids. The fact that none of his father’s brothers were in prison still amazed the entire MacRyrie family. Lock loved each and every one, but the only difference between his uncles and the average felon was that the MacRyrie brothers had never done any hard time.

“What’cha bring the girl for?” Hamish asked once he’d closed the thick metal door.

“Why wouldn’t I bring Gwen?”

“Why do you always answer a question with a question?”

“Why are you always upset when I do?”

Hamish gritted his teeth and briefly closed his eyes. “I swear, some days you are just like your old man.”

“I no longer find that an insult.” Lock shrugged. “So what’s going on?” He knew something must be up, because his uncles had never cared before when he brought a girl over…of course it had been more than ten or twelve years since he had. And then he’d only brought the girls to impress them with his bad-boy side—

important since he didn’t really have a bad-boy side—but he’d brought Gwen because he hadn’t been ready to let her go. And he wasn’t sure when he would be.

His uncle motioned him farther into the alley. It was one of the few in New York that didn’t have a few people living in it—even before they’d “cleaned up” the city—but that was because who’d be crazy enough to set up house near bears? Even full-humans who didn’t know the MacRyries were bears knew better.

Hamish crouched down and pulled back a large piece of cardboard. Heart sinking, Lock crouched beside him.

“How long?”

“We found it this morning.”

“Is this the first?”

“No. The third one in the last five months. Always male…always a mixed breed.”

This one was a wolf-coyote mix. Lock leaned in closer. “He hasn’t been shot.”

“No. I’m thinking he died from the bites.” Hamish let out a breath. “This isn’t hunters, is it?”

“No. They sometimes use dogs for tracking, but thesebites are too deep for dog bites. And they wouldn’t go for such lethal spots. Hunting dogs only track the prey, corner them, but these wounds are to kill.” Lock sat back on his heels. “These are fight marks.”

“The first two, we got rid of the bodies ourselves. But third time’s the charm, ya know?”

“I’m glad you told me.”

“You gonna take care of it?”

“No. I don’t have any connections any more. No authorization to do anything. And lately the Unit has been watching me, I’m still not sure why.”

“’Cause of this?”

“Doubt it. We were never sent out on assignment over a hybrid.” Mostly because the other breeds didn’t care about the hybrids.

“So we should just get rid of the body, then?”

“No. Don’t touch anything.” Lock pulled out his cell phone and hit his speed dial. “There’s someone who does have connections.” By the second ring, Lock heard that familiar voice through the phone. “Ric…we’ve got a problem.”

Gwen set up her cash into little piles based on denomination. The MacRyrie bears glowered as she did, since all that money she was organizing had been theirs.

“You certainly did pick up the game real quick,” Nevin observed.

She smiled and kept piling and counting.

“You said you’re an O’Neill?” Calum asked.

“Yes.”

“And exactly who is your mother, sweetheart? Maria? Mary Patrice?”

“Roxy.”

And, as she expected, the four males turned and now glowered at their nephew.

“You idiot!” Hamish yelled.

Lock looked up from the racing form he’d been studying and marking for the last two hours. Whatever he and his Uncle Hamish had discussed while they were gone, it had bothered the bear, but he was doing a good job of hiding it. She didn’t think it had anything to do with her, because his uncles seemed to like her…and Ric was outside that back door. She’d scented him and a few others nearly ninety minutes ago. Since the wolf didn’t come inside and Lock didn’t mention him or go out to greet him, she knew they were hiding something.

Did they really think she wouldn’t notice? Or did they think that their metal door and thick concrete walls blocked her senses? Well, whatever. She’d just get it out of the grizzly later.

“What did I do?” Lock demanded.

“Roxy O’Neill is her mother? You could have warned us!”

“Warn you?” Lock frowned. “Why?”

“You bring a baby shark into our den and it doesn’t occur to you to mention the baby shark’s mother?”