“I do.”

“So I’m sure with your connections you can get me in.”

“I can.”

Letting out an annoyed breath, she walked back over to him. “What do ya want?”

“I don’t want anything, Mr. Mittens.” He leaned down until their noses nearly touched. “In fact, all you have to do is ask me.”

“That’s it?”

“Yeah, that’s it. I try to avoid blackmail. It always works out badly in the end.”

“Can you get me into the bout?”

“Sure. Wait here.” He walked off and the door he’d come through opened up again, more hockey players streaming out. She barely noticed any of them, too busy stressing out over what she’d see in a few minutes, until one walked over to her and sniffed her hair. Normally she’d be pissed off at some strange wolf sniffing her hair without permission, but he was gorgeous and…friendly

“Honey shampoo,” he said with a smile. “You must be Gwen.”

“Do I know you?”

“We have a mutual friend. Lock. I’m Ric.” He pulled off his glove and held his hand out. Gwen shook it.

“Nice to meet you.”

“You, too.”

“I recognized your scent from when Lock came back to the house after his run-in with that invading Pack.

Sorry about all that, by the way.”

“It wasn’t your fault.”

“Perhaps. But it was brought to the attention of the Board, and you and your friends should see some recompense for the attack.” She would? But before she could ask for more details—because ya-ha! Free cash!—Lock returned. He’d changed into sweatpants, sneakers, and a light gray T-shirt that looked like it had been molded to his body. And…uh…yowza.

“Hey,” Lock said to Ric.

“Hey,” Ric said back. Then he walked away.

Nope. Gwen would never really get guys.

Lock smiled at her. “You ready?”

Lock had never been so grateful for being on the hockey team before today. It was an excellent way to work off nervous energy and earn a few extra bucks. He’d joined the team about six months after his return from the Marines. Nearly a year after that, Ric had become the team captain and Lock his backup. Which meant he had access to all the cool little benefits that all the team captains and managers had…like primo seats at derby bouts.

What he didn’t expect was to find half the Kuznetsov wild dog Pack taking up most of those primo seats.

“Hey.”

Jess Ward-Smith glanced up from her program and broke out in a huge grin…until she saw Gwen standing next to him. Then her eyes grew wide and…yeah. He definitely saw panic.

“Hi!” she said, way too brightly. “Whatare you guys doing here?” She elbowed the wild dog next to her without giving Lock or Gwen a chance to answer her. “Hey, Phil. Look who’s here.”

Phil glanced over and then barked, “Oh, shit.”

He then elbowed Sabina, who elbowed Danny, who elbowed Maylin, who yelped at the sight of them.

Considering the wild dogs had actually allowed Lock to be around their pups on a regular basis, he somehow doubted they suddenly feared him.

“Where is she?” Gwen demanded, confusing Lock more by her aggressive tone.

“Whoever could you mean, Gwen?” Jess replied, again, way-too-brightly and with a higher pitch to her voice than Lock could ever remember her having.

Gwen pointed her finger at Jess. “Don’t lie to me, Benji. Where is she?”

“What’s going on?” Lock had to ask. And, as if in answer, the lights shut completely off and a rough female voice came over the speakers.

“Ladies and gentlemen, I hope you’re ready for a night of raw brutality and unrepentant violence. You’ve been waiting for it…you’ve been wanting it! And now you’re going to get it! The new girls on the block against the most vicious broads known to derby. Welcome, one and all…to Boroughs Brawlers Banked Track Derby!”

The crowd roared, especially the wild dogs—except for the “top five,” as Lock called Jess and her best friends. They were all whispering and generally panicking.

“So let’s get this party started,” the announcer yelled. “And let’s all put our hands together for…the Assault and Battery Park Babes!”

The response was not exactly enthusiastic, the Babes being pretty new and mostly hybrids. Lock had been hearing a lot about them this past year, though, as they steadily moved up the ranks in the league, taking everyone by surprise.

The spotlights hit the track as the Babes came tearing out to John Lee Hooker’s “Boom Boom.” They moved fast and looked really cute in tiny red shorts, black fishnets, bright sparkly red derby skates, and three layers of too-small tank tops in red, black, and white. As each player zipped around the track, the announcer called them out by number and derby name.

“Number thirty-eight, and team captain, Pop-A-Cherry! Number sixty-two, Marlon Brandher. Number twenty-four, Our Lady of Pain and Suffering.” Lock laughed, kind of wishing they had cool names like that on the professional teams, when he heard Gwen gasp as the announcer called out, “Number seventy-six, Evie Viserate!”

Lock heard the wild dogs barking and was about to ask who she was when Jess yelled, “Lock, get her!”

Get her? Get who? Following where Jess pointed, Lock watched as Gwen marched down the stadium stairs toward the track.