“I know what you’re thinking and forget it. I already asked her out, and she turned me down.”

“Are you that naive?”

“Possibly.”

“Lock, she’s a cat. She wouldn’t deign to sit on your lap for two whole hours if she wasn’t interested.”

“Don’t start, Jess.”

“I’m serious.” He knew she was and he didn’t want to discuss it, because he didn’t know what was going on between him and Gwen. He only knew that it was a fragile thing, easily destroyed. He didn’t want that to happen.

Deciding to torture his favorite little wild dog in the hope of distracting her from this topic, Lock gripped her nose between his thumb and forefinger.

She scowled. “Let me go.”

He didn’t.

“Now.”

Nope.

“Dammit!” Lock laughed as Jess tried to pull away from him, her hands slapping at his. When Jess got like this she always reminded him of a dog trying to wiggle out of her collar.

“Where did Gwen go?” Blayne asked, seemingly oblivious to the wild dog trying to fight him off.

“Down the hall—”

Lock’s body jerked, his fingers immediately releasing Jess as he heard the unmistakable roar-hiss of Gwen. Yet before he could move to find out what the hell was going on, she came slamming out of the locker room, her body wrapped around the behemoth derby girl who’d tortured Blayne. Pounding her fist into the female’s face, Gwen roared again, oblivious to the Furriers streaming from the locker room to help their teammate. Derby girls were notoriously protective of their own, and Lock quickly saw how bad this could get.

Even worse, D.F.A. wasn’t the type of female to quietly take a beating. She swung Gwen off her and slammed her into the opposite wall.

“Holy shit!” Jess burst out as Blayne charged past them, intent on getting to Gwen. She did, too, tackling the She-wolf and shoving her to the ground. The timidity Blayne showed on the track disappeared in an instant now that Gwen was involved.

Now D.F.A. had two Philly hybrids on her, both of them slamming their fists into her face, screaming profanities that Lock hadn’t heard since one of his teammates had been “accidentally” shot in the ass by his resentful girlfriend.

Lock moved forward but the Babes’ captain caught his arm, gold cat eyes watching Gwen and Blayne take on the vicious She-wolf. Based more on her size than her scent, Lock guessed she was a liger, a normally sweet-natured hybrid. He found it odd that she’d play on a derby team.

The Furriers jumped in to help their teammate, one of the wolves grabbing Blayne around the waist and throwing her off D.F.A. and at the rest of them.

Lock caught Blayne before she could crash into them, but before he could pass her off to the wild dogs, shescreamed out, “House cat her, Gwenie! House cat the bitch!” Still not wanting to know what the hell that was, Lock tossed Blayne at a couple of the male wild dogs as Gwen got slammed onto her back and her face pounded by the She-wolf. That’s when the two teams merged, the fight getting ugly fast since no points were at risk and no refs were there to stop them.

That was also around the time that Lock had had enough.

He slammed one foot down, the sound ricocheting around the hallway, and followed it with one of his roars. The two teams separated, each breed reacting instinctively, which meant the cats took off, the wolves snarled and backed up, looking to each other for someone to lead them in to that particular fight, while the hyenas laughed and ran but didn’t go too far because they wanted to see someone hurt. Some of the hybrids reacted in similar fashion, but at least two broke down into tears, a wolf-coyote tried to dig through a concrete wall, and their liger team captain smiled at him.

“Thanks,” she said. “I wasn’t sure I could break that one up on my own.”

Lock nodded at her and reached down to tear the two still-battling women apart, both of whom appeared completely unaffected by his roar.

Once he separated them, they both scrambled to their feet, but Lock stepped between them before they could go at each other again.

“She’s the one!” Gwen yelled, trying to go around him but he kept pushing her back. “She’s the one who jumped Blayne and me at Macon River!”

“That little half-breed whore started it, you fuckin’ bitch!”

In answer to that, Gwen leaned around Lock and spit blood into D.F.A.’s face, and the She-wolf—who he now realized must be a McNelly—came at Gwen again by trying to climb over Lock. That’s when Gwen slipped her hand into one of the pockets of her cargo pants. He saw the flash of silver and knew what she was about to do. Refusing to let this go that far, Lock shoved McNelly back, sending the She-wolf flying down the hallway. He grabbed hold of Gwen, pinning her right arm against her body so she couldn’t pull out the blade she had on her, and carried her in the opposite direction.

“Bring it, bitch!” Gwen yelled, those scary nails of her left hand pointing at McNelly over Lock’s shoulder. “I will kill you, you fucking whore! You touch my friend again, I will kill you!”

Lock slammed into the men’s locker room halfway down the hall and shoved the door closed. He released Gwen and pushed her farther inside, but once loose, Gwen tried to go round him. He shoved her back again and, again, she went for the door. When he shoved her back a third time, Gwen went up and over him, using those powerhouse legs to leap from a standing position. She was at the door when he grabbed her from behind and spun her around.