Although they all asked the same question: “What the hell kind of dog is that?”

Abby chewed the steak bone, trying to get the marrow, and watched the men and the woman above them.

The woman was silent until she pulled out a gun complete with silencer. Not a tacky homemade one, either, but a real one that was made for her gun. The woman sized up all three men, but shot only two. They dropped, and Abby’s bone fell from her mouth. The other man, the bar owner, turned to run. The woman didn’t shoot him.

She did, however, take a large hunting knife from the back of her jeans and throw it.

The blade slammed into the guy’s lower back and he flipped forward, landing flat on his face. The woman dropped easily to the ground. She lifted up the two men she’d shot, one in each hand, and tossed them into the back of the van. Then she went to the other male.

Unlike the first two, he wasn’t dead, but he was unable to do more than crawl, his legs dragging uselessly behind him. And he was crying. The woman followed behind him, watching him. When she got tired of that, she stepped on his ass, pressing her foot down to hold him in place. She reached down and yanked the blade out of his spine, silencing his screams with a simple “Shush.” She slid the blade into the holster attached to the back of her jeans and crouched beside him, rolling him over.

“Names,” she said.

She didn’t even have to say it twice. He began rattling off names between his sobs. The woman nodded, but didn’t write anything down because she probably never forgot anything.

Once he’d finished giving her those names, the woman lifted him up by the neck and carried him to the back of the van, where she tossed him inside. Those strong arms reached in after him, and Abby cringed when she heard something snap.

The woman stepped back and slammed the doors shut. She held a set of keys in her hand. She started to walk around the van but stopped and turned, her nose lifted, nostrils flaring. A few sniffs and she homed right in on Abby, walking over to her. Abby backed up as far as she could, but she had the alley wall behind her. She bared her fangs, but the woman only smiled, the light from the open back door reflecting her eyes.

“Pup.” She looked down at Abby, cold, reflective eyes looking her over. “Hungry, pup?”

She was, but…?

“Come on then.” She motioned to the van and walked away. Did she think Abby would follow? Why?

“Ain’t got all day, pup,” she said.

Abby wasn’t crazy but…

She crept out from behind the trash can, her body low, her legs tense and ready to run at the slightest provocation. But the woman opened the passenger door and casually walked around to the driver’s side. She got inside and waited. She waited for Abby. Creeping closer, Abby stared up at the woman in the driver’sseat.

She was on her cell phone. “I got the names,” she told someone. “Nope. I’ll handle it.”

The woman closed the phone and stare down at Abby. “Move your ass. I’m starvin’.”

Glancing around, Abby carefully climbed into the van, and the woman reached across the seat to pull the door closed. She relaxed back and said, “Guess no one ever told you not to get into vans with strangers, huh?”

She started the engine and added, “If anyone asks, you didn’t see those bodies back there.” Then she winked at her and backed out of the alley.

Something told Abby she wouldn’t be back to this alley anymore for those free scraps.

CHAPTER 17

Lock was starting to see a pattern here. Adding a little Gwen to his life seemed to improve his meals exponentially. In addition, his parents seemed to adore her, and his sister tolerated her, which was more than Iona did with most people. So, using basic science, if he were to add Gwen to more of his life in general, she’d improve it all around.

At least that was his conclusion. And who was he to argue with basic science?

Lock held Gwen’s jacket open for her. She reached for it, and he stepped back, continuing to hold it open.

“Are you going to give me my jacket or what?”

“I’m holding it open for you.”

She studied the jacket and then him. “Why?”

“Just put your arms in the damn jacket!”

“Okay, okay!”

He helped her put her jacket on and once he had her in it, leaned down and wrapped his arms around her from behind, kissing her neck. “That wasn’t so hard, now was it?”

“The MacRyries are so polite—except when you eat.”

“We were hungry. And you still have all your fingers and toes.”

“Barely.”

Lock lifted her in the air, making her legs swing out, and Gwen squealed.

“Lachlan, put her down,” his mother ordered, although she was smiling. She handed Gwen a take-home bag filled with leftovers from their meal. “Here you go. Lunch for tomorrow.”

“Thanks so much.”

She hugged Gwen. “I’m so glad you came tonight.”

“And thank you for covering for me.”

“Anytime.” Alla went up on her toes and kissed Lock’s cheek. “Talk to you soon?”

“Yes, ma’am.” He opened the door and they walked out onto the porch, his mother behind them.

“What about Ric?” Gwen asked.

“His car is here to pick him up, but he’s staying to do the dishes.”

Gwen stopped and said to Alla, “Ulrich Van Holtz is doing your dishes?”