The wolf sat in his chair, his head on his desk, his eyes staring out the window. She hated seeing him so miserable. Although, she must admit, she preferred this to the time she’d walked in and found Smith under the desk giving him a hummer. But hey, they were in love. Cella couldn’t argue with anyone being in love.
“He drives me nuts, Cella,” Van Holtz admitted before she’d even said a word. “Just the sight of him makes me want to smash his face in.”
“Just out of curiosity ... how come?”
“He’s just so sure he’s right.” Van Holtz lifted his head, planted his elbows on the desk, and rested his chin on his raised fists. “He never listens to anyone else.” Pretty brown eyes narrowed on her. Actually, all of the man was pretty. Just damn pretty. “Except you. He listens to you.”
“Only because he finds me completely nonthreatening.”
“No. He respects you.”
“Wrong. He respects my dad. Everyone respects Nice Guy Malone.”
“I want him to quit. I want him out.”
Cella had been afraid this was coming. There was only so far a man’s unbeatable talent could go to make up for his annoying OCD tendencies, and few shifters had patience for OCD anything.
“I know you do. But ... let me handle him.”
“You? Why would you want to do that?”
“It’s like you said. He listens to me. He trusts me. I’m his enforcer. He knows I have his back on the ice and off. And you know I have the
team’s
back.”
“I can’t ask you—”
“Yes, you can.” She closed his door and stepped farther into the office. “I do this shit all the time with my own family. The Malones band together against outsiders, but inside, they fight constantly. My father alone has eighteen siblings.”
Van Holtz sat up straight. “Not with the same ...”
“Oh, God, no.” Cella laughed. “No way. It took my grandmother ages to settle down with one male.”
The wolf’s eyes grew wide. “Wait ... are you saying that
all
your father’s siblings are from the same—”
“Mother. Yeah. Grammy Malone. The Malones are matriarchal and the females only settle down when we’re ready to or when the women of the family feel it’s ‘time,’ ” Cella said with air quotes. “Although, they don’t do much matchmaking these days. Thank God.”
Van Holtz shook his head. “I’m sorry. I can’t let it go. Your grandmother had—”
“Eighteen children. Yes. Happily, too. She loves her kids.”
“She’s still around?”
“Yeah. She retired from KZS about—”
“She was in KZS?”
“Who do you think taught me to be a sniper?”
“The Marines.”
“Nah. It was Grammy Malone.”
“But when did she have time?”
“She made time. Plus, she had the entire Malone family to help raise her kids. And the last eight were all with Gramps anyway. But we all help each other raise each other’s kids. When I was in the Marines or on the road with the teams I was on, the Malones raised my kid. When Jai was doing twenty-four-hour stints as a resident or during finals in med school, Malones raised Josie. And now that our schedules are more manageable, we help raise my cousins’ kids. That’s how it works for us. That’s what we do.”
Cella reached across the desk and patted Van Holtz’s hand. “So as you can see ... I’m totally qualified to handle a Bo Novikov.”
“Yeah ...” Van Holtz admitted, gazing at her, “I’m really starting to see that.”
Crush looked at his watch again. Then he checked his phone. He had several text messages from a possible dealer he’d been hoping to use as a CI. Of course, now that was all dead in the water. A reminder that made Crush begin to feel angry again about being pulled out of the work he loved so much. All because of that vicious sow, Baissier. To think, after all these years, she still hated him. Then again, he really hated her.
Deciding it was time to get to his seat, he filed the messages and—
“Hey, Crush. Crush!”
He bit back a sigh, regretting he’d told the hybrid his nickname because now she wouldn’t stop using it, and prepared himself to tell the sweetest girl he’d ever met he had to go.
“I’d like you to meet my fiancé,” she said, skipping up to him. “Bo Novikov.”
Crush’s head snapped up and he looked directly—well, almost because the man was four inches taller—into the eyes of the meanest player ever in shifter sports history and Lou Crushek’s personal hero.
Then Crush stared—and he kept staring.
C
HAPTER
F
IVE
C
ella tracked her father down in the busy hallway, the meeting place for teammates and their family or guests before the game began.
“Hey, Daddy.” Decked out for the game except for her stick, skates, and helmet, Cella reached up and hugged her father.
“Hey, kid.” He hugged her, tight. “How are you feelin’?”
Cella leaned back and gazed up at her father. “I’m fine.”
“Good, good. I know it’s hard, but your focus has to be on the game. Remember that.”
“I know, Dad. My focus is always on the game.”
“Yeah, sure. Of course.” He patted her shoulder and gave her what she could only term a brave smile. Then he hugged her again. “You know I love you, right? We all love you.”
What the
fuck
was going on? “Daddy, I know.”
“Good, good.”
Pulling away from her father and wondering when, exactly, he’d lost his mind, Cella asked, “You all set in the suite?”
“Sure. Guys are all here, too. They’re rootin’ for ya.” The “guys” were some of the best shifter players from the East Coast teams’ past. Her father’s friends now. Every few months or so during the season, they’d all come in to watch a game, bullshit about the past, and drink. There was always lots of drinking.
Maybe her father had already put away a few Guinnesses, but Cella didn’t think so. He was just acting ... weird.
“Have a good game, baby.” He kissed her forehead.
“Thanks, Daddy.”
Her father gave her one more brave smile before walking away.
Realizing she couldn’t worry about the craziness of her family right now, Cella turned and took a quick look over the crowd to make sure she wasn’t missing anyone—like an investor—whose ass she could be kissing.
Cella had no moral issues with that sort of thing. It was important sometimes to keep the team getting all the cool extras. And what was a little hand-shaking, fake smiling, happy-go-lucky bullshit spreading if it meant getting those extra soft and fluffy towels in the locker rooms or first-class trips to Hawaii or Rio?
Since there didn’t seem to be anyone tonight who needed a little Cella-attention, she decided to head back to the locker room, but then she caught sight of him.
“Malone.”
Cella barely bit back her roar and glared at Smith standing behind her. “Stop sneaking up on me, hillbilly.”
“Be more alert, Yankee.”
“So everything set?”
“Yep. MacDermot pulled a surveillance team together to work the taxidermist. She said to give ’em a couple of days. What were you just staring at?”
“That bear from earlier. MacDermot’s new partner. The cute one. He’s here.”
Smith followed Cella’s gaze. “Hair’s shorter.”
“It’s known as a haircut. Basic grooming, Smith. You should look into it.”
The She-wolf grinned. “Always so sweet on me, ain’tcha, Malone?”
Cella grabbed Smith’s arm. “Come on.”
“Where?”
“I wanna go torture the bear some more.”
Smith shook her off. “Can’t you do that on your own?”
“Would it kill you to be a girl for just five minutes?”
“What’s my pussy gotta do with anything?”
“Oh, come on!” She glanced back at the bear. “It’ll be fun.”
Cella reached for Smith, but she found nothing but air. And when she turned to look for her, the She-wolf was long gone.
“How does the bitch
do
that?”
Crush cleared his throat and tried again to speak in actual sentences. “Um ... it’s nice to meet you, Mr. Novikov.” Holy shit. Holy shit! He was talking to Bo Novikov.
The
Bo Novikov. There was only one player greater than Bo Novikov and he no longer played. But Crush had been following Novikov’s career for years and had been like a little kid when he’d found out Novikov had been picked up by the New York Carnivores. Now Crush didn’t have to worry about paying for those away trips just to get a chance to see Novikov play more than a couple of times a year.
And now ... now Crush was standing in front of the man.
Talking.
To
him
.
Holy shit!
Holy shit!
“Call him Bo!” Blayne cheered. “Right, honey?”
“I don’t care,” the hybrid sighed.
“What’s wrong?” Blayne asked. “And what happened to your face?” When he didn’t answer, she accused, “You’ve been fighting with Ric again, haven’t you?”
“And there you go taking his side. You never even ask what happened.”
“Did it involve a list?”
Novikov crossed his arms over his chest. “Can I go now?”
“No!” the wolfdog snapped. “You’re going to learn to be nice to your fans if it’s the last thing I make you do. Now be nice to Crush. He’s a polar, too.”
“I’m only half polar,” Novikov reminded her.
“What you are is a mother—”
“Is he supposed to be nice to fans?” Crush, ever the detective, had to ask, barely realizing he was cutting into Blayne’s sentence.
Blayne blinked. “Huh?”
“Well, isn’t he known for
not
being nice to his fans? So is it fair of us as fans to ask him to be something he’s not?” Crush thought on that a moment before deciding, “No. It’s not fair.”
Looking kind of smug, Bo Novikov gazed down at Blayne.
“You can just get that look off your face, Bo Novikov!” Then Blayne stomped her foot and pointed at Crush. “And you’re not helping me, Crush! And after I got you such a nice haircut!”
“I didn’t know my hair was contingent on the approving or disapproving of your appropriate fan theory treatment.”
“I don’t even know what that means.”
“In Blayneland,” Novikov explained, “everyone helps everyone and there is respect and love throughout the universe.”
“Really?” Crush asked honestly. “Are there faeries and horses with wings in that universe, too?”
“Yes,” Novikov replied flatly. “There are.”
“You guys!” Blayne whined, sounding just like a cranky six-year-old.
Crush began to laugh, but it faded when Gwen returned to his side with another player. “Lou Crushek, this is my fiancé, Lock MacRyrie.”
The grizzly held his hand out and when Crush did nothing but gape at him, he went ahead and shook Crush’s hand, smiling a little.
“It’s nice to meet you, Detective.”
“You’re the Tank,” Crush finally said.
MacRyrie blinked. “Sorry?”
“That’s what everyone calls you. The Tank.”
The grizzly looked surprised. “I have a nickname?”
“You have a
cool
nickname,” Blayne corrected, her annoyance from mere seconds ago completely gone. “The coolest!”
“It fits,” Novikov noted, which got him everyone’s attention. “What?”
“Was that a compliment?” MacRyrie asked.
With an eye roll and a sigh, “If it must be to make you feel better.”
Again Crush started to laugh, but the sound—and happiness—died in his throat as she—
she!
—suddenly appeared in front of Crush. Grinning.
Why was she here? Why? And why could he not shake this feline? Was this how antelopes felt when a cat ran them down? And why was she here ruining what should be one of the greatest nights of his goddamn life?
That was it. That was
it
! Never again would he ever have another Jell-O shot. In fact, no more liquor. Ever. Because clearly Crush would never be allowed to live down that one goddamn night—and he blamed the goddamn Jell-O shots!
Letting out a breath, Crush snarled, “
You.
”
“Baby!” she cried out just before she attacked him, wrapping her arms around his waist. “Oh, baby, I’ve missed you!”
“I am not your baby.” He tried to pull her arms off him. “Away, female!”
“Aren’t you glad to see me?”
“No.”
Still wrapped around him like a spider monkey, the feline rested her chin on his chest and asked the small group, “Have you guys met the new man in my life?”
Blayne’s eyes grew wide, her smile huge, and Crush immediately knew he had to stop this.
“I am
not
the new ... would you get off!”
“He’s shy,” the female felt the need to explain.
“I am not shy. You’re insane.” He finally pried her arms off his body and pushed her back. “Now stop harassing ...” Crush studied her, his heart dropping. “Why ... why are you dressed like that?”
She had on a Carnivore jersey, shoulder pads under that, hockey pants, socks, and shin pads.
“Why do you
think
I’m dressed like this?”
“Because hell has come to earth?”
She laughed and Novikov said, “You’re such a fan, figured you’d know Bare Knuckles Ma—”
“No!” And the grizzly and the hybrid male snarled a little at his outburst, both pulling their females back from the hysterical polar. “No, no, no, no!”
The feline’s grin was wide and happy. “Come on, baby, don’t be like that.”
“No! You cannot be Bare Knuckles Malone. You
cannot
be.
You
”—and he pointed at her with an accusing finger—“cannot be the daughter of the greatest player ever. And you cannot be the most feared enforcer in the league right now.
You? No!
”
“I’m sensing I should be insulted by that tone.” The feline grinned. “But I’m not! Because I have such a giving and loving nature and you are just so cute. We will have such adorable cubs. And since I’m never home, my little girl”—she raised her hand barely to her waist to illustrate her child’s height—“can raise them.”
“I am not cute and I’m not having kids with you!”
“You guys, you guys.” Blayne slipped between the pair. “There’s no reason to be angry.”
“I’m not angry.” Flinging her arms out and turning in a circle like a little girl, the feline exclaimed, “
I’m in love!
”
“That’s it.” Crush stepped away. “I’m leaving.”
“You can’t run from our love!”
Crush had almost reached the elevators when Blayne leaped in front of him. “Don’t go, Crush.”
“I can’t stay. The game’s about to start, I need to get to my seat ... I can’t stay.” He reached around Blayne, punching the elevator button. When he leaned back, he realized that the wolfdog was staring up at him. And the more she stared, the sadder she looked.
“What? What’s wrong?”
Then she looked mad. He assumed she was mad at him, but when she grabbed his hand and walked back over to the others, it was the feline who received Blayne’s wrath.
“Why are you being mean?” Blayne demanded.
“I’m not being—”
“Bullshit! I know when a feline’s being mean, and you’re being mean. I don’t like it.”
“Now ask me if I care if you—owww! You bitch!”
Blayne had dropped Crush’s hand to latch on to the feline’s hair, digging her fingers in and twisting.
“Get off me!”
“Excuse us,” Blayne said before she stormed off down the hallway, dragging the feline with her.
Crush watched the pair disappear around a corner; then he looked at Novikov. He knew the man had the same expression Crush did, and they both started off at the same time to follow, but Gwen grabbed their arms. “Don’t get in the middle.”
“Yeah, but—”
“You’re not listening to me. Do not get in the middle of this. Trust me.”
“It’s really not that big a deal,” Crush felt the need to explain. “She drives me nuts, but Blayne didn’t have to get so upset about it.”
“Blayne felt she did, so you might as well not get in the middle.” Gwen glanced at him. “Rough couple of days, Crush? Maybe a rough couple of years?”
Crush, feeling uncomfortable, asked, “What are you talking about?”
“Whatever Blayne Thorpe saw, she’s worried about you.”
“Worried about me? Why? I mean, life is what it is.”
“Ooooh.” Gwen cringed. “Yeah, if Blayne asks you a similar question, I wouldn’t give that response.”
“Do
not
give Blayne that response,” Novikov agreed. “Otherwise, she’ll make me adopt you.”
“That would be kind of weird cause I’m older than you.”
“Is that really the only reason you can come up with of why that would be weird?”
Blayne stalked around the corner, the feline following behind, eyes rolling, feet dragging. Stopping between Crush and Gwen, Blayne waited for Malone to reach them, her foot tapping.