“Why am I friends with her?”
“You two couldn’t be more different. Unless I’m missing something.”
“You’re not missing anything. We’re both felines, but when she shifts she’s four hundred pounds and nearly nine feet long from nose to tail. I’m one hundred and fifty pounds and not even seven feet. She’s loud, I’m skulky. She loves to attack from behind. I’m known to pounce from overhead.”
“But you’re friends.”
“Because I know that no matter what happens, Cella Malone always has my back. Always.”
“And you think I’m being a prick.”
“No! Not at all. I mean, from the outside looking in to the world of Malones ... complete and utter craziness.”
“But ... ?”
“But think of it this way. You get a couple of free dinners, your brothers could—accidentally, of course—see you hanging around Cella Malone and maybe the Marauder since she’s the only one on the team who can tolerate being around that man. You’ll get a chance to spend time with Butch Malone, and he does like you.”
“He does? Really?” Then Crush realized what a complete geeky loser he sounded like and lowered his voice several octaves to say, “Oh. Yeah. That’s nice.”
Dr. Davis smiled, but didn’t openly make fun of him. “And what’s most important to me—you can help make a girl’s life a little bit easier for the next four weeks or so.”
“The five-year-old?”
“I promise you Meghan is eighteen as of two-oh-three this morning. She’s an amazing girl who wants to be a doctor and always feels the need to smooth things over between her mother and the Malone aunts. I can assure you the aunts do not make it easy.”
“They give Malone a hard time?”
“Not always, but one in particular ... Cella’s tried, very hard, to find her own way in life. But her Aunt Deirdre fears her effect on Meghan.”
“But Meghan is Malone’s daughter.”
“Exactly. Of course, Meghan’s kind of my daughter, too. And my daughter, Josie, is kind of Cella’s.”
“And so you always have Malone’s back?”
“Always. If you want, you can think of it this way: You do this and you’re helping me out. Because if Cella gets into it with her aunt, she’ll come to me to complain, and I’ll be up all night listening to her rant. And then what if I’m not a hundred percent with my job? On the day that the Marauder is playing? Gasp!”
“That’s extortion, Dr. Davis.” Crush laughed.
Her smile ... gorgeous. “You’re absolutely right. But think about it. You’ll be helping out your favorite team, keeping them safe.”
“Low, Dr. Davis. That’s very low.”
“Due to my smaller size, I have to be able to fight a little dirtier than the bigger cats.”
“Dirtier and a lot smarter.”
“We have no choice when the Pride lions are running around calling us house cats.”
Crush blew out a breath. “Something tells me this might be the stupidest thing I’ll ever agree to do.”
“Really, Detective Crushek? Because something tells me ... this will be the best thing that’s happened to you in a very long time.”
Cella sat in the SUV, waiting for Jai to come out. That big, bastard bear was probably asking her out. All that class and education compared to Cella’s complete lack of both.
She briefly wondered if she could get away with just lying to her aunts until after the wedding. It would probably work with all of her aunts but Deirdre.
A knock at the driver’s window made Cella jump a little, but finding Crush standing outside her car door just confused her. She rolled down the window. “Hi.”
“Hi.” When he stood there, not speaking, she tentatively asked, “Is there something you need?”
“A promise. Two, actually.”
“Pretend we never met?”
He smiled and she had to admit—he had a really handsome smile. “No. I just need to know that when we’re done with your crazy scheme, the world will think you broke up with me.”
“To protect my fine reputation?”
“You mean your reputation as a brawler and homicidal maniac? Yeah ... not really my concern.”
“Oh.”
“But I don’t want Nice Guy Malone thinking I broke his daughter’s heart. Can you promise me that?”
“I can definitely promise you that. And the second?”
“That if you ever see me reaching for a Jell-O shot again, you’ll take me out like you did that goalie in last month’s game against the Utah Sinners.”
Laughing and cringing at the same time—she really took that goalie out—Cella nodded. “If it gets you to help me ... you’ve got it.”
“Then I’m in.”
Unable to help herself, Cella asked, “So you’ll be my pretend boyfriend?”
“Yes.”
“Will we have pretend sex? What about pretend children?” She pressed her hands to her chest and happily sighed, “How about a pretend dog?”
“Leave Lola out of this and don’t freak me out.” He stood tall—really, really tall. “So when do we start this?”
Cella grimaced and admitted, “Tonight.”
“Tonight?”
The passenger door opened up and Jai slipped into the seat as Cella explained to Crush, “Kid’s birthday dinner. Please?”
He looked off, blew out a breath, then finally nodded. “Yeah, all right. I’ll follow you. Just let me take Lola to my next-door neighbor’s and then I’ll be ready to go. Oh, unless I need to dress up?”
“The only parties Malones dress up for are wakes and weddings.”
“I don’t think I’d consider a wake an actual party.”
“It depends on who died.”
He shook his head, refusing to respond to that. “Let me take care of Lola before I change my mind about all this.”
“You can bring Lola if you want,” Cella offered, feeling pretty impressed with herself for doing so.
Crushek stopped, looked at her. “You want me to bring my fifty-pound dog—”
“Thought it was a foster?”
“—to a predator-only birthday party?”
Cella blinked. “Well, when you put it like that ...”
With another sigh, the bear headed back to his house and dog.
“He had a point about bringing the dog,” Jai murmured, finally closing her door.
Cella shrugged. “Yeah, I kind of realized that once I said it. But by then the words were already out of my mouth... .”
CHAPTER ELEVEN
Cella and Jai had returned to the house with the bear following behind in his own truck. As soon as they’d walked in, her aunts descended on him. But they’d barely gotten out their prying, annoying questions before Nice Guy came to the rescue, pulling Crush away and out back to meet with the rest of the uncles, male cousins, and her father’s old hockey buddies.
And that had been four hours ago. She hadn’t been able to speak to him except to ask if he needed salt for his steak and did he want more potato salad. He seemed to be doing okay, although it was really hard to tell. The man so rarely smiled and around her dad he just looked sort of ... terrified. Terrified he’d end up making a fool of himself in front of his hero players. Poor thing.
But Cella kept her eye on him, just in case he looked particularly miserable. As she peeked in on him through the kitchen window, he still didn’t look too bad, so she went back to washing the dishes.
“Okay,” her mother said from behind her, putting more plates in the sink. “I take it back.”
“Take what back?”
“That bears have no purpose on this planet other than to annoy me. That Mr. Crushek is very cute.”
Cella chuckled. “You are such a bigot, Ma.”
“Of course, I’m not. I just think cats are better than everyone else. Doesn’t make me a bigot. It makes me a realist.” She kissed Cella’s cheek. “You holding up all right?” she whispered.
 
; “Yeah. But she’s pushing me.”
Deirdre had been in rare form the entire evening. Lots of jokes at Cella’s expense, always under the guise of “just kidding” or “Isn’t she adorable when she’s fucking up?” But Cella knew better. The woman wanted to make her look bad in front of Crushek, and in front of Meghan. And any other time, Cella would go toe-to-toe with the witch, but not this time. Instead, Cella sucked it up, smiled, and found reasons to walk away. For the first time at any family party, Cella spent more time in the kitchen helping with food and doing the dishes than she did outside with her uncles, father, and godfathers.
Kathleen walked in through the sliding door, more dishes in her hands. “I’ll get one of your cousins to take over here,” she promised, placing the plates in the sink. “Go spend more time with your girl.”
“Did Bri leave yet?”
“No. He was giving that bear the third degree for a while, but now he’s avoiding your brothers.”
“I told them to lay off Bri.”
“They don’t know how. But Pauline’s taking care of it.”
“Great. Thanks.”
Kathleen stood on the other side of Cella. “He seems like a very nice boy.”
“Bri?”
“No, idiot. The bear. I have to admit, I was a little put off when he first walked in. I haven’t seen a scowl like that since my grandfather died. But he’s very sweet.”
“He is.”
“And he doesn’t know what to do with you.”
“Who does?”
Kathleen relaxed against the counter, her arms crossed over her chest. “He doesn’t have any family except those brothers, eh?”
“Nope.”
“Heard you already punched one.”
“He was pretending to be him. It was rude.”
“Don’t worry. I think he liked when you did that anyway.” Kathleen patted her shoulder and whispered in Cella’s ear, “That’s the kind of man you want, Cella Malone.”
“Any more ice?” one of her brothers yelled from the yard.
Cella rinsed soap off her hands and dried them. “In the outside freezer. I’ll get it.”
“Hurry up,” another cousin told her. “We’re putting out the cake.”
“Yeah, yeah. I’ll be right there.”
Cella went out the side entrance to the open garage door and to one of the two big freezers. She was reaching for a bag of premade ice when the cold air around her shifted and she caught a scent. Cella lifted her head, took another sniff.
She went to the standing safe she kept at the far end of the garage, punched in the combination, and pulled open the heavy steel door. She took out a .45 and quickly added the silencer. A sound behind her had her spinning around, weapon raised, both hands clasped around the grip. But when she saw Crush, she lowered it.
He came close, whispered in her ear, “Bears, about a block away. No one I recognize. Are they Group?”
“Trust me, everyone in the Group knows not to come to my street uninvited. And there are no bears in a ten-mile radius of any Malone property.”
Crushek shook his head. “Then I don’t like it.”
Making sure the silencer was on tight, Cella said, “Let’s go check it out before my family gets involved.”
She motioned to the other side of the street and he followed her out of the garage. Crushek had had a holstered gun clipped to the back of his jeans when he’d gotten in his car, but she hadn’t had a problem with that. Being armed was just smart planning now that he was playing in her side of the pool. Besides, every Malone eighteen or older knew how to use a rifle. When questioned, they said it was because they went on hunting trips. But Malones didn’t hunt. Not like that anyway. Yet they always had rifles in their homes. That was just the way of things.
Moving down the street, Crushek raised his hand and, with two fingers, signaled for her to go around the other side of the cars and SUVs that lined both sides of her block.
They could see a black Range Rover parked at the head of the block and it wasn’t one of the Malone vehicles. Again, she raised her weapon, as did Crushek, but as they got close, Cella saw her Uncle Ennis come out of his house. He’d left the party a few minutes earlier to round up some of his homemade wine. And behind him were six of his sons, Cella’s cousins.
Cella reached out and grabbed Crush’s arm, pulling him back. When he looked at her, she shook her head. He scowled in question, not understanding. But these were interlopers on Malone territory and they would be handled by the Malone men.
Uncle Ennis’s gold eyes locked on her and with a tilt of his head he motioned to the Range Rover. Cella shook her head. They weren’t friends of hers or Crushek’s.
He nodded and motioned to his sons. They disappeared off the porch and into the dark, melding into the snow and ice-covered trees and buildings. Moving silently, quickly—and with baseball bats. They didn’t shift for this sort of thing. They never had.
Ennis’s oldest, Derek, smashed the passenger side window and his younger brother, Bobby, took care of the driver’s side. Ennis’s youngest, who wasn’t even twenty yet, leaped onto the roof, unleashed his claws, and tore at the metal, ripping it open. A couple more of her cousins destroyed the windshield while Derek and Bobby dragged out the front seat occupants and their younger brothers pulled out the ones in the backseat. They were all bears. Big, dangerous, but stupid. Stupid to come here.
Bobby slammed the head of the one he’d pulled from the driver’s seat onto the hood of the vehicle, making sure to press it into the shattered windshield glass. And there he held him while his brothers battered the other occupants with baseball bats and two-by-fours. They also kicked and stomped until the outsiders were nothing but bloody messes that were still breathing. Then, while the bears were shoved back into their vehicle, Bobby leaned in and whispered something to the driver. When he was done, he yanked the bear up and shoved him into the driver’s seat.
Cella’s cousins stood back and watched the Range Rover drive off; then a couple of them gathered up the blood-covered weapons and went about getting rid of them.
Removing the silencer from her weapon, Cella said to Crushek, “Come on. They’re about to bring out the cake.”
“Happy Birthday” was sung, the cake was cut, and a barely used Jeep with a bright green ribbon around it was given. All in all, a good night, and yet no one mentioned the fact that four men had been severely beaten. Everyone knew, but no one seemed to have an issue with it. It was just sort of ... accepted. Apparently, that’s what anyone who came on this street uninvited could expect.
And yet Crush couldn’t get all “By the Book” Crushek on the Malones about it because he knew those bears didn’t just happen to be in the wrong place at the wrong time. Why they were here, however, he still didn’t know. Had they come for him? Planning to pick him up once he’d left Cella’s house? Maybe. Or had BPC—and those bears were definitely BPC—locked on Malone’s family for some reason? Crush didn’t know. What he did know, however, was that he didn’t like it, which was why he didn’t care that all of those attacking tiger males had moved like one, well-trained unit, proving they’d done this many times before; he didn’t care that Malone had a most likely unregistered .45 in her garage—although that silencer was a little worrying, but she’d probably got that from the She-wolf. What he did care about was that those bears were in Cella’s neighborhood. With her and Dr. Davis’s daughters and all those cubs. Kids being around, the elderly, these were little things that didn’t mean shit to BPC, or more specifically, Peg Baissier.
Now he sat on the front porch steps of Butch Malone’s house and watched the street. He couldn’t help himself. He felt like he’d brought BPC here.
“Detective?”
Crushek looked up into Meghan’s gold-and-green eyes. “Off to drive the new car?”
She snorted. “Not my idea.” She glanced back at the cousins waiting for her. “Figure we’ll go get a shake or something to shut them up.”
“Hope
you had a good birthday.”
She was quiet for a moment and he realized she was thinking about what he’d said before she finally replied, “Yes. I did.”
Wow, mother and daughter couldn’t be less alike. He saw that now. He also understood what Malone had been talking about. He didn’t like to say it, didn’t like to think it. But her Aunt Deirdre was a bitch. She saw Malone as a threat. She’d probably spent years trying to make her feel unimportant. When that didn’t work, she’d tried to make the rest of the family feel that way about Malone instead.
But from what Crush could tell ... that hadn’t worked, either.
“I’m here! I’m here!” Josie Davis came running around the corner and over to the car.
“Here.” Meghan threw the keys at her friend. “She likes to drive more than I do,” she explained when Crush only stared at her.
“Just like your mother.”
“Me?”
“Yeah. She never does anything anyone would expect of her, either.”
Her head dropped, but he saw the smile, the bit of pride.
“It was really nice meeting you, Detective,” she said.
“You, too.”
She started to walk away, but she stopped, glanced back at him, and whispered, “And thank you. Seriously.”
Wondering if she knew about the war between her mother and great-aunt, Crush just watched her head over to the Jeep, her cousins yelling for Meghan to “get a move on!”
“I swear,” Malone said, dropping down next to him on the stoop. “She’s really my kid.”
“Believe it or not, I can tell.”
“You really came through for me tonight. Thank you.”
“I have to say, Malone, it was really hard. To spend hours with Nice Guy Malone, Destruction Anderson, and six-time V.I.P. winner Please End It Ferguson was really, really hard on me and I’m not sure I can ever forgive you.”
Her smile wide, “Destruction promised you a jersey, didn’t he?”
“Yesss.”
She laughed, bumping his arm with her shoulder. “I have to say you made the night for these guys. You know, it’s not like they’ll ever be in the Hockey Hall of Fame with all the full-human players; you’re not going to find videos of them or their pics and trophies memorialized in Madison Square Garden. But it’s fans like you that make it all worth it.”