C
HAPTER
T
WENTY-THREE
T
hey returned to the precinct, including the KZS and Group members. Clean clothes were retrieved for those who had blood on them, and calls were made to appropriate management personnel. No one panicked, but clearly everyone was worried. Crush didn’t know why, though. Baissier’s idea of retaliation was never to come straight at anyone. That wasn’t how she played the game. So hit men sent to exact revenge in the middle of the night? Not going to happen.
While Crush was helping the wounded team members remove their weapons and equipment, Gentry arrived. She walked through, asking questions, confidently nodding, until she reached him; then she caught hold of his arm and pulled him from the room.
“What the hell happened?” she asked. Once they were in the hallway she no longer looked so confident.
“According to Smith, ‘went bad.’ ”
“What the hell does that mean?”
“It means BPC was already there when KZS and Group entered the building.”
“They have Whitlan?”
“No. He was already gone. But as soon as BPC saw them, they started shooting.”
“Unprovoked?”
“One could have been startled into it, but the others ...”
“The bodies?”
“KZS cleanup team. I didn’t know bodies could be disposed of so quickly.”
“Just be glad it was KZS and not Smith. She has hyenas on retainer.” Gentry folded her arms over her chest. “So ... what are you thinking?”
“They’d only start firing at us on orders from Baissier.”
“Over one full-human?”
“I’m thinking Whitlan has enough on Baissier to take her down and keep her down.”
“She still has a lot of support.”
“Some say not as much as she used to. Her ego has made her a liability. Her viciousness a threat. But no bear’s going to order her out without hard proof.”
“To be honest, Crushek, I’m more worried about you.”
“Me?”
“You’re the one person who knows the most about her and yet has absolutely no loyalty to her. And you’ve got a good, solid rep among bears. If
you
find information about her and Whitlan—she won’t be able to talk her way out of that.”
Gentry may be right, but still... “She won’t come at me head-on. At least not the way anyone else would.”
“You’re not worried at all?”
“I’m not stupid, Chief. Just numb.”
“So there’s no point in telling you to be careful is there?”
“Only because I’m always careful.”
She nodded, and headed back to the room with the teams. “Keep your phone on. I’m sure there will be meetings tomorrow. I may need you to attend.”
Crush followed her into the room, but he stopped in the doorway, taking a quick scan. He walked over to Smith’s side. “Where’s Malone?”
She looked around, then shook her head. “Don’t know. She was just here.”
Cella sat on the bench down the street from the police department’s building and rubbed her knee. It had swollen up to the size of a softball and the pain was something she didn’t even want to think about. She knew she could have stayed inside, but when dealing with this much pain, she let instinct take over. And being wounded around a bunch of predators was just not something she was willing to do.
So, instead, she sat on this bench and waited for the pain to pass. It had to pass, right? It had to.
Cella closed her eyes and again wondered how much longer she could keep this up. She had a game coming and practices before that. She knew that icing her knee would definitely help, but would it swell up like this again?
She could ask Jai for help, but she knew that would go badly since her friend would push for surgery again. Knee replacement, which meant Cella’s career would be over. So going home tonight? No way. Hotel. She needed a hotel.
Taking a deep breath, she tried to stand, but immediately sat back down hard, a small squeal of pain going out over the cold night air.
“Are you all right?” a male voice asked. A kind male voice. But all Cella knew was that a stranger was near her while she was wounded and the beast inside her took over, her roar ripping through the night, her claws unleashing. She was up on her good leg, her arms swinging out to tear the man in front of her apart. To destroy the threat. But an arm wrapped around her, yanking her back.
“Sorry,” she heard another voice say. “Sorry. She went off her meds. I’m getting her back to the hospital.”
“You sure you don’t need some help? Maybe I should call nine-one-one.”
“No, I’ve got her. But thanks.”
Cella felt the threat move away, leaving her alone with the bear. Why she didn’t see him as a threat, too, she didn’t know.
“I’ll take you home.”
“No,” she told Crush, pushing on his arms until he carefully lowered her to the ground. “No. I can’t go home. Not like this.”
“You talking about your knee? Or your face?”
She winced. “That bad?”
“Your face isn’t that bad, but Meghan will notice. And your knee ...”
Cella shook her head. She couldn’t let Jai see her knee and she definitely couldn’t let her kid see her face. It was one thing when Cella got a few bruises during a good ol’ family bare-knuckle fight or during a hockey game. But Meg always freaked out when she saw her mother’s face and knew she’d been working.
“Can you take me to your place?” she asked him. “Please.”
“It’s probably not safe there.”
“I dare somebody to come at both of us tonight.”
“Okay.”
Crush went to her and started to put his arms around her.
“I can walk, Crushek.”
“Bullshit. And you’ve got a game coming up. I can’t risk the Marauder’s enforcer, now can I?”
“It’s always about
him
, isn’t it?”
“Pretty much. Now come on. I’m tired and hungry.”
He slipped his arms behind her back and under her legs, carefully lifting her so he didn’t do much to her left leg.
“Thanks,” Cella said before he could get moving.
“For what? Isn’t this what pretend boyfriends do?”
Laughing, she put her head on his shoulder. “Excellent point.”
C
HAPTER
T
WENTY-FOUR
C
rush pulled into his driveway and turned off the engine. He reached for the door, but stopped and warned, “Do not move until I come get you.”
“I wasn’t.”
He smirked at her. “Liar.”
“All right. Fine. I’ll wait.”
God, the woman was impatient, but considering how much pain Crush was guessing she was in, she wasn’t much of a complainer.
Walking around to the passenger side of his truck, Crush pulled open the door and lifted Cella out. She wrapped her arms around his neck and smiled. “Thanks for this. And for earlier.”
“No problem. You hungry?” He kicked the truck door closed and headed to his porch.
“I could eat.”
“Hope spaghetti’s okay. I only really know how to make spaghetti. And whale blubber, but I figured you’d rather the spaghetti instead.”
She chuckled. “Spaghetti’s fine. Although it’s called pasta now.”
“I’m old school. It’s called spaghetti.”
Still holding Cella in his arms, Crush managed to unlock his metal screen door. He held it open with his foot and juggled his keys until he found the one for the front door, unlocking it and stepping inside.
Crush walked through his house until he reached the kitchen. He placed Cella on top of his kitchen table, then flicked the light on. “Let’s get you some ice for that knee.”
“Okay.”
Crush went to his freezer, where he kept his seal and walrus blubber, and grabbed a couple of ice packs. He turned to walk back over, but stopped. And stared.
“Where, exactly, are your pants?” he asked.
She pointed at a spot over her shoulder. “Over there somewhere.”
“And you took them off because ...”
“Gotta take care of the knee, right? Ice through black denim probably not very effective.”
“Uh-huh.”
“So are you going to bring me that ice pack or should I come over there and get it?”
Crush walked back across the room until he stood in front of her. “I should get you a dishrag or something. You shouldn’t put this right against your skin.”
“Oh, come on. You know I can handle ...” She stopped talking, looked him over. “You’re right. Give me your T-shirt.”
“Why?”
“You want to put a
dirty
dishrag on me?”
“As opposed to my
dirty
T-shirt? There’s blood and gunpowder on this thing.”
The feline held her hand out. “Gimme.”
“I have clean ones in the laundry room.”
“But I want the one you’re wearing.” She gave him another once-over. “And I want it now.”
Okay, so her knee was throbbing and she had a headache from getting hit in the face by the big fist and head of a bear. But he was just so cute! And, what was that word? Gallant? Carrying her inside and offering to make her “spaghetti.”
Cute. Cute. Cute.
“Fine. Since you’re so adamant.”
“I am that.”
He placed the ice pack on the table and took off his light jacket, tossing it over one of the chairs. Cella dropped her hands behind her, her palms flat against the wood table, propping her up.
“You sure I can’t just get you—”
“Waiting.”
With a long sigh, Crush reached back with both arms and gathered up his shirt, pulling it over his head and off. And honestly, watching all those muscles flex—and God, there were
so
many muscles—really did make a girl forget all sorts of aches and pains.
Crush tucked the ice pack inside the shirt and then carefully placed it on Cella’s knee. She winced and, since he was staring at her face, he started to pull back.
“It’s not that bad,” she assured him. “It’s sore but I’ll live.”
Nodding, he settled the ice pack on her. “How is that?”
“Fine.”
He took a step back. “I guess you have your father’s knees.”
Cella scowled. “Big and hairy?”
He blinked in surprise and quickly shook his head. “No. No. I mean, he had the same problem with his right knee. You both skate the same way because of it ... just different knees.”
Cella rubbed her nose. “Wow. You really
are
a fan.”
“Don’t make fun of me.”
“I’m not. I’m just fascinated by how hyperaware you are about stuff.”
“Those who can skate, do. Those who can’t, obsessively watch and either praise or criticize.”
“Which do you do?”
“Depends on how good you are.”
“That’s right. I’m not as good as my dad.”
“I never said that. I just think you fight more than you skate.”
“I’m the enforcer. I’m supposed to fight.”
“Bullshit. You’re supposed to protect your team.”
Laughing, Cella explained, “I do protect my team. By fighting.”
“Everything is a bare-knuckle brawl to you, isn’t it?”
“No. But it should be. Imagine the shit that could be worked out with a good and proper fight. That’s how we handle it. Business deal goes bad, a bare-knuckle fight fixes it.”
“How does it
fix
the problem?”
“It just does. Think about it. Politicians can only get their long-winded and boring bills through Congress if they’re willing to raise their fists.” She brought up her fists, snarled a little. The bear shook his head, but he smiled.
“I guess you’re all about anarchy then.”
“No way. Malones have lots of rules and everyone abides by them or they get their asses kicked.”
Since the bear was laughing and smiling—not a scowl in sight—Cella wrapped both arms around his neck.
“What are you doing?”
“Getting cuddle-y,” she answered honestly.
“Your knee is severely swollen, your lip split, you have a black eye, and I think your nose is broken.”
“Oh. Right.” She released him long enough to pop her nose back, eyes crossing from the pain. Shaking that off, she put her arms around his neck again and smiled. “All fixed.”
Crush laughed, then cut it off by clearing his throat. “You are—”
“Amazing? Dynamic? Enthralling?”
“I was going to say nuts. Crazy. Loony tunes.”
“You say tomato, I say whatever. Now come here and kiss me.”
Again, Crush had
no
idea what to do with this woman. He knew what he’d
like
to do with her, but he was having a hard time getting past the fact that she’d gotten her bell rung by violent bears. She was bruised, battered, and swollen. Not only that, she’d killed. A lot. Shouldn’t she be somewhere trying to emotionally recover from all that? Or off licking her wounds? Shouldn’t he be getting her tea and making her listen to something soothing and Irish? Like Enya?
But he couldn’t shake the feeling that if he even suggested such a thing, he’d end up looking like her. Besides, he’d be lying if he said he didn’t find her kind of hot right now. Was that weird? That was weird, wasn’t it? For the first time, he regretted that he’d spent most of his time with full-humans. He had no idea how to handle a true She-predator. An apparently horny She-predator.
The scent of her lust made him dizzy and he didn’t even bother to try to stop her when she began to tug him down for that kiss. Even worse, he wasn’t sure he could control his own reactions. He wanted to slam her against the table and take her hard. But then he saw her black eye and he knew he couldn’t do that. Or, at the very least, he shouldn’t do that. He shouldn’t. Right?
“Are you going to kiss me,” she asked when their faces were inches apart, “or just keep staring at me like I might break apart at any second?”
“What if you do?”
“What if I do what?”
“Break apart? You’ve already been bear-handled once tonight.”
She was silent for a long moment. “Are you telling me you’re worried about giving it to me too rough?”
“Yeah. A little. You drive me crazy, Malone. I’m thinking all my gentlemanly ways might hit the skids.”
Her smile was small, pretty. “God,” she whispered, “now I’ve gotta fuck you. You’re making me all squirmy.”
“I’m not trying to—”
“Too late. You did.”
She leaned in, took his mouth with her own. And it was like she was draining all common sense right out of him. He could barely breathe. Knew he could no longer think. Especially when he realized she was actually squirming. Something about knowing he was making her wet made him even crazier. He wasn’t used to feeling crazy, feeling like he had no control.
He knew he had one chance to pull away, to tell her to stop this and when she felt better, they could consider doing this sort of thing properly. He had one chance—and he let it fly right by.
As soon as his arms wrapped around her waist, Cella knew she had him. The way he was gripping the back of her T-shirt, hands twisting in the material. God, and his mouth. When he kissed a girl, he really kissed her. Standing a little taller, making Cella come up with him, his mouth desperately moving against hers, his tongue exploring.
She’d had good kisses before, but never like this one.
And even better was how he felt under her hands. All that hard but smooth skin, bunched-up muscles playing under her fingers.
Yeah, if he really thought she was willing to wait until she was all healed and one hundred percent, he was nuts. Besides, what could she say? She was always horny after a tough night fighting guys who started attacking her for no apparent reason.
Cella moved her hands down to Crush’s waist and pulled him between her legs.
“Wait,” he said, taking his mouth away from hers.
“What?”
“Your leg. I don’t want to hurt it.”
He had a point, but she had to ask, “Because of me or because I’ve got a game coming up?”
He gave a small shrug, his eyes downcast like a little kid’s. “Can’t it be both?”
Too much in lust to feel the need to be angry with the big idiot, she stretched out her good leg and hooked her foot through one of the slats of the kitchen chair. She pulled it closer.
“Sit,” she ordered him.
He tugged the chair closer and sat down. She was, in a word, overjoyed, to see the hard-on the bear was struggling with. Although she was usually a big fan of foreplay, they could do that later. She had one need at the moment and she, like most felines, demanded instant gratification.
Cella grabbed her backpack and unzipped it. “Get your pants off.”
“Uh ... okay.”
While the bear got off his pants and thankfully without her telling him, his boxers, Cella dug deep into her bag until she found the strip of condoms Jai always made sure to shove in any and all bags Cella had.
“It’s not that I don’t trust you,” Jai would say when Cella would find the condoms at the most inopportune times, “it’s just that I’m making sure there are no surprises. We’re both too old for surprises.”
Cella yanked one off and tossed it to the bear. “Put it on.”
“You sure are bossy.”
“Yes. I am.” She wiggled off her panties, maneuvering them around the ice pack, and tossing them in her bag. By then the bear had the condom on.
She motioned with her hands. “Move a little to the left. A little more. Good. Stay there.”
Using her arms, Cella pushed herself off the table and onto the bear’s lap. She smiled when she landed. “Now put me on your cock and let’s get to work.”
And that was around the time Crush started laughing.
“I’m serious!”
“I know you are. That’s what makes it so damn funny.”
“Look, you wanted to protect my precious game legs. This does the trick. I’m all about making things happen.”
“You are such a Marine.”
“I know. Or would you rather I was all lost and confused, the heat of the moment making me an irrational mess?”
“No. That seems to be my job this time around.”
“I really make you crazy, huh?”
“Yeah. You really do.”
“Then stop making me wait. Because we both know I’m one of the few women who can really handle you.”
“You think so?”
“I know so. You know it, too. At least your body does. Your cock keeps getting harder the longer we sit here. It’s actually pointing at the ceiling. I’d climb up on it myself but, you know ... game coming up.”
“Shut up.”