“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.”
“I tried not to be geeky about it. I made sure not to ask any of them to punch me in the face.”
“That’s probably a good idea ’cause they probably would have hit you.”
“Oh.”
“So are you busy next Saturday?”
Crush leaned in and whispered in case any of her aunts were around, “Is that the wedding?” Dr. Davis had mentioned he’d be needed for a wedding. God, the things he did to protect his favorite team.
“No,” she whispered back, “that’s at the end of the month. I’m talking about the Ice Party next Saturday.”“Ice Party?”
“Yeah,” she said, her voice back to normal. “Ice Party. You’ve been, right?”
“No.”
Her mouth dropped open. “How can you be a polar and not have gone to the annual Ice Party?”