Bear Meets Girl (Pride #7)(35)

“I was hoping to buy in,” Crush told him, holding up a wad of money. “But everybody ran away.”
“You should be used to that.”
“I never really get used to it.”
“Your money’s no good here and you know it.”
“I know. And yet I’m here. Don’t you wonder why?”
Charming studied him for a bit before he motioned his man out. Looking at Crush and back at his boss, the bodyguard asked, “You sure?”
“I’m sure.”
With a warning glare at Crush, he walked out, the door closing behind him.
“How could you not tell me?” Cella yelled at her daughter’s father while pacing in front of him. “How long have you been keeping this from me?”
“Calm down.”
Cella stepped into him and gritted out between clenched teeth, “Tell me to calm down again.”
“That’s it.” Rivka pushed her arms between the two, forcing them apart. “Bri, why don’t you put the food in the kitchen?”
He walked out and Rivka faced Cella.
“Why didn’t she tell me?” Cella asked.
“Because she wants to stay. She wants to stay with the Malones.”
And Cella asked with all honesty, “But why?”
Rivka started laughing, her hand covering her mouth.
“Oh, shut up.”
“Cella, she’s not trying to hurt you.”
“No. She just hates me.”
Rivka put her hands on her hips. “You just leap, don’t you? From the tallest building of stupidity.”
Cella shrugged. “It’s a skill.”
“So,” Crush asked, “should I expect any visits from your associates?”
“Not from mine. They’re terrified of you, kid. And you being a cop doesn’t change that.” Charming lifted his chin. “What’d ya come here for?”
“I had questions.”
“About?”
“Frankie Whitlan. Heard he’s back.”
Charming laughed. “Is back? Frankie Whitlan’s been back. For years. I wouldn’t say right under everybody’s nose, but he hasn’t exactly been hiding, either. But he is protected.”
“By who?”
“Everybody. Feds. Your people. Everybody he’s ever worked with, he’s got dirt on. Not your typical bullshit, guy-cheating-on-his-wife dirt, either, but put-you-under-the-jail dirt. He goes down, a lot of people go down with him.”“Then why hasn’t anyone taken him out?”
“Because he makes a lot of people a lot of money. And Whitlan’s smart. Very smart.” Charming leaned forward, resting his arms on the table. “And I’ll give you this, because I’m such a great guy, and because I’ll never hear from you again after today ... Whitlan has an office on Staten Island.”
“An office? What does he need an office for?”
“Outwardly, he’s gone legit. Has rich friends, lives a rich life. But he hasn’t changed. You want to find him, start there.” Charming tapped the table. “But be careful. The man likes to kill.”
“What do you mean?”
“Well, people I’ve heard of, not me, of course, or those I know personally, but others ... they kill because they have to. Because someone’s stealing their money, damaging their merchandise”—Charming eyed him—“or is just a rat. But Whitlan kills because he likes to. Heard a story a few years back that he used to round up his friends, hire a couple of hookers for the night, go to some desolate part of Jersey or upstate, and then send the hookers out.”
“Out to do what?”
“To run. He and his friends would hunt them down. First it was just about fucking them, then he started killing them. Had to stop, though, when the ones running the girls got a little fed up at losing perfectly good merchandise every week.”
The door opened and Charming’s man walked into the room. “They’re here.”
“You better go,” Charming told Crush. “And good luck, kid.”
“Did you know?” Cella demanded of Jai, one skate tapping against the floor of Jai’s Sports Center office.
“Did I know what?”
“That my Meghan was going to goddamn Hofstra?”
Jai leaned back in her ten grand, ergonomically perfected chair, arms crossing over her insubstantial chest. “What’s wrong with Hofstra? My daughter’s going there.”
“We’re not talking about her or you. We’re talking about me.”
“I thought we were talking about Meghan.”
“Yeah. Her, too.”
“No. I didn’t know she was planning to attend Hofstra in the fall.”
“But you’re not surprised, either, are you?”
“No. The girls want to stay together. Why not let them?”
“But if she stays, she’ll be trapped here. Forever.”
“Okay.” Jai sat forward, placing her arms on the desk. “Let’s analyze that statement, shall we?”
“Let’s not.”
“You can only be trapped somewhere if you’re not allowed to leave. But if you want to stay, then I don’t see how you can be trapped. And Meghan wants to stay. Also, you left, so how trapped can she be?” 
“And you saw how hard it was for me to make that happen.”
“I know. Terribly hard.” Jai placed the tips of her fingers against her chin. “Let’s see if I can remember how it all went down. Ahhh, yes. You walked into your parents’ kitchen, said, ‘I joined the Marines. Did anyone feed the baby?’ And walked out. Other than your mother’s quiet sobbing, I don’t remember much about you being caged for such a decision.”
“Some days, you know ... I just really fucking hate you.”
“Do yourself a favor, Cella. Let your daughter make her own decisions, so you don’t lose her to your aunts. Because, let’s face it, that’s what really has you worried.”
“It—” Cella began, but a knock at the office door cut her off.
“Come in.”
When Cella saw Blayne walk in, she rolled her eyes and walked out. She was in no mood for a fight over Hannah.
“You can’t avoid me forever, heifer!” Blayne yelled from the safety of Jai’s office.
Cella spun around and yelled back, “Get in my way, Thorpe, and I’ll claw your entire face off!”
Feeling her point had been made, Cella faced forward but stopped short when she found Reed standing there.
“Are you done tormenting the wolfdog?” he asked.
“At the moment.”
“Then can we get started? Everybody’s waiting for you.”
“Everybody?”
“They’ve multiplied since the last time.”
“No pressure though.”
“You can stop acting like a victim, feline. I just watched you happily threaten the sweetest being on the planet.”
“It wasn’t happily.” When he only stared at her, she insisted, “It wasn’t! Just necessary.”
“You going to be all right?” MacDermot asked as she finished the last of her fries. They sat in the booth at the back of the diner near the Sports Center, her Yankees cap pulled low to hide her swollen face. Of course, it didn’t hide much of anything and everyone kept looking at him like he was the one who’d actually hit her. Although their reaction told him a lot about full-human society.
“I’m fine.”
“You seem fine, which I find a little weird.” She finished her soda. “Gentry still wants to put a security detail on your house.”
“Why?”
“I think she cares if you die.”
“Why?”
“And we’re done.” She slipped out of the booth, reaching back to grab her jacket.
“What did I say?”
“Nothing. You’re just kind of weirding me out. I don’t know how you just accept all this.”
“What am I supposed to do? Cry?”
“Don’t irritate me, Crushek. I’ve had enough of males whose reactions I don’t understand.”
Crush smirked. “When you got home, did Llewellyn roar a lot in disapproval over your dangerous life as NYPD that led to your face looking like that or did he just lick your bruises?”
“Both. But what really freaked me out was ...”
“You really liked the licking?”
She shrugged. “It was comforting.”
“Don’t worry. We all like the licking.”
“Yeah, whatever.” She pulled the hood of her parka over her head since it was another day of close to zero temps outside. “We’ll talk tomorrow.”After MacDermot left, Crush sat at the table a little while longer. He knew he should feel something about all this, but he just ... didn’t. What did that say about him as a person?
Deciding to pay the tab and go before he thought too long about that particular question, Crush pulled out his wallet and took out a couple of bills. He was just throwing them on the table when he realized that the other side of the booth was no longer empty.
He looked up, blinked, then looked around, convinced someone was playing a joke on him.
“Um ...” He shook his head, confused about what he should say to the man sitting across from him. “Do ... do you need something, Mr. Novikov?”
“Peace. And. Quiet.” Bo Novikov looked up from the menu he was studying. “If I have to listen to one more rookie whine about me shoving the Zamboni at him when he wouldn’t get out of my way, I’m going to go off. And you can call me Bo or just Novikov. Calling me Mr. Novikov makes me feel like your dad.”