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.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
Crush 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.”