“Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.”

“It wouldn’t be bad if we had a better team.”

“They are trying. Loyal fans.”

They both looked over at the panting, exhausted wild dog males who’d volunteered to play. When they saw Nov-kov staring at them, they smiled and waved—still panting.

“At least we have our own cheerleaders,” Crush offered.

“Yeah. Blayne and the Wild Dog-ettes.”

“I must say, your woman has a lot of energy.”

“She’s had eight Shirley Temples. At this point, she’s just out of control.” Novikov sighed. “I hate losing.”

“Me, too.”

“You have any ideas?”

“Nope.”

“Mr. Crushek?”

Crush smiled down at Meghan and Josie. “Aren’t you watching your mom fight?”

“No. No, thanks. Really rather not.”

Crush and Novikov laughed.

“Understood,” Crush said.

“I see you guys are losing,” Meghan observed—or stated the obvious, whichever.

“Yes, we are.”

“Is it true those are O’Neill lions?” Josie asked.

“The one doing the moonwalk ... that’s Mitch O’Neill. His half-brother, the one doing the rump shaker, is Brendon Shaw.”

“An O’Neill is an O’Neill, Mr. Crushek.”

“Not sure what that means.”

“That’s all right.” Meghan smiled. “Can you hold them off for a couple of minutes?”

“Sure.”

The two girls walked off and Novikov asked, “That’s really Malone’s daughter, huh?”

“You never met her before?”

“I have ... but I never really believed it.”

“Why not? They look alike.”

“And that’s about it.”

“Hi, Gramps.”

Meghan grinned up at her grandfather. The great Butch Malone.

“Hello, my love,” he said with a warm smile. “Having a good time?”

“I’m having a great time.”

“What about you, young Josie?”

“I always have a good time at the Ice Party, Uncle B.”

“Good. Good. Still can’t watch your ma fight, though, huh?”

“I’d rather not. If she’s not getting pummeled, she’s pummeling.” Unfortunately, while walking over, Meghan had managed to get there just as Marly Callahan landed a right cross to her mother’s jaw, sending the woman who’d given birth to Meghan flipping back and almost out of the ring, the ropes the only things that managed to keep her in.

“It’s a mutual pummeling right now,”her grandfather assured her. As if that helped somehow.

“Great,” Meghan lied.

Butch leaned down a bit. “So what do you think of your ma’s new beau?”

“We like him.” They really did, she and Josie. There was something about him. Something just ... honest. Her mother needed that in her life. More than she realized.

“Good. I think she likes him, too,” her grandfather confirmed.

“We know she does. Too bad he’s busy getting his ass kicked in football by an O’Neill.”

Every male Malone turned away from the fight, focusing on Meghan and Josie, just as the girls knew they would.

“That bear is losing to an O’Neill?”

“So’s Mr. Novikov.”

“What the hell ... ?” Uncle Tommy glanced at his father. “What’s going on?”

“It’s just the two of them, really. The wild dogs are the only other teammates they have, and they’re kind of ... tiny.”

“What about MacRyrie, Van Holtz—”

“All the Carnivores are playing with the O’Neills,” Josie said. Since she did “sad” well, Meg let her run with that.

“Betraying bastards,” her grandfather growled, all of Meghan’s uncles and male cousins agreeing.

“What do you want us to do, Da?” Liam asked.

“What do ya think?”

When Marly Callahan went down for a third straight time, Cella was declared the winner, her Aunt Kathleen raising Cella’s arm in the air.

“Nicely done, girl,” the older Malone praised her.

“Thanks.”

While everyone went to get or pay their gambling money, Cella stumbled over to Marly’s side, holding out her bloody hand. A big grin on her battered face, the She-lion grasped Cella’s hand and let her haul her to her feet. Arms around each other’s shoulders, they pressed their foreheads together and Marly whispered, “You took care of my brother, Malone. There’s a debt.”

“Don’t worry about that now. He’s safe, that’s all that matters.”

“Ma!”

The two women looked down at Cella’s daughter and Josie.

“Your girl sure is a beauty, Malone.”

“She is.”

“And so is her mountain lion friend.”

“You keep your brothers’ grubby paws off my girls. Both of ’em.”

“But we’ve got some lovely RVs to trade,” Marly teased.

“Ma,” Meghan pushed.

“What is it?”

“Football. Remember?”

“Did Novikov start a fight with the guys?”

“Not exactly ...”