“No. But not a story you have to hide, either.”

“She’s got a point.” Van Holtz blew out a breath. “It’s not like I’ve heard any of the Smiths running around talking about their cannibal days.”

“Exactly.” Kathleen patted Crush’s leg again. “I’m sure your ancestor was a very nice man.”

“He was kind of a cop. You know, for his time. Well ...” Crush thought back, remembering what he’d found out. “Kind of a cop slash executioner. He had a real thing for injustice—”

“There you go!”

“—and witches. Used to burn them at the stake unless he drowned them or piled rocks on them first.”

“Oh.”

The group went silent until Crush finally stated, “Still liking the barbarians against Roman forces story better.”

“Yeah,” they all agreed.

The sun went down, the snow began to steadily fall, and nearly everybody was out on the dance floor dancing to Mungo Jerry’s “In the Summertime.” The hotties, of course, had on what some would call ski gear, but even they couldn’t stay in the hot tent. It had been a great party.

She knew that Crush was having a good time, too, dancing with her, a little blood still in his hair from his earlier seal hunt with Novikov. He didn’t even seem to mind that she could only currently look at him through one eye since the other one was swollen shut from the fistfight. Smith offered to “cut you like in the Rocky movies,” but as Cella told the She-wolf when she’d offered, she’d rather wait until the swelling went down on its own.

A slower Motown classic came on and Cella immediately went into Crush’s arms, the two grinning at each other while swaying to the music. Like most bears, the man had some nice rhythm considering his size.

“You and the girls need a lift home?” he asked.

“No. I’m going back with the girls, and some of my cousins. We’ll be making brownies at Jai’s place and talking boys all night. But thanks for the offer.”

“No problem.”

“Glad you came to the party?” she asked.

“Very.”

“You coming back next year?”

He gazed down at her. “Maybe.”

She chuckled. “Oooh, ‘maybe.’ That’s promising.”

He laughed, his arms tightening around her waist. Cella rested her head against his chest. And that’s when she knew—she was in trouble. Deep, deep trouble.

CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

Tuesday morning, Ric Van Holtz dragged himself out of bed and made his way to his kitchen to get the coffee started. He ground the beans, pulled down a coffee mug, and waited while his fourteen-cup coffeemaker did its work.

And when that hand slipped across his naked hip, he didn’t jump ... anymore. It took some getting usedto, living with the sneakiest of wolves, but Ric wouldn’t change it for the world. Eyes still closed, he turned his head and soft lips pressed against his.

“Glad you’re home,” he murmured, nuzzling the She-wolf who pressed her long body next to his. “What’s going on?”

“The bear’s information was right. Found Whitlan’s office. And he’s in it.”

Ric opened his eyes, and nodded. “Take it down. Tonight. Bring him in alive, Dee-Ann.”

She grinned, kissed his neck. “You’ve got it.”

Crush’s phone woke him that morning from the most erotic dream he’d had in a while, involving a She-tiger in hockey pants, and he wasn’t happy about it.

He swiped the cell phone off his nightstand. “What?”

“It’s MacDermot.”

“What?”

“Meet me at the office at six.”

Crush glared over at his bedside clock. “It’s six-thirty.”

“No. I meant six tonight.”

“Why?”

“Group and KZS are taking down Whitlan. Tonight.”

“Wait. They found him? How did they even know—”

“God, you’re like my kid. Asking ten thousand questions.”

“I’m a bear. That’s what we do. And this is our case.”

“Flexibility is key for this job, Crushek. Get used to it. Besides, I’ve just accepted the fact that Dee-Ann Smith has contacts you and I just ain’t got. And if she wants to find you—she’ll find you. Now, I’ll see you at six.”

“But—”

“If it makes you feel better, your girlfriend will be there.”

“My—”

“Also heard you’re a hell of a kisser.”

Crush sat up. “What?”

Cella packed up her duffel bag, throwing in a few extra clips for good measure, and zipped it up. She looked around, made sure she had everything. She did, and what she didn’t have, KZS would provide.

Pulling on a light denim jacket, she picked up her bag and rushed down the stairs, through the kitchen, waving at her mother and father, then around the side of the house. Meghan and Josie were already heading to the Jeep, schoolbooks in hand, discussing something in whispers.

“I’m working tonight, babe,” Cella called out. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

Cella tossed her bag into one of her brothers’ cars. She didn’t know which one.

“That’s fine. I’m babysitting Deena’s kids tonight. But can we talk tomorrow, Ma?”

Cella, about to get into her car, stopped and looked over at her daughter. “Talk? Oh, you mean about you heading to Hofstra in the fall? Sure ... we can talk about that.”