“I can’t—” Crush began and Cella went up on her toes, placing her hand over his mouth.

“You can. You will. It’s not like we just bribed you guys so we can bring in drugs or something. I’m just sorry I didn’t think of it myself. You’d be all over me if I had,” she teased.

And she knew that’s what had him upset. “I don’t need this stuff from you,” Crush insisted. “I don’t want it.”

“I’m kidding,” she told him.

“She’s kidding,” the coyote promised, not willing to give up those badges anytime soon.

Cella gave Conway directions to the owner’s seats, worried that Crush would go back to his nosebleed seats out of some sort of Crushek-morality thing.

She kissed him once more. “Have fun,” she ordered him. “Or Nice Guy Malone will hear about it.”

“Oh, God,” Crush said, appearing truly horrified. “Your father—”

“Is here and will be glad to see you.” Laughing, she went to the locker room to get the rest of her gear on.

Jai stopped by on her way to check on everyone else she’d been caring for since the last game.

“Heads-up,” Jai said, briskly writing damn notes on her damn clipboard.

“Heads-up on what?”

“That Minnesota team.”

“What about ’em?”

“They have a reputation. So be careful. I’d rather not have to repair your arteries tonight.”

“Got it.” Cella winked at her and finished suiting up.

She met the rest of the team waiting in the hallway, where Van Holtz felt the need to say, “I like him.”

“Who?”

“Your bear.”

“He’s not my bear. He’s a bear that I happen to be fucking at the moment.”

“Have you realized,” MacRyrie asked her, “that you’re just like Novikov but with more charm and no OCD?”

“The direct thing?”

“Yeah,” both bear and wolf said at the same time.

“I like being direct. Then no one can hold shit over your head. Like when I got pregnant in high school. I ran around telling everybody. The nuns were horrified. But no one could shame me because I’d already put it all out there. For everybody!”

The team laughed until the announcer came on. That’s when Cella motioned to Reed and the other rookies she’d been working with. “Remember what I told you guys. Don’t panic, don’t get pissed. Just play. Got me? Now get out there and kick ass.”

CHAPTER THIRTY

Crush again looked at his friend. This is your fault, he mouthed at him, and all Conway could do was shrug helplessly.

“You know what I mean, right?” Cella’s fatherasked.

“Uh-huh.”

“Because if you kill them, how can you get your money? You can’t. Every good bookie knows that, which is why they liked me. I knew how to break bones and heads without actually killing anyone. That’s a skill, you know? A skill I have.”

Crush nodded. “Uh-huh.” He looked at Conway again. Your fault!

I’m sorry!

“She’s out of the penalty box.”

Thankful, because Nice Guy seemed to talk less when his daughter was on the ice, Crush focused on Cella. He’d have to admit, it was a tough game. The Minnesota team had a healthy mix of predators, but their best players were the hyenas. They were all from the same Clan and didn’t like to give up their puck. They especially seemed to hate the Marauder. Must be the lion thing, because they kept going after him and Cella just kept getting in their way. There was a lot of blood on the ice and for once he couldn’t just say it belonged only to the opposition. The team was fighting hard tonight to just keep the no-score going.

It was at times like this that Crush could see the benefit of Cella. She didn’t back down, did she? And she always protected the Marauder. She kicked ass.

But as Crush watched the teams go at it, fighting for that puck, he noticed something right away. It was between the hyenas. Three of them. They skated around by their team’s net, something silent passing between them. Then they shot off in three different directions.

Crush thought maybe it was his imagination, until Nice Guy stopped talking—the man rarely stopped talking altogether—and leaned forward, his elbows resting on his knees, fingers steepled together.

Focusing back on the ice, Crush watched the hyenas circle around and behind the Carnivores’ goal. They were heading for the Marauder, again, and several players moved in to protect him. As they did, the hyenas broke off and went around them. It seemed normal. Until Crush realized that Cella was out on her own, away from the rest of the team, moving toward Novikov. She was focused on him, always watching out for her team more than herself. So she didn’t see them coming. Didn’t see them gunning right for her.

“Jesus—” was the last thing Crush heard from Nice Guy Malone seconds before two hyenas ran right into Cella. Hit hard from two sides, she went airborne, her body spinning up and over. Yet she was feline and when she landed, she landed on two legs. Crush winced, knowing her bad knee must have felt that.

But as soon as Cella landed, the third hyena was there, ramming into her, low and at an angle. Right into her lower body. Her legs collided with the rink wall. The entire crowd roared with rage and awe at the bold move, but Crush heard Cella’s roar above everything else and he knew—knew—what had just happened.