Bear Meets Girl

CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE

The elevator doors opened and Dez stepped out, her husband Mace behind her. She stopped immediately, her gaze moving around the packed hospital hallway. She knew most of the people there, but she could easily spot Cella’s family. They mostly looked like Dez’s friend. Black hair with orange and white streaks, gold or green eyes; the women curvy, the men built like linebackers.

But what worried Dez immediately was the weight of tragedy she felt throughout the entire hallway. She had no clue what had happened, getting one of those short-worded Dee-Ann Smith messages on her voice mail. God, was she too late?

No, no. She didn’t want to think like that.

After another quick look around, Dez saw Dee-Ann and she walked over to her. She stood next to a completely battered Ric Van Holtz, Lock MacRyrie, and Bo Novikov. They looked like they’d been through hell. Had they tried to stop what had happened to Cella? And if the guys looked like this ... what did Cella look like?

���Dee—” Dez began, but then Blayne was wrapped around Dez ... sobbing. Hysterically.

God, maybe I am too late.

Dee pulled Blayne off Dez and pushed her toward Novikov. “Come on.” She grabbed Dez’s arm and led her down another hallway and into an empty room, closing the door.

“What the fuck happened?” Dez got out before the door opened again and Blayne walked in.

“You can’t stay,” Dee told Blayne, “if all you’re gonna do is cry like a baby.”

Snarling, Blayne stepped into Dee, pointing her finger in her face. “She’s my friend, too, Dee-Ann!” The tears started again. “I love her.”

“Just yesterday you called her a bitch.”

“How can you bring that up?” Blayne wailed.

Realizing that neither of these two would give her the answers she needed—one talked too much and the other not enough—Dez walked back into the hallway. “Stay here,” she ordered before she went in search of Crushek. She knew the bear well enough to know he wouldn’t be part of the crowd, but she also knew he was there. Somewhere. He wouldn’t leave Cella alone.

And Dez was right. She found Crush at the end of the long hallway inside one of the rooms. He sat on the floor, his back against the wall, his knees raised, his gaze focused on the empty bed. She stepped up next to him and held out her hand.

Crush looked at it and up at her.

“Come on,” she said.

He took her hand, but mostly got himself up off the floor. She led him back to the room where she’d left an eye-rolling Dee-Ann and a still sobbing Blayne.

“Oh, Crush!” Blayne cried before running into the startled polar, her arms wrapping around his waist. “You poor, poor man.”

Dez closed the door, ignoring the look her husband gave her before she did.

“What happened?” she asked, figuring she’d at least get most of the story from the three of them together.

“Poor Cella’s life is over!” Blayne sobbed into Crush’s chest, but Dez decided not to take that at face value. Instead, she focused on Dee-Ann.

The woman shrugged. “She was hurt.”

“How bad?”

“Bad enough.”

See? That wasn’t enough information. So Dez then moved her attention to Crush, who was awkwardly patting Blayne’s back.

“It’s my fault,” he told her. “All of this. I think it’s my fault.”

Blayne looked up at him. “Your fault? How can you say that?”

“I should have known Baissier would do something. I just never thought she’d go after Cella like that.”

Nope. Still not clear, so Dez went back to Dee-Ann.

“She called me earlier. Said someone was following her. It never occurred to either of us that they’d take her out on the ice.”

The ice? Someone attacked her during one of those hockey games? With hundreds, maybe even several thousand shifters nearby? Then Dez remembered the way Ric and Lock had looked outside. They’d clearly been in a fight. But then ...

Dez looked at the three shifters. “Was Cella shot?”

Dee-Ann shook her head. “No.”

“They destroyed her leg,” Blayne whimpered.

“Well,” Dee corrected, “mostly just her knee.”

“Her ...” Dez scratched her head. “Was she kneecapped in the bathroom or something?”

“No. It happened on the ice.”

Dez studied the three idiots. “Are you telling me you dragged me here for a fucking sports accident?”

“Figured you’d wanna know.”

“I do want to know, Dee. Cella’s my friend. But I want details. Telling me ‘You better come to the hospital. They got Cella’ implies something different to me than a sports injury.”

“You don’t undertstand, Dez,” Blayne explained, pulling away from Crush as more tears flowed. “Her career is over. She’ll never play pro hockey again.”

“Is she going to be in a wheelchair?”

Dee pulled a piece of jerky out of her back pocket. Why it was back there, Dez didn’t want to know. “Doubtful,” Dee said. “Once she gets that knee replaced and all, she’ll probably be back at KZS early next week. We’re just waitin’ for them to finish the surgery.”

“Will she at least have a limp?”

“Nah. Our bodies take real well to replacement surgeries.” Dee held up her arm, pointing at her elbow. “Got this blown off during a hunt. Docs replaced it ... good as new.” To illustrate, she bent what looked to be a mostly unmarred joint.

Dez pointed at the door. “Get out. Both of you. Out.” She grabbed Blayne by the back of her jeans and dragged her to the door, opening it and shoving her out. “You, too, country. Out.”

“You sure are moody,” the wolf complained before she ambled out the door.

Slamming the door, Dez faced Crush. “What is going on?”

Cella opened her eyes and the first thing she saw was her mother ... and tears. Then she looked around the room. All those Malones. All that crying. Men and women. She felt like she’d just woken up in a casket after being misdiagnosed as dead.

“Mom?”

“Oh! My dear sweet girl!”

Her mother hugged her and Cella could feel tears dripping against her neck. At least she hoped it was tears.

“It’ll be okay, baby.” Her mother pulled back and stroked her hair. “You’re going to be just ... just ...” Eyes wide, she looked at Cella’s aunts who just days before she’d threatened to bare-knuckle fight. They all smiled down at Cella, then Kathleen began to cry, then Margaret, then ... good God, even Deirdre. Then all of them were crying. It was pretty ... strange.

In fact, Cella looked down at her leg to make sure she still had it and yup! It was there. It was bandaged and had a brace on it to keep it immobile while it healed. Cella could tell she was currently being pumped full of all sorts of painkillers because she knew her body was knitting itself back together and that often hurt. A lot. But she didn’t feel a thing. So here she was. Breathing. Surviving as Malones liked to do. And yet her uncles couldn’t even look at her. God ... did she have scars on her face? Did one of those hyenas hit her with his skate? Was she hideous?

Then Cella remembered that this was her family she was dealing with. They were emotional basket cases on their best days. So rather than panic, she looked around the room until she found her daughter. Meghan stood in the back of the room, Josie next to her. What Cella loved was the absolute look of annoyance on her kid’s pretty face. Okay. So if Meg was going to stay with the family, at least she had the potential to one day run this bunch. She had attitude to spare.

Even better, Meghan knew her mother. One look and she was pushing her way through the crowd of uncles, aunts, and cousins until she was by her mother’s side. She took Cella’s hand, holding it between both of hers. “Could you guys leave us alone, please? I need to ...” She took a long, dramatic pause Cella was mighty proud of. She’d taught the kid well. “... talk to my mom for a bit.”

“Of course, of course,” Kathleen said, hustling all the aunts, uncles, and cousins out of the room. But it was Cella’s dad who took hold of his wife’s shoulders and, with a wink at Cella, led the still sobbing woman out of the room.

Once the door closed and Cella was alone with her daughter, she let out a sigh. “No feline should sob unless she’s been hit with a baseball bat.”

“It’s always gotta be so extreme with you.”

Cella laughed, grinning up at her daughter. “It’s in the DNA, kid. You might as well get used to it.”

Still holding her mother’s hand, Meghan sat on the bed. “Mom, I’m so sorry.”

“For what? You didn’t do anything.”

“It’s not about doing anything. It’s about ... empathizing.”

“Empathizing?”

Meghan’s eyes crossed. “Yes, Mom. Empathy.”

“Sounds like weakness.”

“It is not ...” Meghan gritted her teeth. “Why do you make me crazy?”

“Isn’t that my job? It’s my mother’s job, and as you can see, she does it well.”

“All I’m saying is that I know how much hockey means to you. It meant everything—”

“No. You mean everything to me, baby. You. The rest is just gravy.”

“So what are you going to do now?”

“Learn to knit.”

“Mom.”

“I’ll figure out something. There’s more to life than hockey.”

“For everyone else, but not for you.” Meghan thought a moment. “There’s the female team.”

“No.”

“They don’t have the same rules that—”

“Exactly.” Cella gaped at her daughter. “Do you not like your mother’s pretty face? Do you hope to see me missing eyes ... teeth? Do you care so little that you’d suggest the all-female team?”

“You bare-knuckle box!”

“Men! Males, as you’ll one day learn, are easy to manage. If the same shit that went down last night had happened while I was on the all-female team ... I’d be missing legs. Both of them.”

“I heard they’re not that bad ... anymore.”

“They’re that bad. Trust me. Coed, all male, or nothing. Because all-female is just painful trouble and suffering.”

“Always with the drama.”

“I’m a Malone,” Cella explained again, making sure to let out a long sigh. “Once you grasp that, the drama explains itself.” She thought a moment. “Any chance you can get everyone else to go away? Far away?”

“I can try. They usually listen to me.”

“I know.”

“No, Ma.”

“What?”

“I see your mind turning. I will not be running this family anytime soon.”

“Of course not. You’re only eighteen. But another fifteen years or so ...”

“Like you’re ever going to let me boss you around.” Meghan dropped Cella’s hand. “You’re so full of crap.”

“Crap? Really?”

“Not everyone has to express themselves with profanity.”

“No. But what fun is it not to express yourself with profanity?”

Meghan stood. “I’ll get rid of everybody.” She walked to the door. Stopped. “Your team’s—”

“No,” Cella said quickly. “I can’t see them tonight.”

“Okay. That scary She-wolf and Detective MacDermot?”

“First off, the She-wolf is Dee-Ann and she already said you could call her that.”

Her daughter’s lip curled a little. “Yeah.”

“Forget it. Tell them to come by tomorrow.”

“Okay.” Her daughter glanced at the floor, then asked, “What about Mr. Crushek?”

“Crush is here?”

“Of course, he’s here.” Meghan nodded. “And he looks really upset.”

“He does?”

“Uh-huh.”

“Yeah. Let him come in.”

“Okay.”

“Are you going to go home with the family?”

“No,” her daughter replied in her all-business tone. “And Mr. Crushek has until I get back before he has to leave, too. No canoodling.”

“Canoodling?”

“You know what I mean.”

“But do you know what you mean?”

“Of course, I do. I read.”

Cella ordered herself not to laugh because her daughter was as serious as a heart attack.

“I’ll ask Aunt Jai to stop in, too.” Hand now on the door, Meghan warned, “And, Ma, do not move that leg.”

Staring at her daughter, Cella sat up a bit and jerked.

Gold eyes narrowed on her. “Ma.”

The kid was so easy!

“I’m not moving my leg. Besides, right now I’m so high on whatever painkiller they’re giving me that I feel like I’m floating anyway.”

“I’ll be back,” Meghan threatened.

Once her daughter walked out, Cella relaxed back in her bed and stared across the empty room. After a minute, she announced to no one, “I am so high.”

“So,” Dez reasoned, “basically, her leg will be stronger than it was.”

“Yeah.”

“And she’ll be, without even any physical therapy, back on her feet in like three to four days.”

“Pretty much.”

“And yet they’re all acting like they’re mourning her death.”

“Just the death of her career.”

“One of them. I mean she’s in KZS. I’m relatively certain the half-a-mil they pay her per year—”

“Wait. How much?”

“Oh, yeah. KZS pays really well. They tried to hire Mace when he left the Navy but he had plans with Smitty.”

“So even though we’re paid better than any full-human on the force, no matter the rank, we’re still paid less than everyone else?”

“Civil servants, baby.” Dez stared at Crush for a moment and he tried not to hide from her straightforward gaze. Finally, after a moment, she told him, “It’s not your fault.”

“It is my fault. I should have known Baissier was going to do something like this.”

“That she’d hire hyenas to break your girlfriend’s knee at a hockey game? I don’t think anyone would see that coming.” She pointed her finger at him. “And you’re not that guy.”

Confused, Crush asked, “What the fuck does that mean?”

“I mean, you’re not that guy who takes revenge on his foster mother by cutting her throat while she sleeps.” She pointed at the door. “Dee-Ann’s that guy. She’ll do that shit in a heartbeat. Cella, too. Not you. You do that shit, you’ll never live with yourself. And then you’ll drive me, your partner, crazy with your Mr. Depression act. So let’s not pretend that you’re the guy who can hunt someone down and exact revenge.”

“So just let it go?”

“Look, I get it. What happened to Cella sucks. And this ... uncaring bitch deserves some pain. But I’m not sure what she did would be considered a mitigating factor for her eventual murder in a court of law. And, yeah, you have claws and fangs, you’re a predator, yada yada—”

“Yada yada?”

“—but at the end of the day, my friend ... you’re still a cop. Old school. You’d never let anyone get away with exacting revenge, either, no matter who or what the hell they were or their perfectly good reasons.”

“But I feel like I owe it to her. I feel I owe Cella.”

“All you owe Cella is flowers, maybe some festive balloons, a ride home from the hospital, and nuzzling. You know, bear love.”

“Bear love? Something else you saw on National Geographic?”

“Or Animal Planet. Both are very helpful in dealing with my husband and my new crop of friends that aren’t canines.”

“I just ...” Crush stopped talking, lifted his nose, and sniffed. Reaching over, he grabbed the door handle and pulled it open. Cella’s daughter stood on the other side, Dr. Davis’s daughter right next to her. It looked like the two girls were in a heated discussion about something, but when the door opened, both froze. He felt like he’d caught them doing something, but he didn’t know what.

“Hi, Meghan. Everything okay?”

Wide-eyed, the girl nodded while she shoved her friend away. The kid took off and Meghan stepped closer. “Mom’s awake.”

Cella yawned and looked up at Jai. Once again, she was writing on a chart attached to a clipboard. What was the woman’s obsession with clipboards?

“Are you all right?” Cella asked.

“I’m fine.”

“You don’t look fine.”

Jai lifted her gaze to Cella’s and glared.

“I had no idea everyone was so invested in my career,” Cella muttered. “That they’d all be so upset.”

“Can’t we just be empathetic?”

“What is that word?”

Before Jai could hit her with her clipboard—she was clearly thinking about it—the door opened and Josie ran in, stumbling to a stop by the bed.

“What is it?” Jai asked her daughter.

“Detective Crushek ...”

“What about him?”

“Meghan and I went to find him and he was talking to Detective MacDermot and ... he wants revenge.”

Cella frowned. “Against the Minnesota team?”

“Huh?” She shook her head. “No, no. Against his foster mother or something?” She leaned in and whispered, “He’s an orphan?”

“He is, baby, but he handles it really well.”

“Not right now. He’s really mad about what happened to you, Aunt C.” Not surprising, really, if Baissier did have something to do with all this. Then again, Cella felt like she’d gotten off lucky. Fact was, if Baissier wanted Cella out of the way, she could have had Cella shot in the head while she was walking to the Sports Center. That was how KZS would have handled it.

“Where is he?”

“Meghan’s bringing him in, but she wanted me to warn you first.”

“Warn me?”

“You can’t let him.”

“I can’t?” Cella asked, enjoying this, probably because she was high, but Jai slapped her shoulder anyway. “Ow!”

The door opened again and Meghan walked in, Crush behind her. At first, Cella smiled because it looked kind of comical. Her too-skinny, barely six-foot, very clean-cut daughter followed by a six-nine, three-hundred-pound cop wearing a black Black Sabbath T-shirt, and looking like he’d just been released from prison. Thankfully, he hadn’t. Her daughter was perfectly safe. And realizing that made Cella’s smile a little wider. She might be high, but she knew she trusted the bear. He cared, which meant little Josie was right. Crush would take the blame for this on his giant, bear shoulders. He shouldn’t. None of this was his fault; this was just the world they all lived in. The cruel heartless games that they—the Group, KZS, BPC—all played. It really wasn’t something he could control or manage and getting into it with someone like Peg Baissier would do nothing but get him seriously hurt.

And Cella cared! She cared if the bear got hurt. She cared if he was upset about all this. That made her smile even more. It was nice to care about someone who wasn’t related by blood or the fact that they were pregnant the same time Cella was.

Frowning, Crush looked up, but when he saw her, he stopped, his hand on the door, his gaze on her, a small smile spreading across his face. And they stayed like that for a bit, both of them smiling at each other.

She was bruised and battered from the hockey game, her left leg in a brace that held it immobile, an IV attached to her arm, her black hair haphazardly piled on top of her head by a rubber band—but she was sitting up in bed and smiling.

God, she’s beautiful.

Someone cleared their throat and Crush blinked, remembering they weren’t alone.

“All right,” Dr. Davis said while fluffing up Cella’s pillow. “I’m going to take these two home.”

“I’m not leaving Mom, Aunt J.,” Meghan said.

“Yes, you are.” Cella nodded at her daughter. “If you don’t go home that means my mother will come back. Please don’t do that to me. The mother you love. I can’t take any more of the sobbing.”

“What if you need something?”

“That’s what a nursing staff is for.” Dr. Davis pulled the pillow out from under Cella’s head. “They’ll take excellent care of her.” She fluffed up the pillow again. “That’s what they’re trained to do.” Then she put the pillow over Cella’s face, pushing her back into the bed.

The two teenagers rolled their eyes, disgusted by their mothers.

“Mo-om,” Dr. Davis’s daughter whined.

Laughing, Dr. Davis pulled back, holding up that pillow. “I was just trying to help her get to sleep.”

Cella slapped at her friend’s arms. “You’re an idiot. Go.” She waved both girls away. “Go home. I’ll be here in the morning.”

“You shouldn’t be alone, Ma.”

“I’ll stay.” Crush stuffed his hands into the front pockets of his jeans. “I won’t sleep anyway, so I might as well.”

“Well, if Ma’s okay with—”

“I am. Bye-bye.” Cella waved them toward the door. “See ya!”

Crush stood back while the two girls kissed Cella good-bye.

“Do not move that leg,” Dr. Davis warned her.

“I won’t.”

The doctor kissed her friend on the cheek and headed toward the door. As she neared Crush, he whispered, “Is she—”

“As a kite. So good luck to ya.” She winked and walked out, the door quietly closing behind her.

The room was quiet and Crush stood there, staring at her until Cella warned, “Do not say you’re sorry.”

“Can I think it?”

“No. Trust me. I’m sure there will be lots of things that you’ll need to apologize for as we go along ... but this isn’t one of them.”

“I should have—”

“You’re going to make me roar. And once I start roaring, I don’t really like to stop.” Cella rubbed her eyes. “You know what I don’t want to do? Sit around and talk and analyze and, ya know, think.”

“Okay. What do you want to do?”

“Play cuddle-bear.”

Crush scratched his jaw to stop from laughing. “Cuddle-bear? And what’s that?”

“That’s where my bear cuddles me and tells me that I’m very pretty.”

He nodded. “I think he can handle that.” He took a step toward the bed.

“Naked cuddle-bear.”

“No.” Crush waved his hands. “No way.”

“Oh, come on!”

“There will be no naked cuddle-bear. You’re recovering, you gotta keep your leg immobile, and you’re high.”

“I am sooooo high.” To illustrate, she brought up both hands, pinkies and forefingers raised, thumbs holding down the others, and rocked her head like she was at a Van Halen concert.

“Are you supposed to be enjoying it this much?”

“Look, I was sixteen the last time I ...” She stopped, looked him over, and sneered, “Cop.”

“I think you’re past the statute of limitations on that, Malone. I must say, though, you are a hell of a mother because clearly your kid is on a different path.”

She shrugged. “A boring path.”

“Maybe, but not pregnant at fifteen either.”

“First off, I was sixteen when I got pregnant and seventeen when I had that demon spawn.” Cella looked off. “She’s going to be a doctor.”

“Were you hoping she’d join KZS?”

“I’d burn the main offices in Switzerland down before I’d let that happen.” She scratched her forehead. “My kid wants to be a doctor, she’s going to be a doctor.”

Crush walked toward the bed. “Did you want to be in KZS?”

“Actually, yeah. I wanted to be a Marine, too. But like I said ... that’s not Meghan, that’s not Josie.”

“And Dr. Davis?”

“It’s Jai. Jesus, just call the woman Jai. I hate this formal name obsession you have.”

“Okay. Jai. Is she in KZS, too?”

“Just part of the medical team. I got shot in the neck once during a firefight. She was the one who fixed me up. But arterial damage is her specialty. Another doctor handled my knee.” She looked down at her leg. “I’m going to miss hockey.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Again with the sorry?”

“I feel like I should say something.”

“No. What you should do is come over here and be my cuddle-bear.”

“You’re whining.”

“You’re making me whine.”

Crush sat on the bed beside Cella, his arm over her shoulder, moving as close as he could to her side so that she wouldn’t try to stretch over.

“Better?” he asked.

“Much,” she sighed out, her head resting against his chest.

“So what happens now?”

“When the brace comes off, we have sex.”

“No.” Crush briefly gritted his teeth and ordered his cock to control itself. “I mean, what happens now with all this?”

Her entire body began to relax, her eyes closing. “I have no idea. But I’ll say one thing,” she murmured before falling into a deep sleep, “I’m really glad I’m not Baissier tonight.”

Crush frowned. “Why?” But it was too late. Cella was out cold.

Peg walked into her Brooklyn home with her two-man security team behind her. It was late and she was tired. Things were not going like she wanted them to, but she wasn’t giving up. She’d never give up.

She quickly flipped through her mail. When she saw nothing of consequence, she tossed the envelopes onto the silver tray sitting on top of the end table by her front door. With a sigh, she slipped off her shoes and headed through her hallway and toward her kitchen. She passed her living room, but stopped and walked back, gazing around the room. She felt rage inch up her neck at the sight of it.

“Someone’s playing games,” she muttered to her boys, taking in the carnage that had been left behind. Much of her furniture was antique, all of it was expensive.

“This is disgusting,” one of them complained.

Reaching into her purse, she grabbed her cell phone and continued on toward the kitchen, wondering what had been done in there while the team went upstairs to check the rest of the house.

She walked in and stopped, her cell phone clutched in her hand. “Comfortable?” she asked the She-wolf sitting cross-legged on her kitchen table.

“Much. Thank ya kindly.”

Peg swept her hand back toward her living room. “And was that your work, little puppy?”

“Nope. That was the cats. You know how felines are. And Malone is one of their own.”

“Is all that supposed to bother me?”

“More like annoy. Figure you got homeowner’s insurance. Although, doubt it’ll cover what they did in your shoes and clothes.”

“What did they do in my—”

“I’m sure you can smell what they did by now. You bein’ grizzly and all.”

And this was why she loathed felines. “So what? Is this where you threaten me, maybe slap me around a little?”

“Nah.” The She-wolf shook her head sadly. “Can’t. Momma always told me it was wrong to beat up the elderly.”

Snarling a little, Peg snapped, “I am not elderly.”

“As ya like.”

“Then what do you want? To give me dire warnings?”

“Ain’t much known for my warnings. Don’t see the point.” She slipped off the table. She was tall, but not as tall as Peg. Definitely not as wide. Just some little Group She-bitch. Like that alone would scare Peg?

The wolf headed toward the back door, but now Peg must admit, she didn’t understand. The felines had done their little destroying furniture with their claws and desecration of her shoes thing and left, but the dog ... she was still lingering around. Why?

“Why are you still here, canine?”

“Just a tad hungry was all.”

Confused, Peg looked around, expecting to see used pots and pans in the sink. Maybe some dog shit in her refrigerator. But instead, all she spotted was the untouched food and water bowls on the floor. And right beside it, some blood.

Peg followed after the She-wolf, but the female stopped suddenly in the laundry room and faced her. Peg immediately flicked on the overhead light to keep the canine in her sights. There weren’t a lot of people in the world who made Peg nervous, but ...

Gazing at her with those yellow dog eyes, the canine scratched her cheek. At first, all Peg could see was the blood around the canine’s mouth, but then she heard that soft tinkle noise and her eyes focused on what the bitch had wrapped around her thick, man-like wrist. It was a bright red collar, a small bell attached to it. That’s what was tinkling as she scratched herself.

Livid, Peg roared, “You disgusting piece of—”

“Now, now,” the canine easily cut in, never once losing her cool. She showed no fear, no anger, no hatred. Nothing. Nothing at all. “Let’s not be rude.”

“You ate my cat.” The black-and-white tabby Peg had rescued two years ago to impress a cat-loving investor. A cat she’d become rather attached to!

“You know how it is.” The canine’s head tilted to the side, her forefinger wiping the blood off the corner of her mouth before sucking the digit clean. “You fucked with my pussy ... and I fucked with yours.”

Done, she tipped her baseball cap at Peg. “Y’all have a nice night now.”

Peg’s hands tightened into fists and she asked, “Exactly who the fuck are you anyway?”

“Name’s Dee-Ann.” She opened the back door and stepped out into the darkness, but when she looked back at Peg, yellow dog eyes glinted at her.

“You’re Eggie Ray Smith’s kid,” Peg accused.

“That’s right. I’ll tell Daddy y’all said hi.”

With that, the female disappeared into the darkness and Peg quickly closed the door, locking it. Then, with shaking hands, she speed-dialed her assistant. “Get a tactical unit over here now.” She sniffed, the scent of disgusting canine female and, even worse, feline piss and shit, making her feel like retching. “And a goddamn maid service.”