Bear Meets Girl

CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE

Three days after her career-ending injury, Cella returned to the Sports Center. Crush drove her over and walked in with her, but let her go into the locker room by herself to get the rest of her stuff. And she was grateful he was being so understanding because Cella just wasn’t ready to face her old team yet. Her knee might be healed but her life still felt a little shaky.

But Crush ... well, he was being amazing. So she’d rush through these five stages of grief thing that her family kept talking about and get Crush back to the hotel. There she could use some “sex treatment” to recover from her trauma. An excellent plan as far as she was concerned.

Yet as she stood there, staring at the old training jersey she held in her hands, she really wondered if she’d ever be “over” all of this. If she couldn’t work for KZS anymore, she wouldn’t shed a tear. Would she miss it? Yeah. She would. She loved hanging around cats. But hockey ...

“Cella! Cella!”

Hearing her name bellowed, repeatedly, outside the locker room, Cella tossed her jersey to the bench and walked to the door, yanking it open.

“What?” she demanded, seeing that Crush had been doing his best to keep Reece Reed from shoving him out of the way. Shame the bear really was a mess on skates because he seemed to have a healthy grasp on the rest of hockey’s basics. “What the hell’s going on?”

“You have to come to tryouts. Please.”

Cella dropped her hand to her hip, lips pursed. “Are you trying to hurt my feelings? Are you trying to make me cry or something? Because if I cry, I’ll make sure you cry with me, Reed.”

“No, no. You don’t understand—”

“Because I know that it must be fuckin’ high-larious to you guys that big-mouth Malone is out of the league and now you can say all that shit to my face that you had to say behind my back, but let me tell you—”

“Novikov is handling the tryouts.”

Cella’s words stopped in her throat and she began blinking too much. Because she must have heard Reed wrong. She must have.

“I’m sorry. Did you say—?”

“He took over the tryouts. Insisted on it. Said you were the only one he trusted to do it and with you gone ...” Reed took off his baseball cap, ran his hands through his hair. “I heard from one of the maintenance guys that you and Crush were in the building. I know you want to pack up your stuff and go, but you need to understand ... he’s destroying people’s will to live. He made a hyena cry. A hyena. They laugh at everything, but this one was sobbing in the girl’s bathroom and one of the lion male football players felt so bad for him ... he went in to comfort him. Lion males don’t do that.”

“Why was he in the girl’s bathroom?”

“Probably because that’s where Novikov said he belonged. Because he was such a girl.”

Cella’s eyes narrowed. “That mixed-breed, misogynistic motherfucker.”

“No one knows what to do and Van Holtz has already swung at him twice.”

“Where the fuck is Reynolds?” The Carnivores’ increasingly useless coach.

“In his office ... drinking.”

“It’s eight in the morning.”

“And I rest my case.”

Cella looked at Crush, but he only shrugged. “It’s up to you. But I should remind you that you invited Hannah to the try—”

“Oh, my God!” Cella pointed at Reed. “Round up a few of the guys and all of you get on your gear. I’ll meet you in the rink.”

“Okay.”

Cella ran back to her locker and yanked out her equipment, quickly putting everything on.

Without opening her eyes, Sophie knew someone was in the Atlantic City hotel room with her, and even as she reached for the gun she kept under her pillow, she already knew it wouldn’t be there.

It wasn’t.

“Might as well get up, darlin’. Ain’t got all day.”

Her mind scrambling for a way out of this, Sophie sat up, her eyes straying to the two windows closest to her and the door. Maybe she could—

“You’ll never make it out of here before I catch ya. We both know that.”

They did. Sophie studied the tall, big-shouldered female sitting across from her. In the twenty-three years Sophie DiMarco had been on this earth, she’d learned how to read people. It was a skill that had kept her alive and relatively unscathed. When she’d picked up that bleeding guy, she’d known she was safe with him. Not just because he was bleeding out in the car, but because she could tell. She sensed it.

With this woman, however ... she knew if she ran, the bitch would kill her and it wouldn’t even cross her mind again once it was over.

“What do you want?”

Eyes like a dog’s blinked at her. “I need you to show me where you picked up that boy.”

“Can’t I just give you—?”

“It’s not that I don’t trust you ... I just don’t trust anybody. So show me where it was.”

“And then what?”

“Darlin’, if I was gonna kill you, I’d have done it by now. But commitments were made and I hold to those.”

“Yeah, but—”

“You want that boy safe, don’t you?”

“I guess. I mean, I don’t really know him or anything.”

“You always pick up strangers bleeding out on the street?”

Realizing the woman was either going to kill her or not and there was nothing Sophie could do about it, she admitted, “That isn’t what I saw. And we both know it.”

“Help me,” the woman said. “And I’ll make sure no one bothers you.” She leaned forward, resting her elbows on her knees, and added, “As long as you keep your mouth shut.”

Crush followed Cella to the rink, then stood outside. A few seconds later, Reed and the rest of the players he’d managed to find at the Sports Center ran by, with their gear on except for their skates. Crush grabbed the handle and pulled the door open, allowing the team to charge inside. Reed stopped. “You coming in?”

“The sign”—he pointed at the big sign that had several stadium guards standing around it—“says only players and tryout invitees. I’m neither.”

The wolf grinned. “Ain’t you cute.” Then he grabbed Crush by the shoulder of his sweatshirt and hauled him inside.

“Are you sure this is okay? I mean—”

“Quiet, son. And just watch your woman work.”

Cella skated across the ice toward Novikov. Novikov, who was in the middle of a tirade against some kid that didn’t even look eighteen years old.

Cella maneuvered between the two, coming to an immediate stop in front of Novikov. “What is wrong with you?” she asked him.

“Nothing. Why are you here?”

“I’m here to help.”

“You can’t. You’re not on the team.”

“I can’t help, you idiot, during a game. There’s nothing that says I can’t help with tryouts.”

“You’re supposed to be getting me an enforcer from the losers we already have. I’ll handle the new losers.”

Cella closed her eyes, took a deep breath. “Can I talk to you for a minute?”

“Not if you’re just going to yell at me about how I shouldn’t call any of these idiots ‘losers.’ Especially when you’re not even on the team anymore.”

Cella opened her eyes, looking up at the seven-one hybrid through those black lashes.

“Uh-oh,” Crush muttered.

“Yeah,” Reed agreed. “I was thinking the same thing.”

Cella skated off across the ice, stopped at one of the other exits, and walked out.

Reed looked at him. “That’s it?”

“Doubt it.”

Novikov was already back to destroying the hopes and dreams of complete strangers when Cella came in again. She skated over to him and stopped, gazing up at him.

“What? You’re back? Why?”

“You did ... didn’t you?” a small voice said, and Crush and Reed leaned over to see who was standing in that entrance Cella had just come through.

“Oh, man,” Reed muttered. “Malone is stone cold.”

“I know.”

Novikov glared at Cella, then faced his fiancée. “Blayne—”

“You!” the wolfdog exploded, “are a horrible, horrible man! How could you say that to Cella after all she’s been through? I’ll never marry you! Never!”

Blayne ran out and Novikov handed his stick over to Cella. “I hate you,” he told her.

“Just be glad I didn’t punch you in the face. Again.”

Novikov went after his fiancée and Cella tossed the extra hockey stick to one of the regular players since she had her own.

With a smile, she skated over to the ones trying out. “Hi, everybody. I’m Cella Malone. First off—”

“Again with the first off,” Crush said under his breath, unable to hide his smile.

“—how many of you were already told by Novikov that you’re done?”

When all but three people out of the forty raised their hands, Cella shook her head and said, “Yeah. Let’s start over.”

Reed started walking toward the ice. “I think they’re asking for you.”

“Who?”

He motioned over to the players’ bench where MacRyrie and Van Holtz were sitting with a few of the senior players. With a wave, they motioned him over.

Crush went to their side, figuring they needed something, but MacRyrie just made everybody move down on the bench. It took Crush a good sixty seconds of staring before he realized that they expected him to sit. With the team. On the bench.

Holy shit.

Cella skated over to where Crush was sitting with Van Holtz and MacRyrie. Novikov—after begging and receiving Blayne’s forgiveness—was back out on the ice with Reed and several of the other players, but she’d forbidden him from speaking. She wanted to add “ever,” but she thought that might be asking too much. So she’d ordered him to silence until after the tryouts.

“Where is she?” Cella asked Crush.

“Where’s who?”

“Hannah. Blayne said she brought her, but she hasn’t seen her since she changed in the locker room.”

“I haven’t seen her.” When she sighed, he held his hands up. “I’ll go look for her.”

“Thank you.”

After Crush walked out, MacRyrie muttered, “Nice guy.”

“Uh-huh.”

“Friendly,” Van Holtz added.

Cella’s eyes narrowed. “And?”

“Just an observation. No need to get testy.”

Debating whether to yell at them just for the hell of it, Cella heard Novikov berating some poor kid who just wanted to live his dream. The kid had potential, too, which was why Novikov was bothering. She’d realized that the worst thing for any player was when Novikov completely ignored you. That meant you weren’t a threat. As a player, you weren’t worthy of his attention. But the poor kid he was currently yelling down to wouldn’t know that.

Skating over, Cella slid between them. “Where’s my silence?”

“He asked me a question.”

“So you yell at him?”

“It was kind of a stupid question.”

It probably was, but still ... there were better ways to, oh, why bother?

“Go sit down, Novikov. Over there.” She pushed him toward where MacRyrie and Van Holtz were sitting.

“I’m not done.”

“Yes, you are.”

“You’re going to make me sit with them?”

“Be nice. They’re your teammates and Van Holtz is your boss.” She shoved, sending him gliding across the ice.

She faced the kid. “Okay.” She smiled at him to put him at ease. “Why don’t I have you work with Reed instead?”

Ric watched Cella Malone take the hopefuls through the paces. Unlike Novikov, she wasn’t a ridiculous bastard about it, but she wasn’t so nice that she was ineffectual. That was a great skill to have.

Novikov sat down next to him.

“I don’t know why I have to sit here with you two.”

“Because you’re an asshole?” Lock asked.

Novikov leaned over Ric. “You got something to say to me, humpback?”

“As a matter of fact—”

“Hey!” Cella was in front of them. She raised her hands together, then pushed them apart. “Separate.” She snarled and spit out between clenched teeth, “I said separate.”

Lock and Novikov sat back in their seats.

“I swear,” Cella said, shaking her head. “You’re worse than my baby brothers. You two—like cats in a bag.”

Ric watched her get back to work. “Impressive, huh?”

“What?” Lock asked, using the handle of his hockey stick to scratch his forehead.

“Cella.” Ric pointed at Novikov. “She handles this homicidal idiot quite well, wouldn’t you say?”

“You do know I can hear you, right?”

“Know, but don’t care.”

Crush walked down another long hallway, letting his nose lead him. He eventually tracked the girl down by the soda machines. She was dressed in her hockey gear, skates included, but she was pressed between a Coke machine and a water cooler.

He knew that look on her face, too. He’d had it when he’d tried out for his school’s hockey team—and failed miserably. In fact, Crush was mocked for a good six months—until the growth spurt. Amazing what an obnoxious fourteen-year-old left wing hanging from the school flagpole could do for a white-haired boy’s rep.

“Cella sent me to look for you.”

“I can’t do it. There’s like thirty guys out there.”

“Some of them are female.”

She blinked. “Really?”

“Don’t judge.”

“No, no. I wasn’t. It’s just ...” Hannah shook her head. “I can’t do it. I can’t go out there and make a fool of myself.”

Crush walked farther into the lunch room, closer to the snack machines. “Have you ever been on skates?”

She nodded. “I used to figure skate. It made sense when I was five. Then I was twelve and—”

“Suddenly five-ten?”

“Try six feet.”

“Ouch.”

“Yeah. My poor parents.”

“Why were they surprised?”

She shrugged. “I was adopted. They were full-human. I didn’t know what I was until my ninth grade English teacher told me. When she told me I was ‘special,’ I thought she was just hitting on me.”

“Kind of a glass-half-empty girl?”

“It is half empty. Half full makes no sense.”

Crush pressed his back into the wall, ducking his head so she couldn’t see him smile.

“At the very least,” he was finally able to tell her without laughing, “you can skate. You won’t fall on your face. Some of the ones trying out ... not pretty.”

“I haven’t skated in years. And I’m just not sure that I should be put into violent situations that involve sticks and big guys aggressively coming at me.”

“Why not?”

Her eyes lowered and she seemed to suddenly close in on herself. Crush watched her, his head tilting to the side. The cop in him had a litany of questions to ask her, but that wasn’t what she needed right now: a cop asking why she shouldn’t be in violent situations. So Crush said, “Think of it this way ... if you don’t go to the tryout, Blayne will think you’re still available.”

Hannah’s head snapped up, her eyes blinking wide. “Oh, God. I forgot.”

“So you might as well give it a shot, right?”

She snorted, nodded her head. “Yeah. You’re right. I might as well just get this over with.”

She headed off and Crush followed, the pair walking back into the rink. Cella smiled when she saw them, and skated over.

“Am I too late?” Hannah asked.

“Nope. Not at all. In fact, I want you to hit the ice with these two ladies. They’ve been doing really well today.” Cella motioned to two Arctic She-foxes. Sisters. No. Actually twins. They made their way over and stopped, grinning. “This is Nita and Nina Gallo.”

“Hi!” the tiny foxes said in unison. Crush would guess they weren’t older than nineteen. Maybe. They were cute, though, but tiny. Five-six, if that, and maybe a hundred pounds. He had to admit, he was surprised they were here. Foxes this age were usually off doing something that required Crush to arrest them. Or, at the very least, try to arrest them. The sole reason that he, unlike most polars, had no foxes to call his own.

“We’ll meet you out on the ice!” these foxes chirped. Then they waved and skated off.

Hannah looked up at him. “Because it’ll be so much fun for me to be the giant ogre standing over the little elf girls.”

“Welcome to my world, kid. Now go out there and do some damage.”

Cella saw the looks on the guys’ faces and skated over to them. “Well?”

Van Holtz and MacRyrie shrugged, but Novikov ... “She’ll need work,” he complained.

“I know.”

“All three of them will.”

“Uh-huh.”

“Her skating is beyond rusty. And the other two have the attention spans of fleas.”

“I know. I know.” Cella didn’t argue. She waited.

“She’s fast, though,” he finally admitted. “And the foxes, with some serious training, could be pretty good. Maybe.”

Cella nodded. “I think you’re right. Instead of putting them on right away, why not go your route? Start ’em off in the minors and let them work their way up.” Of course, one of Cella’s uncles was the assistant coach of the minors so Cella kind of worked with the minor team anyway, but no need to mention that.

Novikov looked off. “Well ... that might work.”

She glanced at Van Holtz and MacRyrie. They were staring at her, eyes wide, until Van Holtz mouthed at her, How do you do that?

They sat in Dee-Ann’s car, staring across the street.

“That’s a ...”

“Yeah. A country club. For very rich people.”

“Huh. Learn something new every day.”

They hadn’t driven all the way from Atlantic City to the Hamptons; they had taken Van Holtz’s helicopter from AC to the Hamptons, a rental car taking them here. To a country club.

The girl pointed. “He came out of there.”

“Past that hedge?”

“Yeah. But I think there’s a door there.”

“Okay.”

Sophie briefly chewed her bottom lip.

“What?”

“I just don’t know if you should ...”

“If I should what?”

“Challenge these people.”

“Because they’re rich?”

“Look, I don’t steal some poor guy’s Prius or the Ford he inherited from his dad, you know? That’s not my thing.”

“You steal from rich people.”

“And I know my targets. I know them really well. I make it my business to know. Although the town, in theory, owns the country club, there’s a man who runs it. And he’s not dangerous just because he’s rich. He’s dangerous because he knows how to play both sides of any situation. He practically makes me seem like Mother Teresa. Just ... be careful.”

And that was why Dee hadn’t simply found out from the girl where she’d picked up the Callahan kid and let her go. That sort of information took time to pull from a person. “Thanks for the warning.” Dee handed the girl a business card.

Sophie turned it over in her hand. “It’s just a number.”

“It’s my number. You need me, you call. Understand?”

“Yeah. Sure.”

“Good.” Dee started the car. “Now, let’s see if we can track down a White Castle before I let you go.”

“You want to track down a White Castle in the Hamptons?”

Dee grinned. “I believe in livin’ large.”

“Yeah. I can see that.”

Cella stood outside the locker room staring up at a bear-canine hybrid who could barely look her in the eye.

“You don’t have to make any decisions now, Hannah. But you should at least think about it.”

“Yeah, it’s just ...”

“Just what?”

“If I say yes, will they continue to follow me everywhere?”

Cella glanced over at the twin She-foxes. They waved, identical bright grins on their pretty faces.

“As it is, I can’t get rid of this one.”

She pointed at Abby, who’d been hanging out at the Sports Center all day, begging food off people.

“I don’t know. No one follows me anywhere.” Cella shrugged. “I’m a cat. This sounds like a bear issue. Ask Crush, I think he’s getting coffee.”

“Yeah, okay.”

“But you’ll think about it, right? Maybe go to a few practices just to see?”

“I’ll think about it.”

Cella nodded and watched the girl walk off, stop, glare at the foxes now following her, along with Abby, walk, stop, glare. Assuming it would go on all the way down the hall, Cella walked into the locker room to change her clothes and clean out her stuff.

This had been a good way to end it all. A good way for her to move on. What did they call that? Closure or something? Whatever. It worked out well.

But as Cella came around the corner, she found Ric Van Holtz standing there, waiting for her.

“What’s up?” she asked, hoping he wasn’t here to give her some pathetic hug good-bye. Cella hated the hug good-bye unless it was from her kid or her father. Otherwise, it just annoyed.

“I’ve got your final player payout.”

“Oh. Okay.”

She took the manila envelope, opening the flap enough to look inside. She didn’t let her eyes bug out at the size of the check, but honestly, she wanted to.

“Thanks.”

“No problem. You earned it.”

“I’ll miss you guys,” she admitted, opening her locker for the last time.

“Yeah, about that ... I have a job offer.”

“I don’t need your pity job, Van Holtz. Thanks, but no—”

“For head coach.”

Cella froze, eyes wide. “What?”

“Eventually,” Van Holtz quickly added. “I mean ...” He took a breath. “Coach Reynolds is retiring in a year. We haven’t announced it to the team, but I’d already put out the word to a few agents I know and had gotten in some ré-sumés from a few interested parties, including the coach for the Alaskan Bears. And he was my first choice, really. I mean, he handles a team full of bears and two foxes. There’s gotta be skill there. But I’d forget him in a heartbeat if I could get you.”

Cella ran her hands through her still sweat-drenched hair and slowly faced the wolf. “You want me to be coach?”

“Assistant to start and when Reynolds retires ... head coach.”

Cella just had to ask, “Why?”

“There’s lots of reasons. I can sit here and rhapsodize about your skill on the ice, your ability to train and get the best out of the rookies, your amazing eye for talent ... I mean, I love Hannah, but I would have never thought of her for the team. But really, it comes down to one thing ...”

Cella couldn’t help but smile a little. “Novikov?”

“You handle Novikov and he lets you. That alone is worth its weight in gold. Because if you can handle that man, you can handle anyone.”

“That’s true. I can handle anyone.”

“And Novikov isn’t going anywhere. Blayne wants to stay in New York and whether he disgusts me or not, he loves her. So he’s not going anywhere. And even if I wanted to fire him, I can’t because he flippin’ wins.”

“Yeah, but we’re probably not going to quite hit the play-offs this year.”

“I know, which means he’s going to be hell to deal with next year. Which is the reason I’m sure Reynolds is getting out while the gettin’ is good. You can’t desert me, Cella. You can’t. We’re friends. You’re friends with my mate. I’m a nice guy. And unless Bert’s around, I have trouble separating that idiot and Lock. So you can’t go. You might not be able to play on the team with your knee, but you can coach and you are probably the only thing that will keep us from ganging up on Novikov and beating him like they did to Vincent D’Onofrio’s character in Full Metal Jacket.”

Cella laughed, her body relaxing against her locker, her hand covering her mouth.

“Yeah. Sure. Funny to you. You’re the only one I know, besides Blayne, who gets along with Novikov. And no matter what other offer you get, I’ll beat it.”

Cella held up her hand. “Other offers?”

Van Holtz rolled his eyes. “From the Philly team, the Boston team, the San Francisco team. I think there’s a couple more. As soon as they heard you were out as a player, they began salivating.” He placed his hand against his upper chest. “But you’re my friend. You wouldn’t betray me, would you?”

“You about to threaten me with your mate?”

“If I have to.”

“Well—”

“Just think about it before you turn me down.”

“I was just going to—”

“Think about your situation. Your daughter’s staying in New York to go to school. So you’ll be near her. And Crushek’s here. He, for some unknown reason considering how much the rest of us like him, also gets along with Novikov. Maybe all his experience working with sociopathic drug dealers or something.”

“Novikov is not that bad! He’s just ... myopic.”

“Like a fighting dog?” When Cella rolled her eyes, “Hey, he was the one who threw bleachers at Reed and the other guys.”

“I know, I know. I already talked to him about that. Told him it wasn’t good for the team or morale.”

Van Holtz smirked at her, one eyebrow up.

“All right, all right. How about I give you a tentative yes?”

“Will you sign something?”

“No. I gotta talk to my own agent and my kid and my dad.”

“And Crushek?”

“Maybe.”

“Because he’s part of your life now?”

“What are you, Van Holtz? A girl?”

“According to Dee-Ann’s father? Yes, I am.”

Crush watched Cella skating around the rink. She was alone. Just her, the ice, her stick, and the puck. While she moved, he could hear her singing the traditional Irish song, “I’m a Man You Don’t Meet Every Day,” her voice sweeter than he ever thought it could be.

“She’s in a good mood.”

Crush shook his head and asked, “Didn’t anyone ever teach you not to sneak up on bears?”

Dee-Ann Smith rested her arms on the low part of the training rink’s wall and watched Cella skate.

“Y’all call it sneakin’. I don’t call it sneakin’.”

“What do you call it?”

“Amblin’.”

Crush chuckled. “Good to know.”

“New coach of the Carnivores, huh?”

“That’s what your mate tells me.”

“What do you think?”

“I told him it was about time.”

He could see Smith look at him a few times before she said, “What about KZS?”

“What about it?”

“You going to talk her out of working for them now? So she can devote herself to all things hockey.”

Crush laughed. A lot. So much so that Smith finally asked, “What’s so funny?”

“That you think I can talk that woman out of anything she wants to do.” He patted her back. “You’re a funny little She-wolf.”

Smith grinned. “You’ll have to forgive me, son. I didn’t realize you were one of those evolved males.”

“I don’t need to evolve. I’m a bear.” He shrugged. “Bears are already perfect. It’s the rest of you that need to catch up.”

Cella turned and skated over to them. When she stopped, she looked past Crush and Smith.

“So I walked up to Crushek,” Dez said from behind him, “and started telling him how Baissier took out the taxidermist not too long ago.”

Wondering what she was talking about since MacDermot hadn’t told him anything like that since the last time he’d seen her, Crush turned around and immediately snarled at the sight of his brothers.

“When,” Dez continued, “another Crushek walked up to me and said to the first one, ‘Who’s the babe?’ to which the other one replied, ‘Don’t know, but nice tits.’ ”

“It was a compliment,” Gray stupidly stated, which got him the punch to the balls from Dez that he so richly deserved.

“Why are you here?” Crush demanded of Chazz since Gray was currently on his knees, hands between his legs.

“Word is you’re looking for that full-human ... Whitlan.”

“What? Are you here to warn us off for Baissier?”

“No. We’re here to warn you that she’s almost got him.”

Crush glanced back at Cella. “That’s why she took out the taxidermist. She knows where Whitlan is.” Looking back at his brothers, he asked, “But why are you telling me?”

“Because of what she did,” Chazz replied, his face solemn.

“What she did to me?”

Now Chazz looked disgusted. “You? Who gives a shit about you? I’m talking about what she did to ... to ... Bare Knuckles.”

Crush’s eyes crossed and Smith quickly ducked her head, her shoulders shaking.

“That was her going too far?” Crush snarled. “That?”

“You don’t mess with the home team. You’re a complete idiot, but even you know that.”

Crush took a step toward his brother, but Dez got between them. “How does she know where Whitlan is?” she asked Chazz.

He shrugged. “I heard she got it out of some girl.”

Smith looked up. “What girl?”

“Don’t know? Some full-human.”

Crush shook his head at Dez. “That can’t be Sophie DiMarco.”

“It might be,” Smith said and when they all stared at her, she added, “I tracked her down in Atlantic City earlier today.”

Cella skated around and then walked over until she was in front of Smith. “You did what?”

“Why are you lookin’ at me like that for?”

“Because,” Cella snarled, “you goddamn hick! I promised the Callahans she wouldn’t get hurt!”

“I didn’t hurt her! I just wanted her to take me to where she found Callahan, and I’m thinking that’s where Whitlan is. And when we were done, I put her back on the train to Atlantic City.”

“Did you see her get on the train?” Crush asked.

“I did.”

“Did you see the train leave the station?”

When Smith didn’t answer, both Dez and Crush groaned.

Cella took off her helmet. “Oh, my God, Smith, what did you do?”

“I’m not likin’ your tone.”

“How would you like my fist?”

“Bring it, calico!”

“Stop it!” Dez snapped. “Both of you. We don’t have time for this.”

“She’s right,” Cella agreed. “Baissier’s going to kill her.”

“No,” Crush corrected her. “She won’t do that until she has Whitlan in her hands.” He looked at Chazz, while Gray finally got to his feet behind him. “Where’s Whitlan?”

Chazz and Gray gave identical shrugs and said together, “The Hamptons.”

Crush looked at the three females, then said, “The Hamptons? Really?”