Bear Meets Girl

by Shelly Laurenston

  “Why do you ask?”

  “Because something about you tells me that you’re the duck-out-the-first-time-you-get-the-chance guy. Unless you’re about to arrest someone.” She blinked, thought a moment, then asked, “Are you here to arr—”

  “No, Blayne. I’m not here to arrest anyone.”

  “Cool! Want me to get Cella for you?”

  “Sure. Okay.”

  “No problem.” She finally released the grip she had on him, put both her hands to her mouth and screamed out, “Cella!”

  And yes, that was something he could have done himself, but why quibble?

  Malone turned, saw them, and ran over. When she was about ten feet from Crush, she launched herself at him, hitting him hard, her legs wrapping around his waist, her arms around his neck. “Hi!”

  “H—”

  She didn’t let him finish, her mouth pressing against his, arms tightening around his neck. And for those few seconds Crush forgot about everyone else.

  When she finally pulled her mouth away, Crush still had his eyes closed.

  “I’m glad you came.”

  Wait. He had? When?

  “I was afraid you were going to bail on me.”

  Oh! Came as in attend. Got it. He was there. He was okay. He could handle this. Her. Whatever.

  “I promised.”

  “You did.” Still wrapped around him, she leaned back a bit and gave him a once-over. “You’re kind of overdressed.”

  “I see that now.”

  Cella took Crush on a tour. She loved this yearly party and was excited to be able to share something with him that she was pretty sure he’d enjoy. She got the feeling that MacDermot’s party from a couple of weeks ago was probably the first time in a long time that he’d gone to a party that had nothing to do with his job. He had to learn to relax. Guys like him ended up with heart conditions and high blood pressure. She didn’t want that for Crush and would do what she could to make sure he learned what relaxing was all about.

  “There’s a couple of hockey games going on. Pro players over there and just-like-to-get-drunk-and-fuck-around-on-the-ice over there. There’s equipment to borrow if you didn’t bring your own. There’s ice holes over there with freshwater seals. I’m told they’re just like ring seals.”

  “Baikal seals. Someone went all the way to Russia to get those?”

  “Not when they can just go to the Maine seal farms. Have you been to any bear-only towns?”

  “No.”

  “So much to show you.”

  “A lot more, I hope.”

  And the way he looked at her when he said that ...

  Cella shook her head. “Cut it out.”

  “What?”

  “Being so damn cute. More to see.” She pulled him over to the other side of the dance floor. “Picnic tables are here. Malones already grabbed eight of them, so you should be able to find someplace to sit.” She pointed at an outside barbeque grill. “That’s where you can get polar bear stuff. Seal, walrus, I think they have whale this year. Beluga or something.”

  “Hi, Detective Crushek.”

  Cella pulled Crush around to see her daughter and Josie walking up to them, a batch of the young cousins behind them.

  “Hi, Meghan. Josie. It’s good to see you guys again.”

  “We’re glad you came,” Meghan said. “But please don’t let my mother’s outfit bother you. It’s for shock value only at this point.”

  “Thank you very much, but I look fabulous in this outfit. Don’t I look fabulous in this outfit, Crushek?”

  “I can’t express to you how many ways I’m not getting between a mother and daughter.”

  Meghan’s smile was bright and wide. “Smart man.”

  “Thank you.”

  “What are you two up to now?” Cella asked.

  “Josie wants to flirt with the Callahans.”

  “All right, but no separating and don’t let any of them abscond with her.” She pointed at Josie. “I promised your mom and grandmother we’d keep you safe since they didn’t want to come. So don’t do anything that will get me in trouble.”

  “I promise, Aunt C.”

  “Good. Now go.”

  The girls walked off and Cella turned back to Crush. “What?” she asked when she saw him staring at her.

  “Abscond with her?”

  “Yeah. Callahans used to take mountain lions for brides.”

  “Hundreds of years ago, right?”

  “Uh ... last one was two years ago. Some chick from Arizona.”

  “And the filing of kidnapping charges ... ?”

  “Kidnapping charges? Why would they do that?”

  “Because that’s what it is?”

  “I guess.”

  “You guess?”

  “Look, why file kidnapping charges when you can haggle for some new RVs and ... wait. Where are you going?”

  Cella caught up with the bear. “What’s wrong?”

  “Nothing. I guess I should have realized sooner your whole family are gypsies.”

  “Sssshhh,” Cella whispered. She took a desperate look around to make sure he hadn’t been heard. “Look, Crushek, we don’t use that word.”

  “Why?”

  “We just don’t,” she insisted. “It’s bigoted and you do not want to get on the wrong side of the Malones. Plus, we’ve got the Callahans here, the Ryans—”

  “But there’s absconding. You’re worried your friend’s daughter will be absconded.”

  “The Malones aren’t leaving little Josie on her own. No matter how cute a Callahan boy is.”

  “Okay.”

  “You can call us Travellers.”

  “Are you Travellers?”

  She shrugged. “We were.”

  “What does that mean?”

  “It’s a long story. Come on. I’m not done showing you around. And remember ...”

  “Right. No bigotry. Just ... absconding.”

  With a short laugh, Cella took Crush’s hand again and led him over to the big tent set up in the field. They’d had to up the size this year. “This used to be just for human mates, but the last couple of years we’ve been getting a lot more of the hot breeds.”

  Cella walked into the tent, Crush behind her. With their own dance floor and their own barbeque pit, the other cats, wolves, bears, etc., lounged around in their heavy sweaters and ski pants with their thermals under that. Many of them still had on their jackets, but they all seemed to be having a good time.

  Crush grunted and Cella looked up at him. “What?”

  “Are those African wild dogs?”

  Cella sighed, looking over at the dance floor. It was filled to capacity with completely sober wild dogs, howling, barking, and dancing to whatever eighties crap they were forcing the rest of the tent attendees to listen to.

  “Yeah. I don’t really know why they’re here. I can’t believe any cats invited them. They’re not close to bears, and wolves can barely tolerate them.”

  “I’ve discovered that if there’s a good party somewhere, wild dogs will find it and take over.”

  “It used to be just one pack from out on the Island. Now there’s like seven packs who’ve attended the last two years. I will say, my mom thinks it’s great. The wild dogs love to get married and my mom networks at these things.”

  “Smart lady.”

  A hard fist rammed into Cella’s back.

  “Hey.”

  Yep. Hard and unyielding. “Why are you here?” Cella asked Dee-Ann.

  “It’s my day off. My mate says, ‘Let’s go out. Dress warmly.’ Next thing I know, I’m trapped in the middle of nowhere New Jersey with cats, bears, wild dogs, and Blayne.”

  “You know Blayne loves you.”

  “Shut up.” Smith nodded at Crush. “How y’all doin’?”

  “We’re fine,” Crush replied.

  “You two are a ‘we’ now?”

  “She was only talking to you,” Cella explained.

  “Okay.” He
studied Cella. “What?”

  She motioned behind him and Cella watched Crush look over his shoulder and jump. Not that she blamed him; Novikov stood right behind him—breathing.

  “Oh ... hi.”

  “Hi.”

  Crush glanced at Cella and Smith, then back at Novikov. “Do you want something?”

  “You ever play football?”

  “American or Australian rules?”

  “For this discussion, American.”

  “Yeah. I have.”

  Novikov thought a moment. “Have you played Australian rules football?”

  “No.”

  “Fair enough.”

  At that point, Cella and Smith locked gazes, watching each other to see who would start laughing first.

  “So you wanna play football now? American football?”

  “Okay. But I thought you’d be playing hockey with the guys outside.”

  “That was my plan, but apparently my hockey skills are too frightening for some loser lion.”

  The lion male sauntered up to Novikov and Smith’s eyes crossed, Cella covering her mouth to stop from laughing out loud.

  “Why don’t,” Mitch O’Neill Shaw sneered, “you just admit that you fear my football skills? Just say it, Bro!”

  “If you call me ‘bro’ again, I’m biting off your face.”

  Crushek stared at Mitch for several seconds until he finally pointed his finger at him and said way louder than seemed necessary, “I sold you crack cocaine once.”

  And everyone in that tent froze, slowly turning to look at the two males talking to each other.

  Mitch, mate to Smith’s wolf cousin, Sissy Mae, scowled at Cella’s bear, making her wish she’d kept her gun on her. Then he snapped his fingers, scowl disappearing, and crowed, “And I sold you meth!”

  “Hey,” both idiots, er, males said, laughing.

  “I thought you were dead,” Crushek volunteered.

  “They tried. Put a bounty on my head, shot me, forced me to recover in motherfuckin’ Tennessee.” Mitch glanced at Smith, his laughter dying off. “No offense, Dee-Ann.”

  “Whatever,” the She-wolf grumbled.

  “Anyway, eventually my mother got involved and ... well, you can imagine how it went from there. How about you?”

  “Moved to the Brooklyn division.”

  “Hey. That’s a nice deal.”

  “Yeah. I guess. Had to cut my hair, though.”

  “Are you two girls done?” Novikov snapped.

  “Wait a minute,” Mitch complained. “You’re not playing for Novikov, are you?”

  “He asked me first.”

  “Bro, come on! Cops working together.”

  “Can’t. It’s a moral thing.”

  “Are you still going on about being moral?”

  “It’s a lifestyle choice.”

  “Are we doing this or what?” Novikov growled.

  Crush faced her. “Are you cool with that?”

  Startled, Cella looked around for who he could be talking to. When she didn’t find anyone, she replied, “Huh?”

  “You invited me and I don’t want to desert you.”

  “Awwwwwwwww,” Cella heard from behind her.

  She looked over her shoulder to find a small pack of She-dogs standing there, watching. One of them, the black one married to Smith’s cousin Smitty, gestured at Crush and mouthed, He is soooo sweet. Then she added, Marry him.

  While Cella debated if she could snap the little dog’s neck before Smith got in the way, another voice yelled for her from outside the tent.

  Deciding the She-dog wouldn’t be much of a challenge for her, Cella walked across the tent and looked outside.

  “Marly Callahan,” she called back. “What can I do ya for, lass?”

  “A friendly challenge,” Marly offered. “You and me ... in the ring.”

  Malones and Callahans cheered and bets were yelled to family bookies.

  “Wait a minute,” Smith quietly cut in. “Callahan? Didn’t we just save her brother?”

  “Exactly. Now she’s honoring me with a proper fight.”

  “All right.”

  Crush tapped her shoulder. “Should I assume I’m not deserting you?”

  “Yeah, yeah. Go on.” She waved him away. “I’ll see you after your game.”

  “Yeah, well... good luck.”

  “You, too.”

  Once he was gone, Smith asked, “So which one of you is falling faster?”

  “Shut the fuck up. And you’re my cutman.”

  Smith shrugged, reaching for the bowie knife she had holstered to her jeans. Cella caught her hand, growling as she scowled at her. “I mean, if I need you to do that, you idiot.”

  “Malone, look at you sweet-talkin’ me.”

  “All right,” Novikov finally admitted. “Maybe I underestimated him.”

  “I’d heard he was good enough to play pro.”

  “How does that help me?”

  “It actually doesn’t.” Crush looked over at the other team. “It also doesn’t help that your teammates hate you so much, they’re playing for the Shaw brothers. Even MacRyrie ... he’s going after you like you’re covered in honey.”

  “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?”