“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?”
“Football. Remember?”
“Did Novikov start a fight with the guys?”
“Not exactly ...”
A bottle of Gatorade was held up in front of his face and Crush took it, smiled. “Thank you.”
“You’re welcome.”
He cringed, unable to stop himself. “Malone, your face.”
“Yeah, but you should see what I did to Callahan.”
“I’m standing right here,” the She-lion complained, handing Novikov a separate bottle of the sports drink. “I can hear you.”
“What’s going on?”
“The wild dogs were running out of steam, so your brothers and cousins offered to play.”
“Uh-huh. Except you guys”—Cella motioned to Crush, Novikov, and the other hockey players who’d been playing with Mitch O’Neill—“are all standing here, with the ball. And those guys”—she motioned to the field where a battle between lion and tiger males was taking place—“are in their cat form and mauling each other.”
“I must admit, the game seemed to go off the track right after that first play.”
“Especially when the rest of the O’Neill males showed up.”
“Gwenie invited her uncles,” Blayne chirped in, her entire body bouncing around in kind of a mix of 90s-style dancing and just a hyperactive fit. “Apparently, the O’Neills hate the Malones. I had no idea!”
Cella studied Blayne. “Have you been drinking Shirley Temples again?”
“I don’t have to tell you anything!” Blayne yelled before she backflipped away from them.
“Should you go after her?” Crush asked Novikov.
“No. She’s heading right for that tree over there and—bam! Down she goes. She’ll be out for a bit.” He shrugged, focusing back on the fight. “I’ll scrape her up later.”
“You having a good time?” Malone asked him.
“Yeah. I’m having a great time.”
“Good.”
He cringed. “But I can’t ignore this anymore.” He took the towel he had hanging around his neck and wiped the blood off Cella’s face, moving carefully so as not to hurt her any more than she had been.
Of course, he had to grip her chin a little tighter to keep her from starting another fight when the wild dog females all sighed out, “Awwwwww” behind them.
MacRyrie tapped his shoulder. “Uh ... Crushek?”
“Yeah?”
“Do you have brothers?”
Crush looked at Malone, then released her and faced the grizzly. “Why do you ask?”
MacRyrie pointed behind them and they all turned. Chazz and Gray stood there in T-shirts and loose dolphin shorts that no men their size should ever wear. In the distance, Crush could see his brothers’ wives and cubs at a picnic table, but if they knew what his brothers were up to, they didn’t seem to notice or care.
The three of them scowled at each other, none of them speaking. Then Gray and Chazz looked at Cella and back at him, Gray raising his arms in what Crush felt was a clear challenge and ... well ... what did anyone expect?
Clothes went flying, Crush’s jeans hitting Cella in the face, and then three polar bears were in the middle of a brawl right there. Since cats fought all the time, the Malone-O’Neill battle going on behind them was quickly forgotten as everyone focused on the vicious bear scrimmage.
“So, he’s not close to his family then?” one of the wild dog females guessed.
“There’s only the three of them and no, they’re not close.”
Marly rested her elbow on Cella’s shoulder. “Anyone a little bothered that it’s those two against poor Crushek?”
Cella was more than a little bothered, but who would get between three polar bears during a fight? But just as she had the thought, Novikov and MacRyrie ran past her, both in their shifted form. A few seconds after that, the rest of the first-string players followed.