“I know we’ve talked to Whitlan’s past associates who are still on the outside,” Ric said. “But what about those inside?”
“We haven’t done that yet,” Dee told him.
“Then do it. Maybe if we’re lucky, it’ll give us something new.”
“I’ll—” Cella began.
Ric quickly cut her off. “No. Dee-Ann, work with Desiree and Crushek on getting together a list of names of anyone that was once a cellmate or prison buddy of Whitlan. Go back as far as you need to. Once you’re ready, bring in Cella.”
“Why can’t I help now?”
“Because I’d like for my team to at least have a shot at getting into this year’s championships.”
“I’m working on it,” Cella snarled. “But you know it’s not been easy.”
“You wanted to keep Novikov on,” Ric reminded her, speaking of his least favorite human being. “Even after what he did to Heller.”
She shrugged and made excuses. “That was an accident. Heller got in Novikov’s way.”
“You don’t really believe that, Cella.”
“Accident!”
And, as if summoned from the pits of hell Ric always accused him of originating from, Bo “The Marauder” Novikov stalked into Ric’s office. No knock. No request to come in. Just throwing the door open and barreling his way into the room of his team’s owner and captain, the way Ric imagined Novikov’s Mongolian ancestors barreled into China.
Yet what horrified Ric was not that Novikov stood there with wet hair, a dozen roses, and a box of chocolates from the high-end chocolate store down the street under one arm, but that he held Toni under the other.
Ric would admit that until this very moment, he’d forgotten that Toni had been waiting outside for a job interview, but it had never occurred to him that he’d be putting her in danger by having her sit out in the goddamn waiting room!
“Wait!” Cella bellowed, and Ric looked away from Novikov long enough to see that Dee-Ann had been startled to her feet, her favorite bowie knife that Dee had named Big Betty out and ready to use. Which didn’t really bother him unless poor Toni got in the way.
“It’s just Novikov,” Cella snapped. “So fucking calm down, canine.”
“That boy better learn how to enter a room right,” Dee muttered.
“Why are you touching my cousin?” Ric demanded.
“Another cousin?” Cella asked him. “Seriously? You Van Holtzes are worse than the Malones.”
“She ain’t blood.” Dee-Ann dropped back into her chair.
“That makes it weirder,” Cella said softly as if she were really analyzing something so damn meaningless.
Ric ignored her and snarled at Novikov. “Put her down. Now!”
But instead of putting her down, Novikov roared and kind of shook Toni at them. To be honest, Ric couldn’t understand what the She-jackal could have done to piss off Novikov this much. Although easy to rage when it came to hockey, Novikov mostly ignored the rest of the world unless they fucked with his oh-so-precious schedule. Now, if this was one of Toni’s brothers or sisters, then, well . . . yeah. They probably deserved it because that was one batch of kids who could wield words the way samurai could wield swords. But this was Toni. Rational, calm Toni.
With her gaze locked on Novikov, Dee slapped the flat of the blade against her palm and warned the hybrid, “Looks like it might be time to start the killin’, boy.” And Dee-Ann meant that threat because she liked Toni. Amazing since Dee didn’t really like many people. But she did like Toni, and Dee protected her friends.
Yet before Dee could prove how much, Toni calmly stated, “Or everyone could just take a breath and not . . . you know . . . start the killin’.”
“Are you okay?” Ric asked Toni.
“I’m fine.” And she sounded fine. She was even smiling. Not in a forced way, either, which he’d seen her do when she was trying to smooth over something one of her siblings had done or said. Usually Kyle or Oriana. “He’s just in a rush and frustrated,” she went on, “so he’s having a hard time getting his feelings across without the roaring.” Wait. Was she trying to explain the completely irrational actions of a completely irrational idiot?
Toni tapped her fingers against Novikov’s arm. “You better go.” Novikov responded by viciously growling. “Don’t worry,” Toni replied, as if she understood his nonsensical noises. “I’ll talk to them.” Novikov bared a fang and Toni’s smile grew. “I promise. Now go. You don’t want to miss your flight. And have fun tonight. Relax. You deserve it.”
Novikov finally nodded and carefully placed her on the ground. Then he glowered at Ric and Cella and roared. Loudly. Thankfully, because their offices were underground, there were no windows to break. Novikov started to turn away, stopped long enough to look at Cella and say, “Tell Crush I’ll call him tomorrow at seven p.m.”
“Will do.”
Ric still didn’t know how the incredibly cool and good-natured Lou “Crush” Crushek and Novikov had become friends. Because Ric really liked Crushek. And he hated Novikov. So it all seemed so wrong.
The hybrid patted Toni on the shoulder and walked out. She followed him into the hallway. “Make sure you have your ID,” she called after him. “You’ll need it to get on your flight. And I already told your driver not to bother you with too much chatter, but even if he does speak to you when you don’t want him to, tip him anyway.”
With her eyes still staring down the hallway, but keeping her voice low, she said to the rest of them, “He won’t tip him, but I already did just in case. I’m thinking Bo considers ‘hello’ and ‘do you need anything, sir?’ to be too much talking.”
She was exactly right about that.
“I also couldn’t get him a regular flight to Chicago at the time he needed, so I booked him a private one.” She lowered her voice even more. “I had to charge it to the team because I didn’t have his card and the company’s card was in the bobcat’s desk—which you may want to move. It seems kind of dangerous to have that there if there are any foxes working in your office. Now I figured charging Bo Novikov’s personal flight to the team would piss you off, Ric”—and she was right!—“so I contacted the Sports Center in Chicago and let the stadium manager know that Bo was going to be in town to see his girlfriend’s derby game or bout or whatever they call it. We discussed it, and he’s going to set up a promo thing for hockey fans. I warned him, though, that Bo wouldn’t like that, but apparently the hockey fans like the abuse, so the manager still thinks it’s a good idea. This way you and the team will get some good PR. Plus, his being at that derby thing will bring attention to his girlfriend’s team, which if I remember correctly, you also own.” She shrugged. “So I figured it all kind of balanced out in the end. And this makes it a tax write-off.” She continued to focus down the hallway for a few more seconds before she let out a sigh and walked into the office. She smiled at them.
“Anyway—”
“Wait,” Ric cut in. “Before you go on . . . why’s your arm in a sling?”
“I have one word for you, Ulrich,” Toni stated flatly. “Mom.”
“Oh.” Ric nodded. “I see. So Novikov didn’t—”
“No, no. Not at all. I was just trying to help.”
Ricky Lee Reed suddenly ambled up behind Toni. Reed, like Dee-Ann, ambled rather than walked and seemed to take life as it came. Unlike his brothers, who had a little more drive. Yet Ric always felt the middle Reed brother treated Dee-Ann more as a big sister than as someone he hadn’t yet nailed, which made Ricky Lee more likable to Ric than the other Reed brothers.