“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!”