CHAPTER THIRTEEN

After a great session with everyone who’d shown up, Cella had been forced to take another shower. No way did she want to hear her mother complain about Cella “stinking like a damn male.” Now, back in her sweatpants, T-shirt, sneakers, and a hoodie sweatshirt, Cella jogged up the stairs and out the main front doors, ignoring all the full-human males checking her out. Men who could never handle her.

“Cella!”

She smiled and ran toward the waiting cab. She got in and slammed the door. “Van Holtz Steak House on Fifth,” she told the cabbie before settling in next to her mother. “I see you have your power suit on.”

It was a black suit that made her mother’s gold eyes pop and gave her that air of total control. A control the woman always seemed to have—except when it came to her husband’s family.

“So what’s the skinny minny?”

Cella chuckled, marveling at how the woman was able to refresh her lipstick in a wildly moving taxi. “I’m glad you wore your suit. You’re going to need it. Although, you may have wanted to add a little body armor.”

“My sweetest girl, you still don’t have faith in your dear old ma?”

“I always have faith, Ma. But I know the players in this and you’re in for a battle, I think.”

“We’ll see. I’m just here to help.”

Cella looked at the coat her mother had on. “Aren’t you hot in that?”

“I’m melting, but it is snowing, sweetie. Don’t want to confuse the prey.” Her mother’s nickname for full-humans.

“Stop calling them that.”

Barb dropped her lipstick into her giant purse and relaxed back into the seat, eyeing her daughter.

“What?”

“You and that very handsome, but decidedly lumbering bear? Do you expect me to buy that lie, Cella Malone?”

“What did you expect me to do? Let her marry me off to my cousin?”

“Or you could stand up to the old bitches and tell them to leave you the fuck alone.”

“Ma.”

“What? You let them walk all over you yesterday when you’re usually the one to beat them down.”

Remembering what the bear had said to her the night before, Cella replied, “I’m trying not to beat up old women.”

“I don’t mean physically, you idiot. You just never let them push you around. But yesterday ... you ran off and came back with that cop.”

“I’m just trying to keep the peace.”

“And the bear?”

“The bear just happened to be in the right place at the right time. Would you rather it had been a wolf?”

Barb shuddered. “It’s bad enough you spend time around that pit bull.”

Cella chuckled, shook her head. “That pitbull has my back. God, you’re as bad as Meg about Dee.”

“She has crazy eyes.”

“Why don’t you just tell me the problem with the Smiths? Because that’s your issue, isn’t it? Any other wolf is tolerable, but not the Smiths?”

“Do you know anyone who likes the Smiths?”

“Do you know anyone who likes the Malones?”

“We’re cats. We’re naturally adored and very low maintenance. Dogs need all that care, training, and long walks, or you have to call in that Dog Whisperer guy for help.”

Cella laughed out loud, her mother joining her.

The cab stopped and Barb paid the driver while Cella got out. She waited at the corner for her mother. Once Barb stood in front of her, Cella asked, “You’re sure you’re ready for this?”

“This is what I do, baby.”

With a nod, Cella took her mother’s arm and they walked into the restaurant.

The hostess smiled at them even while sizing up Cella’s casual outfit. The Van Holtz chain was one of those snooty restaurants that the Malones didn’t really go to unless, of course, it was a very special occasion or someone else was paying. Mostly because, by nature, the Malones were hagglers and the Van Holtzes really weren’t. But, it was one of the best shifter-run restaurants around. They had a wild boar with mushroom sauce that was to die for.

“Hi. We’re here to meet with Thorpe and—”

“Ah, yes.” The hostess began to laugh before grabbing a couple of menus. “Right this way.” And she walked off ... still laughing.

After frowning at each other, mother and daughter followed the hostess through the restaurant and down to a row of private rooms. She stopped at a set of double doors and opened them. Luckily, she was a fellow shifter, a wolf, which allowed her to step back before she got hit with someone’s purse. The hundred-dollar Chanel knockoff slammed into the opposite wall and landed on the floor. It was gold-colored. A She-lion’s purse. Some Prides could afford the real thing, some couldn’t, and some weren’t willing to pay for the real thing. That was the O’Neills.

With a sweep of her arm, the hostess invited Cella and Barb in.

Cella picked up the big gold purse and handed it to her mother. “Good luck to ya,” she said, then went the other way, looking for a lunch that didn’t involve wedding plans or arguing She-predators.

Crush dragged the She-bear out of the back of their van and into the precinct elevator with MacDermot.

“Shut up!” MacDermot snarled, and he didn’t blame her. The sow had not stopped roaring and complaining for the last hour. She was probably just coming down from whatever high she’d been on, but Crush, and he was sure MacDermot, didn’t care.