“You need to handle him,” he replied.

“Handle him? Novikov?”

“Yeah.”

She glanced around. “Why me?”

“What do you mean why you? You’re the only one on the team who can hold a conversation with the man.”

God, that country accent. So irritating. Not so bad on Dee-Ann Smith, also of the Smith Pack, because she wasn’t wasn’t much of a talker, so Cella didn’t have to hear that annoying accent more than was necessary. Reed, however ... chatty.

“Look—”

“I’m asking you, darlin’, to help us out.”

“Us?”

“Yeah. Us. The rookies.”

“You’ve been on the team a little long to be called a rookie. In fact, you’ve been on longer than I have.”

“Exactly. And yet you’re considered one of the gang by Lordship Pain in the Ass, and the rest of us are considered worthless scum.”

“That’s not true. I’m sure that, um ... did you know you’re bleeding from the head?”

“I can feel it drippin’. Do you know why I’m bleeding from the head?”

“Because you were hit there?”

“With a row of bleachers from the training rink.”

“A row of ... you mean actual bleachers?”

“Yeah. Actual bleachers. That homicidal maniac”—and that could only be Novikov—“pried actual bleachers from their steel moorings and threw them at us.”

“Did he perhaps give you a reason why he thought that was okay?”

“I was minding my own business, gettin’ ready for tomorrow night’s game.”

“Uh-huh.”

“But Hammond, that new kid, decided to rally the boys and go to Novikov to ask for some tips so they could perform at their best and not let him down.”

Cella cringed, easily imagining exactly what happened because she knew all the idiot males involved so well. “Uh-huh.”

“So Novikov starts yellin’ at ’em, but Hammond wouldn’t back down. Kept pushin’, kept nippin’, as them little foxes are wont to do, which is why they’re not allowed on Smith territory.”

“And?” she pushed.

“I tried to get Hammond to let it go. Move on. He wouldn’t. Next thing I know, I hear metal being ripped away from concrete and by the time I look up, bleachers are flying at my head!”

“Okay, okay. Calm down. Take a breath.” Cella patted his shoulder. “I’ll talk to Novikov.”

“Do something, Cella, because I’m this close to callin’ in all the Reeds to come here and start kicking some mutt ass.”

“Now, now. Let’s not get nasty. That’s my job.” She reached up andtouched Reed’s forehead, the wolf shying away from her. “Go see Jai about that. She should be in her office.”

“It’ll heal.”

“If that gets infected, you’ll get the fever, and she’ll pull you from tomorrow’s game and then Novikov has more ammo against you. Don’t give it to him.”

“Yeah. You’re right.” He smirked, his anger slipping away, the cute, flirty wolf quickly returning. “Think Dr. D. will let me cuddle if I ask her nice?”

“No.”

“What about you? Wanna cuddle? Help me heeeeal?”

Rolling her eyes, Cella turned and headed to the stairs.

“That ain’t real friendly, Malone,” Reed called after her.

Division director, unit commander, and black bear sow Lynsey Gentry looked up from the files on her desk and smiled at the polar bear taking up a lot of her doorway. Although, thankfully, this building had been created with shifters in mind, so the doorways were taller and wider and the chairs sturdier.

She motioned to one of those sturdy chairs in front of her desk. “Sit.”

With a heavy sigh, the polar walked into her office.

“Well, I’d like to say welcome,” she began once he’d dropped down across from her, but when Crushek only scowled—more—and kind of grunted, she knew the man wouldn’t be making this easy on her. He was one of the few shifters on the force who’d never asked for a transfer into her “Division with No Name” as Dez MacDermot liked to call it. The man loved what he did, but things had changed and he would have to roll with it. Especially now.

“Let’s lay this on the table,” Lynsey said, deciding to cut straight through the bullshit. “You didn’t ask to be here. I know that. I know you like working undercover. I get it. But you’re needed here. There’s no getting around that. So, and I say this with kindness, suck it up and get over it already.”

The scowl worsened, only now it was tinged with confusion. “How is that with kindness?”

“When you get to know me, you’ll realize that it really is.” She briefly tossed up her hands. “I demanded your transfer, because you’re needed here.”

“Needed for what? I don’t kill on order.”

“Neither do we.” When he scoffed, she added, “I don’t speak for The Group or KZS. They have their own agendas.”

“Then why do you work with them?”

“Because they get shit done while we keep order.”

“Keep order? Don’t you mean we cover their tracks?”

“If necessary.”

“I’m not a trashman, Captain. I don’t clean up after killers.”