The women nodded and entered the room. As Gregg closed the door, Jerry heard the taller one say, “All right, hoss. Ready to get this done?”
With the door closed, Gregg relaxed against the wall and waited. Jerry took a step back, wanting to take a quick look to make sure all that quiet was simply the men waiting—like him—for this to be over. And not that they were up to something.
But before he could reach a spot that would allow him to see what was going on, something heavy hit the metal door.
Jerry stopped and stared. That door was thick and only opened and closed so easily because of well-oiled hinges. But whatever had hit the door was thrown with such force that the metal door shook. That was weird.
He waited for Gregg to do something since he was closest to the door, but he didn’t do anything other than gaze down at his huge feet. Did he have to get his work boots specially made like Shaq did his NBA sneakers?
The door was hit again, the heavy metal actually bending this time. Like it might be knocked off its hinges. Jerry began to slowly walk backward. But when the door moved again and he heard snarls and growls from the other side, he immediately stopped.
After about a minute of door-rattling banging, the door opened just enough for the taller woman to stick her head out. She was no longer wearing her baseball cap and she was bleeding from bruises to her face and neck. Her weird-colored eyes—they seemed to glow in the harsh prison light—locked on Gregg.
“Uh . . . we could use some help in here.”
Gregg rolled his eyes and walked over to the door as the woman stepped back into the room. He grabbed the handle but stopped to look over his shoulder at Jerry.
“Don’t come in here,” Gregg warned. “No matter what you hear, okay?”
Jerry could only nod his head in reply. Because behind Gregg, Jerry could swear he saw a . . . a . . . well . . . a tiger leaping across the room, briefly passing by the partially open door.
But that was crazy, right? Right?
Gregg went inside and closed the door behind him. That’s when the roaring started. It didn’t stop. The door was hit so hard, several times, that Jerry was sure it would be torn out of its moorings.
Taking more steps back, he briefly glanced into the cells. There was no plotting going on. No grand schemes to start a riot or find a way out. There was just abject fear as every man huddled against the wall, waiting for all this to be over.
Finally, after what felt like a lifetime, the door was wrenched open and Gregg came out, dragging the prisoner with him. Hog-tied with chains, the man was pulled across the floor until he was outside the room.
Bloody and battered, his clothes an absolute mess—as if he’d taken them off and put them on hastily—Gregg didn’t seem fazed at all, gripping the humongous white-haired man under his left arm. Still in the room, the two women were quickly putting their clothes back on, which was beyond weird. Why had they taken their clothes off in the first place? There hadn’t been time to have sex . . . right?
The women were as beaten up as Gregg, but they were moving with ease and didn’t seem bothered by all the blood they kept wiping from their faces. The hottie was still chewing her gum.
Once they were back in their bloody clothes, they strode up to stand on either side of the prisoner. They each grabbed him under the arm and proceeded to drag him down the long hallway back to the exit.
“Thanks, Gregg,” the hottie called out, as cheery as she’d been when the women had first arrived.
“Hate polars,” the taller woman mumbled, which made absolutely no sense to Jerry.
“I told you we should bring someone else,” the hottie shot back.
“Shut up.”
“You shut up.”
The taller one released the man so suddenly his face bounced off the floor; he grunted in pain as the taller one stepped on the back of his head, so she could square off against the hottie.
“I ain’t in no mood for your shit, Malone.”
The hottie didn’t back down. Instead, she stepped closer, putting her face so close to the other one that their noses practically touched.
“Back off, Smith, or I’ll finish the job that dumb bear started and rip your face off.”
“Just try me.”
The two women silently eyed each other for a long moment, and then the taller one’s lip curled and she snarled. The hottie hissed and, for just a second, Jerry was sure he saw fangs . . .
But then Gregg got up right beside both women and he . . . well . . . he . . .
It sounded like a roar. An actual . . . animal roar.
So loud and powerful that the floor underneath Jerry’s feet trembled and one of the inmates pressed against the wall peed his pants.
“You two trifling house pets,” Gregg said when he had the women’s attention, “take this seal-eating idiot and leave my prison. Now.”
Both women snarled at Gregg but didn’t challenge him any further. Just grabbed hold of their prisoner again and walked a few more feet. Then the hottie stopped and said over her shoulder with renewed good humor, “Oh, before I forget, Gregg, if you still want your daughter to try out for the team, bring her by tomorrow.”
“We don’t have time for your hockey shit,” the taller one complained.
“There’s always time for hockey.” Then the hottie grinned and the taller one let out a short laugh.
After that, the women walked out. And once they were gone, the men remained silent. And stayed silent. In fact, the entire wing, for the first time that Jerry could ever remember, was silent for the next two days until new inmates came in and older ones were moved out.
When his coworkers asked him, “What’s going on over there?” he gave the same answer every time:
“No idea.”
*
Tock stepped out of the SUV, still answering questions that had begun during the after-practice shower.
“I don’t know,” she said again.
“You didn’t get any other information from her?” Mads demanded, sounding almost hysterical.
“What kind of information?”
“Like, what does all this mean for the championship? For the next few practices? How good is the New York team? How much playing time will we get or will we just be riding the bench? Is Coach planning on bringing anyone else from our team? What plans does she have for the new team and how will her choices affect this upcoming championship?”
Tock shrugged. “I’m pretty sure she’s planning on losing the championship so she can go on to the next team as a failure. Owners love to pay for coaches that fail.”
Mads stood in front of her, gripping the car keys, and glaring. A lot of Viking-like glaring.
“That’s sarcasm, isn’t it?” she asked.
“What do you think?”
Another, bigger SUV pulled past them and parked a few cars ahead. The three Malone brothers got out at the MacKilligan house to pick up Shay’s daughter.
On his way toward the brick home, Shay stopped and waved. Tock waved back, not thinking much about it. But when she turned around, her teammates were staring at her.
“What now?”
“What’s going on with you two?” Mads demanded. “Is he why you suddenly want to switch teams?”