Bear Meets Girl (26 page)

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Authors: Shelly Laurenston

BOOK: Bear Meets Girl
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She laughed and Crush was immediately charmed. He could tell she was a very sweet kid, no matter what she’d been through. It wasn’t easy to keep that part of yourself when you’ve been through hell, though. No. Not easy at all.
“That really happened?” she asked.
“It really happened. And as you mentioned, I’m a cop. I was torn between whether I should annoyingly discuss every goal he’d ever made or arrest him for anything that hadn’t passed the statute of limitations.”
“What did you do?”
A little ashamed, Crush shrugged. “I annoyed.”
 
Cella waited in the hallway with Blayne, the pair glaring at each other until Blayne said, “I thought we were friends.”
“We are very good friends,” Cella snarled back. “In fact, I like you a lot, you little bitch. But you get between me and a potential player and I’ll twist your little head around until you can look at your spine.”
Instead of firing a threat right back, Blayne said, “Gwenie can do that.”
“Gwenie can do what?”
“Turn her head so she can look at her spine.”
Horrified, “Really?”
“Yeah.”
“What is she? A house cat?”
“Nope. She’s just Gwenie.” Blayne grinned. “And I adore your mother!”
“She’s good, isn’t she?”
“So good!” Blayne scowled again. “But you’re not taking Hannah from me.”
“Like hell I’m not.”
The game room door opened and Crushek walked out.
“Well?” both females asked as soon as he closed the door.
With a smirk, he pointed at Cella.
“Ha!” Cella crowed, then danced around a stomping, snarling Blayne.
“I hate both of you!”
“Why do you hate me?” Crushek demanded. “I was just trying to help.”
“Oh, shut up!”
Cella clapped her hands together. “Eat that, canine!”
“I’ll never forgive either of you!” Blayne howled before turning and running down the hall. Then she spun back around and returned.
As she passed, Cella sweetly asked, “Wrong way, honey?”
“Shut up, Betrayer!”
The wolfdog disappeared around a corner and Crush shook his head. “Is there anywhere you go that you don’t bring pain and destruction?”
“As a matter of fact ...” Cella gasped, remembering that people were waiting for them. “That’s right! We’ve gotta get to work.”
She ran back to the locker room to change, but she could hear the bear behind her bark, “That statement does not give me confidence, feline.”
C
HAPTER
T
WENTY-TWO
“M
acDermot!”
MacDermot sat up. “I’m awake. I’m awake.”
She was now, but she hadn’t been for the last hour. Not that Crush blamed her. This was boring. And it wasn’t that he hadn’t done surveillance before. He had. A lot. But he’d always known what he was looking for. Instead, their entire team was sitting around doing nothing, while the Group and KZS teams were doing ... something. Any time Crush asked, no one could give him an answer. Something that really bugged the shit out of him. What exactly was his role here? The role of NYPD? Was this his life now? Sitting around, waiting for someone else to get done doing ... whatever?
Maybe I should start updating my résumé.
“Any more coffee?” MacDermot asked him.
“Here.” Crush handed her his large thermos. “There’s a little left.”
“Thanks.” Yawning, MacDermot poured herself a cup. After a sip—and a shudder—she asked, “What are you doing?”
“Getting these files together to pass off to Conway.”
“You’re going to miss undercover, huh?”
“Yeah.”
“There still might be an opportunity to do it for our division.”
“Yeah. Right. Hard to go undercover with shifters, MacDermot. They can smell what you are.” He heard her snort and Crush looked up to find MacDermot laughing. “What’s so funny?”
“If you told me ten years ago someone would say to me in all seriousness ‘shifters can smell what you are’ ...”
Crush had to smile. “I guess it is weird for you. Going from your life to this one.”
“Weird but entertaining. How many girls from my old neighborhood can say that they walked into their house two days ago to find a four-hundred-pound lion asleep in the middle of their living room with their son sleeping on top of him?”
“And the dogs?”
“Out cold, curled up next to him. He said later they’d ambushed him.”
“You know, lion males annoy the living shit out of me, but Llewellyn ... a hell of a lot better than your first husband. I don’t know what you were thinking that first go-round.”
“Yeah. Me, neither. But sometimes ...” She smiled, shrugged. “Sometimes a girl gets a second chance.”
“Believe it or not, I think you’re one of the few people who actually deserves one.”
“Thanks, Crushek.”
“Well ... we’re partners now so, you know, you can, um ...”
“I can call you Crush?”
“Yeah. If ya want.”
She pursed her lips. “Does Malone get to call you Crush?”
He rolled his eyes. “Don’t start.”
“Do you call her Cella or Maaarcella?” she crooned.
“Seriously? Are we going to start this now?”
“It’s not like we’ve got anything better to do stuck in the back of this van.”
“So we’re girlfriends now? Is that’s what’s going on here?”
“I’m almost sad you cut your hair, otherwise I could have given you ponytails.”
“
This
will not be the course of our relationship.”
“You and your fancy Queens talk.”
Crush decided not to let the woman get to him and asked, “So ... how long are we just going to sit here? Doing nothin’.”
“We’re not just doin’ nothin’. We’re getting paid overtime to do nothin’.”
“We didn’t work all day. How are we now paid overtime?”
“You ask too many questions.”
“MacDermot—”
“Zip it.”
“Yeah, but—”
“Zip it.”
“Fine, but my whole career is not going to be ...” Crush stopped talking and moved his gaze to the roof of the van.
“What?” MacDermot asked him.
Crush didn’t have a chance to answer her, though, reaching over and yanking her to the floor, dropping down next to her as something big and heavy slammed into the van, crumpling the roof on top of them.
When he was sure he hadn’t been crushed to death, he asked, “Are you all right?”
“Yeah. Yeah.”
The back doors were yanked open by one of their team.
“Are you two okay?” the wolf asked.
“Yeah.” MacDermot quickly low crawled out of the van, Crush following her.
Once outside, he stood and looked at the roof of the van. “It’s a body. Why is there a body on the roof of our van?”
The entire NYPD team looked up at the building, their gazes moving until they could see the edge of the building’s roof. Then they were dashing away, trying to avoid the next falling body.
“MacDermot?” he growled, not enjoying having bodies flung at him.
“Fuck!” The full-human gave an overall shake. “Crush, Jenny. With me. The rest of you watch the exits. No one comes in or out. And make sure no one sends any fuckin’ air support.”
She looked at Crush. “You ready for this?”
“No.”
“Good. Let’s go.”
 
Cella was thrown back, her body slamming into the brick wall, seconds before some bear was slamming his quite sizable fists into her face and chest.
When they’d gone into the building—Cella’s team and Smith’s—they thought they’d only be dealing with full-humans. But as they’d moved from floor to floor, doing a sweep, they’d found nothing but empty offices—not even furniture or phones—and the ever-increasing scent of bears. That, however, hadn’t stopped them. They just figured they’d have to negotiate with the bears to get to Whitlan.
Yet when they’d hit the roof, those BPC bears had come after them like they were covered in honey or threatening their cubs. The question for Cella, however, was
why
had the BPC bears come after them? No one had challenged them. Both teams had immediately lowered their weapons when they saw there was no Whitlan, and no one had spoken a threatening word. And still, BPC opened fire.
Now an enormous fist was swinging at her again. Cella caught the bear’s arm by the wrist with one hand, holding it. She swung her other fist, hitting the bear in the face. He stumbled, stunned. Still holding his arm, Cella brought her foot down, ramming it into his knee. She heard it crack and the bear crumpled.
She gripped his head with both her hands and twisted, snapping his neck. She stepped over his body, but another bear was coming for her. He never got near her, though. A bowie knife rammed into the thick muscle between his shoulder blades. He screamed, chest arching out.
Smith yanked out the blade and swung around in front of him, slicing his throat. The bear dropped to his knees, hands around his throat. Cella kicked him in the chest, not worrying he’d get back up. Smith had a thing about making sure she hit at least one artery, if not two, when she used her blade.
Smith jerked her head. “Behind you.”
Cella moved to the side and caught hold of one of the arms reaching for her. She yanked him closer, kicked him in the face, then twisted his big arm, but unfortunately not enough to break any bone. The bear grunted in pain and grabbed Cella by the hair with his free hand, yanking her around and holding her in place so he could head-butt her. Considering the size of the bastard’s head, Cella nearly blacked out, her knees buckling. But she couldn’t drop to the floor because the bear still held her by her hair, which was starting to feel like it was being pulled out by the roots. Since she had no intention of getting a receding hairline before she was forty like her Uncle Harry, Cella kicked him, battering the bear’s chest. She could hear ribs breaking, but the bear didn’t seem to let it bother him. Instead, he reached for the .45 he had tucked into the back of his jeans. Cella, unfortunately, had lost her gun in the earlier stages of the fight. Desperate, she unleashed her claws, ready to start tearing flesh from skin, but a series of booming bangs distracted her and the bear, both looking at the thick steel rooftop door that had been closed by several bodies barricading it.
The grizzly’s lip curled and he snarled out, “Polar.”
Cella knew then it was Crush, even before the steel door buckled and was ripped off its hinges. It flew across the roof, colliding with several bears and grazing one of Cella’s teammates.
Crush walked out onto the roof, several of the NYPD shifter team following behind him, each armed. His head turned and he scowled when he saw Cella dangling by her hair.
He roared and the grizzly holding her roared back while aiming that goddamn .45.
Ripping at the grizzly’s arm with her claws, Cella screamed out, “Gun!”
Crush pulled his weapon so quickly, Cella barely saw it. And he shot three times. Twice to the chest and once to the head. The grizzly’s body jerked, his arm dropping enough that Cella’s knees hit the ground hard. She grunted as the pain in her left weaker knee ripped through her while the grizzly fell back, tipping over like a diseased tree. Cella went with him, untangling his fingers from her hair once they hit the ground. Once loose, she rolled over the bear, using him as a shield until she could pry his gun from his hand. She waited until whoever was firing at her stopped, then rolled up and onto one knee. Out of habit, it was her left knee, and she forced herself to ignore the pain. She quickly raised the weapon she held and did what she did best right after bare-knuckle brawling and hockey. She killed the enemy. One shot to each head, taking out the bear fighting Smith first because she knew that the She-wolf would immediately back her up and keep any grizzlies off her.
As always, Cella was fast and efficient, not one to waste bullets. She could only do this better if she was on another building with her rifle. Yeah. She was that good a shot.
Smith finished off a few grizzlies with her blade and was coming toward her when her gaze moved behind Cella.
Knowing someone was behind her, Cella spun, her weapon still raised. Smith moved up beside her, both of them about to open fire, but someone else shot first and the grizzly jerked forward. He fell to his knees, then dropped, MacDermot walking up behind him with her own .45.
“You two all right?” she asked, ever the cop even while she unloaded a few more rounds in that bear because he twitched a bit.
“Yeah,” both Cella and Smith answered.
Smith reached down and helped up Cella, scowling when Cella refused to put any weight on her left leg “Say a word to Van Holtz about my leg ...” Cella warned the She-wolf under her breath.
“What the fuck happened?” MacDermot demanded.
Smith shrugged. “Went bad.”
MacDermot gawked at them. “You really don’t think that’s going to be enough of an answer, do you?”
“What else is there to say?”
While the pair bickered, Cella scanned the roof until she saw Crushek. Limping, she moved toward him, stepping over the bodies and around teammates that were busy calling in for a cleaning crew.
Cella stood beside Crushek, watching as he turned over one of the bodies. He scowled down at it.
“What’s wrong?”
“These are all Baissier’s men. They’re all BPC.”
Cella sighed. “Yeah ... I know.”

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