Mikey knew even before he landed that now he was completely screwed.
Sophie DiMarco hit the brakes on the stolen $140,000 Maserati, but it didn’t help. She still collided and shoved forward that ... that thing that had been hit by the delivery truck in front of her, sending it up and over and down until it landed right in her path.
And what exactly was that thing anyway?
Knowing she couldn’t get out of the car and go look, Sophie shifted the Maserati into reverse, ready to make a run for it. But before she could floor it, the thing she’d hit stood. And it was ... human. Big, blond, and golden, he looked around, dazed eyes trying to focus. Although being hit by the car she was driving should have killed him, he was still walking. Even more surprising when she saw the bullet holes riddling his body. Then she saw them. Men dressed alike, in white boots, white winter coats, and white fur hats. She’d guess they were guards or military or something.
She only had a split second to do something and Sophie, being almost naturally kind of difficult, did the most insane thing she could. She leaned over and pushed open the passenger door.
“Get in!” she screamed. “Now!”
The man looked at her, eyes blinking. Then he was running, his hand pressed to the side she’d rammed into.
“Hurry!”
The men weren’t coming after them. They were raising their weapons and aiming. They were going to shoot them down on the street.
“Close the door,” she ordered. “And hold on.”
Sophie placed her right hand on the seat next to her and looked over her shoulder, hitting the gas. The perfectly engineered vehicle shot off, the sound of gunfire ringing from behind and ruining a perfectly good payday for her!
She tore down the street and turned at the first corner. She changed gears and spun the car around. More men were coming from behind big hedges that blocked the high brick wall behind it.
“In front of you,” the man said.
She looked and saw a car driving straight for her. She recognized the fur hats of at least two guards sitting in the front seat.
“Shit.” She hit the button to automatically lower the window and shifted gears once more, putting the Maserati back into reverse. “Hold on.”
The car headed backward again. Guards ran into the street, under some delusion that she’d stop. She couldn’t. At this point she was in too deep. And she’d prefer not to do time for stealing this car.
She pulled the .45 out of her holster and aimed out the window, shooting at the car still coming at her. She hit the other car’s windshield, blood spurted, and the car swerved. Sophie brought her arm back, dropped the gun, and changed hands on the wheel. She shifted and spun the car, moving forward, other cars falling in behind her.
Tearing down the busy streets, she cut across boulevards, and used other cars as shields.
“No cops,” she muttered, surprised she hadn’t heard even one siren yet.
“There won’t be cops until you clear ... whatever town we’re in,” he told her.
Sophie smiled a little. “Good.”
She kept moving, pushing, using every trick she’d ever learned or taught herself. Cars came at her from different directions, from alleys, behind other cars. She didn’t let any of them stop her because she knew none of them could really keep up with her.
But there was one who kept trying. She knew she had to shake that one off if she hoped to get out of this. She went down an alley and around a truck parked outside a deli. She tore outside the other end of the alley and spun the wheel hard. She went a few feet up and hit another alley. She went halfway down that one and stopped behind a shoe store.
Sophie still had the window rolled down, so she listened and watched in the side mirror. Cars sped by, heading down the street. She only had a few minutes before they’d come back and do a street-by-street search.
“I’m bleeding all over your nice seats.”
Yeah. He was, but how was that her problem?
With one more look at him, she opened the door and stepped out, abandoning the car. Such a shame, too. That car would have brought in some nice money.
Mikey wasn’t surprised she bailed. Even though she had a set of keys, he could tell that she wasn’t the owner of this car. Trying to get it out of wherever they were with a bleeding man sitting beside her was going to be impossible.
Honestly, Mikey was just glad he didn’t have to worry about risking her life, too.
He did, however, briefly toy with the idea of getting in the driver’s seat and driving out of here. She’d left the key in the ignition. But all he could do was stare at those keys, watching them sway.
He heard a car pull in and Mikey thought, Here we go.
His door opened and the girl leaned in. “Come on. I haven’t got all day.” She took his arm and pulled it over her shoulder, helping Mikey from the car.
She was strong, but definitely full-human. Together, they made it to a really nice late-model BMW with dark-tinted windows. She put him in the back, laying him out across the seat, and went to the driver’s side. Within seconds, she had them back on the road.
“You know this town,” Mikey said, lifting his hand to look at all the blood on it.
“I know every town.”
Right. In case she had to make a run for it.
“I need you to take me into the City.” Realizing he might not actually be in New York, he added, “Manhattan.”
“Give me the address.” She glanced back at him, smiled. “And don’t worry. I’ll get you home.”
Except he wasn’t going home. But that was okay. He just knew he wasn’t going to die there, wherever “there” might have been. And at the moment, that meant everything to him.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
“Look at me.”
MacDermot lifted her head, one eye managing to open, the other swollen shut.
“What do you think?” she asked. “Think makeup will cover it?”
“Although I’ve always found lion males inherently stupid, I’m pretty sure that even Mace Llewellyn’s gonna notice this.”
“I was afraid of that.”
Crush tipped her head back a bit with one hand and carefully placed the ice pack on the swollen side of her face with the other.
“Ow,” she complained.
“You should have decked the bitch when you had the chance,” he reminded her.
“Gentry hates when I do that.”
Crush took her hand and placed it over the pack so she could hold it in place herself. Once he had her set, he sat down in the chair next to hers. “Why are we here?”
“Evil taxidermist.”
“And how do we know he’s evil?”
“Lots of reasons, but most important is the Smith sixth sense in play. Any time Dee-Ann Smith says, ‘Somethin’ ain’t right,’ something is usually not right.”
“This is my life now? Really? Listening to hillbilly She-wolves and their hillbilly gut reactions?”
“Her hillbilly gut reactions have saved my ass more than once. Suck it up.”
“And Martin’s sons?”
“Those idiots aren’t going anywhere without their mother. We’ll get them.”
Before Crush could argue that point, the front doors to the Group offices opened and the hillbilly with the sensitive gut walked in. And right behind her was Ulrich Van Holtz. It was strange enough that the Carnivore goalie, known as The Gentleman, was also the owner and captain of the same team. That was normally unheard of. But the fact that Van Holtz was also in charge of the Manhattan division of the Group pretty much blew Crush’s mind.
Then again, the Group’s offices had completely confused him in general. He’d kind of expected either a back alley or, at the very least, a cold, sterile federal or state type office. Instead, the Group’s office reminded Crush of those high-end advertising agencies with comfortable leather seats and fancy art on the brightly colored walls. Although, he could tell that was just the front of the building, the first place o
ne saw. Watching staffers having to punch in codes to get into the next level reminded him this was nothing like an advertising agency.
“Sorry we’re late,” Van Holtz said when he walked into the reception area, but he stopped, eyes blinking wide as he gazed down at MacDermot.
“Desiree! What happened?”
“I’m okay. Really.” She pulled the ice pack down. “You don’t think this will freak Mace out too much, do you?”
Smith stepped past Van Holtz and studied the full-human’s face for a moment. “Well ... it was nice working with you.”
MacDermot cringed, then immediately regretted making that face and quickly returned the ice pack to her face.
“He’ll just have to understand,” MacDermot muttered. “He’ll have to get over it. I’m not giving up my job over one incident.”
“A good number of those words ... not in a cat’s vocabulary, darlin’.” Smith patted her shoulder. “I got something that can help with that swelling, though,” the She-wolf offered, but MacDermot immediately pushed herself into Crush’s side.
“You keep your wacky Southern voodoo away from me.”
“Tennessee Smiths don’t do voodoo, Desiree. We leave that to our Louisiana kin. Besides, it’ll help.”
“I don’t care what you tell me it does, forget it, Dee. No way.”
Smith looked them over and said, “Not sure you should be cuddling up to the bear that way, Desiree. Don’t think Malone will like it much.”
Crush looked around. “Wait ... what?”
“I’m not cuddling up to anybody. I’m just avoiding you and your witchcraft. And why the hell would Cella care who I cuddle up with?”
“Heard they’re together now. Ain’t that right, bear?”
“It’s not ... it’s just ... it’s kind of ...” God! He’d known this was just going to be wacky! He hated wacky!
The She-wolf leaned down to see his face. “What’s the matter, son? Cat got your tongue ... and other parts?” she finished on a whisper.
Crush glared at the female, wondering how disgusted he’d be with himself if he slapped around a She-wolf for no other reason than she was getting on his nerves. But then he sensed something flying at him. He raised his arms to protect himself, but a feline landed in his lap, big grin on her face.
“Hi!”
Crush scowled at Malone. “You. You’re making my life a misery!”
“What kind of reaction is that? How can you be my pretend boyfriend if you’re going to be a dick all the time?”
“So you are Cella’s boyfriend?” MacDermot asked.
“No. I am not.”
“Pretend boyfriend,” Malone corrected. “He’s my pretend boyfriend.”
“And what is that exactly?”
“It is what it sounds like.”
“ ‘It is what it sounds like?’ ” MacDermot repeated back at her. “You mean ridiculous?”
“You know, I don’t need the tone.”
As frustrated as Crush, MacDermot lowered the ice pack to her lap and snapped, “You need something all right. Therapy ... a real boyfriend. Something.”
Malone’s eyes grew wide at the sight of MacDermot’s face. “God, Dez! What happened to your face?”
“An angry and high on cocaine-infused honey sow decked me.”
Malone and the two wolves leaned in to get a closer look.
“You were hit in the face by a sow?” Malone asked. “Are you sure?”
“Of course, I’m sure. I know what came swinging at me and it was definitely her fist.”
“But by a sow? I mean honestly, sweetie, you’d be better off getting hit by a building.”
“And she was high?” Smith shook her head. “Damn, girl.”
“It’s really not that big a deal.”
“Well, what did the doctor say?” Malone asked, showing real concern for once for someone other than herself. It was a nice change.
“I didn’t go to the doctor.”
Malone punched Crush’s shoulder and ... ow. “You didn’t take her to the doctor?”
“I didn’t need to go to the doctor,” MacDermot cut in, getting defensive.
“You were unconscious and you didn’t go to the doctor?”
“I wasn’t unconscious. I didn’t even black out.”
Malone and the She-wolf blinked in surprise. “Wow,” they both said together.
“Okay,” MacDermot sighed. “Now you guys are just making fun of me.”
“No, we’re not. You were hit by a She-bear.”
“And you’re full-human.”
“So?”
“Look, look at this.” Malone pulled her cell phone out of her sweatpants pocket.
“Don’t show her that,” Smith nearly begged, her gaze moving up to the ceiling.
“Look what happened to this guy who had a run-in with a not-high, black bear sow ... which is way smaller than a grizzly, and the grizzly who did this to you was startled.”
MacDermot took one look at the picture, squealed, and quickly slapped the phone out of Malone’s hand. “What the fuck are you showing me that for?”
Crush was kind of wondering the same thing.
He also wondered if all that bear talk had conjured up its own set of problems when the perky fox admin said from the front desk, “Mr. Van Holtz? There are two grizzlies outside. They’re asking me to buzz them in.”
“They’re not ours?”
“No, sir.”
MacDermot walked around to the other side of the admin’s desk and looked at the fox’s computer screen. With her one open eye, MacDermot studied whoever was at the front door. “Nope. They’re not ours.”
Van Holtz nodded. “Let them in, Charlene.”
“Yes, sir.”
He pointed at Malone and Smith. “And you two, don’t start anything.”
“Even if they deserve it?”
“Dee-Ann ...”
The two grizzlies walked through the door, the taller one smiling at Van Holtz.
“Mr. Van Holtz?”
“Yes.”
“Hello. I’m ...” The grizzly caught sight of Crush, his words trailing off. Their gazes locked and clashed, and the grizzly’s lip curled. He recognized Crush and not merely as a fellow bear.
Cella didn’t know what she expected, but it wasn’t for Crushek to suddenly stand up, place Cella on her feet, and then snarl at the grizzlies, “What? You got something to say?”
Suddenly all those proper bear manners went out the window and the grizzlies were moving toward the polar, and Crush was moving around Van Holtz, going head-to-head with these two assholes. But before any of that could happen, Smith stepped between them all, facing the grizzlies, one side of her mouth lifting into a slight and rather scary smile.
The grizzlies stopped, refusing to go any closer, not surprising considering Smith’s past history with BPC.
“Why don’t you gentlemen sit,” Charlene, the admin, said, running over and offering chairs near the door, her smile wide. “Mr. Van Holtz has a meeting scheduled right now, but he’ll be back as soon as he’s done. Okay?” Without waiting for an answer, she offered, “Would you gentlemen like something to drink? Coffee, tea, or some honey?”
Smith sucked her tongue against her teeth. “That Charlene,” she teasingly complained about the admin, “always ruinin’ my fun.”
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
They all headed toward Van Holtz’s office, the BPC grizzlies left behind to seethe. As they came around the corner, Cella realized that Crush wasn’t with them. She stopped and retraced her steps, finding the bear standing outside the game room where many of the Group’s rescued hybrid teens hung out. He stood there, staring in and she stood next to him.
“You okay?” she asked when he didn’t say anything. “What was the deal with those bears?”
“That was nothing.” Crush pointed at the window and quickly changed the subject, which made her think whatever had happened between him and the grizzlies was not “nothing.”
&
nbsp; “Why are there kids here?” he asked.
It was his tone that made her concerned, but she still didn’t know if that tone was due strictly to the BPC reps or not.
“Smith found them on the streets,” Cella explained. “She brought them in.”
“Why didn’t she turn them over to CPS?”
“Child Services had most of them and lost them. All these kids are runners. Dee-Ann”—she kind of hoped using the She-wolf’s first name would loosen him up a bit—“was just trying to help out by bringing them in.”
“Helping them or helping the Group? Are you people training them as agents?”
He sounded so accusatory, Cella felt her hackles go up.
“I’m not training them to do anything. At all. This is Dee’s deal, not mine. I’m not even in the Group.”
The bear faced her. “What do you mean you’re not in the Group?”
“I mean I’m not in the Group.”
“Then what the hell are you doing here?”
“Can’t I just come to see you?” When his expression grew impossibly darker, she quickly said, “I’m kidding. I swear I’m kidding. I’m just here to represent KZS as per Van Holtz’s request. So don’t worry, I’m not stalking you if that’s—”
“Wait,” he cut in. “You’re KZS?”
“Yeah. I didn’t tell you that? I could have sworn I told you that.”
“No. You never told me that.”
“Oh.” She shrugged. “Oops.”
“Oops? That’s all you can say?”
“What do you want me to say?”
“Nothing.” He walked around her and headed off down the hall.
Cella followed Crush, catching up to him as he stood in the hallway trying to figure out the way to Van Holtz’s office.
“Okay, what’s the problem, Crushek?”
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