C
HAPTER
T
WENTY-ONE
T
uesday morning, Ric Van Holtz dragged himself out of bed and made his way to his kitchen to get the coffee started. He ground the beans, pulled down a coffee mug, and waited while his fourteen-cup coffeemaker did its work.
And when that hand slipped across his naked hip, he didn’t jump ... anymore. It took some getting used to, living with the sneakiest of wolves, but Ric wouldn’t change it for the world. Eyes still closed, he turned his head and soft lips pressed against his.
“Glad you’re home,” he murmured, nuzzling the She-wolf who pressed her long body next to his. “What’s going on?”
“The bear’s information was right. Found Whitlan’s office. And he’s in it.”
Ric opened his eyes, and nodded. “Take it down. Tonight. Bring him in alive, Dee-Ann.”
She grinned, kissed his neck. “You’ve got it.”
Crush’s phone woke him that morning from the most erotic dream he’d had in a while, involving a She-tiger in hockey pants, and he wasn’t happy about it.
He swiped the cell phone off his nightstand. “What?”
“It’s MacDermot.”
“What?”
“Meet me at the office at six.”
Crush glared over at his bedside clock. “It’s six-thirty.”
“No. I meant six tonight.”
“Why?”
“Group and KZS are taking down Whitlan. Tonight.”
“Wait. They found him? How did they even know—”
“God, you’re like my kid. Asking ten thousand questions.”
“I’m a bear. That’s what we do. And this is our case.”
“Flexibility is key for this job, Crushek. Get used to it. Besides, I’ve just accepted the fact that Dee-Ann Smith has contacts you and I just ain’t got. And if she wants to find you—she’ll find you. Now, I’ll see you at six.”
“But—”
“If it makes you feel better, your girlfriend will be there.”
“My—”
“Also heard you’re a hell of a kisser.”
Crush sat up. “
What?
”
Cella packed up her duffel bag, throwing in a few extra clips for good measure, and zipped it up. She looked around, made sure she had everything. She did, and what she didn’t have, KZS would provide.
Pulling on a light denim jacket, she picked up her bag and rushed down the stairs, through the kitchen, waving at her mother and father, then around the side of the house. Meghan and Josie were already heading to the Jeep, schoolbooks in hand, discussing something in whispers.
“I’m working tonight, babe,” Cella called out. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”
Cella tossed her bag into one of her brothers’ cars. She didn’t know which one.
“That’s fine. I’m babysitting Deena’s kids tonight. But can we talk tomorrow, Ma?”
Cella, about to get into her car, stopped and looked over at her daughter. “Talk? Oh, you mean about you heading to Hofstra in the fall? Sure ... we can talk about that.”
Josie, an apple in her hand, stared first at Meghan, then at Cella.
When her daughter didn’t say anything, Cella got in her car, pulled out of the driveway, and headed in to work.
MacDermot was standing outside the office waiting for him. She had two big cups of coffee and a pastry bag. When he got close she demanded to know, “Why are you looking at me like that?”
“Malone told you about ...”
MacDermot laughed. “She didn’t have to. Everybody told me how cuddly you two were at that freezing party.”
“Ice Party.”
“Whatever. Although really,
you
should have told me.”
“Why the hell would I tell you?”
“We’re partners.”
“We’re partners, MacDermot, not girlfriends. We’re not going to sit around talking about dates or our periods or your husband’s problems with roaring at his neighbors.”
MacDermot sighed. “We got another noise citation last week. I keep trying to convince them it’s the dogs, but no one seems to believe me.”
Crush snatched one of the coffees away from her. “Can we just get this over with?”
She held up the pastry bag. “I brought treats.”
“What kind?”
“Honey buns and—”
Really mad now, Crush barked, “Do I look like a grizzly to you? Do you see a hump? Or an ‘I’m stupider than you might think’ look on my face? Huh? I thought we already discussed this.”
MacDermot’s top lip curled the tiniest bit. “Am I going to have to shoot you? Because I will shoot you.”
Crush snarled and turned away from her.
“What about cinnamon?”
“What about it?”
“I also got cinnamon twists because
I
like the honey buns. I’ve made it my business that the only predator whose diet I worry about is the one who fucks me regularly. And last I looked this morning—that wasn’t you.
Now do you want the goddamn cinnamon twist or not?
”
Crush turned back around, eyed MacDermot. “You always this cranky?”
“Only when I have to deal with more than one predator a day.” She held out the bag. “And you better eat this now. The ones inside do not share.”
He took the bag. “I’m top of the food chain, MacDermot. . .
no one
takes my cinnamon twists.”
“Great. First I have to deal with Captain Ego at home and now Commander Boar Rage at work.”
She turned and headed into the office. “Come on.”
Crush followed her, stepping into the first-floor elevator. But instead of pushing the button for their office floor, she pushed the one for the basement. Crush hadn’t had a chance to fully explore the place yet, so he had no real idea what was on this floor.
They stepped out and walked down a long hallway, finally stopping at a room. MacDermot kicked the steel door with her foot and after a few seconds a She-leopard opened it.
“You’re late, MacDermot.”
“You gonna start with me now? Because I have no problem shooting every one of youse.”
She pushed past the female and walked inside. The She-leopard winked at him, her smile telling him she enjoyed fucking with MacDermot. Damn cats and their damn emotional torture.
Crush walked into the room and immediately stopped, his gaze looking over everything.
“Your gear’s here,” MacDermot said, pointing at a locker.
“What is this?” Crush asked, slowly walking up to her, his eyes still locked on what he was seeing.
“What’s what?”
“This, MacDermot. All of this.”
“What? You mean the rocket launcher? That’s a just in case, really.”
Crush stared at her. “A just in case?”
“You never know. Hurry up. We’ll take one of the vans and go check in with the others.”
“You mean the Group?”
“And KZS.” MacDermot pointed at the other shifters in the room. There were about twelve. He knew some of them, had never seen the others, and they represented many breeds. Knowing MacDermot, Crush would bet that most of them were military trained. “This is our team. The best of the best, as far as I’m concerned. You and me, we take lead.”
“You and I.”
“That’s what I said.”
“No ...” Crush shook his head. “Forget it.”
“Right. You and me take lead, NYPD is there as backup for the Group and KZS.”
“Who are their team leads?” a black bear asked while he pulled his vest over his incredibly wide chest.
“Malone and Smith.”
When the rest of the team members nodded their heads, seeming to approve, Crush could tell that Malone had already earned a good reputation with the others.
“You guys get the vans and meet us at the Group offices.”
“You’re going now, MacDermot?”
“You know they’re always late. As it is, I’m guessing it’s going to be a long night.”
Crush felt the need to ask, “So while we’re backing up Group and KZS, what are they doing?”
“No idea.”
“Don’t you care?”
“Not particularly.” MacDermot shrugged. “They do most of the wet work.”
When the rest of the team nodded in agreement as if that made things all better, Crush replied, “I can’t express to you how much that one sentence freaks me the fuck out.”
MacDermot grinned, patting his bicep since she couldn’t reach his shoulder without getting on a stepladder, “You’ll get used to it. Now let’s go get your girlfriend.”
“She’s not my—”
“Who’s his girlfriend?” the She-leopard asked.
“Malone.”
And when all the females replied, “Awwww,” Crush sighed and briefly thought about retiring and opening up a little bar on a Barbados beach somewhere.
Cella ducked the fist to her face and swung her own left, slamming it into Smith’s jaw. She danced back on her toes, and smiled at Smith. Cella loved fighting Smith. She was one of the few who could actually take a punch to the face without all that sobbing and pleas for mercy.
Cella hated that.
Smith came back up, swinging at her again. Cella ducked, but she got a knee to the face and then Smith kicked her right out of the ring—again.
She slid face-first into a big pair of feet while the crowd that had been growing steadily since she and Smith stepped into the ring cheered and roared.
“What the hell are you doing?”
Hey. She knew that voice. “Daddy?”
Big hands reached down and picked her up off the floor. “Now you’re freaking me out.”
Cella shook her head, trying to clear her vision. She saw coal-black eyes staring at her. She knew those eyes! From somewhere.
“Hey ... you.”
“You don’t know my name, do you?”
“I will ... as soon as that ringing stops in my ears. But I will say you’re very cute.”
“Hey, Malone,” Smith called from the ring. “Don’t you remember? That’s your boyfriend.”
“Pretend boyfriend. He’s a perfect pretend boyfriend ... I think.”
“I don’t understand,” MacDermot cut in. “Why are you two beating the hell out of each other when you know we’re going to work tonight? The team will be here soon.”
“Don’t yell at me, cop.” Cella wrapped her arms around the bear’s waist and rested her head against his chest. “Don’t make me get my boyfriend to beat you up.”
“You’re bleeding all over my shirt.”
“It’s black.”
“Yeah, but now it’ll be sticky.”
Now that the bell Smith had rung had finally stopped ringing, Cella looked up at, uh ... Crushek! That was his name! “Yeah,” she shot back, “sticky with my love.”
Both MacDermot and Smith laughed and, after sighing, the bear wrapped his arm around her waist and lifted her off the floor.
“Hey!”
“Come on.”
“Come on where?”
“To get you cleaned up.”
He walked off with her, stopping by one of the Group members, a fellow polar, to ask, “Bathroom?”
The polar grunted and jerked his head. Seemed it was enough, though, because Crushek found the co-ed locker room. He placed her on the long sink and pushed her hair off her face to look at her bruises and cuts.
“So is that how you guys communicate with each other? Grunting?”
“ ‘You guys’?”
“Bears. He grunted and you seemed to know exactly where to go.”
“Why waste words when a nod in the right direction is all that’s needed? God, you heal fast.”
“Hhhmh. It’s a Malone thing.”
Crushek wet a paper towel and began to remove the blood from her face. He had such a nice touch, too. Considering the size of those hands, she always expected him to be much more fumblelike about it.
“So do you always fight your team members?” he asked.
“No. But I always fight Smith. She’s gotta jaw like granite. I figure if I can survive a fight with her, I can survive a fight with damn near anybody.”
“Yes. That’s what you want to base your friendships on. Whether your buddies can take a hit to the face.”
“What about Jai?”
“Jai?”
“The one you keep calling Dr. Davis. All serious and shit about it, too.”
“It’s called respect.”
“You’re just a suck up because she’s the team doc.”
“Can you blame me? She’s actually helped the victims of you and the Marauder. She should get a medal.”