Bear Meets Girl

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 one 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.”