Bear Meets Girl

CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR

The black Range Rover door opened and Peg stepped out. Her team surrounded her. She’d chosen only the most loyal for this, but was still disappointed in the Crushek boys. They were still whining about what had been done to that idiot cat all because of some stupid hockey team.

Whatever. They were of no use to her at the moment anyway. That was the girl. The full-human girl the Group and KZS had been busy trying to protect turned out to be the key. It’s what Crushek and the others hadn’t know about the little thief—it had been Whitlan’s car she’d been stealing that day she’d rescued the cat. And what Peg had found out about Sophie DiMarco was how very good she was at her job. One of three thieving sisters, Sophie didn’t just steal cars, she studied her mark. Learned everything about them. Who they were, where they lived, what their hobbies were. In the end, the girl had known more about Whitlan than any of them—including where he’d been hiding for the past couple of weeks.

“Bring the girl,” she said, and walked into the country club. Another group of her men met her inside. “Well?”

One of the sows held up a full-human man by the neck. His face was battered, his arms nearly pulled from the sockets, some of his scalp missing. But he was still alive.

Peg stepped closer. “Where’s Whitlan?” she asked.

Shaking, his body slowly dying, the man stuttered out, “Base ... basement.”

“Good boy.” Peg stroked his face with her gloved hand and turned away. “Let’s go.”

She headed toward the stairs, but stopped, looked back at her people. “And keep your eyes open. The boy might show up and try something stupid.”

When she was confident that everyone understood, she walked on, heading to the basement.

Sophie heard the back door of the Range Rover open and she was yanked out. These ... whatever the hell they were ... they kept yanking her and dragging her everywhere. There wasn’t a subtle one in the bunch. Not like that woman with the weird eyes. She’d been tall with wide shoulders, and you could smell the predator on her. These guys were really tall and wide, but they were like the mobsters she sometimes dealt with. Not big on brains and they thought their size alone gave them the only edge they needed.

Although her wrists were left bound in front of her, the blindfold covering her eyes was removed and she took a second to look around. “Yeah,” she said to the guy holding her. “Really makes sense to make me wear that since I was the one who told you how to get here.”

He tightened his grip on her bicep and Sophie had to grit her teeth together to stop herself from screaming.

“I can hurt you now,” he whispered to her. “Or I can hurt you later. Your choice.”

“That’s not really much of one,” she shot back. “But nice try.”

He started to walk. When Sophie dragged her feet, he swung his arm forward, yanking her around. Using the momentum, Sophie bent her knees and swung her tied fists up and into the guy’s groin. He squealed, a sound that startled her, and then dropped to the ground, hands between his legs. Sophie took off running toward the other side of the road.

She made it to the line of trees and ran inside. But with her arms bound and the darkness of the night, the moonlight not helping much with all those trees, she kept stumbling. She could already hear at least one, probably more, of those guys coming after her. They’d be mad now, once they got her. But she couldn’t have just waited for them to kill her. And they would kill her. She knew that.

A hand wrapped around her throat, choking off both screams and her ability to breathe. She was lifted off the ground, her feet dangling, and brought up to look the man in the eyes.

He stared at her, cold dark eyes studying her. She felt like a bug he’d found in his kitchen. A spider he was curious about. Or an ant.

His lips pulled back and she saw fangs. Not those stupid fangs she’d seen in even stupider vampire movies. But animal fangs. Just like the guy she’d picked up off the road. His had come out when she was driving him to that office and that’s what she saw now. Even in this barely lit place, she could see them.

Panicked, she fought back, swinging her feet out, desperately trying to kick him away. Anything to get him to let her loose. She didn’t care she couldn’t breathe. She didn’t care that he was really hurting her now. She just wanted to get away. Anything to get away.

Then there was a flash of silver.

Sophie blinked, blood slashing across her face and neck. The man holding her gurgled and dropped her. She hit the ground, but kept her eyes open. She crawled away, but watched that woman, the woman with the dog eyes, yank the biggest knife Sophie had seen out of the guy’s neck. She wiped blood off on her jeans and tucked the blade back into the holster tied to her thigh. Then she pulled out the gun she had holstered to the other thigh, quickly fitted a silencer to the end, and walked around the man, gun down. Sophie thought she was coming for her. To finish what the man had started. But as the woman walked, she pulled the trigger four times, each bullet going into the man. One in his head, his face, his neck, his inner thigh.

She stopped in front of Sophie, crouching down. “You all right?”

Sophie nodded, but she still didn’t know if she could trust her. If she should. Her eyes ... as she moved, the moon reflected her eyes back to Sophie. Just like a dog’s.

The knife flashed again and then Sophie’s hands were loose. Fingers gripped her and helped her to her feet.

“I’m sorry,” the woman said. “I promised to look out for you. Sorry I let you down.”

Sophie hadn’t wanted to admit it to herself. She wasn’t much for fanciful flights of fantasy as her grandmother liked to call it. Reality had always made that impossible. But now she knew. That guy she’d picked up, he was one. The guys who took her tonight. That bitch woman who’d slapped her around until she got the answers she wanted. And this woman. They were all kind of the same. They weren’t human. Not completely. Not like Sophie. Because no human Sophie knew, who could cut a man’s throat, then shoot him in major areas and arteries on the body, would turn around and apologize for letting her down. And she’d meant that apology, too. Sophie could tell. Sophie knew liars and she knew truth tellers. This woman, or whatever she was, was all about the truth.

“What ... what’s your name?”

“Dee-Ann. Dee-Ann Smith.”

“What now, Dee-Ann?”

“We get you someplace safe.” With her arm around Sophie, Dee-Ann led her back to the road. “While my friends deal with Whitlan and Baissier.”

Sophie stopped, forcing Dee-Ann to face her.

“What’s wrong?” she asked. Sophie could see the concern on the woman’s face, but it wasn’t easy not to be completely freaked out by those eyes.

But Sophie choked back the fear. The woman had saved her life; she owed her this much. “Your friends are in there?”

“Yeah.”

“Get them out, Dee-Ann. Get them out right now.” Sophie licked her lips and admitted, “There’s something I didn’t tell the other woman.”

So this is what a country club looks like from the inside.

Not surprisingly, most Malones were never invited to join country clubs. Although a few had worked in them and robbed several.

Following the scent of bears, Cella and her team worked their way down several flights of stairs, far under the club, until she hit the last floor. She and the two lions walked out a door and into a long and wide hallway with marble floors. There were animal trophies lined up on both sides of the hallway. It wasn’t until she passed the first one that she stopped in her tracks, her body shaking. The two males looked at her, then at the trophies. They stepped closer, took a sniff, and immediately stepped back.

Every trophy in this hallway that had been stuffed and mounted—a male shifter. A couple of wolves, several panthers, but a whole lot of bears—grizzly and polar—and lions. The ultimate predators. Cella didn’t see any tigers, but she had the feeling the pelts of her kind were decorating people’s beds and floors.

Cella took several breaths. She had to keep it together. If she lost her control, got angry, and started killing everyone, this would not end well.

Cella gestured forward with two fingers and she walked on, trying hard not to look or think about those who’d met what could only be called a cruel end.

They’d neared the end of the hallway when one male stopped, his hand raised to halt them. He lifted his head, sniffed. When he looked back at Cella, she let out a groan and pushed past him. She ran until she hit the last room. Stopping right inside, she closed her eyes and lowered her weapon.

“You need to pull them out.”

Knowing his team had Baissier’s men covered by their SUVs, Crush looked over his shoulder at Dee-Ann. She had the girl with her. The poor thing had clearly ended up on the wrong side of Baissier, but at least she was still alive. It seemed as if the sow had taken it easy on her. Surprising.

“What is it?”

But before Dee-Ann could answer his question, he heard Cella’s voice over his earpiece.

He and Dee looked at each other and Crush said, “Repeat that.”

“I said he’s gone, Crush. Whitlan’s gone. And you better bring everybody down here. Including Baissier’s men.”

Crush raised his arm and motioned to Dez, who had a spot on a nearby building.

“You better come with us,” Crush said to the remainder of Baissier’s team.

One of the bears laughed. “What? Are you arresting us?”

Crush shrugged. “I don’t think there’s a point.”

“It was some kind of gas,” Cella explained while turning her back to the room. The device that had been triggered had released a gas that had not killed Baissier or her team easily, their twisted and tortured remains littering the floor. “As soon as they opened this door. It went off and took ’em out.”

“Dissipated quick, too,” Smith muttered, walking around the room and coldly examining everything.

“And Whitlan’s gone,” Crush noted again, his gaze locked on where this room led ... to a dock filled with lots of very fast and very expensive boats.

“Yeah, but he’s got us looking for him. And the feds.”

“And we have our own inside there. We’ll find him, Crush.”

“It better be quick. Whitlan enjoys killing our kind. He’s not going to lose his taste for that anytime soon.”

“So what do we do now?” one of Baissier’s men asked.

“Call whoever is next in command,” Crush told him. “Let him or her know about this.”

“The trophies,” Cella said. “We identify those we can, alert the families. The ones we can’t, we give a proper burial.”

Cella called in the cleanup team for assistance since they had to be done before the country club staff made it in for the morning shift. Knowing they were short on time, they all got to work.