“Hey, hey, don't do this. You're blaming yourself when it's not your fault,” Hans said, shaking her lightly by the shoulders.
“I...I know. I just...”
“You want your life back. I understand.”
She grabbed his hand. “Hans, you are my life. Whatever happens, I want you in my life. Now and forever. Without you, I wouldn't even be alive. Without you, I wouldn't feel alive.”
Hans held her face in both hands and looked deep into her eyes. “Whitney, I will be with you, always. You are my mate. We belong together, forever. You have a family. My brothers will always look out for you. They love you as a sister. And I love you, with all my heart. You know that, don't you?”
Whitney blinked away the tears in her eyes. “I do,” she whispered.
Hans leaned in to give her a long, lingering kiss. “I'll find out what your stepmother is up to,” he said. “If I find proof that she's behind your accident, I'll make sure she gets what she deserves. She won't get away with it, I swear.”
With a heavy sigh, Whitney closed and locked the front door. She heard Hans's Ferrari zoom down the driveway and the automatic gates clang shut after him.
She shook her head to try to clear it. If only she could remember clearly what really did happen. Did her stepmother really try to kill her? Or did she lose control of her car and veer off the road?
Whitney tried hard to remember, and she saw the flickering image of a sinister-looking face in a mirror. The face twisted and contorted as it laughed, and the words “Magic Mirror” churned and spun around her mind like a tornado. Whitney dug her nails into her palms, using the pain to force herself to focus. An image was forming in her head. She had to hold on to the blurry image and not let it slip away.
The picture sharpened in her mind and she could see a long, winding road through a picture frame. Whitney concentrated hard on the details of the image. No, it wasn't a picture frame. It was a window, the window of a car. She was looking through the windscreen of a car and seeing the road ahead.
She saw a large truck and a thick, muscular arm sticking out of the window of the truck. The tattoo moved and glowed on the arm, as the arm waved her forward. Go, go, go...
Whitney dropped the mop and sat down heavily on the floor, holding her head in both hands. She could almost remember. She could feel it coming back to her…
The doorbell chimed loudly, and Whitney gave a startled gasp.
She scrambled up and looked at the security monitor.
There was an old lady standing just outside the gate. She couldn't see the woman's face, but she could see her wispy white hair sticking out of her dark hood.
Whitney frowned and opened the front door. She looked down the long driveway and saw the old woman still standing at the gate.
Whitney craned her neck and called out, “Yes? May I help you?”
The old lady peered up at her with rheumy gray eyes and said in a wheezing voice, “Madam, would you like some perfume? I have some lovely perfumes here. They're not expensive. Would you help an old lady and buy a bottle?”
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
Whitney wrung her hands and stared at the bent old lady at the gate. She wanted to help her, but...
“Please, just buy a small bottle. Take pity on an old lady, won't you? I have been walking for hours and I haven't sold a single bottle.”
The old woman wheezed and coughed, and Whitney called out immediately, “Wait.”
Whitney raced to the kitchen and poured a tall glass of water. On impulse, she grabbed a fresh apple from the basket on the table and hurried back out.
“Here,” Whitney said as she approached the gate. The elderly woman looked so pale and frail. Whitney opened the side gate and gave her the glass of water and apple.
“Have a drink, and a bite,” Whitney said. “Why don't you come in? You should rest. You look...”
“I'm fine. Thank you. You're very kind.” The woman took a sip of water and smiled. She put the apple in her basket and said plaintively, “Won't you buy something from me? I just need to sell one bottle today and I can earn my commission. Just one bottle of cheap perfume.”
The old lady rummaged in her basket and pulled out some pretty bottles. “They don't cost much. And they smell just like the real thing!”
Whitney sighed softly. The poor old lady was peddling some cheap, imitation perfumes. “I...”
“Here. I have just the thing for you.” The old lady coughed pitifully and pulled out a shiny bottle from her basket. She held it out to Whitney. “This will suit you. It's exquisite, just like you. Smell it. Go on, you'll love it!”
Whitney frowned at the beautiful, bright red bottle, a memory sparking in her mind. She swallowed hard and tried to shake away the inexplicable and irrational sense of dread and terror that was rising in her chest.
She had to force herself to breathe.
The bottle was shaped like a perfect, shiny red apple.
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
“Smell it,” the old lady insisted. “Spray some on your hand, your wrist and take a sniff. Go on.”
Whitney pulled the leaf-shaped cap off the bottle and turned it around carefully. The dark red apple winked and glimmered in the sunlight.
“What's the name of this perfume?” Whitney asked slowly.
“Poisoned Apple,” the old lady answered, smiling.
Whitney blinked hard.
“Poisoned Apple,” she murmured. “This...is an imitation of Red Apple, the newest perfume by Snow White Cosmetics.”
“Yes, yes!” the old lady exclaimed in delight. “You are a discerning customer indeed. This smells exactly like the real thing. And it costs only a fraction of the price! It's a bargain, a real steal! Try it! It's identical to the expensive stuff. You won't be able to tell the difference. Your man will love it,” she added in a sly whisper. “Try it. In fact, I think this smells better than the Red Apple perfume.”
Whitney's finger was shaking over the nozzle of the pretty, apple-shaped bottle.
She had a strange sense of vertigo, like she was standing at the very edge of a precipice.
Whitney gasped and reeled back as her memories came rushing up from the abyss in a violent, crushing wave. She remembered. She remembered everything.
She remembered the familiar, flowery scent of the perfume.
Whitney had been involved in the early stages of developing the Red Apple perfume. But halfway through the project, the head office gave the directive that only one person was allowed to work on the perfume, since the final list of ingredients was highly confidential and privileged information. Whitney and the rest of her colleagues were ordered to turn over all their research to Doc. Doc was the nickname of Dr. Douglas, one of the senior researchers in their department. He was a quiet man who was considered a loner, but he was a hard and conscientious worker.
Whitney knew that Doc tested the Red Apple perfume on himself. She'd watched in concern and fear as Doc became more and more distracted and forgetful. He stayed in the lab till the wee hours of the morning, and he seemed to douse himself with the perfume he was working on. Whitney watched him dab the perfume onto his skin fervently as he worked in his locked laboratory. He seemed to be...addicted to the stuff.
Doc committed suicide once the project was completed. His lab was sealed off and the samples of the Red Apple perfume were sent straight to the head office. But she received a package one night from a courier company. There was an apple-shaped bottle in the package. It seemed the last thing that Doc did before he took his own life was mail her the bottle.
Whitney transferred the clear liquid in the bottle into a small glass vial. When she returned to the lab, she tested the liquid in secret. The results shocked and horrified her.
Most of the original ingredients had been changed. There were new, unapproved substances mixed into the perfume. These were hallucinogens and designer drugs.
She found out that the Red Apple perfume wasn't g
oing to be launched and sold by Snow White Cosmetics. It was designed for the new Snow Queen line, a new, exclusive line of beauty products. Her stepmother had set up Snow Queen Inc., and used the good name and reputation of Snow White Cosmetics to generate publicity and excitement for the new brand. In truth, it was a separate company altogether.
She had been trying to rush to the board meeting to tell the board everything she had discovered when that truck rammed into her car. Someone didn't want her to make it to the meeting.
Whitney stared at the gleaming, red bottle in her shaking hand. The red apple looked beautiful and perfect on the outside. But inside, it contained a terrible, dangerous concoction.
Whitney looked into the old lady's calculating, gray eyes and she froze. She recognized those eyes. She saw the hate and greed in those eyes.
“You...” Whitney gasped, seeing through the clever, elaborate disguise. The wig, the fake wrinkles, the loose, concealing cloak and hood.
Before the old lady could move away, Whitney turned the bottle and aimed the nozzle at the woman. The woman put up her hands to shield her face and Whitney swore at herself as she stared at the woman's smooth hands and manicured nails. Why didn't she notice this earlier?
“Queenie!” Whitney snarled as she squeezed the nozzle hard and sprayed the perfume onto her stepmother's face and hands.
As her stepmother screamed and flailed, the hood fell from her head. She clawed frantically at her face and hair, and ripped the wig and mask away.
Whitney stumbled back a step as her stepmother lurched towards her. “Bitch! You stupid bitch!” Queenie Snow let out a blood-curdling scream. “What did you do?”
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
Hans was about to turn out of the street when he noticed the black Jaguar idling at the side of the curb. Something made him slow down and stare at the hulking man in the driver's seat.
Just as Hans drove past, the man stretched his arm out and flicked his cigarette out of the window. Hans's eyes widened and he stopped himself from stomping on the brake pedal just in time.
He saw the tattoo on the man's arm. It was a mirror with an ugly, laughing face in it. The words “Magic Mirror” snaked around the mirror.
Hans cruised to the other end of the street, watching the Jaguar through his rear view mirror. He picked up the phone and called his brother. “Derek, can you come to the house now? Whitney...”
“I'm on my way,” Derek said immediately and clicked off without asking any questions.
They lived near each other, so it took Derek ten minutes at most to get to his house. But Hans knew his brother would be here in under five minutes. The guy could drive like a maniac.
Hans saw the Jaguar pull suddenly away from the curb and make a sharp U-turn. The black car sped away and Hans turned his car around and followed swiftly.
The Jaguar was heading towards his house. Hans saw a woman running towards the Jaguar, her hands clutching her throat. The woman was shrieking and swearing as she lunged into the car.
Hans saw Whitney standing at the gate, holding what looked like a bright, red apple. It was only when he drove nearer that he saw that it was a glass bottle.
“Whitney, are you all right?” Hans yelled to her through the window.
She nodded quickly. “Queenie Snow, that's Queenie Snow.” She pointed a shaking finger at the escaping car.
Hans gave a sharp nod. “And Magic Mirror is with her,” he snarled.
Whitney's eyes widened, but he saw that she understood right away. “The truck driver. He's working for her,” she said in a stricken whisper.
As Hans sped after the Jaguar, he saw Derek's car screech to a halt in front of his house. He saw Derek jump out and rush Whitney into the house like an efficient, responsible bodyguard.
Hans saw the Jaguar zigzagging down the street. He squinted at the car and saw the driver gripping the steering wheel with one hand while trying to hold Queenie Snow down with the other. The woman appeared to be thrashing wildly in the passenger seat.
“What the hell...” Hans frowned.
The Jaguar turned suddenly into a side road. It was a narrow, lonely stretch of road with hardly any houses along the side. The road led straight up to the edge of a cliff which overlooked the ocean. The view there was spectacular, and he had seen couples drive up to this spot to take their wedding pictures.
The Jaguar skidded to a stop at the end of the road. The passenger door opened and Queenie Snow spilled out of the car screaming.
“Help me! Help! That fucking bitch...”
Hans saw the stocky, tattooed driver get out of the car. Queenie whirled on him and shrieked, “Bruce! Help me! Get me to the hospital now!” She clawed violently at her face and neck, as though she were trying to scratch her skin right off.
Hans got out of the car and immediately he scented the beast lurking under Bruce's skin. Bruce was a bear shifter. Queenie Snow had hired him to get rid of Whitney. When Whitney's body wasn't found in the charred wreckage, Queenie had ordered Bruce to hunt Whitney down. And Bruce had followed Whitney's scent, all the way to Hans's house. Bears were top trackers, and they could follow the faintest scent for miles.
Hans stalked silently towards them. Queenie was still screaming and flailing hysterically, but Bruce immediately turned towards him with his claws out. Bruce's eyes flashed as he growled threateningly at Hans. He could scent Hans's bear.
But Hans ignored him and walked slowly towards Queenie Snow. “What's wrong with you?” Hans asked coolly.
Queenie lunged towards him, sobbing and screeching. “I've been poisoned! That bitch poisoned me! Help me! Save me!”
CHAPTER NINETEEN
“Poison,” Hans snarled. “What poison?”
“The perfume!” Queenie hissed, clawing at the red blotches on her skin. “It's poison. It's the Poisoned Apple!” She let out a demented laugh. “She was supposed to spray it on her hand and absorb the poison into her skin. She'll die. She must die! Why didn't you kill her, you bloody fool?” she shouted at Bruce. “You took my money, but she's not dead! I told you to rip out her heart and bring it to me!”
Hans stepped back, away from Queenie and Bruce. He could smell the poison through her pores. The poison was fast spreading through her body. Queenie was losing her sight and her mind. Her eyes were unfocused, and blood was leaking from her tear ducts and nostrils. She spat out a mouthful of dark blood and bared bloodstained teeth at Bruce.
“Save me, Bruce! Get me to the hospital now! I have to get the poison out of my body!” she shrieked.
When he didn't move, she screamed, “I'll tell them what you did! You tried to murder my stepdaughter! It was you. You're the murderer, not me. Not me!”
Bruce smirked and grabbed her hand easily when she tried to attack him. She struggled madly and tried to twist away but he was too strong.
“How dare you! Let me go! Let go!”
Bruce's lips curved in a vicious smile. “With pleasure.”
He released her abruptly. Queenie screamed as she careened towards the edge of the cliff. She put her arms out but her sight was gone. She couldn't see where she was going and she couldn't stop herself.
With a final, fading scream, she pitched forward and plummeted down the cliff into the deep, blue sea below.
Bruce didn't even look back. His glowing eyes were locked on Hans.
“What do you want?” Bruce said. “Why did you follow us?”
Hans let his claws slice out. “You tried to kill my mate.”
“Your mate.” Bruce barked out a mirthless laugh. “Whitney Snow is your mate.”
Bruce narrowed his eyes and shifted into a big, black bear. He knew that he had to kill Hans if he wanted to live. Even if he escaped today, Hans would hunt him down. He had tried to kill a bear shifter's mate. Hans would never let him go.
Hans shifted and faced the black bear. His grizzly bear was slightly larger than the black bear, but size didn't really matter in a fight.
It boiled down to skill, speed and stamina.
Hans looked straight into the eyes of the hired killer. Bruce would kill for a fee. He had nothing against Whitney Snow. Whitney wasn't his enemy. Whitney was just a target, an innocent girl he was contracted to kill. He could kill without remorse, without any emotion. It was just business.
Hans knew he had to be just as cold, ruthless and brutal when fighting a killer like Bruce. If he hesitated, he would be dead.
Bruce made no sound when he charged. He didn't growl and snarl. He just attacked and delivered his blows swiftly and mercilessly.
Hans fought back. He bellowed in pain when Bruce's sharp claws raked down his back. Hans reared up and slammed down on the black bear. His fangs stabbed into Bruce's neck but before he could bite down hard, Bruce wrenched away.
The two bears clashed and wrestled dangerously close to the edge of the cliff. Bruce tried to force Hans towards the spot where Queenie had fallen to her death but Hans managed to throw Bruce off him.
The black bear glowered at him, blood dripping from its mouth.
They were both badly wounded, but this was a fight to the death. Hans wasn't letting Bruce get away. He wasn't letting the brute live to kill another day.
Bruce circled Hans slowly, his steps soft and soundless. Hans panted and shook his head to prevent the blood from dripping into his eyes. Without warning, Bruce came at him. The black bear smashed into him and knocked him to the very edge of the cliff.
Hans roared and used all his remaining strength to grab Bruce and throw him into the air. Bruce let out a roar as he plummeted from the cliff. The furious roar faded into silence.
Hans growled and chuffed as he slid over the jagged edge. He clawed desperately and forcefully at the rocks. He wasn't going over the edge with Queenie and Bruce. He had to get back up and return to Whitney.
She was waiting for him.
The rocks pelted his face as he hung on. He was slipping. He had to hold on, and live…
Snow and the Bear: Paranormal Bear Shifter Romance (Grimm Bears Book 2) Page 5
