Bear Meets Girl

by Shelly Laurenston

  Crush dropped into the chair across from Peg Baissier. “I’ve been just fine. And you?”

  Thirty-four years. It had been thirty-four years since Baissier had taken in Crush and his two brothers. And, in the beginning, he’d fallen in line just like all the others before him. It wasn’t hard. So young and yet learning to fight like in the martial arts movies. But when Crush had turned twelve, he’d found out what Baissier had gone out of her way not to tell them. That his parents had worked for her. Had died carrying out her orders. It wasn’t that they were soldiers that bothered him; it was that Baissier hadn’t told him. She’d hidden it like so many other things she’d hidden. And Crush, curious bear that he was, had looked into it. After school, instead of heading home for more training, he’d become friends with wolves, coyotes, foxes. He’d learned to break and enter, to hot-wire cars, to snoop, to steal. Then, once he had the skills down, he’d put them to use not breaking the law but finding out what his parents had done and how they’d died. By the time he was sixteen, he knew more than he’d ever wanted to know about his parents, about Baissier, about all of it. But he finally knew the truth.

  At the time, Baissier had no idea. Instead, she thought he was just being a hardheaded kid. She made it plain she didn’t like him, always calling him “the contrary one.” Or “Mr. Difficult,” because he questioned everything and refused to play along—with anything. If, in the middle of August, she said it was hot outside, Crush went out in a fur jacket. If she said it was nighttime, he wore sunglasses. He mostly did it to piss her off, but he also did it to ensure that he never became what she wanted him to be. Another meat puppet to carry out her orders.

  “What do you want?” he asked, already fed up at seeing her face.

  “There was a big mess last night, eh? Glad to see you’re okay, though.”

  “I’m not in the mood to play this game with you. What do you want?”

  “Just wondered why you attacked my people.”

  “They attacked us first.”

  “Attacked you? Or attacked those cats and the politically correct Group?”

  “This is bullshit. Why don’t you just tell me the truth?”

  “And what truth is that?”

  “What you want with Whitlan.”

  “Who says I want—”

  “I like how you didn’t ask who he is. Just went into your denials.” Gray began to wake up and without even looking away from Baissier, Crush slammed his fist in his brother’s head, knocking him out again. “You haven’t fuckin’ changed a bit. Have you, Mom? That is what you told us all to call you, right? Mom?”

  “You always were an ungrateful little fuck.”

  “And don’t forget disloyal.” Crush stood. “Send all the meat puppets you want. Come after me all you want. But if you worked with Whitlan on anything, for any reason, I will nail you to the cross.”

  “It’s always a pleasure to see you again, Lou.”

  “Yeah,” he said, walking out, “fuck you, too.”

  Holding an ice pack to his head, Chazz settled down across from his foster mother. He’d be honest here ... he didn’t really know what was going on. But he knew Peg could get rather ... fixed on things. And right now she was fixed on his brother. It didn’t help that the idiot couldn’t play along, for just a bit. He always had to be such a hard-ass.

  “Now what?”

  Peg Baissier sat back in her chair, her hands steepled under her chin. “I’ll tell the families the boys died in the line of duty.”

  “And Lou?” Peg slowly raised her gaze and Chazz shook his head. “Can’t we just let it go? He can’t hurt us.”

  “You know I would never hurt your brother.” Right. Of course, she wouldn’t. Still ...

  “Is it true?”

  “Is what true?”

  “That you blew his cover?”

  “From what I understand, that was an accident and had nothing to do with me. And those who slipped up were reprimanded.”

  “Uh-huh.”

  “Chazz, honey, I would never hurt your brother. He’s a pain in the ass, but he’s still my foster son. That means something to me.”

  “Okay. But don’t hurt his dog, either.”

  “Oh, my God! I would never hurt his dog.” She shook her head. “Honestly, stop listening to Lou’s craziness. I wouldn’t hurt his dog, I’m not going to hurt him. But I do not want this thing to snowball, either. This is how wars start, and we can’t afford that right now. Understand?”

  “Don’t worry. We’ll handle it.”

  “Excellent.” Peg focused on her computer screen and Chazz stood, reaching down to grab his unconscious brother’s arm. “Come on, idiot. Let’s get you an ice pack.”

  Thirty minutes after the last Crushek was dragged from her office, one of Peg’s trusted men walked into her office, closing the door behind him. The black bear sat down and waited until she spoke.

  “We need that boy distracted until we find that motherfucker Whitlan and take him out.” They had to take him out. They had to. Peg raised a finger. “But Crushek is to remain unhurt.” Peg knew there’d be no coming back from that among their own.

  “Distracted or devastated? Because he’s made some interesting friends lately.”

  “I don’t really give a shit, I just want him out of my way.” She simply couldn’t afford to have that boy find Whitlan first. Anyone else, especially one of those dogs or cats, she could easily dismiss as more evidence the other species were out to get her and the rest of the bear community. But among the bears, whether he knew it or not, Lou Crushek was known as an honest cop and bear. If he came out against her, especially after all these years without saying a word one way or the other ...

  No, they had to find a way to keep Crushek busy until she finished this.

  Peg flicked her hand, dismissing her employee. “Make it happen. Let me know when it’s done.”

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

  Crush sat at his desk and Dez, sitting at her desk with her legs up, lifted her sunglasses long enough to take a look at his face. “You didn’t look like that last night, did you?”

  “Don’t you remember?”

  “I’m running on two hours of sleep. I don’t remember shit.” She pointed at a Starbucks coffee cup on the desk.

  “That mine?” he asked.

  “You think I’d be fuckin’ pointing at it if it wasn’t for you?” she snapped back.

  “Are you going to be like this every fuckin’ morning?”

  “Yeah. As a matter of fact I am going to be like this every fuckin’ morning.”

  “Hey!” Gentry snapped, standing beside their desks. “What did I say?”

  Dez seemed to mull that over for a few seconds before replying, “Don’t annoy you?”

  “And what are you doing? You’re annoying me, that’s what you’re doing.” She motioned at the elevator. “Let’s go.”

  “Where?”

  She glared down at Crush. “You’re going wherever the fuck I tell you to go.”

  Crush looked down at Gentry’s feet. “Did you know you’re wearing bunny slippers?”

  Dez leaned over and again lifted her sunglasses. “And they’re blue.”

  “Goddammit.” Their boss stormed back into her office to change out of her adorable and less-than-threatening bunny slippers and into some proper shit-stompers.

  “My question,” Crush whispered to Dez, “how did she find bunny slippers in her size?”

  “I heard that, you white-haired bastard!”

  And when Crush and Dez started laughing, Gentry’s mood did not improve.

  The front door to the penthouse opened and Van Holtz, looking exhausted but still extremely handsome, motioned them in.

  “Thank you for coming. Chief Gentry should be here in a few minutes.”

  Cella kind of expected him to take them to his living room considering the formality of this meeting, but Van Holtz walked right past it and into his kitchen. Like always. At the large table sat Dee-Ann Smith with
her feet up on the chair next to her and a Led Zeppelin trucker cap on her head. Walking up to her, Cella remarked, “Where’s your banjo?”

  “Stuck up your—”

  “Dee-Ann,” Van Holtz warned from his stove. “Be nice.”

  “The feline started it.”

  Yanking the chair out from under Smith’s feet, Cella sat down and smiled at her.

  Smith’s eyes narrowed. “Why are you smiling at me?”

  “Because it annoys you when I do?”

  She shrugged. “That actually makes sense.”

  “Please,” Van Holtz sweetly suggested. “Sit. Breakfast will be ready in a few minutes.”

  When Nina and Cosworth only forced fake smiles and still did not sit, Smith snarled out, “He said sit down.”

  “Dee-Ann.”

  Cella scratched her nose to keep from laughing, then said to her bosses, “He makes the most amazing waffles you’ll ever have.”

  When Cosworth sat, Nina had to grudgingly go along.

  So there they all sat or cooked. Three cats and two dogs. Cella didn’t think it could get any more awkward. But after a few minutes, the doorbell rang again and Van Holtz walked out to answer it.

  That’s when Smith suddenly turned to Cella and said, “You smell like bear.”

  Without even looking at her, Cella slammed her fist into Smith’s face, knocking the She-wolf out of her chair and onto the floor. Then, while Smith got back in her seat and popped her jaw back into place, Cella tried not to shake out her hand. That girl’s face ... like granite!

  Crush and the others followed Van Holtz into his commercial-quality sparkling kitchen. Already seated at the table were Cella, representatives from KZS, and Smith, who was busy moving her jaw around.

  He immediately looked at Cella and she gave a small smile and a shrug. But an instant later she frowned and her hand reached up to her own face, her forefinger pointing at her eye. He knew she was silently asking about his black eye and swollen cheek, but what could he say at the moment? So he shook his head and pulled out a seat, dropping into it.

  “Thank you all for coming this morning,” Van Holtz said, standing at the head of the table. “I know things took a difficult turn last night, but I wanted to touch base and have a frank discussion regarding how we should move forward on this issue.”

  The room full of shifters and one full-human stared at Van Holtz for a solid minute before they all looked at Smith. She shrugged and muttered, “Let’s talk now before we get in a big fight with a bunch of bears.”

  “Ohhh,” they all said.

  While Van Holtz created one of his brilliant breakfasts and chatted with management, and MacDermot showed Smith the latest cell phone pictures of her adorable son, Cella and Crush wandered into Van Holtz’s living room.

  “What happened to your face?” she asked.

  He sighed. “Long story.”

  “Then you better start talking so you don’t have to finish it over our breakfast.”

  “It’s no big deal.”

  Cella crossed her arms over her chest. “I’m still waiting.” When he still didn’t answer, she guessed, “Your brothers did this to you, didn’t they?”

  “No.” He cleared his throat. “It was six grizzlies.”

  “Were they alive when you dumped them?”

  “Yes. Think I should tell the others?”

  “I do.”

  He smirked. “Wait. How’d ya know I dumped them?”

  “You don’t like trash in your house. Especially with Lola there.”

  “Admit it. You like Lola.”

  “Don’t I have enough dogs in my life at the moment?”

  “If you say so.” Crush gave a small jerk of his head. “Come here.”

  “Why?”

  “Because I told you to.”

  “Oooh.” She stepped closer to him. “I like it when you’re all demanding and bossy. Maybe you can handcuff me later.”

  “You ladies all say that, but then when I go for it—you all panic.”

  “Such a lack of faith.”

  “Now get your ass up here and kiss me.”

  Cella went up on her toes and Crush came down a bit until their lips touched. She realized she kind of melted into that kiss, her body resting against his, her hands reaching up and gripping his biceps. Big arms slipped around her waist, pulling her in close. They kissed and clung to each other in Van Holtz’s living room until they both realized that they were no longer alone. Pulling away, they looked over at the archway. Smith and MacDermot stood there, both eating bacon, both watching them.

  It was the bacon that, for some reason, made it all ... weird.

  The She-lion, Cosworth, pushed back from the table and stood up, glaring down at Crush.

  “Your foster mother is Peg Baissier?”

  Crush, after tearing off the fat and handing the meat of the bacon to Malone, said, “Yeah.”

  “And you didn’t tell us this before because ...”

  Now chewing said bacon fat, “Because I haven’t lived with the woman in more than twenty years?”

  “I don’t care if you haven’t lived with her for five thousand years.”

  Crush frowned. “But then we’d be dead and most likely not having this conversation. Unless, of course, we were time travelers.”

  Smith chuckled. “I do love me some bear logic.”

  “What I’m trying to say,” Cosworth growled while cutting a lethal glare at Smith, “is that perhaps you’re actually working for Baissier.”

  “That’s a possibility. Although the firing back and hitting the target might make me not so welcome at the annual Christmas party. Plus ... Baissier hates me.”

  “But your brothers work for her.”

  “So?”

  “And you’re all triplets.”

  “So?”

  Cella placed her elbow on the table and her chin on her raised fist.

  “Isn’t there a bond or something between triplets?” Cosworth demanded.

  “Oh! You mean like when one of my brothers burns his hand and the other two feel it?”

  “Yeah!”

  “No. That doesn’t happen.”

  Cella and Smith snorted, both quickly looking away while Cosworth’s golden feline eyes narrowed.

  “Calmly,” Gentry warned, tapping her forefinger on the table. “You don’t want me breaking out in a five-hundred-pound, seven-foot panic.”

  “All I’m asking,” and he could almost hear that Cosworth wanted to add something like “troglodyte” in there somewhere but was too afraid of Gentry, “is whether you can be trusted?”

  “I don’t know if you can ask me that.”

  “Why not?”

  “Because I’m sure even a sociopath would think they can be trusted. Or if I’m delusional, I wouldn’t know I was delusional and I may think I can be trusted when in fact, I can’t, because I’m delusional.”

  “You’re delusional?”

  “No.” Crush pointed at her, thoroughly enjoying their discourse. “But if I were delusional, I wouldn’t know that I was delusional.” He grinned, believing his point made. “Because I would be delusional.”

  Crush, proud of himself, sat back. A good thing since if he hadn’t, he would have had that She-lion’s claws around his throat, her spit-filled roar splattering his face. Thankfully, Cella and the little lynx grabbed their boss and dragged her out of the kitchen.

  “We’ll be right back!” Cella said, yanking the struggling female out with her.

  Crush looked around at the sow, wolves, and full-human staring at him. “I thought I made some very valid points.”

  The She-wolf shrugged. “Sounded like it to me.”

  MacDermot nodded. “I thought so, too. And can I just say ... I love that you’re my partner now. Because you are actually more annoying than I am. And I’m annoying.” She grinned. “And the best part? You’re not even trying to be!”

  “And he’s the one you’re fucking?” Cosworth demanded, pacing back and
forth outside Van Holtz’s front door.

  “You’ve gotta admit he’s cute.”

  Nina nodded. “Very cute. I love polar bear eyes. All black and mysterious.”

  Cosworth faced them, hands in their faces, snarling. But before she could light into them, her cell phone—thankfully—went off. She glanced at it. “It’s Löwe.”

  Cella’s boss’s boss’s boss. Heh.

  “Why don’t you deal with that and we’ll finish up here,” Nina suggested in her best innocent voice. It was why she was management and wasn’t even thirty-five yet.

  Cosworth was debating that when her unanswered phone went off again. Gritting her teeth, she ordered, “Whatever you do, rein this shit in. Understand?”

  “Absolutely,” Nina promised.

  They waited until Cosworth was on the elevator and the doors had closed, then Nina looked at her. Cella expected a little bit of a strategy discussion, but instead her boss said, “Your boyfriend is so cute.”

  “He’s not my boyfriend. He’s my pretend boyfriend.”

  “Why?”

  “It annoys him.”

  Nina, heading back to the penthouse, shook her head. “You are such a feline, Malone.”

  Once the cats were back, thankfully without the cranky She-lion, Crush handed over a plate of fat-reduced bacon to Malone. She smiled, winked at him, and began eating.

  “What is with you and the fat?” Nina asked him.

  “Polar bears mostly eat fat rather than actual meat,” Dez offered. When everyone stared, “I was watching Animal Planet last night.”

  “Anyway,” the little lynx said, crossing her eyes, “I don’t care what I just told Cosworth to keep the She-lion roaring to a minimum. We need to put a stop to Baissier and we need to do it now. She is out of control.”

  “I agree.” Van Holtz shook his head. “But we can’t kill her.”

  “And why is that again?” Dez asked.

  “Because we can’t prove she’s done anything wrong and she still has enough clout to at least get the benefit of the doubt. And trust me when I say we don’t want to go head-to-head with bears.”