“Is that why you brought me? Figure I could make things easier for you with the bears?”
“That is not why I brought you along, but can you just let me handle it?”
“Whatever.”
Deciding to get away from him, Dez said, “You stay here. I’ll go around the back.”
“Fine.”
Dez waited until she’d pulled open the back gate before rolling her eyes to the sky. Who knew one flippin’ bear could be so damn difficult? God, how did Conway manage to put up with Crushek for so long?
She walked to the back door and banged on it with her gloved fist. While she waited a moment, she readjusted her Kevlar vest. Honestly, they didn’t even try to make these things for women with tits bigger than a B-cup, something Dez hadn’t been since she was thirteen.
The door opened a bit, a woman peeking around it, eyes squinting at Dez. “Yeah?”
“Mrs. Martin?”
“Yeah?”
“Detective Dez MacDermot. We have a warrant to search your house.”
“This ain’t a good time right now.”
“Warrant, ma’am. Doesn’t need to be a good time for you. Just open the door or it’ll be torn off its hinges.”
“By you?”
“Not me, because I would just set it on fire.”
The woman sniffed and pulled the door open, standing to her full height. God, she was at least six-four. Definitely a She-bear.
“Is it just you?” the woman asked.
“Why do you ask?”
“Just curious if I’m going to have a bunch of ham-handed cops tromping through my house.”
Dez peered at the woman for several seconds. Moving slowly, she placed her hand on the gun in her holster and took several steps back and to the side. “Please step out of the house, Mrs. Martin.”
“Why?”
With her right, Dez gripped her weapon; with her left, she dropped the warrant paperwork. “Because I told you to get your ass out here.”
Grinning, the sow took a step out of her house. “Or what, full-human?”
Using her right hand, Dez raised her gun, pointing it at the sow’s head.
“You better be a very good shot, Detective.”
“I’m one of the best. But I wouldn’t waste the bullets.”
Dez pulled the trigger on the bear mace she held in her left hand, hitting the sow in her sensitive nose. Screaming and cursing, the sow covered her face. Dez shoved her gun back in its holster and pulled out her baton. She flicked her wrist, the baton extending to its full length, and swung at the sow’s knees. Something cracked and the sow dropped, still screaming, definitely still cursing.
Dez was reaching for her titanium cuffs when she heard the roar. Mace raised, she spun toward the male grizzly running at her from the other side of the house. She wanted him to be closer before she hit the trigger, but he didn’t even get ten feet within range before the boar went flying, shoved off his feet by Crushek.“Go to your gun!” he barked.
She dropped the mace and again reached for her weapon. A Smith & Wesson .44 Magnum with custom grip that took her six months to qualify on. She’d just started to turn, hearing the heavy footsteps running up behind her, when Crushek wrapped his hand around her head and yanked her behind him. She heard shots ring out. Other than Crushek taking a couple of stumbling steps back, he was silent.
The footsteps were now moving away from them and Dez went around Crushek. “Are you okay?”
The polar jerked his shoulder. “Just hit the vest. Come on.”
He started off.
“I need to cuff her.”
Crushek raised his hand and slapped the grizzly sow’s back between her shoulder blades. She’d been trying to get to her feet, but she went back down, out cold.
Shrugging, Dez ran after Crushek as he stalked across the Martins’ yard. He walked to the detached garage, stopping at the wood door. He lifted his arms chest height, palms out, and rammed them forward. The door snapped off its hinges, careening inside, and Crushek went in after it.
Both hands on her weapon, Dez followed the bear inside. The big garage door was open and the inside was empty except for a piece-of-shit Chevy.
“We follow?” she asked about the bear they could see running off down the street.
Crushek didn’t answer. He simply lifted his head and sniffed the air. Following his nose, he moved to the car. Sniffed around it. With a little snarl, he gripped the car under the front grille, raised it, and flipped it up and off, knocking it out of the garage.
Trying really hard not to be impressed, Dez walked over. The pair of them stared down at the metal door built into the floor. Crushek reached down, gripped the ring, and tugged. Twice.
He motioned Dez away with a jerk of his head and stood right next to the door. He sort of jumped forward and down, big hands ramming into that metal door, power coming from those shoulders and arms. Mouth dropping open, Dez took another quick look around to make sure they were still alone, then watched the polar hammering away at that solid metal door, over and over until it bent and buckled under him. Off the hinges, the door fell into the open hole and Crush stared into the darkness.
He lifted his gaze to hers and Dez now jerked her head. “Go.”
Crushek jumped down while Dez stayed put, her gun still up, finger on the trigger. A few minutes later, Crushek came back up, a little canister in his hand.
“What’s that?”
He shrugged, lifting the top. Sniffed it and frowned. Then he stuck the tip of his pinky into the contents and brought it to his mouth. He tasted it, dark eyes rising to meet hers.
“Well?” she asked.
“Honey.”
Dez couldn’t help gasping, annoyed. “They tried to kill us for honey?”
Crushek grinned, something she wasn’t sure she remembered ever seeing before. “Honey infused with cocaine.”
“Dude ... that’s so many levels of wrong.”
Then they laughed and Dez suddenly felt that maybe they could make this work, after all.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
After a great session with everyone who’d shown up, Cella had been forced to take another shower. No way did she want to hear her mother complain about Cella “stinking like a damn male.” Now, back in her sweatpants, T-shirt, sneakers, and a hoodie sweatshirt, Cella jogged up the stairs and out the main front doors, ignoring all the full-human males checking her out. Men who could never handle her.
“Cella!”
She smiled and ran toward the waiting cab. She got in and slammed the door. “Van Holtz Steak House on Fifth,” she told the cabbie before settling in next to her mother. “I see you have your power suit on.”
It was a black suit that made her mother’s gold eyes pop and gave her that air of total control. A control the woman always seemed to have—except when it came to her husband’s family.
“So what’s the skinny minny?”
Cella chuckled, marveling at how the woman was able to refresh her lipstick in a wildly moving taxi. “I’m glad you wore your suit. You’re going to need it. Although, you may have wanted to add a little body armor.”
“My sweetest girl, you still don’t have faith in your dear old ma?”
“I always have faith, Ma. But I know the players in this and you’re in for a battle, I think.”
“We’ll see. I’m just here to help.”
Cella looked at the coat her mother had on. “Aren’t you hot in that?”
“I’m melting, but it is snowing, sweetie. Don’t want to confuse the prey.” Her mother’s nickname for full-humans.
“Stop calling them that.”
Barb dropped her lipstick into her giant purse and relaxed back into the seat, eyeing her daughter.
“What?”
“You and that very handsome, but decidedly lumbering bear? Do you expect me to buy that lie, Cella Malone?”
“What did you expect me to do? Let her marry me off to my cousin?”
“Or you could stand up to the old bitches and tell them to leave you the fuck alone.”
“Ma.”
“What? You let them walk all over you yesterday when you’re usually the one to beat them down.”
Remembering what the bear had said to her the night before, Cella replied, “I’m trying not to beat up old women.”
“I don’t mean physically, you idiot. You just never let them push you around. But yesterday ... you ran off and came back with that cop.”
“I’m just trying to keep the peace.”
“And the bear?”
“The bear just happened to be in the right place at the right time. Would you rather it had been a wolf?”
Barb shuddered. “It’s bad enough you spend time around that pit bull.”
Cella chuckled, shook her head. “That pit bull has my back. God, you’re as bad as Meg about Dee.”
“She has crazy eyes.”
“Why don’t you just tell me the problem with the Smiths? Because that’s your issue, isn’t it? Any other wolf is tolerable, but not the Smiths?”
“Do you know anyone who likes the Smiths?”
“Do you know anyone who likes the Malones?”
“We’re cats. We’re naturally adored and very low maintenance. Dogs need all that care, training, and long walks, or you have to call in that Dog Whisperer guy for help.”Cella laughed out loud, her mother joining her.
The cab stopped and Barb paid the driver while Cella got out. She waited at the corner for her mother. Once Barb stood in front of her, Cella asked, “You’re sure you’re ready for this?”