Bear Meets Girl (Pride #7)(28)

The car headed backward again. Guards ran into the street, under some delusion that she’d stop. She couldn’t. At this point she was in too deep. And she’d prefer not to do time for stealing this car.
She pulled the .45 out of her holster and aimed out the window, shooting at the car still coming at her. She hit the other car’s windshield, blood spurted, and the car swerved. Sophie brought her arm back, dropped the gun, and changed hands on the wheel. She shifted and spun the car, moving forward, other cars falling in behind her.
Tearing down the busy streets, she cut across boulevards, and used other cars as shields.
“No cops,” she muttered, surprised she hadn’t heard even one siren yet.
“There won’t be cops until you clear ... whatever town we’re in,” he told her.
Sophie smiled a little. “Good.”
She kept moving, pushing, using every trick she’d ever learned or taught herself. Cars came at her from different directions, from alleys, behind other cars. She didn’t let any of them stop her because she knew none of them could really keep up with her.
But there was one who kept trying. She knew she had to shake that one off if she hoped to get out of this. She went down an alley and around a truck parked outside a deli. She tore outside the other end of the alley and spun the wheel hard. She went a few feet up and hit another alley. She went halfway down that one and stopped behind a shoe store.
Sophie still had the window rolled down, so she listened and watched in the side mirror. Cars sped by, heading down the street. She only had a few minutes before they’d come back and do a street-by-street search.
“I’m bleeding all over your nice seats.”
Yeah. He was, but how was that her problem?
With one more look at him, she opened the door and stepped out, abandoning the car. Such a shame, too. That car would have brought in some nice money.
Mikey wasn’t surprised she bailed. Even though she had a set of keys, he could tell that she wasn’t the owner of this car. Trying to get it out of wherever they were with a bleeding man sitting beside her was going to be impossible.
Honestly, Mikey was just glad he didn’t have to worry about risking her life, too.
He did, however, briefly toy with the idea of getting in the driver’s seat and driving out of here. She’d left the key in the ignition. But all he could do was stare at those keys, watching them sway.
He heard a car pull in and Mikey thought, Here we go.
His door opened and the girl leaned in. “Come on. I haven’t got all day.” She took his arm and pulled it over her shoulder, helping Mikey from the car. 
She was strong, but definitely full-human. Together, they made it to a really nice late-model BMW with dark-tinted windows. She put him in the back, laying him out across the seat, and went to the driver’s side. Within seconds, she had them back on the road.
“You know this town,” Mikey said, lifting his hand to look at all the blood on it.
“I know every town.”
Right. In case she had to make a run for it.
“I need you to take me into the City.” Realizing he might not actually be in New York, he added, “Manhattan.”
“Give me the address.” She glanced back at him, smiled. “And don’t worry. I’ll get you home.”
Except he wasn’t going home. But that was okay. He just knew he wasn’t going to die there, wherever “there” might have been. And at the moment, that meant everything to him.
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.”