Bear Meets Girl (Pride #7)(30)

The room fell silent until Malone barked, “And?”
“And what?”
Malone began to say something else, but the She-wolf placed her hand against her shoulder and Van Holtz asked, “And who is he?”
“Oh. Frankie Whitlan. Frankie the Rat. Frankie the Snitch. Frankie the Talker.”
“Big Dick Frankie,” Crush tossed in.
“Oh, my God,” Malone said to Smith. “Now there are two of them.”
Van Holtz raised his hand to calm the two females and said to Crush, “Detective, perhaps you can tell us something about this man. I assume he was some kind of informant.”
“He was a scumbag.”
“And a lot of cops used him. Some got their gold shields because of Frankie.”
“So,” Malone asked, “he’s a scumbag because he ratted on his criminal friends?”
“No. He’s a scumbag because he played both sides of the fence.”
“Crushek’s right. There were rumors that he only ratted out the guys in his way. Don’t let his nicknames fool you. Frankie Whitlan was a murdering motherfucker. He ran a massive drug ring and I think gun running—”
“But he started in gambling. Was a leg breaker for bookies in the Bronx.”
“Then ten years ago ... gone.”
“We figured either he’d been hit and dumped or—”
“Federal protection. The timing was interesting because we were trying to take him down for the murder of a stock market analyst and his entire family, including three kids. The rumor was he’d done it himself, which was rare because he usually had someone else do his killing for him.”
“But if he’s in federal protection, why is he back?” Smith asked. “Seems kind of stupid.”
“Hard to leave the life. Lot of those mob guys find their way back to their old neighborhoods just because they miss their favorite pizza place.”
“Yeah, but why is he hanging out with the taxidermist Smith found?” Malone asked. “He was missing his favorite taxidermist?”
Van Holtz nodded. “She has a point.”
“Let me see what I can find out,” Crush offered. “Some guys I know.”
“Some guys you know ... what?” Malone pushed.
“Some guys I know. Don’t harass me.”
“Harass—”
“All right then,” Van Holtz cut in. “I think that’s enough for tonight. I’m sure Desiree would like to go home and take some much needed migraine meds.” 
“I appreciate that.” MacDermot stood. “Because the worst part? I feel like I have to blow my nose. I can’t express to you how that’s the last thing I ever want to do.”
“Come on, darlin’.” Smith put her arm around MacDermot. “Let me get you home.”
They all filed out into the hallway, Malone silently following Smith and MacDermot.
“I guess this is a little strange for you, isn’t it, Detective?” Van Holtz asked as they walked back to the front office.
“Just new. I don’t like change.”
“I understand that. It was strange for Dez in the beginning, too.”
He watched as MacDermot stopped in front of that big glass window Crush had looked through earlier, the one with all the kids behind it, and waved. After a few moments, a hybrid girl came out the door. She was a bear hybrid, probably mixed with canine. Nearly six-four, she had a very young face, but way more scars on her arms and neck than anyone that age should have.
Eyes wide, she gazed down at poor MacDermot’s face. “What happened?”
“Nothing I can’t handle,” MacDermot teased. “Apparently, I’m tough like that.” Laughing, the pair hugged, then the girl hugged Smith and finally Malone.
“How’s it been going?” MacDermot asked the girl.
“Eh.” Not exactly a ringing endorsement.
Finally, Crush knew he had to find out more about what was going on here. It was driving him nuts. “Who are these kids?” he asked Van Holtz, his voice low.
Crush thought there might be some backpedaling or bullshit. There wasn’t.
“Hybrids,” Van Holtz immediately replied. “They didn’t have homes and it’s hard for them to mainstream into full-human society, so we take them in. That’s Hannah,” he said, glancing at the bear hybrid. “She’s been with us for a bit now.” He leaned in, lowered his voice even more. “Dee-Ann and Blayne rescued her from a dogfighting ring.”
Horrified the girl had been used that way, Crush still had to ask, “Did you recruit her?”
Van Holtz shook his head. “After what she and some of these other kids have been through? No. Although, they have the option to join us when they’re twenty-one. But not before then. We’re just giving them a place to crash, an education, and some options. Everyone deserves options.”
“But shouldn’t you be helping them mainstream?”
“Well—”
A good-sized shaggy-haired dog ran out into the hallway, spun in circles for several seconds, and shot off.
“That was Abby.”
“Does she always run around as—”
“Yes. She also begs for food, scratches at the door to be let in or out, and snaps at flies, which is always entertaining. But we’re working on her.”
“Hey,” Smith reminded them. “We left them BPC bears sittin’ up front. Not sure we want little Abby around them.”
Hannah sighed. Deeply. “I better go get her.”
“If Abby gets on your nerves, Hannah, why do you watch out for her?” Van Holtz asked with a small smile.
“One word,” she replied. “Blayne.”
“Can’t handle the sobbing?”
“Can you?”
The girl had a point. Crush knew he couldn’t handle it.
Hannah started off, but Abby suddenly returned. Sliding into the middle of the hallway, she barked and barked, then ran back the way she’d come.
Knowing a panicked bark when he heard one, Crush didn’t think twice before going after the girl and everyone else. But the naked, blood-covered male lion in the middle of the reception area did take him by surprise, though.Cella stopped when she saw the naked, blood-covered male stretched out on the floor. Her gaze went to Charlene. “What the hell?
“He’s been shot,” Charlene told them. “A couple of times.”
“Charlene,” Van Holtz ordered, “call Dr. Hayes. He’s probably on the medical floor.”
Crouching on one side of the lion’s body, with Smith on the other, Cella reached over and pushed his still-growing mane out of his face. “Oh, shit.”
“You know him?” Smith asked.
“Mikey Callahan. His ma’s gonna lose her mind.”
Gold eyes opened and looked into Cella’s face. “Cella.”
“Baby boy, what happened?”
“Bad day.”
“He’s with KZS?” Smith asked.
“No. I’ll explain later.”
“He’s been hunted,” one of the grizzlies said.
Cella glanced up. She’d forgotten all about the BPC grizzlies. “How do you know that?”
He crouched beside her, pointed at Mikey’s bicep. “Here you can see he was given a drug to keep him lion. Look at his neck. He was chained while human, then forced to shift.”
“Forced?”
“While KZS and the Group have been going after pissant hybrid dogfights, the bears have been focusing on the real hunters going after real shifters. Their methods have improved.”
“Not liking your tone, son,” Smith warned. She had a real warm spot for the hybrids, although she’d never admit having a warm spot for anyone.
“Don’t you?” He stood up, towering over Smith. “Well, that’s not really the problem right now. Is it?”
“And what is the problem?”
The grizzly pointed across the room into a far corner. “She is.”
As one, they all looked at the full-human girl standing in the corner. She was Italian American, Cella would guess. Pretty and young, wearing an old leather jacket with some bloodstains on one side and driving gloves. And, at the moment, just realizing she was in serious trouble.
Mikey’s grip tightened on Cella’s hand and she looked at him.
“She brought me here. She saved my life. You know what that means to us, Cella.”
Mikey Callahan, like Cella, was another Traveller, although the Callahan Pride had lasted a little longer before they’d been asked to go their own way and leave Ireland. Loyalty was all to the Callahans, like it was to the Malones. If the girl had saved his life—and why would he lie when he was bleeding out onto the Group office floor?—then she had to be protected.
But before Cella could move, MacDermot stepped in front of the girl, her face swollen, but the Bronx attitude firmly in place. 
“If I were you,” MacDermot said to the tall grizzly, “I’d just walk away.”
“I know you feel like you have some power here, full-human. But you don’t. Just breeding one of us, doesn’t make you one of us.”
Charlene kneeled on the floor and placed Mikey’s head in her lap. The fox was small compared to the rest of them, but she had a .45 holstered to the back of her skirt and when the fox nodded at her, Cella knew she’d watch out for him.
Standing, Cella and Smith slowly made their way around the room, closing in on the two grizzlies.
“I think you better go,” MacDermot pushed.
“We’ll go, but we’re taking her with us. Since we can’t trust you to do what needs to be done with her.”