Bear Meets Girl (Pride #7)(44)

Once outside, he stood and looked at the roof of the van. “It’s a body. Why is there a body on the roof of our van?”
The entire NYPD team looked up at the building, their gazes moving until they could see the edge of the building’s roof. Then they were dashing away, trying to avoid the next falling body.
“MacDermot?” he growled, not enjoying having bodies flung at him.
“Fuck!” The full-human gave an overall shake. “Crush, Jenny. With me. The rest of you watch the exits. No one comes in or out. And make sure no one sends any fuckin’ air support.”
She looked at Crush. “You ready for this?”
“No.”
“Good. Let’s go.”
Cella was thrown back, her body slamming into the brick wall, seconds before some bear was slamming his quite sizable fists into her face and chest.
When they’d gone into the building—Cella’s team and Smith’s—they thought they’d only be dealing with full-humans. But as they’d moved from floor to floor, doing a sweep, they’d found nothing but empty offices—not even furniture or phones—and the ever-increasing scent of bears. That, however, hadn’t stopped them. They just figured they’d have to negotiate with the bears to get to Whitlan.
Yet when they’d hit the roof, those BPC bears had come after them like they were covered in honey or threatening their cubs. The question for Cella, however, was why had the BPC bears come after them? No one had challenged them. Both teams had immediately lowered their weapons when they saw there was no Whitlan, and no one had spoken a threatening word. And still, BPC opened fire.
Now an enormous fist was swinging at her again. Cella caught the bear’s arm by the wrist with one hand, holding it. She swung her other fist, hitting the bear in the face. He stumbled, stunned. Still holding his arm, Cella brought her foot down, ramming it into his knee. She heard it crack and the bear crumpled.
She gripped his head with both her hands and twisted, snapping his neck. She stepped over his body, but another bear was coming for her. He never got near her, though. A bowie knife rammed into the thick muscle between his shoulder blades. He screamed, chest arching out.
Smith yanked out the blade and swung around in front of him, slicing his throat. The bear dropped to his knees, hands around his throat. Cella kicked him in the chest, not worrying he’d get back up. Smith had a thing about making sure she hit at least one artery, if not two, when she used her blade.
Smith jerked her head. “Behind you.”
Cella moved to the side and caught hold of one of the arms reaching for her. She yanked him closer, kicked him in the face, then twisted his big arm, but unfortunately not enough to break any bone. The bear grunted in pain and grabbed Cella by the hair with his free hand, yanking her around and holding her in place so he could head-butt her. Considering the size of the bastard’s head, Cella nearly blacked out, her knees buckling. But she couldn’t drop to the floor because the bear still held her by her hair, which was starting to feel like it was being pulled out by the roots. Since she had no intention of getting a receding hairline before she was forty like her Uncle Harry, Cella kicked him, battering the bear’s chest. She could hear ribs breaking, but the bear didn’t seem to let it bother him. Instead, he reached for the .45 he had tucked into the back of his jeans. Cella, unfortunately, had lost her gun in the earlier stages of the fight. Desperate, she unleashed her claws, ready to start tearing flesh from skin, but a series of booming bangs distracted her and the bear, both looking at the thick steel rooftop door that had been closed by several bodies barricading it.The grizzly’s lip curled and he snarled out, “Polar.”
Cella knew then it was Crush, even before the steel door buckled and was ripped off its hinges. It flew across the roof, colliding with several bears and grazing one of Cella’s teammates.
Crush walked out onto the roof, several of the NYPD shifter team following behind him, each armed. His head turned and he scowled when he saw Cella dangling by her hair.
He roared and the grizzly holding her roared back while aiming that goddamn .45.
Ripping at the grizzly’s arm with her claws, Cella screamed out, “Gun!”
Crush pulled his weapon so quickly, Cella barely saw it. And he shot three times. Twice to the chest and once to the head. The grizzly’s body jerked, his arm dropping enough that Cella’s knees hit the ground hard. She grunted as the pain in her left weaker knee ripped through her while the grizzly fell back, tipping over like a diseased tree. Cella went with him, untangling his fingers from her hair once they hit the ground. Once loose, she rolled over the bear, using him as a shield until she could pry his gun from his hand. She waited until whoever was firing at her stopped, then rolled up and onto one knee. Out of habit, it was her left knee, and she forced herself to ignore the pain. She quickly raised the weapon she held and did what she did best right after bare-knuckle brawling and hockey. She killed the enemy. One shot to each head, taking out the bear fighting Smith first because she knew that the She-wolf would immediately back her up and keep any grizzlies off her.
As always, Cella was fast and efficient, not one to waste bullets. She could only do this better if she was on another building with her rifle. Yeah. She was that good a shot.
Smith finished off a few grizzlies with her blade and was coming toward her when her gaze moved behind Cella.
Knowing someone was behind her, Cella spun, her weapon still raised. Smith moved up beside her, both of them about to open fire, but someone else shot first and the grizzly jerked forward. He fell to his knees, then dropped, MacDermot walking up behind him with her own .45.
“You two all right?” she asked, ever the cop even while she unloaded a few more rounds in that bear because he twitched a bit.
“Yeah,” both Cella and Smith answered.
Smith reached down and helped up Cella, scowling when Cella refused to put any weight on her left leg “Say a word to Van Holtz about my leg ...” Cella warned the She-wolf under her breath.
“What the fuck happened?” MacDermot demanded.
Smith shrugged. “Went bad.”
MacDermot gawked at them. “You really don’t think that’s going to be enough of an answer, do you?”
“What else is there to say?” 
While the pair bickered, Cella scanned the roof until she saw Crushek. Limping, she moved toward him, stepping over the bodies and around teammates that were busy calling in for a cleaning crew.
Cella stood beside Crushek, watching as he turned over one of the bodies. He scowled down at it.
“What’s wrong?”
“These are all Baissier’s men. They’re all BPC.”
Cella sighed. “Yeah ... I know.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
They returned to the precinct, including the KZS and Group members. Clean clothes were retrieved for those who had blood on them, and calls were made to appropriate management personnel. No one panicked, but clearly everyone was worried. Crush didn’t know why, though. Baissier’s idea of retaliation was never to come straight at anyone. That wasn’t how she played the game. So hit men sent to exact revenge in the middle of the night? Not going to happen.
While Crush was helping the wounded team members remove their weapons and equipment, Gentry arrived. She walked through, asking questions, confidently nodding, until she reached him; then she caught hold of his arm and pulled him from the room.
“What the hell happened?” she asked. Once they were in the hallway she no longer looked so confident.
“According to Smith, ‘went bad.’ ”
“What the hell does that mean?”
“It means BPC was already there when KZS and Group entered the building.”
“They have Whitlan?”
“No. He was already gone. But as soon as BPC saw them, they started shooting.”
“Unprovoked?”
“One could have been startled into it, but the others ...”
“The bodies?”
“KZS cleanup team. I didn’t know bodies could be disposed of so quickly.”
“Just be glad it was KZS and not Smith. She has hyenas on retainer.” Gentry folded her arms over her chest. “So ... what are you thinking?”
“They’d only start firing at us on orders from Baissier.”
“Over one full-human?”
“I’m thinking Whitlan has enough on Baissier to take her down and keep her down.”
“She still has a lot of support.”
“Some say not as much as she used to. Her ego has made her a liability. Her viciousness a threat. But no bear’s going to order her out without hard proof.”
“To be honest, Crushek, I’m more worried about you.”
“Me?”
“You’re the one person who knows the most about her and yet has absolutely no loyalty to her. And you’ve got a good, solid rep among bears. If you find information about her and Whitlan—she won’t be able to talk her way out of that.”
Gentry may be right, but still... “She won’t come at me head-on. At least not the way anyone else would.”
“You’re not worried at all?”
“I’m not stupid, Chief. Just numb.”
“So there’s no point in telling you to be careful is there?”
“Only because I’m always careful.”
She nodded, and headed back to the room with the teams. “Keep your phone on. I’m sure there will be meetings tomorrow. I may need you to attend.”