Bear's Kiss (Bear Heat Book 2) Read online

  Terrence shook his head, coughing out more blood.

  “That's the trouble with leeches like you. It doesn't matter whether you suck blood, money or energy. Vampires are all parasites. Oh, I know all about people like you. Practitioners of some dark branch of witchcraft, you feed off the fear and energy of others. It's all to do with greed and insecurity. I've used a few psychic vampires before. I thought they'd be useful against my enemies, but I've discovered that people like you are more trouble than you're worth. You have no loyalty, no integrity, no guts. It's all behind the scenes and behind the back.” Ray wriggled his fingers and rolled his eyes.

  “I know exactly what you plan to do once you walk out with my money.” Ray leaned forward. “You are going to the Black Bears and you'll negotiate the same deal with them. You'll get them to pay you for information about the girl. You'll sell me out.”

  Terrence tried to speak, but only a gurgling sound escaped from his throat. He turned and clawed at the door, desperately trying to escape. Ray kicked his chair back and walked over to Terrence. “You've been useful, so I'll make it quick for you.” His tone was almost kind. And with that, he shot Terrence point-blank between his eyes.

  Putting away his gun, Ray turned to his trusty bodyguard and said, “Get the bag, Tom.”

  Tom detached himself from the shadows and pried the bag of cash from Terrence's hands. Handing the bag over to his boss, Tom signaled to two black suits standing in the corner.

  Prisha found herself unable to tear her eyes away from Terrence's body as it was carted out unceremoniously by the two black suits. In death, his body seemed to diminish, becoming thinner and bonier.

  She swallowed painfully, feeling no joy or relief at his death. Terrence had been stalking her, feeding off her fear and pain. She should have suspected that Terrence was a psychic vampire. She had heard of psychic vampires, people who used the dark arts for their own gain and preyed on the emotions and fears of others.

  They were always quick to take advantage of others, always looking for a way to profit themselves. Ray was right in this regard. They had no integrity, no loyalty and no guts. They would avoid a head on, open confrontation, but they wouldn't hesitate to stab you in the back and sell you out.

  Terrence had sold her to the Mob. Surely he knew that her life was forfeit once he handed her over to Ray Shapez. But he didn't care. He never cared for her. And she had to wonder if she had ever truly cared for him. Did he use his witchcraft on her, twisted and manipulated her emotions to make her think that she was in love with him?

  Prisha shook away the memories and thoughts of Terrence. He was no more. But she was still in grave danger.

  Quietly, she watched Ray and his men. She saw that while Ray sent his other bodyguards on various errands, he kept Tom by his side.

  It was obvious that Tom was Ray's most trusted bodyguard. The man had taken a bullet to his chest, and lived. The man had almost died carrying out Ray's order, yet he remained in Ray's service. Tom had loyalty and guts, and it would appear, Ray's trust.

  It didn't hurt that Tom was built like a mountain. To get to Ray Shapez, you'd have to overcome that insurmountable, and evidently, indestructible mountain.

  “What shall we do with her?” someone asked.

  “Leave her here,” Ray said, striding to the door without even looking at her. “She's quite safe here.”

  Prisha let her head loll on her shoulders as she cracked open an eye.

  All she glimpsed was Tom's broad back covering Ray before the door closed. The hum of the generators stopped suddenly and the lights went out.

  There was the click of a lock and Prisha was left utterly alone in the dark.

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  Prisha stood in front of City Hall and stared straight ahead at the podium. She would be watching the Mayor give his speech. She would hear him announce the new budget that would be allocated to the police and other crime-fighting agencies, and she would watch the Mayor unveil the crest of the special task force that would be set up to fight organized crime. Then she would witness his assassination.

  Ray Shapez stood beside her and looked towards the stage with a bored expression, but Prisha knew that his eyes were alert and scanning the large crowd behind his dorky sunglasses. He had ditched his designer suits for a pair of flip-flops, khaki shorts and a cheap, store-bought shirt.

  Looking at him, no one would know that this stooped man with frizzy, graying hair sticking out from under his hat was the most powerful crime boss of the city. He looked like just another gawking, curious resident, soaking in the carnival atmosphere here in front of City Hall.

  He was unarmed as far as Prisha could see. There was no place to conceal any weapons under his simple, casual attire.

  But of course Ray didn't need to arm himself. His trusty bodyguard, Tom, carried enough weapons for the both of them.

  Tom was standing directly behind Prisha. Like his boss, he had traded his usual black suit for a simple jacket and jeans. But under that jacket was a gun, and that gun was pointed straight at Prisha's back.

  Prisha could feel the tip of the barrel nudge her in warning now and then. The message was unmistakable. Behave, or else.

  She was here to be seen, and not be heard. She was here as insurance.

  They wanted the Black Bears to see her. Her presence and strategic position beside Ray Shapez was a warning to Caleb.

  Don't try anything funny today. Your lady friend will pay for your rash, foolish actions.

  Ray smirked as he glanced around. He looked happy and relaxed, and he beamed at Prisha. Oh, he was good. That kindly, grandfatherly smile was so convincing.

  Prisha kept her face carefully blank.

  “What a crowd, eh?” Ray smiled. “Guess everyone wants to hear what the Mayor has to say about containing organized crime in the city.” He peered at her over his sunglasses and smiled a cold, calculating smile. “Let's hope the Mayor keeps to schedule. It's not nice to keep all these people waiting in the hot sun.”

  Prisha gulped and stared at the guards stationed at the base of the stairs leading to the stage in front of City Hall. Would they be able to protect the Mayor?

  Her eyes darted round the dizzying sea of faces. There was no way she could recognize the hitman. He was probably disguised to look as innocuous and unremarkable as Ray and Tom today.

  The press of sweating bodies and the drone of voices around her made her feel faint. She had been given two slices of bread and a glass of water a few hours ago, but she hadn't been able to take more than a bite. She felt sick and nauseated with worry and fear.

  Where was Caleb? What was he planning?

  She had no doubt that he was watching her. She could almost feel his eyes on her.

  Prisha took a deep shuddering breath. She could feel a big, fat bead of perspiration rolling down between her breasts. She caught a flurry of movement at the corner of her eye and tensed.

  The Mayor had arrived.

  Smiling and waving to the applauding crowd, the Mayor took to the podium and tested the microphones in front of him.

  Clearing his throat, Will Washington, the ninety-seventh mayor of the city, began to speak.

  CHAPTER NINETEEN

  Caleb saw Prisha's shoulders stiffen as the Mayor launched into his speech with gusto. He moved his eyes from the back of her head to the wizened, silver-haired man beside her. He wasn't in the least fooled by Ray's disguise. It wasn't a bad disguise, but Caleb had been watching and shadowing criminals and other unsavory characters for a long time. He saw Ray's big, bad bodyguard move a little closer to Prisha. The guy's broad shoulders momentarily blocked Prisha from his view.

  “...and I am pleased to announce that a special task force will be set up to deal with organized crime in this city. We are clamping down hard on crime. We will not be terrorized and beaten. The city says no to crime!” The Mayor's voice rose above the crowd, as cheers and jeers began to crescendo.

  Q
uietly, Caleb cut through the crowd. Even with his massive build and striking frame, he blended in easily. The Black Bears were masters of disguise, and they had friends and allies all over the city, in almost every department and office.

  Caleb acknowledged Baxter's nod just before he pulled his hard hat lower over his eyes. The Mayor wrapped up his speech to rousing applause and stepped back to shake hands with the Police Commissioner.

  They stood in the middle of the stage to pose to photographs and camera flashes popped in rapid succession as a band began to play. People held up their mobile phones to record videos and pictures.

  A balloon rose into the air and burst, triggering some screams from a few babies and toddlers.

  Caleb swung his gaze up and saw the glint of a sniper scope from the top of a tall building.

  Baxter followed his gaze and immediately crouched and took aim.

  A little girl was making her way purposefully towards the hotdog stand with her younger brother. Caleb moved quickly to intercept them.

  “Excuse me, sir, but you're blocking my way.” The girl frowned up at Caleb. “I'd like to get a hotdog for my brother.”

  “Sorry, sweetheart, but the hotdog man is busy right now. He won't be selling any hotdogs,” Caleb said tersely, crouching so that he could look them in the eye.

  “How do you know? You're just a construction guy, not the hotdog man,” the girl answered indignantly, staring at his construction worker vest and hard hat.

  “Go back to your Mom. There are no hotdogs. Listen to me. You have to move away now.”

  “But...”

  There was a loud bang and Caleb pushed the children away as the hotdog cart overturned behind him. Twisting round, Caleb cursed under his breath when he saw that the sniper had hit the side of the cart and was now taking aim at the hotdog vendor. But the hotdog man was no sitting duck. He was armed and ready.

  Baxter's hotdog vendor costume might be bright and cheery, but his face was a mask of grim determination and concentration.

  People started to shout and scream at the sight of the hotdog man aiming his rifle at the top of a nearby building.

  Baxter didn't lose his cool and his concentration through all the noise and commotion around him.

  He had to hit his target, or the sniper would take him out with his next shot.

  Baxter squeezed the trigger just as another bullet whizzed past his cheek.

  The sniper toppled from his perch on top of the ten-story building and fell to the street below.

  Screams, panic and chaos erupted.

  Caleb was already sprinting towards the stage, his gun out.

  “Get down,” he yelled to the Mayor, who was being hurried across the stage by the Police Commissioner and a bevy of bodyguards and police officers. “Stop moving! Just get down!”

  A shot rang out just as the Mayor dropped to the floor.

  CHAPTER TWENTY

  Prisha gasped as the hotdog cart rolled over and clattered noisily. The hotdog man was crouched behind the overturned cart, but he wasn't holding a ketchup bottle. In his hands was a deadly rifle.

  The hotdog man fired. People screamed and stampeded, pushing and colliding and falling.

  Prisha couldn't see past the crush of bodies.

  Everything was just happening so fast.

  Prisha looked up and saw Caleb rushing up the stage, his gun trained on his target. “Don't...” he yelled, just as a shot exploded.

  A young police officer who appeared to have been ushering the Mayor and the Police Commissioner to safety had suddenly pulled out his gun and turned his weapon towards the Mayor.

  The police officer fired once, then took aim again.

  A second shot rang out.

  The police officer staggered back. But even with a bullet in his shoulder, he tried to complete his suicide mission.

  The man lifted his gun and tried to shoot the Mayor again.

  But Caleb tackled him and knocked the gun out of his hand.

  Against the crush of shoving, squirming bodies, Prisha felt herself being yanked back.

  Tom stepped forward, putting himself between her and Ray Shapez. His gun was out, and it was pressed to the back of Ray's head.

  Prisha's eyes bugged. What was happening? What was Tom doing? Why was he holding a gun to his boss's head—if Ray was indeed his boss? Just...who was Tom working for?

  Prisha felt hands on her elbows and she jerked round to see herself flanked by two men in colorful Hawaiian shirts.

  “This way, please, Ma'am,” one of the men muttered as he showed her his police badge. “You okay?”

  Prisha nodded shakily and followed the two plainclothes policemen towards a waiting ambulance.

  She turned to see a group of uniformed officers surround Ray Shapez and Tom. But only Ray was handcuffed and taken into custody. Tom, it appeared, was free to go.

  Prisha's eyes darted around the chaotic scene, searching desperately for Caleb. Was he all right? Was he hurt?

  She saw Caleb holding the bleeding, writhing assassin down on the ground. Paramedics loaded the screaming man onto the stretcher, and three policemen followed the paramedics closely as they rushed towards the ambulance.

  Caleb searched the crowd anxiously and once he found her, he leaped off the stage and came rushing towards her.

  “Prisha!”

  He reached her and crushed her into his embrace. Kissing her hair, her temple, her face, he murmured, “My Prisha, you're safe. I...I'm sorry I took so long...” He captured her face in both his hands and thumbed away her tears. “Did they hurt you? Are you okay? How...”

  “I'm okay, I'm okay,” she assured him, swallowing and blinking hard. “You...you're here now. With me. Everything is okay.” She pressed her face into his chest and sobbed as she hugged him tightly.

  “Hey, Beta.” A deep voice greeted Caleb.

  Prisha's head jerked up and she stifled a cry when she saw Tom, Ray Shapez's bodyguard, standing beside Caleb.

  “Y-you...” she stuttered and stared from Tom to Caleb. Caleb wasn't in the least ruffled or disturbed by Tom's presence. On the contrary, he looked...mighty pleased.

  And—what did Tom just call Caleb?

  She must have heard wrongly.

  Beta?

  Caleb smiled and nodded at Tom.

  “Prisha, this is Thor McKenzie. He's a Black Bear, and one of our best undercover agents.”

  CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

  “Undercover...Black Bear,” Prisha spluttered. “But...you shot him! I saw you shoot him in the chest! In that alley...”

  “He shot me, but he missed my heart. On purpose.” Thor shrugged. “And it wasn't a silver bullet, so the bullet wound healed very quickly.”

  Prisha gaped at Thor. “Caleb shot you on purpose,” she repeated slowly, shaking her head. “He could have killed you...”

  “He didn't. He wouldn't. And he can shoot me again if it means smashing the whole crime syndicate once and for all,” Thor answered with a straight face but she saw the conviction and fire in his blue-green eyes.

  Prisha paused before asking, “What about the other guy...the one with you in the alley...”

  “Oh, he's dead all right. Caleb shot him right through the heart. On purpose,” Thor deadpanned.

  “So...it was you. Back at the restaurant. You told Caleb your location and what you had been ordered to do, so he could come and shoot you. By shooting you, he stopped you from blowing my brains out, and prevented you from blowing your cover.”

  “Yes, Ma'am. I would never have hurt you, but I had to look convincing. I'm sorry if I frightened you.”

  She shook her head and let out a laugh of amazement. “You infiltrated the Mob and gained Ray Shapez's trust,” she told Thor. “That's really impressive undercover work.”

  “Oh, I didn't work alone. I was in contact with Caleb, and the Black Bears were behind me all the way,” Thor said with a lopsided smile. His smile faded and
his expression became grim “I infiltrated the Mob, but the Mob managed to get its tentacles in the police force as well.”

  Caleb nodded. “Yes. That assassin was on a suicide mission. He would have turned the gun on himself after shooting the Mayor. But we got him alive. Hopefully we can get some useful information out of him.”

  “They should let Baxter have a go at him. Bax can get information out of anybody.” Thor grinned.

  “Did someone just mention my name?” a deep voice boomed from behind them.

  Prisha turned to see the hotdog vendor sauntering up to them, clasping his deadly rifle to his side.

  “Hey, Bax. That was some sharp shooting.”

  Baxter gave a little bow and bumped fists with Thor. “Good to have you back, man.”

  “I don't know.” Thor blew out a sigh. “There's still a lot of work to be done. The Mob has moles all over the place. In the police force, prison services...”

  “Let's hope they expedite Ray Shapez's trial, before there's a prison break and Ray escapes from the law once again. It's happened before,” Caleb said. “The District Attorney will have her work cut out for her.”

  “It'd be a while before they can shake all the government departments free of Shapez's reach.” Thor rubbed his chin, frowning. “Somebody's got to do it. I can go in again and try to smoke out all the moles...”

  “No.”

  All eyes swung to Caleb.

  Caleb clapped Thor on his broad shoulder and said firmly, “You're not going back in. It's too dangerous.”

  “But I...”

  “Your cover is blown anyway. I am not sending you in again. And that's final. Welcome back, to the land of the living.”

  Thor smiled. “It's good to be back, Beta.”

  One of the policemen standing patiently behind Prisha spoke up, “We need to get you to the hospital, Ma'am.”