Bear's Kiss (Bear Heat Book 2) (8 page)

She would never forget that
chuckle.
Get rid of her. Make it quick.

She hoped no one saw her body
jerk.

“Good of you to bring
her to me, Terrence,” Ray Shapez said.

“I told you. I know
where she is.” Terrence tapped his temple smugly. “You
thought I was lying, didn't you?”

“No, I know you
wouldn't lie to me. Nobody lies to me.” Ray smiled. His
words were a thinly veiled threat. A warning which Terrence chose to
ignore.

“I've delivered the
girl. Now where's my money?” Terrence demanded.

“Your money is here,”
Ray said slowly. “All ten million of it.”

“Open the bag.”

“My word is not good
enough for you?” Ray Shapez chuckled. Prisha knew that chuckle
too well. Ray wasn't amused.

“Just open the bag.”

Prisha lifted her head just a
fraction to take in the scene. She saw one of Ray Shapez's
bodyguards step forward and heft a big duffel bag onto the table. He
unzipped the bag and thick wads of dollar bills spilled out. The
black suit looked up and stared at Terrence with his glowing,
mismatched eyes.

Prisha bit down her cry as
her body began to shake uncontrollably.

That bodyguard. She
recognized him.

Those eyes, she would never
forget those eyes. She had stared into those deep, unfathomable eyes
in the alley just before she was made to kneel with her hands behind
her head.

She remembered his name.

Tom.

Her executioner. The man
Caleb had shot but evidently failed to kill.

Prisha swallowed the
hysterical scream bubbling up her throat. Her executioner had
survived Caleb's bullet.

Tom inclined his head and
threw a shrewd glance over his shoulder.

Prisha gasped as their gazes
clashed.

She thought she read a
warning in his sharp blue-and-green eyes, but before she could blink
Tom had already turned away.

She ducked her head quickly
and let her body slump lower.

Nobody had noticed that she
was awake. Except Tom. She had expected him to raise the alarm, but
to her surprise, he kept strangely, inexplicably silent. He just
went about his business, as if he didn't notice her at all. And from
the way he positioned his huge body, she would have thought that he
was trying to shield her from the view of Ray and the other
bodyguards.

But why would Tom help her?

Prisha grimaced.

He wouldn't.

Tom had failed to put a
bullet through her head the first time. She was pretty sure he
wouldn't fail a second time.

CHAPTER
SEVENTEEN

Forcing down her terror,
Prisha slowly raised her eyes so she could continue watching the
scene. No one was paying any attention to her. All eyes were on
Terrence. That snake.

She never thought that
Terrence would get himself involved with the Mob. But then again,
Ray Shapez and Terrence did have much in common. They were both
willing to murder, rape and plunder, betray their conscience and sell
their souls.

But in this instance,
Terrence was in way over his head. He had walked into a dragon's
den, thinking to get his hands on some of that dirty, bloodstained
gold. But Ray Shapez wasn't one to share his hoard.

Terrence nodded with
satisfaction and hurriedly stuffed the money back into the bag. He
grabbed the bag and stuck his hand out to Ray. “It's a
pleasure doing business with you, Mr Shapez,” he said with a
thin, insincere smile.

“The pleasure's all
mine,” Ray replied. Unlike Terrence, his smile was wide and
genuine.

Terrence turned and began to
walk towards the door. But before he could turn the knob, a shot
rang out. A patch of red blossomed on Terrence's shirt and he jerked
round.

“You...” He
raised a finger to point at his killer.

Ray Shapez put away his
smoking gun nonchalantly. He had his feet on the table and was
leaning back in his chair.

“Why?” Terrence
croaked as he slumped to the floor.

“I don't like
double-crossers.” Ray said simply. “And psychic vampires

“I...am not...”
Terrence wheezed.

“I know your type,”
Ray sneered. “In fact, I've had a few leeches on my payroll,
but I had to get rid of them. They were too...draining.” Ray
chortled at his clever little pun.

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.

Quietly, 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.