Bear's Kiss (Bear Heat Book 2) (3 page)

With just one look, one smile
and a few words, he had crawled under her skin. Prisha was no
innocent, inexperienced virgin, but no man had ever awakened such
unrelenting want and desire in her before. Finally, she had just
given up and broken out her trusty vibrator from the drawer. With
her body buzzing and her mind roiling, she had flopped onto her bed
without toweling off. She had screamed his name when she came, but
even with that intense, explosive orgasm, her body still throbbed and
ached.

She needed to get laid. She
had been so busy with the restaurant, her work and her new life, she
hadn't had the time or energy to think about anything else.

But now…she couldn't
seem to stop thinking about him.

Caleb had ignited something
in her. He had awakened her inner hussy, and now all she could think
about was getting naked with him.

“Prisha! Stop!”

She jerked at Ali's shout,
and sputtered, “W-what?”

“There's too much
turmeric in the curry already! And you've been spooning heaps of
turmeric power into the pot! What are you doing, Prisha?” Ali
hurried over and steered her gently away from the stove. “You
go sit down. I'll take over. You're probably exhausted.”

“I...”

“Go. Leave the
kitchen. Pour yourself a nice, tall glass of lime juice and sit down
for a while,” Ali ordered and shooed her away.

Prisha gave Ali a grateful,
sheepish smile. She certainly wasn't herself today. She was
distracted, out of sorts, and...in heat.

Prisha frowned and chewed her
lower lip. She wasn't a shifter. How could she go into heat?

But that was exactly what she
felt like. A female in heat.

Prisha removed her apron and
strolled out into the restaurant. It was not even five o'clock, but
the restaurant was already half full. When dinner time rolled
around, they would be bursting at the seams. She gave herself a
mental slap upside the head.
Snap to, Prisha!

Jennifer and Nurin were
flitting from table to table, serving drinks, refilling glasses and
taking orders. They chatted and joked with the customers,
recommending and promoting their new dishes and desserts. They were
hands down the best waitresses around, helpful, friendly and
efficient.

The door opened and Prisha
immediately went forward to greet the customer. A man in a black
suit and black sunglasses stepped up to her.

Prisha's smile vanished when
she saw what he was holding in his hand. A gun.

CHAPTER
FIVE

Gun.

It took her a few seconds to
process the reality that there was a gun pointing right at her.

The man pressed the barrel
into Prisha's belly and said in a low voice, “Order everybody
out and close the restaurant. The Boss is coming in.”

Prisha blinked at him.
“What? Is this a robbery? We don't have...”

“This is not a
robbery,” the man said in the same low, threatening voice.
“The Boss wants to eat in your restaurant. Get everyone out
now. We will settle their bills.”

“Ah...the Boss...”
she stuttered.

“Mr Ray Shapez.”

Prisha sucked in a breath and
gulped. She recognized that name. Everyone knew that name. Ray
Shapez, the Boss of the largest, most powerful crime syndicate in the
city. Some said he was even more powerful than the Mayor of the
city.

The man waved the gun,
indicating the other diners. “Do it. I'm sure you don't want
any trouble. Neither do we.”

Prisha nodded shakily, not
trusting her voice. The man pocketed the gun and stood at the door.
She could feel his eyes watching her like a hawk behind those dark,
opaque shades.

“Um, everyone, excuse
me,” Prisha began and cleared her throat. “I...I'm
sorry, but the restaurant is now closed.”

Jennifer and Nurin stared at
her like she had just grown another head on her shoulders.

“Prisha...”
Nurin came up to her and asked softly. “Is something wrong?”

“We have a situation.
We have to close the restaurant,” she told Nurin stiffly, her
eyes darting to the man at the door. She lowered her voice and
added, “We need...to keep everyone safe,”

Nurin's eyes widened in
comprehension. “Okay,” she breathed. Without further
questions, Nurin and Jennifer began to usher the baffled customers
systematically and efficiently towards the exit.

“Your bills have all
been settled. We apologize for the inconvenience,” Prisha
called out to the departing customers. Some complained loudly, but
most of the customers took one look at the man at the door and exited
the restaurant with minimum fuss.

Once the restaurant was
cleared, the man jerked his head at Jennifer and Nurin. “They
can leave as well.”

The two women flanked Prisha
protectively and murmured, “We'll stay.”

The man pointed his gun at
Prisha. “They stay, they die. We only need one person to
serve the Boss.”

“Jennifer, Nurin,”
Prisha said slowly, not taking her eyes off the man. “Get Ali
from the kitchen, and leave. No, you listen to me. Leave quickly
and quietly. I'll be okay. These gentlemen just want to have a
nice, quiet dinner. I can manage on my own. Leave us. Now.”

Jennifer started to protest,
but Nurin shushed her and pulled her away. “Okay, we'll do as
you say.” Nurin squeezed Prisha's arm. “You be
careful.”

As the two women shuffled
away, the man jerked his head up and directed the chilling warning to
their backs. “Call the cops, and she dies.”

Jennifer and Nurin gasped and
shot Prisha frightened, worried glances.

“Don't worry about me,”
Prisha said quickly over her shoulder. “You'll do as the man
says, right? You won't tell a soul.”

Nurin hesitated then nodded.
Prisha flashed her a quick, grim smile.
Go. Everything will be
okay
.

Prisha turned back to face
the man.

“Now, where would Mr
Shapez like to be seated?” she asked coolly. “Would he
prefer a corner table, or the long table in the middle of the
restaurant?”

The man didn't answer.
Instead, he swept his gaze over her little restaurant and nodded.

Prisha heard a step behind
her. Another beefy man in a black suit minus the shades walked in
from the back. “All clear. They've all left. The kitchen and
toilets are empty.” The man came up to Prisha and stared at
her with his disconcerting, mismatched eyes. One eye was blue while
the other was green.

Prisha scowled at him as his
words sank in.

They had been rooting around
her premises, poking their heads and hands around the place without
her permission. They had just waltzed in and searched every nook and
cranny like they owned the goddamn place! Just who the hell did they
think they were?

Ray Shapez probably thought
he owned the whole damn city!

Prisha was just working
herself into a righteous rage when the door opened and an entourage
of suits slithered into her restaurant. The suits parted and a
stocky mustachioed man in a gray blazer stepped out from their midst.
His black hair was sleekly combed back, displaying a prominent
widow's peak.

“Miss Singh,” Ray
Shapez smiled. “A lovely place you have here.”

Prisha gulped, her throat
feeling too tight and dry.

The Boss was in her
restaurant.

She was harboring a
cold-blooded murderer, a drug smuggler, a brutal crime lord in her
restaurant.

Oh, Shamila would turn in her
grave if she knew!

Ray Shapez went over to the
long table and pulled out a chair. “I've been dying to try
your famous Devil's Curry,” he said, still smiling and watching
her with his glittering, beady eyes. “I've even brought a few
of my friends here. So, let's have a pot each of your spiciest,
choicest curries.”

He made an impatient sound as
he slapped a thick wad of cash on the table. “I'm buying
dinner tonight. Now, lock the door. Let's eat.”

CHAPTER
SIX

Prisha carefully placed the
large earthen pot of fish head curry on the table and went back to
the kitchen. A black suit was standing near the back door. He was
there to stop her from slipping out the back and making a run for it,
as well as to keep an eye on the food. Serving the Boss poisoned
curry? Well, she had to admit that the thought did cross her mind,
but she would never do it. Curry Corner would never serve any
customer bad curry!

Prisha spooned generous
portions of rice onto the plates and laid them neatly on a large
silver tray. She carried the tray out and walked towards the long
table.

Ray was seated at the head of
the table, eating with six other men. She didn't recognize any of
the men, but they had to be the leaders of various underworld gangs.
Ray Shapez wouldn't be dining with just anybody. There was a purpose
to this dinner.

The men's bodyguards stood
around the table, near their bosses. Ray Shapez's men stood further
away, near the windows and exits.

Wincing, Prisha walked
soundlessly to the table with her tray and placed a plate of fragrant
rice in front of each of the men. They didn't even look at her.
They were talking furiously among themselves while Ray Shapez pulled
a huge leg of mutton onto his plate and bit heartily into it.

He tore off another large
chunk of meat and raised a finger while he chewed. At once, the men
around the table fell silent and turned to him.

Ray smiled and leaned back to
pick his teeth with the long fingernail on his pinky. “So—all
of you agree with the plan.”

“The Mayor has got to
go,” a thin, balding man spoke up.

“Are you volunteering
your men for the job, Alberto?” Ray asked, licking his fingers
slowly.

Alberto coughed. “My
bunch of goons aren't up for this. They'll screw up and drag us all
down.”

There was awkward laughter
round the table.

“We don't have much
time. The Mayor is giving a speech at City Hall next week. That's
when we'll take him out, send the message loud and clear.” Ray
leaned forward and thumped his fist on the table. “No one
takes us on, and lives.”

There were murmurs of assent.
Alberto turned to Ray and asked, “Who's going to carry out the
assassination?”

“That's what we're here
to discuss,” Ray answered. He looked up and smiled benignly at
Prisha as she served him his rice. “Thank you, darling. Your
food is most delicious.”

“T-thank you,”
she stammered and backed away quickly from the table. She hugged the
silver tray to her chest, hoping to muffle the thunderous pounding of
her heart.

What had she just heard?

The Mob was planning to
assassinate the Mayor. They were going to do it next week.

Ray was speaking again, and
Prisha slowed her steps as she approached the counter. “It
seems that my men are the most qualified for the job. But the job
doesn't come cheap. Hitmen need to be paid, and they need money to
get away. So we'll share the cost. All of you will wire your share
of the payment to the account by noon tomorrow. You will be
receiving the account details tonight.”

The men began to whisper
among themselves. Ray left them to it and began to smother his rice
with thick curry gravy. He dug into his food with gusto, smacking
his lips and giving a running commentary on the quality of the food.

Prisha stood rigidly beside
the counter, willing herself to breathe and her body to move. With a
painful, shuddering breath, she finally unlocked her limbs and
started towards the kitchen.

“Tom.”

At Ray's command, the black
suit with the mismatched blue-and-green eyes moved forward and barred
her way.

She gasped. “Excuse
me, but I need to...”

“Oh, Miss Singh.”
Ray Shapez snapped his fingers. “I just want to let you know
that your curries are splendid. We've had our fill and we won't be
needing you anymore.”

Prisha gritted her teeth to
stop them from chattering. Why was she so terrified? Her
subconscious had heard the threat in Ray's words, but her mind
refused to acknowledge her inescapable fate.

Ray dabbed his mouth with a
napkin and gestured at the food on the table. “There's so much
food left. Come, my dear. Pull up a chair and sit down. You've
heard so much already. Might as well join us. Sit down, relax and
enjoy your last meal.”

“Wha—?”

Prisha's blood turned to ice.

“L-last...meal,”
she repeated, the tray finally dropping from her shaking hands to
clatter noisily against the tiles.

“Yes. You must know
that we can't let you live. It's a real pity, and I am dreadfully
sorry about it. But death comes to us all.”

“Death will be coming
for the Mayor as well,” someone quipped. There were chuckles
as the men clinked glasses.