Читать книгу Hot and Badgered - Shelly Laurenston - Страница 12

chapter FOUR

It took a few days to make it into the States, and it hadn’t been easy. But Max had a lot of connections, which always helped when they were in foreign countries. Thankfully they were back now and able to drop their bags in the middle of the safe house Max had found through her birth mother’s family.

“Wow,” Charlie said, looking around. “This place is awesome. Your aunt hooked us up.”

Max nodded. “It’s not bad.”

Stevie sat in the farthest corner and deepest part of the couch, her knees up, arms around her calves. “I don’t like it.”

“Why not?” Charlie asked.

Her nose crinkled. “It smells funny.”

“That’s just badger.” Max took another sniff. “And something bear-ish.”

Stevie’s eyes grew impossibly wide. “Bears eat people.”

“I’m taking a shower,” Charlie announced because she couldn’t start down this road with her sisters. “Then we’ll figure out next steps. Okay?” When she got nods from both, Charlie grabbed her duffle and headed deeper into the Manhattan apartment.

The place was beautiful. Big, comfortable furniture. Lots of windows allowing for light. And tons of cabinet space for the honey badgers to sleep in.

Charlie was surprised the Yang family had helped Max get this place for them to stay in. Even temporarily. Maybe Max hadn’t mentioned that her sisters would be with her, but she didn’t usually hide that from anyone. The Yangs had made it clear long ago that they would be more likely to help Max when she needed it if her half-sisters weren’t involved. They’d never quite forgiven Max’s mother for hooking up with Fred MacKilligan. Among the honey badger population, the MacKilligans didn’t have the best reputation. Especially when it came to good ol’ Freddy. The most useless of beings as far as Charlie was concerned.

To this very day, she still didn’t understand what her amazing, feminist mother—or any other woman for that matter—saw in her worthless excuse of a father. He was . . . worthless! She had no other word for it. Or maybe she had too many words for the man. Many ways to describe how worthless he truly was.

But that was over now. Her father—thankfully!—was rotting away in a New York City morgue. Just waiting for her and her sisters to identify and bury him.

Charlie couldn’t wait.

She knew it sounded cruel to those who didn’t know her father. Who didn’t understand why she disliked the man so much. But she had her reasons and those reasons were all she needed.

If nothing else, she hoped his death would end the bad luck that seemed to follow the man around and, in turn, follow his daughters around as well.

Daughters who hadn’t asked to be born. Definitely hadn’t asked for him to be their father. Three girls who’d had no say in what they’d already been through.

Yes. She blamed her father for all of it, but she wasn’t about to let that get in her way. Because it was a new day! She just had to be cool about it.

Stevie didn’t like their father any more than Charlie and Max did, but she took the fact that he was their sperm donor much more seriously. She would want to mourn his death, and they had to respect that.

Which reminded her . . .

Naked, Charlie walked out of the bathroom, where the shower was now running. She went into the living room and found that Max and Stevie already had each other in headlocks. Max grinning. Stevie cursing Max.

“The never-ending, battling sisters,” was what the Pack had called Max and Stevie. And it was true. The pair of them could and would go at it until someone separated them or an ambulance had to be called. The thing was, an ambulance rarely had to be called for either Max or Stevie. If there was one thing that was true about all MacKilligan females . . . they could take a beating. But teachers, coaches, strangers on the street, anyone who thought it was a good idea to get between the sisters to stop them from fighting always found out the hard way that it was not.

But Charlie wasn’t some stranger on the street. She knew how to handle her sisters. It was the first thing her mother had taught her when she realized how poorly the two got along.

Going behind both women, Charlie grabbed Max by the tough skin of her back and swung her one way, then the other. Poor Stevie forced to go with her.

And while Charlie swung, she kept chanting, “Let her go, let her go, let her go.” Until Max did what she was told to do.

“On the couch,” Charlie ordered, pointing at Stevie. “You, on the chair.” She motioned to the leather armchair until Max sat down.

Once both her sisters were sitting away from each other, she said, “Now listen up. I’m going into the shower. It will be a long shower. A luxurious shower.”

“Why not a bath?” Stevie asked.

“I don’t like baths. I don’t like soaking in my own filth.”

Max started laughing but stopped when Charlie snapped, “Shut up. Now, while I’m in that shower, you two will not argue. You will not fight.” She pointed at Max. “You will not startle.” She pointed at Stevie. “You will not throw things. No matter what she says to you,” she added quickly before Stevie could argue. “Let’s just be glad that we made it back to the States without killing each other or getting arrested. Let’s enjoy this moment for what it is.”

“The death of our father?” Max asked.

Charlie glared at Max for a moment before they both raised their arms in the air and cried out, “Hurray!”

“Ladies!” Stevie barked, disgusted.

“Sorry. Sorry.” Charlie didn’t want to upset her sister. She wanted a shower too badly. A nice, normal, relaxing shower. And she couldn’t have that if she was worried the two of them were attempting to kill each other in the next room.

“We’ll get through this, Stevie,” she promised her baby sister.

Stevie nodded and moved deeper into the couch corner until she couldn’t move any farther. She placed her feet on the cushions, wrapped her arms around her calves, and rested her chin on her raised knees. Charlie pointed at Max one more time, letting her know in no uncertain terms that if anything happened while she was showering, Charlie would absolutely blame Max for it. Because most likely it would be Max’s fault.

Max reached for the remote and turned on the enormous, high-end TV in the middle of the room.

“Oh, look,” Charlie pointed out. “Law & Order.”

“Thank God,” Stevie muttered. Funny, since Stevie always went on and on about how she didn’t watch TV.

“Excellent!” Max chimed in. “One of the early episodes. Before cell phones and social media!”

Knowing they’d be entertained for a few hours at least, Charlie headed off to her very hot and relaxing shower.

* * *

Max was so tempted to fuck with her sister, but Charlie’s warning had been very clear. Charlie was all about being clear. She didn’t like vague. She didn’t like subtle. She didn’t like when people weren’t direct. Why? Because Charlie was always direct.

When Charlie had told her once, “If you bother Stevie while she’s taking that test, I’m going to break your arm,” she’d meant it. Max had been forced to wear that cast for, like, two days, the break was so bad. But she’d learned her lesson. A Charlie warning was serious stuff, and you ignored it at your own peril.

Deciding to help make this easier for everyone involved, Max got up and grabbed Stevie’s backpack. They’d run by that CERN place and picked up a bunch of her stuff so that she’d have things with her to keep her calm, like all her notebooks. And, at this point, it was all about keeping Stevie calm. Not a small order either. “Calm” was as foreign to Stevie as “uptight” was to Max.

She placed the bag next to the couch Stevie was on and started back to her chair. She didn’t look at Stevie or smile. Because Stevie would assume Max was mocking her—and let’s be honest . . . she probably was—and react accordingly.

But just as Max was about to drop her ass in the big armchair, both sisters looked at each other and then at the front door a few feet away . . .

* * *

Vic Barinov stood by his mate and smiled. They were finally home, and he couldn’t be happier. They’d had to run over to Italy in a private jet to retrieve just one jackal. But that jackal was like family to his mate and she’d insisted that Vic and his panda partner be the ones to go pick him up. Then she’d insisted on going with them. It seemed like a big deal for nothing until the news hit the states about the brutal “hotel invasion” in Milan, involving Maestro Cooper Jean-Louis Parker. Suddenly Vic understood why everyone was freaking out.

But for someone who’d been through a horrible attack—one so bad his bodyguard had been shot and stabbed—good ol’ Coop had seemed fine. More than fine. He’d still got to perform at Vatican City for the Pope and he’d flatly refused to fire the three grizzlies who’d been the core of his protection. Despite his older sister’s near-hysterical rantings about cutting them loose. But nope. Coop wouldn’t hear of it, which basically told Vic all he’d needed to know.

That whatever was going on, Vic didn’t want to know.

Instead, he’d let his mate and her best friend get crazed about protecting a jackal old enough to breed.

Vic glanced behind him and saw the elevator doors open again. Coop walked out with two of his grizzly protection and Vic’s partner, Shen.

He didn’t know why, now that they were back on Coop’s home turf, he couldn’t get rid of them, but Vic wasn’t going to complain. Instead, he’d just get into his house, go to his bedroom, and close the door—before the grizzly side of him got cranky and bit someone’s head off, or his tiger side started clawing on human flesh to make it quiet. As a hybrid, he had many ways to stop people from getting on his nerves. Not that those options were morally right, but . . . you know . . .

Looking down at his honey badger mate, Vic immediately noticed that Livy Kowalski had the key in the lock but she hadn’t opened the door. Instead, she stood frozen to the spot, her ears twitching right along with her nose. Then her eyes narrowed.

“Livy?”

She yanked the keys out of the lock and her lips pulled back over her honey badger fangs. Then, her dark eyes growing even darker, Livy growled out, “Badger.”

“Livy, wait—”

“Badger!” Livy stepped back and kicked the door open, even though she had the keys in her hand and it was a thousand-dollar lockset on the door.

Vic grabbed for her, but she jerked away and charged into their apartment, throwing her entire body at the female honey badger standing by Livy’s much-beloved armchair. Her favorite chair in the whole apartment.

Nope. This would not end well.

* * *

In horror, Berg watched two tiny Asian women go at each other like the wild animals they partially were. Snarls and snaps, blood flying, as they rolled across the floor of Vic’s beautiful apartment.

And yet . . . Vic just stood there. Doing nothing. While his mate was possibly getting her ass ripped apart. Things were moving so fast, Berg really couldn’t tell who was doing what to whom, but he took all that blood as a bad sign.

Maybe Vic was in shock or something. True, he had military training but maybe this was causing some kind of flashback. Yeah. That was it. A flashback. Why else wouldn’t he be helping the woman he loved?

“Dag!” Berg called out to his brother before pushing Vic aside and rushing into the apartment.

Berg grabbed the unknown female from behind and Dag took hold of Livy around the stomach, lifting the tiny She-badger off her feet.

And, as soon as they did that, Berg knew exactly how stupid a move it was. The kind of move his sister would never let them get away with if she were anywhere near this situation. Why? Because she knew better. Size didn’t matter when it came to shifters. Rage did.

And these two women were all about the rage.

The woman he held managed to twist around and latch her teeth into his neck, biting at the flesh of his throat, fangs digging for a main artery.

“Get her off me!” Berg screamed, desperately trying to push her away. “Get her off!”

But Dag couldn’t help. He had his own problems. Livy had reached back with one hand and gripped poor Dag by the balls . . . and twisted. Then she kept twisting!

Berg’s brother dropped to his knees, his scream so high-pitched that Berg was sure dogs in Brooklyn could hear him.

Livy pulled away from Dag and charged the other female.

Unlatching from Berg’s neck—Thank you, God!—the female dropped to the ground and backed up, hissing, then charged Livy. Livy backed up, then lunged forward. It was like a dance. A weird, horrifying dance of death.

Berg fell back against the floor, his hand over his bleeding neck. He wasn’t sure, but the tip of that woman’s fang might have nicked his artery.

And that’s when he saw her. She’d been sitting silently on the couch, but when he locked eyes on her, she suddenly seemed to . . . panic.

Like a house cat. Yeah. That was it. She panicked like a house cat!

The woman scrambled onto all fours, her back arched. She bared her fangs, her hiss of warning skittering across the room violently. So violently that the sound alone made the furniture move. So much so that both the badgers were briefly distracted. Blinking at each other and turning toward the female on the couch.

And when they did . . . she really freaked out.

Jumping straight up, she flipped in midair until she hit the high ceiling, her claws digging into the drywall . . .

And that’s where she stayed, hissing at them all with a rage that shook the windows. The shaking becoming worse when she suddenly roared.

“What the fuck is happening?” a voice bellowed from the hallway that led to the bedrooms.

Berg forced himself to look away from the panicked female and over to the hallway—and he saw her. A woman he had assumed he’d never see again. She had on nothing but a towel, her wet brown hair resting against her shoulders, the strands already beginning to curl. Her dark brown eyes glaring at each of them, a vein in her neck and the side of her head throbbing.

“Somebody answer me!”

The She-badger pointed at Livy. “It was her,” she said, her voice flat. Not like she’d just been in a life-or-death fight. More like she’d been in a life-or-death nap.

“You’re in my house,” Livy barked back.

“It’s a safe house,” the badger snapped. “It’s not your fucking house. You have to share.”

“It is not a safe house, you worthless whore!”

The badger’s eye twitched the smallest bit. It was barely perceptible. But then she was reaching for Livy again and Livy was ready for it.

But the woman—the woman—clapped her hands together several times and both badgers stopped. Which was weird. Hand claps never got Berg out of his grizzly rage.

“Stop it. Both of you. This is completely un . . . un . . .” Her voice trailed off and she leaned down, eyes narrowing on Vic’s mate. “Oh. Hi, Livy.”

Livy gave a half-assed wave. “Hi, Charlie.”

Vic, finally, spoke, his forefinger jerking between Livy and the other badger. “You guys know each other?”

With a small shrug, Livy admitted, “We’re cousins.”

Shen laughed from the doorway.

“But even if we are family—” Livy began.

Berg’s attacker raised a brow at Livy. “If?”

“This is still my house and you can’t just come here and act like it’s yours!”

“Max?” the woman prompted when the other badger didn’t say anything.

“What are you looking at me for?” the badger demanded. “It was on the list.”

Livy frowned, nostrils flaring. “What list?”

“The safe house list. Online.”

Livy went tense, her entire body vibrating. “My house is on the safe house list?”

“What’s the safe house list?” Vic asked.

“It’s where Yangs can go online to find a house to stay in when they’re on the run.”

Livy closed her eyes. “And my house is on the list?”

Max the badger shrugged. “Yeah. That’s why we’re here. It’s not like I wanted to see you.”

“I’ll kill her.” Livy shook her head. “I’ll kill her.”

“Livy—” Vic began.

“I will kill her!” Livy jumped up and yanked a phone from her back pocket. She speed-dialed someone and stalked out of the room.

Max smirked. “Let me guess,” she asked Vic. “Her mother put her on the list just to fuck with her?”

“Probably.”

Still dripping from the interrupted shower, Charlie looked around the room, her eyes not even stopping on Berg before moving on to everyone else.

She didn’t remember him. He helped save her life, gave her his gun, and she didn’t even remember him. Seriously?

“Where’s Stevie?” she asked.

Grinning, blood covering her teeth, Max pointed.

Charlie looked up and sighed. “Could you please come down from there? Now?”

“I’m quite comfortable right here, thanks.”

“Stevie MacKilligan!”

Claws were retracted and Stevie landed back on the couch. “No need to yell,” she mumbled.

“Wait,” Coop said, suddenly stepping in from the doorway. “Stevie MacKilligan?” he smiled. “Is that you? It’s me. Coop. Cooper Jean-Louis Parker,” he clarified when she only stared. “Remember? We studied under Maestro Raimondi and performed together for Europe’s royal families. Is this ringing any bells at all?”

“No,” she replied. Then, before Coop could say any more, she raised her hand, palm out, and informed one of the greatest, most-loved musicians in the world, “And to be quite honest, I can’t deal with some obsessive fan right now.”

“Not a fan,” Coop corrected. “We studied together. We were both prodigies.”

“Whatever. I’ll get you an autograph later.”

“No, no. You don’t under—”

“Sweetie,” Charlie cut in. “I really don’t have time for this right now. Somebody just tell me what’s going on.”

Livy’s cousin shrugged. “Nothing. Why?”

“Max.”

Max grinned. “Sorry, couldn’t stop myself.” She laughed a little and pointed in her cousin’s direction. “Based on the yelling in Cantonese from the other room—”

“It’s Mandarin,” Vic corrected.

“Oh, what?” Max suddenly barked at the startled bear hybrid. “You think because I’m half Asian I know Chinese? Because I don’t know Chinese.”

“Told ya,” Shen chimed in before sliding into the armchair, although Berg had no idea what the giant panda was referring to.

“But you two are family,” Vic insisted. “How do you not know what dialect your people speak?”

“Well—” Max began.

“We don’t have time for that conversation,” Charlie announced. She was still standing there, wet, in only a towel. And she didn’t seem to care. “Max, ignore the bears and talk to me.”

“They are all bears, aren’t they?” Stevie suddenly looked at each and every male in the room, sizing them up. After she finished, she leaned toward her sister and loudly whispered, “We’re all going to die!”

“I’m actually a jackal,” Coop corrected.

“Do you think that matters?” Stevie bellowed hysterically.

Charlie placed her fingertips against her temples. “We’re not going to die and stop yelling,” she sighed out.

“They’re all giant man-eating bears except for my stalker.”

“I’m not a stalker,” Coop argued.

“Don’t you see, Charlie?” Stevie leaned in, the scent of panic beginning to come off her in big, booming waves. “Bears kill. Bears kill, Charlie! And they’re going to kill all of us!”

Charlie quickly walked to the couch and grabbed a backpack from the floor. She pulled out a bottle of prescription pills, glanced at the label, then held it out for the other woman.

“Take this,” she ordered Stevie before focusing on Vic and demanding, “Glass of water.” Vic moved. Rushing out of the room and returning in seconds. He handed the glass to Stevie, and Charlie placed several tablets into the woman’s hand. “Take them.”

“But—” Stevie tried.

“Take them.”

Stevie did as ordered.

“Now,” Charlie said, facing them all again. “Where were we?”

“You were trying to justify breaking and entering,” Berg announced, “and you have absolutely no idea who I am!”

Charlie stared at him across the room and, after a few seconds, said, “Of course I know you! How could I forget . . . you?”

“Then what’s my name?”

“Deuteronomy?” She shrugged. “Dude for short?”

Coop burst out laughing but all Berg could do was shake his head. “Seriously?”

Max briefly closed her eyes. “She doesn’t know you, Deuteronomy, because she can’t see you.”

“My name is not Deuteronomy!”

“Wow,” Shen marveled at Charlie. “You’re really mobile for a blind person.”

“She’s not blind,” Max said, laughing. “She’s just not wearing her glasses or contacts.”

“What are you doing?” Stevie screamed at Max. “Why don’t you just announce to the world that we’re defenseless women just waiting to be murdered by bears?”

“Defenseless?” Berg barked. “I’m bleeding from an artery here!”

“Don’t be a baby,” Max said, glancing back at him. “I barely grazed that artery.”

“We’re all going to die here,” Stevie insisted, pointing at Max. “And it’ll be all your—”

Stevie’s rant abruptly stopped and her head dropped forward. After a few seconds, she began to drool.

Max looked at Charlie. “What the fuck did you give her?”

“Her Xanax. To deal with her panic.”

“Are you sure that’s what you gave her? Because you’re not wearing your glasses and she seems to be having a very . . . intense reaction.”

Charlie reached down and grabbed the bottle of pills out of her sister’s bag again. She brought the bottle so close, her eyes narrowing into thin slits, that Berg knew Max hadn’t been lying. This was a shifter, who was not ninety years old, yet actually needed glasses because she couldn’t see. She was nearsighted. A shifter? Nearsighted? That was so . . . weird.

“Uh-oh,” Charlie said, the pill bottle practically touching her nose.

Max stared at her sister. “What?”

She cringed and held the bottle up. “It’s lithium.”

“Dude!” Max burst out along with a loud laugh.

“I know! I know.” She dropped the bottle and grabbed a seemingly unconscious Stevie. She shook her sister. Then she slapped her.

“Stevie! Stevie!” When her sister didn’t respond, Charlie released her and threw up her hands. “I’ve killed her. Of course I’ve killed her. I knew one day I’d kill you all.”

Max finally got to her feet. “Good Lord! Get off the cross, we need the wood.”

“What does that mean?”

“She’ll be fine. At any point now, she’ll projectile vomit and then she’ll be good as new.”

Every bear close to Stevie silently moved back.

“Just go get dressed,” Max pushed. “So we can get out of here.”

“And go where?”

“I don’t know. A hotel? Like normal people.”

“Normal people aren’t on the run for their lives.”

“Oh.” Max nodded. “I forgot about that.”

Charlie flung her arms out from her sides before crossing them over her chest. “How does one forget that?”

Max mimicked her sister by crossing her arms over her chest, too. “I have a lot on my mind.”

“Name one thing you have on your mind. At this very moment.”

The badger glanced off, gaze focusing across the room. And no, she never did answer the question.

Stevie abruptly stood, arms spread wide, body crouched. “Bears!” she suddenly yelled.

“It’s okay!” Charlie said, standing in front of her, ready to sacrifice her body if her sister tried to get past her. “Stevie, it’s okay. Why don’t you take a little nap?”

“Okay.” Stevie dropped to the couch, turned over and started snoring.

Charlie blew out a breath and suddenly smiled in his direction, although Berg was sure she still couldn’t see him.

Still yelling at her mother, Livy paced back into the living room from the hallway. Without making a sound, Max charged her cousin. Livy was so busy being angry, she didn’t even see her. But taking a step out, Charlie swung her arm in front of Max.

Max’s neck ran right into Charlie’s forearm—and it was like she hit a stone wall. Legs coming up while her head didn’t move. Then she was flung backward.

The badger hit the floor hard . . . laughing and coughing.

Livy missed all of it. Swinging around suddenly and pacing back the other way, still yelling at her mother.

Charlie stepped over to Max, placing her bare foot on her sister’s chest.

“Who’s going to behave in her cousin’s house?” she asked.

“Oh, come on!” Max said, still laughing.

Charlie leaned down and clapped her hands three times. “Maxie!”

“I promise! I promise! I won’t start anything!’

“Or finish.” Charlie raised an eyebrow. “Arguments begun at family dinners when you’re nine years old do not need to be avenged when you’re twenty-seven. Do we understand each other?”

“I told her I’d kill her one day. And I meant it.”

“You were nine.”

“I still meant it.”

Charlie rolled her eyes. “Do we let it go?” she asked. “Or do I start dismantling body parts?”

“Fine. I’ll let it go. It will not be forgotten,” she added. “But I will let it go.”

“Excellent. I’m going to get dressed so we can get out of here. You’ll keep an eye on Stevie, yes? Make sure she doesn’t choke on her own vomit or swallow her tongue. And I need you to figure out where we’re going next. But be nice . . . and respectful.”

Max gave a thumb’s up and her sister stepped off her chest and walked away.

Wincing, Max sat up. She looked back at Berg and brushed her fingers against her own throat. “You still have a little blood dripping right there.”

Berg growled at her, but she just laughed.