chapter THIRTEEN
The helpful, full-human nurse had given Charlie a clean T-shirt to wear, and as she pulled it down—it was so big it reached her knees—she saw what was written on the front.
“The Carnivores,” she read. “Subtle.”
“It’s the local pro hockey team,” the nurse said with a smile, busy wiping away the remnants of Charlie’s healing process. She had to admit, she was glad she didn’t have to clean it up herself. What her body went through to heal was disgusting, but she was still grateful for it.
The nurse dumped unclean things in a special trash can, stripped off her latex gloves, and dumped those too.
“I’ll be back in a moment.”
“Okay.”
The nurse left and Charlie looked down at her jeans to make sure they didn’t have any gross stuff on them. They didn’t, so she felt comfortable heading out into the world dressed in a weird black, silver, and white T-shirt with Carnivore written on it in giant letters.
It wasn’t like the shirt was lying.
Reaching down, Charlie grabbed her burgundy Converse sneakers and placed them on the exam table. She was going for one when the door to the room opened and she lifted her head, expecting to see the nurse or the doctor, but it was neither.
Her frown grew deep, though, when she saw who was standing there.
“Dutch?” she asked, extremely surprised to see him. “What’s wrong?” Her anxiety ramped up. “They didn’t find the car, did they?”
“No, no. That’s all done. I just need to talk to you, really quick.”
“About what?”
“Um . . .” He looked off and Charlie let out a sigh.
“What did Max do?”
“What? Oh. Nothing. She didn’t do anything.”
“Then what did you do?”
“Well . . .”
“Look,” she said, pulling on one of her sneakers, “I’ll pay for Max’s fuck-ups, but I’m not paying for yours. You’ve got family—ask them for money.”
“I’m not asking you for money.”
“Then what?”
He paused another moment before he just sort of spilled everything. “The people who came by your house earlier . . . they weren’t there to hurt you, Charlie. They wanted to talk to you. Initially, they just wanted to talk to Max, but after seeing you, Stevie, and Max in . . . from what I understand . . . rare form up in the Bronx, they want to talk to all of you. About a job.”
The second shoe forgotten, Charlie stood up straight; her mind churning, trying to make sense of what Dutch was telling her.
“You,” she said, pointing her finger. “You sent those people to us. The people I saw on the roof. The ones watching us.”
“They wanted to see Max in action and . . . well . . . it just so happened, Max was in action. But so were you and Stevie. I mean, it really worked out well.”
“Did it?”
“Yeah. They’re really interested in you guys, and I have to tell you . . . it’s an awesome job, Charlie. Excellent money. Benefits. Protection. I’ve been wanting to get Max hooked up with them for a while now, but . . .” He shrugged. “I knew you wouldn’t be too happy about it.”
“Really? Did you really know I wouldn’t be too happy?”
“Look, Charlie, I know you haven’t been crazy about me all these years. I’m not sure why. I’m amazing. But I think even you know that I wouldn’t do anything to hurt Max or Stevie. I love you guys.”
Charlie scratched the side of her mouth. She had a little itch there.
But then her fingers started to bother her and she curled one hand into a fist, placed the palm of the other over it, and cracked her knuckles. She did the same to the other hand.
“Now, Charlie,” Dutch tried to soothe, “let’s be calm about this. You know I adore you, but I’m not going to just let you flip out on me either. You understand what I’m telling you?”
“Yeah,” she said calmly. “I understand.”
* * *
Berg, after sending Dag off in the opposite direction, had continued his search for either of the two MacKilligan sisters. He knew where Max was, so he was intensely focused on finding Charlie or Stevie. Preferably both.
When he walked into the health center—where all the athletes went to get their “torn-artery repair”—he wasn’t sure why he’d come. Maybe because it seemed logical Stevie might be here. She seemed remarkably comfortable with the medical profession.
But when he took a quick look around and his gaze locked with the yellow eyes of a Smith Pack female, he realized that he was probably right about finding at least one of the MacKilligan sisters here.
He also realized that they were in real trouble.
Berg smiled and fought the natural urge to let his grizzly hump grow. It added strength to his attacks, but he had to be careful when it came to members of the Smith Pack. They weren’t like other wolves.
He slid his hand behind him, wrapping his fingers around the butt of his gun.
“Berg!” Cella Malone cheered. “I’m so glad you’re here.”
“Hey, Cella.” He knew Cella Malone pretty well. And he liked her. But he never forgot who and what she was. “So, what’s going on?”
“Pull that weapon out, son,” the She-wolf drawled no longer looking at him, “and it’ll be the last thing you ever do.”
Cella frowned in confusion, her gaze darting back and forth between him and her Smith Pack associate.
“Wait,” Cella said, walking away from Dr. Davis and over to him. She sniffed him. “It was you at their house. Hold on . . . do you think we want to hurt the MacKilligan sisters?”
Berg let his silence answer her question.
“Oh, God, no. No! That’s not what’s happening.”
“Uh-huh.”
“You don’t believe me?”
“I don’t believe you,” Dr. Davis said from across the room.
“Jai . . . is this you helping?” Cella asked with false sweetness.
Dr. Davis didn’t reply, so Cella refocused on him. “I can see how you might think we were . . . but we’re not. That’s the farthest thing from our minds. Just a conversation. That’s all we want. So, if you could just—”
A crash from the exam rooms cut off Cella’s next lies, and Berg moved past all the women, heading right to the glass door. He’d just opened it when the glass and blinds of one of the exam rooms exploded out—nurses, orderlies, and other doctors making a panicked run for it—and an annoying weasel landed hard on the hallway floor.
A few seconds later, Charlie followed Dutch out, glaring down at him.
“You’re not being reasonable!” Dutch was saying just as Charlie reached down, wrapped her hand around Dutch’s throat, and lifted the guy off the floor. With one hand.
Berg had to be honest. He hadn’t realized how strong Charlie was. And, to be completely forthright, he found it kind of a huge turn on.
Shaking his head, Berg tried to get control of himself and the situation.
“Charlie, let him go!”
“He’s a lying sack of shit,” she growled out between clenched teeth. “And I’m gonna twist this motherfucker into a pretzel.”
“Good Lord,” the She-wolf sighed, pushing past Berg and sauntering into the hallway. Cella came in behind her. Berg tried to stop Cella, but she just pulled her arm away and kept going.
“Darlin’,” the wolf said, standing beside Charlie and Dutch, “you need to put the boy down now. You don’t want me to get nasty.”
Charlie didn’t even look at the wolf. She acted like she didn’t notice her. How could she not notice her? Had her Packmates not warned her about the Smith Pack? He thought every shifter, everywhere, knew about the Smith Pack. And especially about Dee-Ann Smith.
Charlie’s fingers tightened on Dutch’s throat and the weasel began to turn a dangerous shade of blue.
Without Berg even really seeing it, Dee-Ann Smith had pulled a blade from somewhere and was swinging it toward Charlie’s arm. Probably just to cut her. Probably just to snap her out of her homicidal rage.
But, still without looking away from Dutch, with her free hand, Charlie caught Dee-Ann’s wrist in mid-swipe . . . and held it there.
Slowly, Charlie moved her gaze from the weasel to the wolf. Her eyes changed color behind her glasses. Dee-Ann didn’t seem to like that and she unleashed her fangs while she tried to pull her arm away.
Charlie’s lips pulled back over her teeth and slowly, rows and rows of large fangs descended from her gums. They weren’t exactly wolf fangs. But they weren’t all honey badger either. They were more like a bizarre combination of the two, and they were terrifying.
Then her jaw opened and it continued to open, yellow eyes bright, as she issued a growl-hiss that had Cella’s fangs dropping.
Charlie had her back to the She-tiger, which was just the way Cella liked it. She jumped toward Charlie with nothing blocking her. Nothing there to stop her. Claws out and extended.
In that split second, Charlie turned to the right, flinging Dee-Ann into a shocked Cella, so that the two She-predators collided, slamming into the wall and falling to the floor.
He heard Jai gasp behind him, sensed the mountain lion starting to shift in order to help her friend.
“No,” he said to her. Because, that could only end badly.
Especially when he saw that Charlie still had her grip on Dutch.
“You lied to me,” Charlie said, shoving Dutch against the wall, his feet not even touching the floor. “You’ve betrayed me and my sisters. And you know how I feel about traitors.”
Dee-Ann managed to get to her feet, the blade still in her hand. She went for Charlie again.
Now Charlie dropped her prey, turned, and caught Dee-Ann’s entire arm. She slammed the wolf into the wall, ramming her elbow into her throat, pinning her there. She brought her knee up and hammered it into Dee-Ann’s lower abdomen.
Shaking her head, Cella scrambled to her feet and again attacked Charlie from behind.
With one elbow in Dee-Ann’s throat, Charlie abruptly turned at the waist, bringing her other elbow back and directly into Cella’s face, shattering her nose. Blood sprayed. Charlie slapped the flat of her hand against Cella’s chest and shoved her, sending the She-cat flying back across the hall.
Charlie brought her free hand toward Dee-Ann’s arm while tugging the arm forward. The two collided and Berg cringed when he heard bone break.
Dee-Ann howled from the pain and she dropped her blade.
“Charlie!” Berg called out when he was afraid she was about to focus on breaking Dee-Ann’s neck. A move that would have the entire Smith Pack hunting the MacKilligan sisters down. Nothing would save them. Nothing.
Charlie froze but didn’t look at him. He scrambled for something to get her attention. Not only to get it, but to keep it. It took him less than five seconds.
“I can’t find Stevie. Max doesn’t know where she is.”
She looked at him and her yellow eyes returned to brown. She released her grip on Dee-Ann’s shattered arm and stepped away. But Dee-Ann, being a Smith, didn’t drop to the ground. She didn’t ask for help. She simply panted in pain and glowered at Charlie.
Charlie briefly paused to backhand Dee-Ann Smith, sending the She-wolf flipping down the hall.
She took a few more steps, then stopped again, this time next to the weasel. She kicked him three, okay, maybe five times.
After that, Charlie headed toward Berg. But, abruptly, she stopped again, raised a finger.
“Charlie, no—”
But she’d already run back into the exam room she’d just come out of. A few seconds later, she returned holding a sneaker. He hadn’t realized until now that the whole time she’d been in the fight, she’d only been wearing one shoe.
She stopped by his side, lifted her leg, and tugged the sneaker on.
“Come on,” she said when she was done. “I think I know where to find her.”
* * *
Britta skated out onto the ice with her practice gear on. She’d been on the Carnivore practice team for two years now. She’d been offered a second-string position but with her schedule being so random, she couldn’t commit to being available when the team needed her. And if she couldn’t do it right, she didn’t want to bother.
Besides, getting offered second string was a little insulting, but she expected no less from the bitchy head coach She-cat they had running the team.
Britta was halfway across the ice when she abruptly stopped and looked to her left.
“Huh.”
She changed direction and skated over to the woman outfitted in hockey gear.
“Max?” she said, when she came to a stop. “What are you doing here?”
The badger shrugged. “No idea.”
“Why are you wearing hockey gear?”
“No idea.”
“Do you even know how to skate?”
“Well, I spent a few years in Wisconsin near a lake that used to freeze over. We’d go skating there with the other high school kids. So . . . I can skate forward . . . in a circle.”
Britta winced. “You need to do more than that to play hockey.”
“Yeah, that’s what I thought. But this big guy put me in the hockey gear, and he didn’t really listen to me. I sense he doesn’t listen to anyone.”
“Over seven feet? Looks like he actually met Genghis Khan?”
“Yeah. That’s him.”
“That’s Bo Novikov. He became team captain last year. He’s been out of control ever since. He’s gone through, like, eight enforcers. I think two are still in rehab.”
“Interesting. And what position is the enforcer?”
“It’s not really a position. Not an official position. It’s just the player that kicks the ass of anyone who plays dirty or fucks with team members who aren’t as fight-y.”
Max was quiet for a moment before she said, “I could do that.”
“Except you still need to know how to skate.” Max opened her mouth and Britta quickly added, “Backward and forward.”
“Oh. Yeah. That’s a problem.”
“Do you want me to tell Novikov you can’t do it? I’m one of the few people he listens to without walking away mid-sentence. And I’m not sure I want to hear my brother whine because you got hurt and Charlie’s pissed about it.”
“Are guns involved?”
“In ice hockey? No.”
“Knives? Or bombs? Or Peruvian drug lords?”
“Not that I’m aware.”
“Then Charlie won’t care.”
Bo Novikov skated over to the pair, stopped, looked back and forth between them.
“What are you two talking about?” he asked, looking a little paranoid.
“Just plotting your death,” Max replied. Then she laughed. “Kidding!”
“Funny.” Britta cleared her throat and said to Novikov. “She can’t skate.”
“She’s standing. That’s promising.”
“Is it?”
* * *
Holding her broken arm against her chest, Dee-Ann asked a question she hadn’t ever asked before, “Am I gettin’ old?”
“Nah.” Dutch, one of the few wolverines they had in the Group, forced himself into a sitting position, his arms around his ribs, blood pouring from his cheek, the side of his neck, and out of his mouth. That last was especially troubling. “She was just really pissed.”
“You said she’d be reasonable,” Malone accused, her voice muffled because of her broken nose. The cat doctor kneeling in front of her, trying to put the pieces back.
“For a MacKilligan . . . that was reasonable. Especially when it comes to Charlie MacKilligan and her sisters.”
Dee-Ann glared at Dr. Davis. “Hey. Cat! Mind helpin’ me? My arm’s broken.”
Davis barely glanced at Dee. “It’ll heal.”
“I gotta fix this.” Dutch forced himself to his big feet.
“You better do somethin’ or we’re gonna have to put ’em down.”
Dutch, despite the pain it caused to his ribs, crouched in front of Dee-Ann and said, “If you go near my friends with anything but a job offer and a smile, the last thing you’ll have to worry about, Smith, are the MacKilligans.”
“You threatenin’ me?”
“Yeah,” he replied casually. “I’m a wolverine. We’re crazy.” He grinned. “And you haven’t even met the rest of my family and friends. You and the Group . . . stay away from the MacKilligans. I’ll handle them.”
He stood, groaning all the way, before slowly stumbling out.
Once he was gone, Dee-Ann looked at Malone. “Boy’s gonna get a rude awakening.”
“Is he?” Malone asked. “Just one of those bitches kicked our ass. And we’re the best. The best!” Her eyes crossed. “Ow.”
“Yeah,” Davis said, “I’d suggest you not yell, sweetie.”
“Is no one going to help me?”
Davis motioned someone over and a nurse crouched in front of Dee-Ann.
“Can’t even get a doctor?” Dee-Ann complained.
The nurse, carefully examining Dee-Ann’s arm, warned, “Don’t make me get my staple gun.”
“We also have another problem,” Malone said, holding up her phone. “Just got a text. BPC is heading this way.”
Bear Preservation Council. The international protection agency of the bear nation.
“Why?” Dee-Ann asked.
“Just a shot in the dark, but Berg was the one who got that crazy bitch out of here before she could finish either of us off. Maybe he’s asked BPC to protect her and her sisters.”
“BPC hates honey badgers and none of them girls are mixed with bear. So, they ain’t hybrids the BPC would protect.”
“Maybe he’s got something to barter with. Or a family member high up in the BPC. Either way, we better call Ric.”
Her mate? “What for?”
Malone stared at her from two eyes already purple and swelling. “Because, unlike you and me, Ric has never fought bears at a wedding.”
“That wasn’t our fault.”
Malone sighed. “Sweetie, no one cares.”
“I am not callin’ Ric. I’ll handle this. We’ll get those girls to the Group offices and take it from there.”
“How? We couldn’t even get one of them to listen to a man she’s known for over a decade. Just a conversation without even moving to a new location. What makes you think you can do better?”
Using her good arm, Dee-Ann retrieved her phone. “We have a bunch of people sittin’ around who get paid to do what I tell them to.”
“Excuse me if that doesn’t put me at ease.”
Dee-Ann got to her feet. “Get me a sling,” she told the nurse. “And you just sit there with your kitty-cat friend, tryin’ to look pretty.”
Malone grinned despite the blood on her face and replied, “Unlike you, Fido, I don’t have to try.”