chapter TWENTY-SEVEN
Dee-Ann sat in Ric’s office. Malone in the chair next to her. They didn’t speak. Not because they were mad at each other; they just didn’t have anything to say. That’s one of the reasons Dee-Ann tolerated Malone as well as she did; she didn’t need to run her mouth.
Ric walked in. “Sorry I’m late.” He dropped into the chair behind his desk, taking a few seconds to bring something up on his computer. He turned the monitor around to face Dee-Ann and Malone.
“These are the Guerra twins. It turns out they’re also part of the MacKilligan family. They were, however, never in touch with their father and they were raised by their full-human mother only. They seem to have no idea they’re honey badgers, but they have joined forces with one of the younger MacKilligans. A Mairi MacKilligan who is known among her own in Scotland as the Beast of Braewillow, the honey badger village most of the MacKilligans come from. And if honey badgers are giving you a nickname like that . . .”
“Who do you want us to go after first?” Dee-Ann asked.
“We think the twins and Mairi are in the States right now together, but the twins are unbelievably wealthy. If they run, it’ll be harder to track them down. But the Beast . . . considering the body count she had on her when she went into prison in Scotland, I’m sure it will be easier to find her once we’ve got the twins under control. Although I’m hoping she doesn’t do as much damage here as she did in her homeland.” Ric looked at Malone. “What’s Katzenhaus’s direction on this?”
“They’re leaving it up to the Group since they don’t really have an opinion on badgers. But if you want me to work with Dee-Ann to eliminate this issue, my bosses won’t care.”
“Should we bring those MacKilligan sisters into this?” Dee-Ann asked.
“I’m surprised you asked, Dee-Ann.”
“Me, too!” Malone piped in. “And you were so nice about it.”
“I’m just asking whether we should warn them.”
“Excellent idea,” Ric replied. “I’ll take care of it. Now, anything you ladies need, please let me know. I want these twins dealt with. I know they don’t know what they are, but it doesn’t really matter when they’ve tried at least three times to kill or capture the MacKilligan sisters. Sadly, they’ve already crossed a line they can’t come back over.”
* * *
After the fittings, all Charlie and her sisters wanted to do was go home. But in order to keep track of Carrie—who was off that evening with her bridesmaids and some friends for her bachelorette party—it was up to Charlie and Stevie to distract her. Not hard, though, when all Charlie had to say to the bride was, “The gowns are long so we can wear sneakers instead of heels, right?” which led to a whole lot of hysterical yelling—while Max took Carrie’s phone and set it up with a GPS app. Then she put GPS trackers into Carrie’s multiple bags, which she carried with her everywhere.
Once they’d done that and checked in with a weary Kenzie, they all headed back to the house in Queens.
It was hot, so Charlie changed into jean shorts and a tank top before going outside. Entertaining the idea of treating Berg and his siblings with a little barbecue, Charlie went out the back kitchen door to see if a barbecue was one of the things that Tiny had in his hoarder house garage.
But as she went toward the garage, she sensed something coming at her. Flying at her. She only had time to turn her head as a fist slammed into her jaw, sending Charlie flipping into the middle of the yard.
* * *
Her head stuck in the freezer, trying to find at least one more of those frozen honeycomb ice cream treats that Britta had turned her on to, Max didn’t hear the yelling. But she heard and felt Stevie run by her.
Stevie didn’t run toward anything. She always ran away. But there was nothing behind her. And no bears in the house.
Max closed the freezer door, and that’s when she did hear the yelling. Charging outside, she came around the corner just as Stevie threw herself at the back of a female that Max recognized but couldn’t believe was attacking her sister.
Charlie was on the ground, with five females over her, punching. Her sister hadn’t gotten up yet, too busy trying to protect her face and side and, knowing Charlie, trying to figure out what was happening.
But Max didn’t need to know what was going on. She didn’t care.
Snarling, claws and fangs unleashing, Max crouched a bit, and feeling her anger soar through her, she moved . . .
* * *
Berg and his siblings stepped out of the SUV. They’d been out on the Island all day helping a company shore up their security. But despite all the work he’d done, his mind had been on Charlie. He couldn’t stop thinking about her. Not just having sex with her—although he really wanted that . . . soon—he just wanted to see her. Talk to her. See her smile. Hear her laugh. Watch her roll her eyes at something weird or funny her sisters said.
Deciding not to wait, he started down the driveway to go over to Charlie’s house. But before he even reached the sidewalk, he watched a souped-up ’73 Camaro tear down the street and slam to a stop, double-parking in front of the badgers’ house.
Dutch jumped out, tore around his car, and jumped over the fence.
Not liking any of this, Berg continued walking toward Charlie’s place. But he’d only gone a few steps when Dutch came running back out and waved at him.
Berg took off running, yelling over his shoulder, “Dag! Britta!”
He didn’t wait to see if his siblings were coming. He knew they would.
He heard the screaming and yelling before he even reached the front gate. He charged through and ran around the side of the house. That’s when he saw it. A fight. A really nasty, violent fight.
Not between military-trained killers and the MacKilligan sisters either. But a bunch of angry females . . . and the MacKilligan sisters. Even little Stevie was on the back of some redhead, screaming, small fingers trying to dig into the female’s eyes.
The weasel was trying his best to separate the women, but he didn’t want to hurt anyone so they were ignoring him. And the only rational person who could calm this out-of-control situation was down on the ground getting pummeled.
Berg ran over and waded into the melee, trying to grab hold of one of the viciously fighting females. He didn’t care which one.
Dag was already next to him. He’d managed to get hold of Stevie. She was screaming and thrashing. Dag could barely hold onto her.
Wondering how they would get a handle on all of this, Berg tried again to dig in and grab his badger. But just as he caught hold of Charlie’s arm, a massive roar startled him, and Dag jerked away.
Britta stepped in, her shoulder hump raised high, and began swinging her arms. Much smaller females flew, tossed across the yard; Berg and Dag ducked.
Once she got the women off Charlie, Britta bellowed, “That is enough!”
That same bellow used to send Marines running for cover. Made even generals find the closest exit. But these small women didn’t seem to care.
They started to come for Charlie again, but the weasel jumped between them and said, “No, Mia! No!”
Stevie fought her way out of Dag’s arms and launched herself at the one called Mia. And instead of stopping her, Max screamed, “Get her, Stevie! Get the bitch!”
That’s when all the yelling began. Each set of females screaming at the other. Except for Charlie. She was getting to her feet. Berg only noticed her because she was using his leg to help herself get up.
He grabbed her hands and pulled. “Are you o—” was all Berg managed before Charlie, bloody and snarling, pushed her way past Dag and Max. She yanked Stevie away from Mia, tossing her over her shoulder and into Berg’s arms.
“What the fuck was that?” Charlie demanded of Mia.
“What the fuck do you think that was?” Mia abruptly grabbed Dutch, pulling him in close. Still clinging to his arm, she grabbed the weasel’s face with her hand, squeezing his cheeks hard. “Look what you did to his face! Look what you did!”
“He deserved it! He betrayed my family!”
“Then you should have come to me!”
“I don’t have to ask your permission to kick the shit out of your idiot brother!”
Mia shoved Charlie. “Only I can call him an idiot!”
“Idiot.” Shove. “Idiot.” Shove. “Idiot!” And that led to a punch.
Berg started to step in again but Britta held him and Dag back with a raised hand. Then she caught both women by their hair. They tried to swing on her, but it was a waste of effort. She was half a foot taller than Charlie and a whole foot taller than Mia.
Britta simply held them off the ground by their hair and waited.
Eventually, they stopped swinging and when they relaxed, Britta dropped them both.
“Are we going to be rational now?” Britta asked calmly, her grizzly hump gone.
“That psychotic bitch,” Mia yelled, but still sitting on the ground, rubbing her head, “attacked our baby brother!”
Dutch turned red, his gaze unwilling to meet Berg’s or Dag’s because he was smart enough to know . . . they were grinning now.
“How would you feel, Charlie?” Mia asked. “If I attacked Max the way you attacked Dutch?”
Charlie leaned forward and growled between clenched teeth, “I’d tell your parents, ‘I’m sorry for your loss.’”
“Okay!” Britta barked, before the battle could begin again. “That’s enough. We’re done.”
The She-weasels began to argue that point with Britta but she barely let them get started before she roared once more, sending birds from trees, Stevie back into the house now that her anger had subsided, and the weasels into silence.
“I know you’re pissed,” Britta said calmly. “I’d be pissed. These are my brothers.” She motioned to Berg and Dag. “And I’m very protective. So I get it. But it’s over. Charlie kicked Dutch’s ass. You kicked hers. We’re done now.”
Like a group of dancers performing, the five She-weasels crossed their arms over their chests, hitched out their right legs, and let out annoyed sighs. It was weird.
But their actions overall were not that surprising. Wolverine males didn’t get along with each other at all, but they didn’t mind having wolverine females around. So, males with sisters, Berg had heard, often had their own little pack. They protected each other’s territories and, when necessary, fought each other’s battles.
Although Berg didn’t think Dutch had sent his sisters into this particular battle. He’d probably been hoping to avoid it. Too bad he hadn’t been able to manage that.
“So,” Britta pushed, “are we all calm? Rational?”
The She-weasels refused to answer and Charlie wiped the blood from her lip before announcing, “I need to bake,” and storming back into the house.
They stood for several long seconds in silence until Tiny suddenly loped into the yard. Looking around he finally asked, “Did I hear something about Charlie baking?” He pulled out a piece of paper from his back pocket. “Because I’ve got a list here . . .”
* * *
“You didn’t make anything better,” Dutch told his big sister while they stood by their cars. “You just made it worse.”
“I don’t care. The only one who gets to slap my brother around is me, which reminds me . . .” Mia slapped Dutch in the back of the head. “You’re working for the Group? Have you lost your mind? You could get killed!”
“It’s a good job. They respect my talents.”
“What talents?”
“I have talents.” When his sisters just stared at him . . . “I do!”
* * *
Charlie slipped the cinnamon cake into the oven and informed Tiny, “I do not bake on demand. I bake when I want to.”
She heard Berg and his siblings laugh. She faced them and Berg quickly explained, “Sorry. Drug humor. Our mother would get it.”
Not in the mood to analyze that, Charlie went back to the kitchen table and finished kneading bread dough so she could let it proof.
Tiny held the list of neighbors’ requests in front of her. “But—”
Charlie pointed her flour-covered hands at the door. “Out.” “Fine.” Tiny slammed the list on the table and stomped his way across the kitchen, and Charlie again focused on her work.
“You know,” she complained to the three bears passing around ajar of fancy honey that Stevie had apparently ordered, “I had such plans for tonight. I was going to throw a little barbecue for you guys and my sisters, relax, maybe read a book. Just enjoy the evening, ya know? But, of course, I couldn’t just have a nice time to myself. Instead—”
“You’re not going to blame your father for this, too, are you?” Berg asked.
Charlie’s head snapped up but he looked so damn adorable licking the back of the spoon and watching her, she didn’t have the heart to rip off his big bear head.
Taking a breath, she admitted, “If I could, I would. And I’m sure if I tried, I’d find a way. But I’ll let it go for now.”
“That’s very big of you,” he teased.
Dag was refusing to give up the honey, so Britta went to the cabinet over the refrigerator. She opened it and Stevie, who’d gone inside there when the roaring started, handed her another jar. “This one is infused with lemon.”
“Oooh. Yum. Thanks, Stevie.”
Britta closed the cabinet door and opened the honey. Dag tried to get a taste, but she moved across the room so she could eat in peace.
“There’s no reason we still can’t have a little barbecue,” Britta said. “Just the six of us.”
“I’m not sure I’m in the mood to cook right now.”
They silently watched her kneading the bread dough and Charlie pointed out, “This is baking. Not cooking.”
“We’ll barbecue,” Dag said.
“I’ll get the supplies,” Britta offered.
Charlie used her foot to point out her backpack. “Take the Visa card that’s in there,” she told Britta.
“It’s okay, I’ll pay.”
“No. I’m going to expense this as a . . .” She thought a moment. “. . . team meeting.”
“Is that fair to your aunt?” Berg asked.
“My aunt reminded me today that the MacKilligans don’t really think of me, Stevie, and Max as family so—”
“Yeah,” Berg told his sister. “Use the aunt’s card. Let’s expense this bitch.”
“Get some chicken!” Stevie yelled from inside the cabinet.
Having retrieved the card, Britta asked, “Do you want to come with me, Stevie? Get out of the cabinet for a little while?”
“Uh . . . okay.” Stevie eased the door open and skittered out. It was weird because she crawled out of the cabinet and down the refrigerator to reach the floor without grabbing onto anything. Kind of like a spider. But the bears didn’t say anything about it and neither did Charlie. It was best not to talk about these things. It just freaked people out more.
“Get stuff you’ll eat, Stevie,” Charlie reminded her sister.
“That’s why I said, ‘get some chicken.’ Max will want cow. I want chicken.”
“Just saying.”
“Well don’t!”
Charlie waited until Stevie was gone before she laughed. “She’s so sensitive sometimes.”
“Can you bring over the grill?” Berg asked his brother.
“Yeah. And some charcoal. I’ll be right back.”
Charlie put the bread dough in a pan and put the whole thing in the proofer drawer. That’s when it hit her . . .
“This oven’s new.” She stepped back to get a good look. “Like . . . super new. And expensive.”
“Yeah. I saw the delivery guys earlier today after you all left. Tiny let them in.”
“Why would he buy us a new oven when we’re just renting the place?”
Smirking, Berg held up the list of treats that Tiny had brought her.
Charlie rolled her eyes. “Come on. Seriously?”
“Well, now you kinda gotta.”
“Bears,” she complained before snatching the list from Berg.
* * *
Stevie was following behind Britta. As they neared Dutch’s car, where his sisters were sitting on the trunk and leaning against the doors, the bear stopped and asked, “Still here?”
Dutch stepped forward. “My sisters want to apologize to—”
The rest of what Dutch was about to say was drowned out by his sisters emphatically denying that they were going to apologize to anyone.
Britta roared again but before Stevie could run back into the house, she caught Stevie by the back of the neck and lifted her up so that her feet kept going but she didn’t actually move anywhere. It was a little embarrassing.
“Now listen up, ladies,” Britta announced. “I’m about to go out and get meat. Lots of meat. For a barbecue. And I could go ahead and pick up some elk, which I hear your kind enjoys. Or I can get just enough food for three bears and three honey badgers. Your decision. Choose wisely.”
Stevie felt like flailing her way out of Britta’s grip but she was also enjoying the way the bear treated the wolverines. Not taking their shit, but still trying to make it better.
Still holding Stevie, Britta started across the street, but Mia jumped from the trunk and asked, “Are you getting corn?”
“I can. And potatoes.” Britta smiled and said again, “Choose wisely.”
They reached the other side of the street and Britta finally released her, so Stevie could get into the SUV.
Once they were inside, Britta started the vehicle and immediately turned on the AC.
“I still make you nervous, Stevie?” she asked as she slid on her sunglasses.
“Everything makes me nervous.” Stevie thought a moment. “Well . . . not everything. But man-eaters definitely make me nervous.”
“But tigers are man-eaters . . . and you’re half tiger.”
Stevie stared out the front window for several seconds ruminating on that bit of information before admitting, “Dear God. I’m terrified of myself.”