“You’re being paranoid. Again.”
“If you say so . . .”
* * *
“Want me to kill her?” Max asked.
“Not yet,” Charlie said, looking back at her phone.
“No,” Stevie corrected. “She means no, do not kill her.”
“That woman would kill you as soon as look at you,” Max told her. “I’ve looked that bitch in the eyes. She is exactly what Gramps said all the Smiths are: a pack of rabid dogs. We’re better off wiping her from the earth now rather than after she kills you.”
Stevie took a step back. “Me? Why would she kill me? I’m lovely. You’re the psycho.”
“Thank you very much.”
“I’m just being honest.”
“She totally is,” Charlie said on a chuckle.
Someone tapped Stevie on the hip and she looked over her shoulder at the elderly lady sitting in a folding chair in the black tent that had been set up beside the grave so the older MacKilligans would have a place to sit.
“Move so I can see,” the woman ordered. “I want to make sure the old fuck gets buried.”
“Not sure why you’re here, Daphne,” one of Uncle Pete’s brothers complained. “Peter divorced you a long time ago.”
“I’m still the only one that matters!” she yelled at Pete’s younger and more recent wife, forcing the poor woman to start crying and rush away from the grave. She’d been a hysterical mess since Stevie had first seen her at the church.
“Can we just get through this?” Bernice barked.
The coffin was lowered into the grave, the rites nearly at the end. Immediate family would be throwing dirt on the coffin in the next few minutes. A step that Stevie never quite understood. Was it that “dust to dust” thing? Maybe she should research it. Then again, Stevie, Charlie, and Max had already decided that no matter when they died or how, they all wanted to be cremated. It was the only way they could ensure their father wouldn’t sell their remains for easy cash.
“Oh, no,” Stevie heard Kenzie gasp behind her.
Stevie looked to her left and saw her father stumbling toward them. Not because he was drunk but because he’d tripped on a headstone, knocking it over—and not caring.
“Oh, God.” She turned away, wishing she’d stayed back in the limo with Shen, Kyle, and the Dunns. Kyle had wanted to come to the graveside portion of Pete’s funeral, but Shen had insisted that he stay away from an open hole with a bunch of honey badgers encircling it. And Charlie had insisted the Dunns stay behind because, “You guys tend to lumber and when this is over, we’ll be gettin’ the fuck out of here.”
Berg had not liked that at all, concerned about how “open” the location was, but when Charlie insisted on something, it was hard not to comply. It was something Max and Stevie already knew but Berg was still learning.
“You just left me,” Freddy complained, speaking over the priest who’d replaced the older one from the earlier service. “I was hit by a truck and you didn’t even stop to help!”
Charlie had to look away from their father because, Stevie knew, it was the only thing keeping her sister from beating him to death in front of witnesses.
“I’ll take care of this,” Dutch said, pushing past Charlie and Max, but Freddy threw his hand up.
“Back off, canine.”
Stevie cringed, Max snorted, and Charlie started rubbing that spot on her forehead that told Stevie her sister was getting one of her migraines.
“Actually,” Dutch corrected, “I’m a wolverine, which are not canines. We are not wolves. Wolverines are badgers.” Dutch suddenly smirked and raised his arms as if he was pleading to the masses. “And are we all not badgers . . . together?” he solemnly intoned.
That made Max snort louder, her shoulders shaking. But Freddy tried to wave Dutch away.
“Do you mind? I’m talking to my useless daughters. Not you.”
Stevie was used to her father’s insensitivity. She’d grown up with it, but her uncles and aunts had never really seen how he treated his own offspring . . . not until now. She fully understood that when both Bernice and Will cringed at his words.
“I thought you were childless,” Charlie noted, not even bothering to look away from her phone so she could properly glare at him.
“Or do you prefer childfree?” Max asked.
“That was an accident,” their father lied.
“I’m pretty sure it wasn’t. But we get it. We like to forget about you too.”
“Look,” he said, raising his hands, palms up. It was his “placating” maneuver. “Let’s discuss this later. At your house. Right now we’re here for Uncle . . . Uncle . . .”
“Pete,” Stevie said.
“Right. Uncle Pete.”
“Our house?” Charlie asked, finally looking away from her phone with an incredulous expression.
“Well . . . I don’t really have a place to stay right now and I know if I come in with you guys, those bears won’t be so bitchy about me being there this time.”
Max grinned. “You expect to stay at our house? Seriously?”
“I’m your father. It’s the least you can do for me.”
Stevie shook her head and sighed out softly, “Oh, Dad.”
Max faced Charlie. “You all right with that?” she asked. “Dad staying with us?”
Charlie’s gaze cut over to their father’s. She didn’t say anything at first, but she also didn’t reach for any of her weapons. She still could, though.
After a time, Charlie finally suggested, “Let’s just talk about this later.” She indicated a spot between her and Max. “Come here, Dad. Let’s just . . . get through this.”
Grinning, Freddy practically danced over to the spot near his daughters. Stevie knew what her father was thinking: that the slightest act of kindness from his daughters meant he’d get anything he wanted once he was in their house and could charm them. There was just one problem . . . her father was not nearly as charming as he believed himself to be.
Stevie looked across the open grave to see that Will and his sons continued to glower at Freddy, but so far none of them had attempted to climb over Pete’s moving casket to wring the life from him. That alone was impressive.
“Sorry about that, Father Jones,” Charlie prompted the priest who’d taken over for Father Malone. “You can go on.”
The priest did, pausing briefly when Freddy landed face-first on Pete’s coffin, pushed there by Charlie and Max as they stood behind him.
The priest even continued while most of the family laughed, including Will, and Freddy cursed violently trying to find a way out of the grave. No one helped. Not even Stevie.
She just couldn’t. He was being a total ass today.
* * *
Dee-Ann chuckled, finding herself enjoying this funeral way more than her great-granddaddy’s when a hungover Sissy Mae had thrown that punch at cousin Polly Mae, and all hell had broken loose right there in front of the minister who called them all “insolent whores!” which led directly to Sissy’s momma slapping that minister right across the face. True, Janie Mae had called her daughter and Sissy’s best friend Ronnie Lee “insolent whores” before, but it was a whole other thing coming from some man who wasn’t kin.
“What are you giggling about?” Malone asked.
“Just enjoying the funeral.”
“I’d call you a sick fuck, Smith, but the Malones are known for our amazing funerals. The whiskey flows, the brisket is tender—”
“Are there potatoes? Bet there are potatoes.”
“Such a bigot, Smith.”
Dee-Ann grinned until her ear twitched the slightest bit. Her wolf hearing had picked up a sound several hundred feet away. She tilted her head, sniffed.
“Malone?” she asked, moving her head slowly to look to her right.
“Yeah?”
“I’m seeing something that don’t look right.”
“We’ll be there in a few.”
* * *
Max sniffed the air again.
“Someone’s here,” she said to Charlie, keeping her voice low so that Stevie wouldn’t hear.
With her middle finger raised toward their yelling father, still in that grave, Charlie softly replied, “When we start moving back to the cars . . . check it out.”
“What are you two whispering about?” Stevie demanded. “What’s going on? I know that you two are up to something—Dad, would you please shut up!”
“They’re trying to bury me alive!” their father complained.
He was right. Will had given a few dollars to the men waiting to push the dirt back into the grave. They usually waited until the family left for that sort of thing, but everyone kind of wanted to see it happen now so Will pulled out a wad of cash to make it so.
But none of them were too worried—or too hopeful—because Freddy could burrow with the best of them.
“Is this your new medication?” Max asked, knowing the question would set her baby sister off. “Is this what’s making you so paranoid?”
Stevie started slapping at her but Charlie quickly threw her arm around their baby sister’s shoulders and steered her off toward Bernice and the limos waiting for them.
“There is nothing wrong with my medication, you ass!” Stevie yelled, struggling against Charlie’s hold so she could get back to Max and slap her around. “You’re lucky it’s goddamn working!”
Thankfully Charlie had a good, firm hold on Stevie.
When they were far enough away, Max moved until she was behind one of the buildings and out of eyesight of anyone spying. She quickly slipped off her clothes, unleashed the claws on both her hands and feet, and began digging.
* * *
Shen was relieved to see the honey badgers coming back to the limos. The widow had already left, hysterically sobbing as she’d bypassed the family autos to grab the cab that had been waiting. Something told Shen she wasn’t heading to the next stop at this event, the bar where they could all raise a drink in honor of Pete MacKilligan.
He knew someone running for her life when he saw it.
Arms angrily folded over her chest, blue eyes bright, Stevie practically threw herself against the limo he was leaning on.
“Everything okay?” he asked.
“My sister’s an asshole.”
“Come on,” Charlie said, opening the back door. “Let’s get to the bar. I need a drink.”
“Where’s Max?” Stevie asked.
“She’ll meet us there.”
Stevie grabbed Charlie’s arm and yanked her hard, surprising not only Shen but even Charlie.
“Did you tell Max to kill Dad?” she demanded, not seeming to care that her voice was rather loud.
“Of course not!”
“Don’t lie to me, Charlie MacKilligan!”
“I’m not! I didn’t tell her to kill Dad. And she won’t. She doesn’t want to hear any shit from you.” When her baby sister continued to glare, “I promise.”
Stevie released Charlie and got into the limo, and Charlie followed. For the first time, Shen realized there were some lines that even Charlie MacKilligan would not cross.
He wondered, though, if Freddy even realized that the only reason he wasn’t dead was because of Stevie.
From what Shen had seen of the man, he doubted it. Too bad. Because once Stevie stopped giving a shit whether her father lived or died, that would be it for him.
chapter TWENTY-TWO
Cella found Dee-Ann standing in a spot behind what looked like a shed.
She wasn’t doing anything, though. Just standing there. Staring.
“What’s going on?” she asked. The rest of their team standing behind Cella, all of them armed and ready.
“You know,” Smith said, her gaze still locked on the forest, “I don’t really know.”
“Did you see someone or not?”
“Men. Military trained. About six of ’em. I thought they were going to make a move, but nope. They took some pics and headed out.”
“Took pics of Will MacKilligan?”
Smith shook her head. “Don’t think so.”
“The three sisters?”
“Yep.”
One of the team pointed at the ground. “What’s that?”
Smith nodded. “That’s when things got weird.”
“How so?” Cella asked, enjoying how freaked out Smith was. The wolf was always so laid-back and calm that to see her confused and unable to hide it made the situation way more entertaining than it should be.
“The freaky little one.”
“All of them are freaky and at least two of them are little.”
“When I say the ‘Chinese one,’ y’all get upset!”
Reaching out, Cella caught hold of the neck of a South China She-tiger’s body armor, preventing her from launching herself at the She-wolf.
“Just say ‘Max,’” Cella reminded Smith. “Since we do know their names.”
“Fine. Max came here, got naked. I was over there waitin’ on you all, so she didn’t see me.”
“She got naked and then what?” Cella asked.
“She burrowed away.” Smith pointed.
“Into the forest?”
“Yep.”
“After the truck?”
“I think so.”
“Did you tag the truck?”
“Yep.”
“Good.” Cella looked at the rest of the team. “We were just going to track them unless they made a move. See where they went, but let’s just get them now before—”
“I’m thinkin’ it’s too late for all that.”
Cella faced Smith. “Why too late?”
Smith shrugged, again looked off into the woods. “We may do recon. Think things out. Arrange grand schemes. But that little honey badger . . . she ain’t about to waste her time doin’ all that.”
* * *
They’d continued on their off-road route through the forest. The funeral was recon only. Because they couldn’t just grab the girl. The client had made it clear. He wanted her alive and unharmed. So they needed to make a solid plan to ensure that happened.
It wouldn’t be easy, though. She seemed to constantly be in the presence of others. And he recognized at least three of her “friends.” They were a well-known protection team that worked for artists, actors, and politicians. The very large female once protected a dictator, and when she quit that job, he was assassinated by his enemies. So just grabbing the girl would be . . . challenging. But he was always up for a—
“Fuck!” the driver swore just before the SUV hit some kind of hole or pit, throwing him and his men forward. The front end landed in the pit and the back end flipped over.
It took a few seconds for him to figure out what had happened and get his men moving again.
“Out!” he ordered. “Everybody out!”
The doors on the passenger side were blocked by dirt so they had to go out the other way.
The men moved slowly, confused, some of them bleeding from head wounds. Once he got his team out, they climbed over the SUV to get out of the pit.
He studied the ground, staring at the SUV and the pit it was in. A pit that hadn’t been there when they’d driven that way to get to the funeral.
“What the fuck . . . ?” he whispered.
“Sir?” his second in command called out. “Sir!”
He turned, saw what his injured and confused men were looking at.
She leaned against a tree, silently watching them. Her gaze examining but her expression weirdly blank. She didn’t seem scared or concerned . . . just slightly curious.
“Why are you naked?” he asked, unable to help himself.
“You can’t burrow in your clothes,” she replied, laughing a little. He had no idea what that meant and he didn’t want to know. She was a strange girl. Stranger than they’d all originally thought.
He’d been warned, though, to “watch out for her. She’s not what she seems. Not if she’s anything like her mother.” A wa
rning he wasn’t about to dismiss.
He gestured to his men with a short nod of his head. Two split off and moved around the tree, but they took their time. Waiting for her to step away. To give them an opening.
“I know what you want,” she said. “And you can’t have her. I thought you guys would have figured that out by now.”
“We can’t have who?” he asked, oddly fascinated by all this. She was naked with a group of heavily armed men, but she didn’t seem to care or even notice.
“You know who,” she insisted.
“I honestly don’t have any—”
“If you keep coming for her, I’ll make you regret it. See, I’m trying to be nice here. For once.”
“I have to say, I appreciate you trying to be nice. I really do. But it doesn’t make a difference.”
“It should.”
“It doesn’t. Because we’re not here for anyone else . . . but you. In fact, you made this much easier for us. We thought we’d have to get you away from your protection. But here you are. All alone.”
“Wait a minute,” she said, finally stepping away from the tree, “you’re here for . . . me?”
“Yes. We’ve been paid a lot of money to bring you in. And, if you play your cards right, we can make sure you’re not harmed. But only if you don’t do anything stupid.”
She stopped walking, pressed her hand to her chest. “Me? You’re sure it’s me you want?”
Now he was getting a little annoyed.
“Yes. I’m sure.”
“The Guerra twins sent you?”
“Who?”
She cringed, briefly closing her eyes. “Devon’s paying you, isn’t he?”
“Does it matter?”
“I guess not.”
His men were behind her now, one of them pressing the barrel of his .45 to the back of her head. But he didn’t have his finger on the trigger. Their target, however, didn’t know this.
He stepped close to her. “You don’t have to make this hard on yourself. Come with us; we’ll get you some clothes and something to eat.”
“Do you care what he’s planning to do with me?”
“Sweetie, I’ve been hired to bring you in. That’s it.”
“So that’s a no. Okay.” She tried to pull away from the man behind her, but he held her arm and kept the gun on the back of her neck.
In a Badger Way Page 28
