Breaking Badger

by Shelly Laurenston

  “Sounds great.”

  She motioned a waiter over and picked out a few things from the dessert menu, doubling up on the dark chocolate cake since Mads promised, “It’s the best. Seriously. The lemon cake is good too . . . but the dark chocolate cake is life changing.”

  They didn’t pay at the table, but up front. Finn gave Mads the paper bag filled with their desserts and sent her outside to his SUV. Danny cashed him out and Finn made sure to break a few twenties so he could tip everyone who’d taken care of them that night. At a young age, he’d worked as a bouncer in enough restaurants and bars to know how important tips were to the waitstaff and bartenders.

  When he was done and heading toward the front door, Danny asked, “You hoping I tell Mads what a good tipper you are?”

  “I’m always a good tipper,” Finn replied. “But you can tell her how charming and handsome I am.”

  “So you want me to lie to the poor girl?”

  Finn smiled. “Only about the charming part.”

  * * *

  Mads electronically opened the back of the SUV and leaned in to carefully place their desserts in the rear, trying to find the right spot so the bag wouldn’t topple over. She didn’t want to lose any of that dark chocolate ganache icing to the containers holding their cake.

  “Hey, Mads.”

  “Mads!”

  “Yo, Mads!”

  Mads quickly straightened up and looked around. Her head tilted, ears trying to lock onto where those voices were coming from.

  “Mads! Come here!”

  “Max?”

  She reached for her .40 semiauto but then remembered that she didn’t have it on her. She didn’t like to go to her games armed. It was just asking for trouble with some of the teams they were up against.

  Mads moved slowly toward the dark alley, but she could look inside it just fine. The problem was, she didn’t see anyone. Not Max. Not her team. Not a dude in military-type gear lying in wait while holding a tape recorder. No one. And yet the voices sounded as if they’d come from—

  “Oh, shit!”

  Mads spun around, ready to fight. But they’d already grabbed her wrists and forearms, dragging her into that dark alley and slamming her back against the wall so hard she briefly thought she saw actual yellow birds tweeting and flying around her head.

  “Hi, cousin!”

  “Hey, cous.”

  The twins that Max had tortured with scorpions on the school bus all those years ago. That event had led to a brief hospital stay they had not forgotten or forgiven. But they didn’t blame “the beavers”—Mads had stopped correcting them with “badgers” a long time ago.

  They blamed her.

  Meaning they were delighted that they’d been sent here to make Mads’s life hell. Why not? It wasn’t like they had anything better to do in between the occasional bank heist.

  “Get off me!” Mads ordered, pushing them and nearly getting away. But the pair of them together was a lot of combined strength. They slammed her against the wall again.

  “Where is it?” one asked.

  “The family wants it back,” the other said.

  “I don’t know. I don’t have it.”

  That’s when she got punched by other female cousins who crept in behind Tilda and Gella. She got hit in the face. In the stomach. A few hits to the kidneys. So hard Mads nearly dropped to her knees.

  They hadn’t even bothered sending the males this time. Except maybe to drive or be lookouts. This abuse was coming from her female cousins, who’d always hated her. Had never wanted her around. And didn’t understand why she wasn’t left in Detroit with Solveig when they’d moved, or been sent off to live with her father since he’d always seemed to want her.

  “We’re going to ask you one more time—” Tilda began.

  “And then what?”

  Gella punched her three times in the face and yelled, “Tell us where it is, you little bitch!”

  The roar from the end of the alley had the hyenas breaking out in panicked laughter and whoops, calling to the males nearby. But the way Finn filled up that alley opening with just his shoulders had Mads’s cousins immediately releasing her. The weaker ones simply backed away.

  But Tilda and Gella had dreams of leading one day.

  They didn’t attack, though. They were human enough to play it smarter. They sauntered up to Finn as Tilda sweetly asked, “You wouldn’t punch a girl, now would you?”

  And Finn didn’t. He didn’t punch a girl. He head-butted her. Sending Tilda tumbling back several feet. Gella came at Finn with claws and fangs out, but he just slammed his palm against her chest and sent her crashing into a nearby wall, causing something on her body to audibly crack.

  Finn roared again, and lights came on in nearby upstairs apartments.

  Her cousins made a run for it, Tilda having to help Gella up and out. The rest of the Clan had left the twins behind.

  Finn walked over to Mads, but before he could say anything, she stomped out. Mads didn’t want to talk to him. She didn’t want to talk to anyone.

  Unfortunately, he didn’t seem to get that message.

  He caught up to her at the SUV. He didn’t grab her arm but he did block the passenger door before she could open it.

  “Why didn’t you fight them?” he asked.

  “There were a lot.”

  “Bullshit! I saw you take on two tigers with nothing but a baseball bat and your rage. And then you went looking for more. Those were just hyenas. Why didn’t you fight them?”

  “I wanna go home.”

  “Why won’t you answer me?”

  “I want to go home.”

  “You didn’t even unleash your fangs or claws.”

  “Are you going to take me home or am I going to walk? Is that how you want this date to end?”

  Finn pulled his hand away from the door and Mads yanked it open. She got in and he got in on the other side. They didn’t speak the entire way back to her house, which was only a few blocks away, but it had to be the longest ride of her life.

  * * *

  Finn didn’t understand. There’d only been about six or seven hyenas on her. He hadn’t really counted. When he’d found her in that alley, he was shocked to see her just standing there. Taking that abuse. She hadn’t put up a fight. She hadn’t called for help. She hadn’t even told them to fuck off. She’d done absolutely nothing but . . . take it.

  True, Mads wasn’t as . . . well . . . insane as Max MacKilligan or sneaky as Nelle and Streep. Or as 007 meets Smiley as Tock. But she definitely wasn’t a “stand there and take it” kind of gal either. Not from what he’d seen.

  Except . . .

  Finn pulled into Mads’s driveway, turned off the motor, and asked, “Was that your family?”

  It was the only thing that made sense. The only other person he’d seen her react passively to had been her mother.

  Instead of answering him, Mads got out of the SUV and stormed toward her house. Snarling, he followed her to the front door. She stopped on the low stoop and faced him but wouldn’t look him in the eyes.

  “Thank you for a lovely evening. Have a nice night.”

  “Mads—”

  She turned away from him with her house keys out, but before she could put them in the lock, she realized her front door was slightly ajar.

  “Did they break into your house?” he whispered.

  “I . . . they . . .”

  Mads kicked the door in and charged into the house, flicking on the overhead lights. She took a quick look around the living room. Didn’t see anything, so she ran upstairs. Finn kept looking, going into the kitchen, peering out into the backyard. He even went into the basement.

  But nothing seemed out of place. Nothing obvious, anyway. He didn’t know if Mads would notice anything.

  The one thing he did know? He didn’t smell any hyenas. Not just the general scent of a hyena, but the markings a hyena would have left behind if he or she were bold enough to leave the front door open.
And, to be blunt, hyenas left a foul-smell marking. It would have been the first thing Finn and Mads caught as soon as they entered the house.

  He came back upstairs and closed the front door. But as he turned away, Mads was coming down the stairs and in her hands was . . . a stainless-steel Viking sword.

  She held it as she would an offering to a god: both hands beneath it, the sword laid aloft on her palms. Her eyes wide in shock.

  “Where did you find that?” he asked.

  “On the bed. Next to the coyote.”

  “I doubt he was the one who put it there.”

  She glared. “Funny.”

  “Did you scent someone else in the house? Because I don’t.”

  “No. I don’t. Which makes me think it was someone very good at what they do.”

  “You’ve known all along who took that stupid thing . . . haven’t you?”

  “Probably.”

  “And?”

  Her entire face cringed as she announced, “My father.”

  chapter SEVENTEEN

  “What am I going to do?”

  Finn ducked. “First, maybe you should put the sword down.”

  Instead of putting it down, she shook it at him. “I should not have this in the house!”

  “Why are you whispering? And give it to me!” He grabbed hold of it and they began to struggle over the Viking sword until Mads suddenly released it and Finn slapped himself in the face.

  “That’s what I get for head-butting a woman. That was karma.”

  “Karma? She was a demon hyena happy to beat the crap outta me. And I’m her cousin! You shouldn’t feel guilty about anything.” She stared at the sword before sadly announcing, “I’m going to send this back to them before this whole thing gets out of hand.”

  “Your face tells me they don’t deserve this sword back.”

  “What does that mean?”

  “You look abused. By your own family. At least mine only ignores me and my brothers.”

  He reached for her cheek, and she slapped his hand away.

  “My face is fine.”

  “You’re dripping blood on your hardwood floors. And what’s wrong with your side?”

  “Nothing.”

  “Then why are you standing weird?”

  “Why are you asking so many questions?”

  “Because you’re bleeding all over your floor! That coyote is going to eat you while you’re sleeping!”

  “You have it in for that coyote!”

  “Because he’s going to eat you while you’re sleeping!”

  They glared at each other until Mads softly growled, “Would you feel better if you could clean my wounds?”

  “Yes, as a matter of fact, I would.”

  “Fine.”

  “Fine.”

  She gestured toward the stairs with a sweep of her hand, but he barked, “Just go!” Annoyed at how difficult she was being about all this.

  Finn watched her walk up the stairs and he could tell she was definitely walking as if something was wrong. It wasn’t her legs that were the problem, though. They seemed fine.

  She led him to the bedroom and, sure enough, the coyote was stretched out in the middle of her bed. He didn’t even lift his head when he saw them. Just watched them with one eye open as they went to the master bathroom.

  Finn placed the sword on the dresser. “I can’t believe you let him sleep on your bed.”

  “Stop complaining.”

  Finn froze outside the bathroom door and sniffed the air. “Do I smell shampoo?”

  “I asked Stevie to wash him if she had time and if he let her. I guess he let her.”

  “You had a wild animal bathed?”

  “You had me worried about ticks on my bed! She gave him a flea and tick bath! And stop yelling at me!”

  Mads flicked on the bathroom lights and immediately grimaced at the sight of herself in the sink mirror.

  “See?” he said.

  “Shut up.”

  “Let me look at your side and back.”

  “It’s fine.”

  “It’s not fine. Let me look.”

  Mads sighed and lifted her shirt just enough so he could easily see. Now Finn grimaced, moving in and crouching so he could examine it closely. They’d pummeled her kidneys.

  “You need ice.”

  “I do not need ice.”

  “Why are you arguing with me about everything?”

  “Because you’re making a big deal out of nothing.” She faced him. “This is not the first time I’ve been beaten up by my cousins. This is not the first time I’ve been hit in the kidney. This is not the first time I’ve had a wild animal on my bed.”

  “Your poisonous snakes do not count since they were most likely dinner.”

  “I had to eat something.”

  “That kidney looks bad. What if it bursts?”

  “It’ll heal.”

  “You don’t know that.”

  “It has before.”

  Finn gawked at her. “Your cousins burst your kidney before?”

  “It had nothing to do with my cousins.”

  “Max?”

  “No. It was Streep that time. We were in Rome. Actually, Vatican City and—”

  “Did you rob the Pope?”

  “I would never! Besides, any Pope-robbing Streep does is with her parents. This was something completely different and it—”

  “Just got out of hand?”

  “I don’t like your tone.”

  Finn shook his head. “I’ll get you some ice.”

  “Stop sounding so put upon. I didn’t ask you to help!”

  * * *

  The pushy tiger had walked out, but then he’d suddenly popped back into her bathroom.

  “‘Put upon’?” he asked.

  “What? I read. British stuff.”

  “Do you?”

  “Fine. I watch British movies and TV miniseries because Streep has a hard-on for Jane Austen. Which means I stand behind my ‘put upon.’”

  He rolled his eyes and again disappeared from her bathroom.

  Once Mads had a few seconds alone, she dropped her hands on the sink and lowered her head. Only her family could ruin what had been an amazing evening. Her team had easily won the game, putting them firmly into the championships. And although she hadn’t liked how her teammates had gone about it, she’d had a date with Finn. A really nice date. Something she hadn’t done in a long time. Her last date had been with a full-human who, within the first thirty minutes of coffeehouse conversation, had asked her if she liked anal sex. After she’d headed back to Tock’s cabinet for the night, he’d bombarded her with text after text of his dick pics. She’d been so disgusted she’d decided to take a break from dating for a little bit . . . and had sworn off full-human males forever.

  This date, though, had given her hope. Maybe she actually had a chance at a long-term thing. But after seeing her fucked up by her own family . . .

  Who would want any part of that?

  She’d dropped at least two boyfriends over the years who had insisted on meeting her family. She couldn’t understand why that was so important. One kept complaining that he felt he “didn’t know the real Mads.” Of course he didn’t! Because the real Mads could shift into a very large honey badger and strip his skin off!

  She really should have stopped dating full-human males ages ago.

  “Stop looking so sorry for yourself,” Finn said from behind her.

  “I don’t.” But when she lifted her head and saw herself in the mirror, all hunched over the sink like that, she did look pretty miserable.

  “Face me,” he ordered.

  Mads turned and lifted her shirt enough so he could view the injured area. Finn leaned over at the waist and slowly swiveled her around so he could easily see where to place the ice pack.

  “You found an ice pack?”

  “There were a bunch in your freezer. Right next to the frozen food. Lots of frozen meat pies.”

  “Oh, come
on.”

  He straightened up. “What?”

  “Nothing.”

  “Do I need to get you to the hospital?”

  “No, no. Nothing like that.” Mads briefly glanced off before admitting, “I love meat pies.”

  “Holy shit. Is this still about Nelle getting your house set up for you?”

  “It’s weird!”

  He started to say something, but shook his head instead and returned to applying the ice pack.

  “You don’t think it’s weird?”

  “I’m not getting in the middle of this.” He took her hand and held it against the ice pack. “Hold this a second.”

  Crouching down, he went into the cabinet under the bathroom sink and immediately came out with a big first-aid kit. He placed it on the countertop and pulled out medical tape. Using two strips from the roll, he secured the ice pack against Mads’s wound.

  “Is that too cold for you?”

  “Nope.”

  “You sure?”

  “Honey badger skin.”

  “Don’t know what that means.”

  “Can stand up to almost anything. That’s why my teammates survived being tossed in an incinerator.”

  “I still think that’s weird.”

  “Would you rather they’d burned to death so I could be really sad?”

  “That’s not what I—” Finn’s next words were cut off by his own growl of frustration. He carefully grabbed her around the waist and lifted her up on the bathroom countertop.

  He used alcohol wipes from the first-aid kit to clean off the wounds on her face.

  “Should I worry about you getting the fever?” he asked, discussing the way shifter bodies sometimes healed themselves when gravely wounded.

  “I never have,” she replied. “Some hybrids do, some don’t. MacKilligans don’t. But not a lot of honey badgers get the fever anyway.”

  “Because you’re all just so badass?”

  “No. I think it’s just the way our bodies deal with trauma. Like when we’re poisoned. We just pass out for a while. And either we wake up . . . or we don’t.”

  Finn gawked at her for a few moments before throwing the last wipe away and remarking, “Fascinating.”

  “You asked.”

  “Sorry I did.” He carefully lifted her off the counter and stood her on the tiled floor. “To bed with you.”