“Never.” She looked at him and the passing streetlights reflected in her eyes, making them appear almost white, like something out of a horror movie. “Not unless you want them all to die.”
Zé felt a brief moment of panic but it went away so quickly he asked, “Are you fucking with me?”
“Yes.” She laughed. “Sorry, couldn’t help it.”
“Of course you couldn’t,” he sighed out.
“But it seems like you truly get it.”
“It?”
“What you are. What you will always be. What you have always been.”
“Ahhh.”
“Now that you understand everything, you can tell them whatever you want except the truth. Just remember that each time you do tell a full-human about what you are, you’re not just risking yourself, you’re risking all of us. Even the cubs you occasionally like to eat,” she added with a wink.
“She’s right,” the driver suddenly added, his gaze watching them in the rearview mirror. “Most of them will never understand.”
Zé pointed at the driver’s seat and mouthed, Him?
“No,” Max said aloud. “He’s full-human, but he reeks of dog.”
“My wife’s a jackal,” the driver happily offered.
Max gave him a thumbs-up but Zé asked, “Can you go back to being quiet now?”
“Cat?” the driver asked Max.
And Max’s response was just to throw her arms up in faux exasperation, her hand nearly hitting his nose.
He pushed her hand away. “Do you mind?”
“Are you mad about something?”
Zé thought a moment, finally admitted, “No. The food, as you promised, was amazing. The drink . . . delicious. Your teammates were not nearly as annoying as Nelle’s friends. And Nelle’s friends went out of their way to avoid me.”
“That’s because you don’t look like you have money.”
“Good. Anyway, all in all, it was a pretty great night.”
“Then why are you so cranky?”
“This isn’t cranky. At least not my cranky.”
“Dear God, what is your cranky?”
“Me,” he answered, “but more.”
“What’s terrifying is, I kind of get what you mean.”
They fell silent again and Zé wondered if he should apologize for making her think he was mad at her. He wasn’t. He hated to admit it, even to himself, but he kind of enjoyed hanging around Max. Or maybe it was simply the way people sometimes feel toward doctors or nurses who save their lives. She had saved his life, literally, and had shown him his true self. So maybe he was simply giving her more leeway than he would normally give any cute girl who kind of irritated him, but was so cute he didn’t care.
Eh, he thought, dismissing the idea of apologizing. He wasn’t going to suck up to her. So, instead, he relaxed back into the seat and thought about the kind of phone he was going to get tomorrow so he could call his team leader and let her know he was not dead.
As he stared out the window, he felt Max’s head rest against his arm.
Assuming she’d fallen asleep, he glanced down at her. But she was wide awake.
“What are you doing?” he asked.
“Resting on your arm.”
“Why?”
“Because I want to.”
“I don’t get a say?”
“Sure. Does my lightweight head on your massively built bicep bother your sensitive cat nerves?”
“Or you could have just asked, ‘Can I put my head here?’ And I would have just said, ‘Yes.’”
“Could have done that,” she said, snuggling close, “but, ya know . . . didn’t.”
chapter ELEVEN
The driver refused to go any closer than three blocks away from Max’s street. When she asked why, she was told, “Bears.”
It really was the only answer she needed.
Together, Max and Zé walked down the street. They had to stop a few times when one of her neighbors trotted by in bear form or fell out of a tree right in front of them.
“This is so weird,” Zé finally admitted. “I feel like I’m in one of those towns in Alaska where they have a polar bear season.”
“I know it seems scary but it’s not.”
“Really?”
“Well, none of these bears have spent months on shrinking ice floes with very little food to eat. They’re not starving or willing to get shot just to eat some tasty Alaskan wandering by. Because if there’s one thing I know about New York bears . . . they always eat. A lot. Several times a day. But the last thing they want to do is tussle with a cat if they don’t have to. So, you know . . . you’re safe.”
When they were half a block from the house, Zé stopped; it took Max a few seconds to realize it. She looked back at him. “What?”
“How am I going to learn all this stuff? About what bears do and lions and dogs.”
She shrugged. “Watch Animal Planet and Nat Geo.”
“Pardon?”
“While most full-human toddlers are being left alone to watch cartoons on TV, we were being left alone with Nat Geo. Or PBS. Anything with nature documentaries. My adopted grandfather even had tapes of old programs. That Omaha show.”
Zé smiled. “You mean, Mutual of Omaha’s Wild Kingdom?”
“Yes! That’s it!”
“My grandfather used to talk about that show. But he just liked documentaries. Especially anything military related.”
She walked back to Zé and stood in front of him. “You’ll be okay. This stuff is easy to learn. You’ve already mastered the hard stuff. Shifting on command . . . ? Stevie learned pretty quick. Charlie can’t shift at all. And it took me a while to figure it out. So you’re halfway home.”
Zé moved closer so that they were only inches apart. “Look, if I haven’t, or if I don’t . . . I just wanted to thank you.”
Max gazed up into those stunning green eyes and decided it was time to make her signature “move.” She was known for her “move,” and few men could resist it.
So Max made that “move,” leaning in until their bodies were touching. Yeahhhh, the “move.”
But when Max looked up to continue staring deeply into Zé’s eyes, he was gazing at something behind her.
“Yo! What are you looking at? I just made the move.”
“Someone’s lurking by your house.”
“What?” Max spun around and tried to see what was there, but as a honey badger, she didn’t have the amazing long-distance sight that cats had.
She was worried that Devon or his men had come to get her and that meant her sisters were in danger. So she pulled away from Zé and quickly ran toward the house, keeping her body low. She jumped over the fence that surrounded their rental property and ducked behind the oak that Stevie liked to hide in when she felt the squirrels were threatening her.
Max peeked around the tree trunk and waited. After several seconds, a hand landed on her shoulder. In the next instant, she had one of her blades out and pressed against the throat of the cat standing beside her.
“Do not sneak up on me!” she whispered, annoyed but impressed that Zé didn’t back away from her blade. He knew moving was more dangerous than simply standing still when dealing with a predator.
Without speaking, Zé pointed his finger toward the backyard. Max went around to the other side of the tree and spotted a male lurking near the garage. Finally, she could let out her breath.
“Dammit.” She stepped away from the tree and ran toward the male. He was peering into the clear glass doorway of the garage, so he didn’t see her coming. She moved silently, without effort, and when she was a few feet away, she launched herself at his back. Once on him, she wrapped her legs around his waist and her arms around his neck, pressing the blade she’d used on Zé to her cousin’s throat.
“Hiya, Dougie. Kinda late to visit, isn’t it?”
* * *
Knowing Max could handle herself, Zé gave himself a moment to . . . uh . . . relax. Although,
he had to admit, his current non-relaxation was due to Max and that move she’d made just as he’d seen someone trying to break into her house.
Now he was standing here, forcing himself to think about old football plays to help him get rid of the hard-on he currently had.
He’d had past girlfriends who did stripper-like moves to get him turned on, but none had done more with less than Max.
With his erection finally under control, Zé stepped away from the tree and strode across the yard to Max and whatever criminal she was currently dealing with. As he got close, he realized whoever the guy was, he should be happy Zé was around. Because the knife Max had pressed to the man’s throat was already drawing blood.
“Want me to call the cops?” he asked.
“Nah,” Max replied, resting her chin on the shorter man’s big shoulder.
“You can’t bury him here,” he reminded her, not really in the mood to see her murder anyone. “Besides, won’t killing him upset your sisters?”
Max laughed. “I’m not going to kill him because this is my cousin Dougie. Well, one of my many cousins. You may remember him—he and his brothers were at the house with my Uncle Will. They were here when you first arrived.”
“You were dribbling a basketball.” Zé frowned, trying to remember. “And you were doing that just to annoy your sister . . . ?”
“That’s right. And I thought my uncle was staying in Manhattan at that fancy, overpriced hotel.”
“We are,” Dougie put in. “And I’m not here for you, cousin.”
“Then who are you here for?”
“Your father.”
It happened so fast, it was almost stunning. Max’s always-there smile dropped away and her brown eyes darkened. She released her cousin, stepping away from him and sliding her knife into the back of her jeans.
“What are you talking about?”
Dougie faced her. “The word is he’s back in New York and every bastard who hates him is looking for him.”
“And you thought he’d be here?”
“Your father has no money. You know that as well as I do. And he’s hoping your little sister will give him some. Just like she always does.”
“Talk about my sister—while sneering—again and I’ll tear your handsome little face off and wear it as a Halloween mask.”
It must have been something that either Max had done before or people had no doubt she’d actually do, because her cousin immediately changed his tone.
“Look, my father, bastard that he is, is really pushing me to find your father . . . bastard that he is. I could use your help.”
“If he were here, you know I’d tell you. So would Charlie. But he hasn’t come near us since Charlie threw him in the street and he got run over by a truck. You know, after that funeral.”
Zé glanced off, not sure he’d heard that story correctly.
“All right, but if you do see him . . .”
“Wait.” Max looked at the house. “I’m gonna check the house. Stay here.”
She went to the back door of the house and let herself in. Lights came on in the kitchen and Zé realized that he could actually hear her moving around inside.
“Why are you smiling like that?” Dougie asked.
“I can hear her,” Zé replied, fascinated by all the new things he could see and hear and . . . smell.
He focused on Dougie. “What the fuck have you been eating?”
“Copperhead snake in a spicy black mamba sauce.” He grinned. “I was out for nearly an hour. Clinically dead for at least fifteen. Totally worth it.”
Max returned. She was munching on something from a bag, and he was relieved to see that the bag was a small plastic one. Not big enough for some poisonous viper. But, as she got closer, he saw that she had something hanging from her mouth.
When she was just a few feet away, he realized it was a scorpion. A live scorpion putting up a fight.
“He’s not in there,” she said, around the thing stinging her while she offered the bag’s contents to her cousin. He happily pulled out another live scorpion and immediately bit its head off.
“I appreciate you taking a look, cousin.”
“Well, I know MacKilligan luck. I swear all over the place he isn’t there, you leave, I go inside, and BAM! There he is.”
“Yeah, that is our luck.” He swallowed the rest of the crunchy scorpion. “But if you hear from him . . .”
“I’ll let you know. Unless Stevie sees him first.”
“Oh, come on.”
“You know how she is when it comes to our dad. And she knows what your dad is going to do to him. I can’t be the one who rats the fucker out if that happens. But if I see him and she hasn’t . . . I’ll call.”
“Thanks.” He motioned to the plastic bag. The one that, to Zé’s horror, he now realized was a wiggling plastic bag. “Can I have a few more?”
“Oh, here, take it. I have more in the basement.”
“Aw, thanks, luv.”
He walked off, waving as he went, another scorpion hanging from his mouth.
Max smiled at Zé. “So,” she purred, “where were we?”
* * *
She expected all sorts of responses to her very obvious offer, but “Nope. No way. Not in this life,” had not been one of them . . . or, in this case, three of them.
“What’s wrong?” she asked, following him into the house.
“I just watched you share a bag of scorpions with a man.” He stopped at the kitchen table and faced her. “Live scorpions! In what universe is that a normal thing to do?”
“We had this discussion at the restaurant. Remember? Different breeds and species eat different—”
“I get that. What I didn’t expect was to see you snacking on live scorpions! Like, ‘Hey, want a Twizzler? Maybe some M&Ms? How about a live scorpion?’ How are you not worried about dying? And before you say”—he dropped his low voice even lower—“ ‘I’m a honey badger,’ there has got to be more to it than that!”
“Uh . . . okay. When I was born, still in the cradle and, you know, before my mother went to prison, she used to give me live scorpions to play with. They’d sting me, I’d cry, but eventually I built up a tolerance for their poison. Now I eat them as a tasty snack because scorpion venom doesn’t hurt me. I barely feel their stings against my skin. And, to be honest, they are really tasty. And crunchy. Like tortilla chips. Tortilla chips that wiggle and attack me.”
When Zé didn’t say anything for almost a minute, Max guessed, “This isn’t helping, is it?”
“No. Not helping.”
She thought about storming away. Angry and insulted. But she wasn’t really angry or insulted. She simply understood he didn’t get it. So she took his hand and pulled him into the living room. She sat him down on the couch and grabbed all the controls for the television, the sound system, and the cable box. She made a few quick purchases on one of the streaming services and began playing the first one.
“What is this?” Zé asked.
Max sat down on the couch beside him. “The story of me. The next one will be the story of you.”
The documentary about honey badgers started and, after a few tense minutes during which she felt positive that Zé was simply going to walk out of the house and her life forever, he leaned forward, rested his elbows on his knees, and his chin on his fists. For the next fifty minutes, he stayed glued to what was on the television. When the ending credits rolled, he leaned back again and looked at her.
“You guys are mean.”
* * *
Zé wasn’t sure what he’d expected to see in that documentary. But a small animal that challenged lions, hyenas, African wild dogs, cheetahs, leopards, African killer bees, and humans was not it.
But as he’d watched, he’d realized something very important: Max was definitely a honey badger. She didn’t seem as openly hostile as the wild honey badgers in the documentary, but everything else about her was like them.
Now, the question he
had to ask himself was what did that mean to him? Was she someone he could live with? A not-nearly-as-hostile-as-a-wild-honey-badger woman with an amazing body, beautiful skin, and a healthy sense of humor. Or was Max MacKilligan going to be too much for him? He honestly didn’t know. At least not at this moment.
Seeing the documentary on jaguars might help because he still didn’t know exactly what he was about either.
“You want to watch this with me? ” he asked, pointing at the new credits rolling on the screen.
“I’m actually hungry again.”
She stood and began stripping off her clothes.
“Uh . . . Max. I’m, uh, going through a thing right now and . . .”
“Oh, dude, get over yourself,” she laughed.
She finished taking off her clothes. “I’ll be back later,” she promised before she shifted right in front of him, turning into what could only be called a giant version of a honey badger. Especially since most of them weighed, according to the documentary, no more than thirty-five pounds or so. This badger was a healthy one-hundred-and-twenty, just like Max.
Max trotted out of the house and Zé followed, curious to see if she could open the door with those ridiculously sized claws. She didn’t try, though. Instead she went to the window and opened it by using her snout. Then she jumped out and disappeared into the night.
“Yep,” he said to the air. “My life just keeps getting stranger and stranger . . .”
* * *
He continued watching the MacKilligan house from inside his vehicle. The man who’d come out earlier was no one. Definitely not the badger they were looking for.
Not the one he had to find.
He snarled in annoyance and his brother leaned forward, sticking his head through the seats. “Maybe we should just go home. You need to sleep.”
“We’re not going anywhere. Not yet.”
“Well,” his other brother said from the passenger seat, “I don’t think we should be hanging around here. Because the bears are getting nervous.”
“Fuck the bears.”
“You know, big brother, you say that; but when they drag us onto the street and start ripping our arms off . . . we won’t be able to help anybody. Now will we?”
He hated that his brother was right. Hated it.
Badger to the Bone Page 17
