She showered, dressed, and walked downstairs. When she stepped into the living room, Max turned toward the kitchen. But she stopped and looked over her shoulder. Confused, she walked toward the front of the house until she reached the sunroom.
“Can I help you?” she asked the stranger sitting on the love seat that faced into the house.
The female frowned and stared at Max hard but didn’t reply.
The front door opened and Stevie walked in. She smiled at Max and the woman on the love seat but kept going.
“Stevie?”
“Uh-huh?” She came back into the room. “What’s up?”
“I don’t know who this is. Do you know who this is?”
“No. I assumed you did.” She smiled at the female. “Hello.”
The female gave a wave.
“Can we help you with something?” Stevie asked. “Are you lost?”
The female shook her head. “I’m waiting.”
Her voice sounded . . . odd. Muffled. Like she had a head cold. But nothing about that set off alarm bells. Her sister, however, reacted as if she’d been struck, stepping back and gawking at the woman.
“What’s wrong with you?”
Stevie didn’t answer. Instead, she stepped closer to the female and asked, “Are . . . are you Natalie?”
Now Max felt as if she’d been struck. She looked the female over. She did look young. And pretty. Big brown eyes, dark brown hair with red ends.
Stevie tapped her left ear with her finger. “Deaf?”
The girl smiled, nodded.
“You can read lips?” Max asked.
“Well,” Stevie interrupted, “even those who can read lips only get about twenty percent of what people are saying.”
“I didn’t ask you. I asked her.”
“I’m trying to help. It’s better if we use ASL—American Sign Language.” She looked at Natalie. “You do know sign language, yes?” And while Stevie asked the question verbally, she also did things with her hands and fingers that suggested she was asking it in ASL as well.
Max didn’t know what she expected from the girl who’d been kidnapped by their father, but “I have known you five minutes and you have annoyed me” was definitely not it.
Max laughed but Stevie was just insulted.
“I’m trying to help you.”
“Help me do what? I’m deaf, not disabled. And your ASL is weak.”
“Burn,” Max snickered.
“Well, you don’t have to be bitchy.” Stevie pointed at her mouth. “Can you read that?”
Max put her hand on Stevie’s shoulder to calm her down. “Where’s Freddy?” she asked Natalie.
“In the trunk.”
The sisters exchanged glances.
“In the trunk of what?” Max asked.
“In the trunk of the car I stole from Mairi MacKilligan before I killed her.”
Max cringed a little. “Sweetie, you only think you killed her.”
Natalie stood and stretched her arm around Max’s neck, pressed her fingers between the spot that connected the spine and skull. “I slipped the blade there. She’s definitely dead.”
When she stepped back, Max could only ask, “Wait . . . who are you again?”
* * *
Zé was relaxing in what he now considered his tree, the feral cat on a branch above, when a hand reached up and yanked him down.
He landed on his feet, his gun pressed against someone’s throat before he realized what was going on.
“Nice reflexes, house cat.”
He lowered his weapon. The Malone brothers. Just great. And he was having such a very nice morning, too.
“What are you doing here?”
“My sister’s here. We want to see her now.”
“Well, thank you for not taking down the door this time.”
Keane Malone’s snarl was disturbing but Zé ignored it and led him and his brothers into the house.
Kyle was eating breakfast at the kitchen table. “What’s going on?” he asked.
When he didn’t get an answer, he grabbed a piece of buttered toast and followed the group through the house.
As soon as they were near the sunroom, Keane shoved Zé out of the way and charged in. He picked up the young girl standing with Max and Stevie and hugged her so tightly, Zé was afraid he’d crush her.
The hug lasted a bit and then he lowered his sister to the ground. That’s when they started talking to each other using ASL.
Zé had to admit . . . he was shocked. Shocked that someone like Keane Malone knew goddamn American Sign Language. And, from what Zé could see, knew it really well.
The pair were just chatting away, the other Malone brothers interjecting occasionally, when they heard yelling coming from out in the street.
Max and Stevie looked through the window and then both sisters were running out of the house.
“What’s going on?” one of the brothers asked.
“Nothing good,” Zé admitted.
* * *
Charlie was walking back to her house from Ruth’s. She’d dropped off six large honey-pineapple upside-down cakes for Ruth Barton and her husband. If her kids had been home, she would have made the family at least a dozen cakes because Ruth’s grizzly family could pack it away. She normally didn’t just give the bears baked goods. She waited until they asked . . . or demanded. But Ruth had helped her. Had been kind to her when she didn’t have to be. The least Charlie could do was bake the woman and her husband their favorite “Charlie Cake,” as they named her nonexistent baking company.
Passing her garage, Charlie looked up ahead and saw the trunk of a car burst open and someone scramble out, tossing rope off his arms.
“Dad?” She hadn’t said it loudly, but her father heard her anyway. They looked at each other, eyes locking . . . and that’s when her father made a run for it.
“Motherfucker!” Charlie growled before taking off after him. When she caught up to him, she tackled him from behind, dropping him to the ground.
Before she knew it, she was kicking him across the street. A moment later, her bear neighbors came out of their houses. Soon the triplets reached her. And a few seconds after that came her own sisters.
Berg wrapped his arms around her body and carried her away from Freddy. She never wanted to hurt Berg, so she didn’t fight him. But that didn’t stop her from yelling.
She yelled a lot.
* * *
“Youmotherfuckingcocksuckingspunkbubblebastardcuntwhoreofa-motherfucker!”
Trying not to laugh—because hearing her sister use “spunk bubble” as part of one long diatribe of profanity was too perfect—Max grabbed her father by his hair and dragged him to his feet.
“Going somewhere, Dad?” she asked.
Freddy pulled away but he lost a hunk of hair in the process since Max refused to let it go on her own.
“I paid it back,” he immediately told them. “I paid everything back.”
“Dad,” Stevie sighed. “Come on.”
“It’s true! Call your uncle. Call Bernice. They’ll both tell you.”
“Yeahhhhh,” Max dramatically rolled out, “the thing is, Dad, we don’t care if you paid them back.”
“She’s right,” Stevie agreed. “We don’t care.”
“We do care, however, that you kidnapped a seventeen-year-old girl.” Max pulled out her phone. “That reminds me . . . her oh-so-pleasant brothers are at the house right now. I’m sure they’d love to say ‘hi’ to you. Don’t you think, Stevie?”
“They’d love it.”
“Wait!” her father begged. “Just let me explain.”
“Explain what?” Max asked as she texted the eldest Malone on his phone so he could come down and slap her father around. “How you’re going to be arrested for statutory rape?”
Her father, for the first time she could ever remember, actually looked honestly stunned by her words. Not one of his fake expressions either, but as if she’d really caught him off-guar
d.
“Why the hell would I be arrested for statutory rape?”
“Because when one kidnaps a seventeen-year-old girl, the assumption is kind of made whether you did it or not.”
“I didn’t kidnap anyone.”
“Riiiiiiiiiiight.”
“I didn’t. I just . . .”
“You just . . . what, Dad? What did you just?”
“I just spent time with my daughter.”
Max didn’t really understand her father’s words. She continued to stare at him, her mind trying to wrap itself around this new lie. But then Stevie tackled him to the ground and began pummeling him in the face.
Acting on instinct, Max wrapped her arms around her sister and carried her away from their father while Stevie continued to kick and scream and basically lose her mind.
“Youmotherfuckingcocksuckingspunkbubblebastardcuntwhoreofa-motherfucker!”
As she moved, praying her sister didn’t take this moment to shift into her two-ton self, Max didn’t even look at their father. There was no point.
She got Stevie back to the house but was unable to open the security door. She kicked the door with her foot and Zé opened it.
“What the hell’s going on?” he asked, taking a still hysterical Stevie from her arms.
“Just hold her,” Max ordered as Charlie returned to the sunroom.
“What’s going on?” she asked, staring at Max.
“If I tell you,” Max explained, relieved that Stevie had finally calmed down enough for Zé to put her on the ground, “it’s just going to make you mad.”
“Are you fucking kidding right now?” Charlie snapped.
Max looked at Natalie. “You already know, don’t you?”
One side of her mouth lifted and all Max could say to her was, “I’m so sorry, kid. I’m so sorry.”
She shrugged. “It’s okay. It’s not your fault.”
“You’re so sorry about what?” Charlie looked around the room. No one would look at her except Max. Even the Malones had their gazes fixed on the floor. “Tell me. So sorry about what?”
Her rage gone, Stevie simply burst into tears at Charlie’s questions.
That’s when understanding sank into Charlie’s brain and she slowly faced Natalie. Gently, she asked, “You’re our sister, aren’t you?”
Natalie nodded.
Charlie moved closer, stood over her. Max doubted her big sister knew how terrifying she must have appeared to the kid. When she was thinking and concerned, Charlie got such a look. To this day, just the thought of that expression still freaked out her teammates.
Max could tell that everyone was waiting to see Charlie’s reaction. What she would say to Natalie. What she’d say to everyone. But Max knew her sister really well. Maybe too well.
So she wasn’t surprised when Charlie spun around and walked out of the sunroom, pushed past the triplets, and kept going until they heard the back door slam open.
Then the scream came. Just one long, anguished scream. A scream Charlie only seemed to use when her father had done something particularly fucked up.
It went on for a long time and shook the house windows.
It was such a strong scream that eventually their deaf sister tapped Max’s arm and asked, “Is she screaming?”
Max nodded. “Yes.”
“So I’m not the only one he makes do that?”
Max laughed. “Nah, kid. You’re not the only one.”
chapter THIRTY-ONE
They all stood in the sunroom, staring through the big windows. Together, they watched Charlie sit on the porch and seethe. No one seethed quite like Max’s big sister. She did it silently but Charlie didn’t need words when the very air around her pulsed with her anger.
“She hates me, doesn’t she?”
Before Max could reply to Natalie Malone’s question, Stevie did.
“No! Of course not. She just feels so bad for you.”
“Why?”
Max finally looked away from Charlie to see Stevie give the saddest shrug. “Because you’re a MacKilligan,” Stevie said, wiping a tear. “That’s so horrible for you.”
“She’s a Malone,” Keane growled, still glaring out the window.
“Oh, of course! Of course!” Stevie nodded, but then she scrunched up her face and asked, “But is she? Really? Because your mother’s not a Malone, right? It was your father.”
Damn! Max couldn’t believe her sister had gone there.
The Malone brothers faced her, and the triplets quickly moved behind Stevie while Shen stepped in front of her; all of them were ready to protect her with their very lives.
“Cool,” Zé whispered to Max. “Fight.”
“No, no, no!” Stevie jumped in front of Shen. “There’s no need to fight. We can all get along.”
Max studied the bears and the cats before asking her sister, “Are you fucking kidding?”
Stevie’s little hands balled into fists. “I am trying to do something,” she growled.
“What, exactly?” Max asked, laughing. “Because so far you’ve managed to fuck this up spectacularly!”
Stevie didn’t reply; instead her eyes narrowed.
“What?” Max pushed. “What are you going to do?”
Britta shook her head and ordered, “You two, don’t start this—”
But it was already too late. They were in mutual headlocks, both of them screaming at each other. Max could feel hands on her, attempting to pry her away from Stevie as they battled each other across the room. It wasn’t until they were right in front of the windows that Max felt something in the air change. So did Stevie. At the same moment, they released each other and looked up to see Charlie standing in front of the window, fangs peeking out from under her gums, eyes a bright wolf gold. Then she snarled and Stevie yelled what they were all thinking but would never say out loud, “Run for your lives!”
* * *
Charlie watched an entire group of predators disappear deep into the house. The only one still standing there was Berg. But he was laughing so hard, she simply turned away and returned to her spot on the porch steps.
As she rested her elbows on her raised knees and her chin on her fist, she wondered how much more damage one man could do. How could Freddy MacKilligan be that much of a fuck-up? How was it possible?
“And that poor girl,” she sighed out, thinking of Natalie Malone. She rubbed her eyes with both her fists, wishing she could wipe away all of it.
“Excuse me?”
Charlie lowered her fists but didn’t open her eyes. “Sorry. I’m not baking today.”
“Pardon?”
That didn’t sound like the voice of any local bear. It was too polite. So Charlie opened her eyes and spotted a slight older man standing on the other side of her fence. He held a paperback book in his hand and watched her with great caution.
“I’m sorry,” she said. “I thought you were someone else. Can I help you?”
“I’m looking for Zé Vargas. I was told he was staying here.”
Charlie leaned back a bit, letting her gaze look the man over. “You’re his grandfather.”
He nodded and Charlie smiled, getting to her feet. She walked over to the gate and unlocked it.
“Hi, Mr. Vargas,” she greeted. “Come on in.”
* * *
“Wait . . . why did we run?” Keane Malone asked.
“Because you’re weak and pathetic?” Zé asked.
Dag gawked at him. “Wow. You went full-cat fast.”
He really had. What was wrong with him? He was the quiet, observant one. That’s how he’d always been described, whether it was playing football in high school or dealing with insurgents in a battle zone. Zé was always “quiet and observant.”
What he’d never really been was snarky and mean. Until now. Until he’d become part of this world.
Even worse . . . he was really enjoying it.
“We should just get Natalie out of here,” Shay said to his brothers.
&nb
sp; “You’re not taking our sister anywhere,” Max said and she suddenly had the full attention of the Malone brothers. They locked on her the way those lions locked on that gazelle in the documentary he’d watched.
“She’s not your sister,” Keane snarled.
“She is now. She’s already been through the gauntlet.”
“The gauntlet?” Finn asked.
“Yeah. The Dad-gauntlet. Where he does something so ruthless and shitty that you realize you’re stuck being his child. At least this time he didn’t sell her.”
“Sell her?”
“Yeah. Once he sold me to a family. Indentured servitude, I think it’s called.”
Stevie nodded sadly. “He sold me to lots of people. The most infamous, though, was the Peruvian drug lord.”
“Yeah. Charlie and I dealt with that situation.” That’s when Max smiled. The smile said it all, and Zé knew he was in real trouble with this girl. He was no longer falling . . . he’d fallen. Because she was a nut. And he liked it. He liked her lethal nuttiness.
“Whatever,” Keane finally snapped. “You’re not keeping our sister.”
“You can’t raise her,” Max argued. “You giant house cats don’t know what to do with a honey badger.”
As the two families bickered, Zé saw Natalie roll her eyes and wander off. She studied the trees and the house, then looked into the glass door of the garage and disappeared inside.
* * *
Kyle heard someone come into his studio. He didn’t bother looking to see who it was. If it was Charlie, then food would be left on his desk. The woman constantly worried about his health. If it was Max, she would take a couple of basketballs from the shelves on the far side of the space and go outside to play. And if it was Stevie, she would simply look over his current work, nod her approval, and leave.
He appreciated that the MacKilligan sisters didn’t really bother him while he was working and only occasionally got in his way. Like when he was going to destroy his worst work. He didn’t see what the big deal had been but Charlie and Stevie were adamant. If he pulled out the sledgehammer again, they were going right to Toni. Just the thought of his sister’s lecture had him tossing the hammer aside and simply moving his least favorite sculptures to the back of the garage so he didn’t have to see them whenever he walked in.
Badger to the Bone Page 39
