“Then what?”
“After last night, you and me . . . I got it bad for you.”
“Bad for me? What does that mean?”
“That I could possibly, kind of, with the right incentive . . . fall in love with you. Maybe. Possibly. It feels a little soon but for some unknown reason that feels right. I’m just not sure, but I thought I’d warn you. I also may change my mind. So you should stay on your toes.”
Max sat down next to him on the bed before asking, “Could you be more cat?”
“I think, with very little effort, the answer to that is yes. Besides,” he added, “I need to hear that you love me first before I can even begin to commit to the effort it would take on my part.”
She gave a sound of disgust and walked out again.
“I’ll take that to mean that you’re madly in love with me!” he called after her.
“Don’t.”
The feral cat that lurked around Max’s house came out from under the bed and climbed her way up Zé’s leg. When she’d curled into his lap and, eventually, rolled onto her back so he could rub her stomach, he told her, “She’s definitely madly in love with me.”
* * *
Max came down the stairs and went out of her way not to think about what Zé had said to her. She didn’t have time. She had to wash her underwear, get her team bag together, take a nice long nap, and then get into the city so she didn’t miss the pregame bus. The rest of her team had already left. It was one thing if they were all late, but it was something else entirely if Max fucked up on her own. It would be easier for Coach to suspend her from the game and she didn’t want that.
She walked into the kitchen and stopped at the entryway. It seemed Stevie had lent Charlie a fan shirt, but Max’s big sister did not seem comfortable.
“Do you have anything in a size other than extra small?” Charlie asked.
“Your tits look like they’re having a fight under there.”
“They are having a fight. And I fear a tragic outcome.” Charlie looked at Max. “Do you have a bigger shirt? I want to support you at this thing.”
“Forget the T-shirt!” she suddenly exploded. “We have a problem.”
“God, what now?” Charlie began to roll her neck, already stressed. “Is this about the Malones’ sister? That poor girl.”
“Fuck the deaf girl!”
“Whoa!” Stevie raised and lowered her hands. “Let’s just calm down . . . in fact . . . this”—she continued to raise and lower her hands—“is the American Sign Language sign for calm down.”
“Why is there no door here?” Max asked, motioning to the kitchen entrance. “We need a door here.”
“Dag walked through it one day before he had his morning coffee. He took it right off its hinges.”
“What’s going on?” Charlie asked. “Why are you freaking out?”
“I’m not freaking out.”
“You are freaking out. Which is weird, because you never freak out,” Stevie noted. “That’s why I was always positive you were a sociopath. And I haven’t seen any evidence to the contrary.”
“Zé said he’s falling for me. What does that even mean?”
“It’s obvious,” Charlie mockingly replied. “It means he’s leaving you for a different hot Asian girl.”
“Exactly! He’s leaving me for another hot Asian girl!”
“No!” Stevie jumped up from her chair and grabbed Max’s forearms. “That is not what that means.” She smiled. Her expression was sweet and kind and all Max wanted to do was rip that smile off her sister’s face and wear it around the neighborhood like a Halloween mask. “He’s falling in love with you. And you love him back! I can see it. This is so wonderful!”
“Why?”
“It means you’re not a sociopath because you can love others! Aren’t you glad to know you’re not a sociopath? I know that Charlie and I are glad. And relieved!”
* * *
Charlie counted backward. “Three. Two.”
And it was on “one” that Max dropped her underwear, grabbed their baby sister by the hair, and took her to the floor. “Take it back!” she screamed. “Take it back!”
Reaching down, Charlie untangled Max from Stevie’s hair and pulled the pair apart.
“Stop it! Both of you!”
“He loves you!” Stevie yelled . . . from the safety of the ceiling she was now—wisely—hanging from. “You might as well suck it up!”
“I will kill you,” Max threatened.
“Everyone just calm down.” Charlie placed her hand on Max’s shoulder. “There are worse things in the world than extremely hot guys falling in love with you.”
“Like what?”
“I hear nuclear war is bad.”
“You’re just going to have to get used to this,” Stevie informed her. “Once cats make up their mind . . . they’re done. You could marry someone else and have twenty kids and Zé will still be living under your porch. Because he’s a cat! So you are stuck with him. For life.”
Jumping straight up in the air, Max slapped Stevie off the ceiling and into the dining room.
“You bitch!” Stevie yelled.
“Nice lateral jump,” Charlie noted.
“Can’t play shifter ball if you don’t have a lateral jump. Especially when you’re going up against cheetahs and tigers. Those striped bastards can jump, like, fifty feet!”
chapter TWENTY-SEVEN
Everything had changed in minutes. Maybe even seconds. Max was about to settle down for her nap when a text came in to Charlie’s phone. She’d frowned, responded, and left the kitchen. Leaving her fresh-from-the-oven cinnamon buns alone, with bears already lurking in the yard, ready to pounce.
That was when Max knew something was up. She’d followed her sister to her room and when she saw Charlie taking out her Glock and holstering it to her jeans . . .
“The time changed, didn’t it?”
“Yes. I need to go now.”
“I’m going with you.”
“You’ve got your game.”
“The way we work? We’ll make the game.”
“Max—”
“And the team’s coming with me.”
A confused, flustered Charlie faced her. “The entire Wisconsin Butchers team is coming?”
“No, dumbass, just my girls. My team.”
“Absolutely not!”
“They insisted.”
“I’ve never worked with them.”
“I have.”
“I don’t know what their skills are.”
“I do.”
Unable to come up with a satisfactory argument, Charlie just snarled. “Fine. Get ready. We leave in five minutes.”
“What you guys want me to do?” Stevie asked from the ceiling.
“You really need to stop doing that,” Max warned her.
* * *
Charlie drove and they met Nelle, Streep, Mads, and Tock at an address downtown. Imani met them there as well.
“I’m sorry about this last-minute change. But we need to move now rather than tonight.”
“Then let’s go,” Charlie pushed. “My sister has a playoff game tonight and none of us are missing it.”
Imani nodded and ushered them into the empty building.
“This will be our office. Eventually,” she told them as they followed behind her. “It’ll be nice once I get it up and running.”
“Is there a name for this organization of yours?” Streep asked.
“Still working on that, too.” She stopped at an elevator and pushed the Down button. As they waited, she looked the small group over before stating, “I didn’t expect all of you.”
“You tried to blackmail all of us,” Tock reminded her.
“No. That wasn’t me. And all that information has been destroyed.”
“Charlie tell you to do that?” Max asked.
“No. The whole thing bothered me. So I made it go away.”
The elevator arrived and they went to a secur
e subbasement. There were black vans equipped with elaborate communication and media centers so that whoever worked the van could keep in contact with the rest of the team.
“Here are your lockers. You can find body armor in the room over there. There are a lot of sizes; you should find what you need.” She pointed to another room. “Weapons in there. Everything you could possibly—” Max smirked as her teammates charged into that room, practically knocking Imani down. “Ooooo-kay.” She gestured to Max and Charlie. “You two don’t feel the need to run into the room to see what’s available?”
“I doubt it’s better than what we have.” Imani laughed until Max said, “No. Seriously. We have a lot of connections.”
“Oh.”
Making the decision not to discuss this any further, Imani handed a folder to Charlie. “Here’s the information you need.”
Charlie looked everything over and immediately frowned. “The de Medici Pride? I never heard of them.”
“I have.” Max looked at her sister. “A lot of our weapons are from their people.”
“That’s awkward.”
“I doubt you’ll find any de Medicis there today,” Imani said. “And don’t worry about that for now. First, we take on their businesses, then we take them on. Any questions? Need anything from me?”
Charlie shook her head. “Nope.”
“Then good luck.”
Charlie waited until Imani had gone back upstairs before asking Max, “You sure you want to do this? You sure you want to drag your friends into this?”
Streep walked out of the weapons room carrying a military-grade Gatling gun. The kind used by a door gunner in a military copter trying to get soldiers out of ’Nam.
But the smile on Streep’s face . . . it was like she’d just stumbled into a room filled with diamonds.
“Dragging?” Max asked her sister. “Is that what you really think I’m doing?”
* * *
Miki walked to the door and opened it. She was about to walk out when Irene asked, “Where are you going?”
“Taking a break.”
“Right now?”
“Yes. Right now. Why?”
“It seemed you were on the brink of discovering something. So I’m surprised you’re leaving.”
“My eyes are killing me. Besides, a little coffee is just what I need. Want me to bring you some back?”
Irene didn’t respond, simply walked away. She used to do that anytime Miki went over something in her dissertation that Irene didn’t agree with.
Of course, that never stopped Miki from sticking with her decision if she knew what she was doing was right. And this was right.
She walked out of the Van Holtz town house and went down the street. There she caught a cab and traveled to a diner off the Jersey Turnpike.
Miki sat down in the booth and smiled.
The girl looked up from the computer she was working on.
“Hi,” Miki said. “I thought we should talk.”
Pointing at her ears, the girl shook her head.
“You’re deaf?” Miki asked and was rewarded with a head tilt and a confused frown.
“No problem,” she replied in American Sign Language. “I used to be hot for this guy in junior high. He was deaf so I learned ASL. Now . . . are we going to keep this bullshit up?”
Slamming her laptop shut, the girl replied verbally, “What do you want?”
She was definitely deaf, but had probably lost her hearing when she was a child.
Still using ASL and speaking softly at the same time so the kid could use both, Miki went with blunt. “You need to put the money back.”
“Are you going to turn me in?”
“I could. But I was you. Once. Almost did hard time. Hard federal time. Kid, you don’t want that.”
“What do I want, O’ Magic Wizard?”
“A challenge. I’ve seen your work. You’re good, but you get bored easy. Right? Is that why you got yourself into this? I have to tell you, my real concern is that you won’t live much longer. Because you’re dealing with people who will kill you and it will mean nothing to them.”
“They have to find me first.”
“Don’t get cocky. I found you. So, give the money back and go home to your family.”
“Not yet.” She shoved her laptop into a tote bag and pulled the straps onto her shoulder. “I have things to do first.”
Miki reached across the table and grabbed her hand. “You are fucking with actual gangsters.”
She leaned down and said, “And I come from an entire family of gangsters. The MacKilligans don’t scare me.”
Watching her leave the diner, Miki took out her phone. She’d hoped to avoid this, but . . .
“I found them,” she said when she got an answer. “But I’m thinking that you better move fast.”
* * *
Charlie had slipped into the role of team leader quite naturally. Of course, Max’s teammates made that easy. They started off joking and not taking things as seriously as they should, which had always been their way. But when Charlie snarled, they reacted so quickly and intensely, the question of who was in charge never came up.
Body armor was put on while Max and Charlie made decisions about what weapons to bring. They packed up a black van and, with Tock driving, headed off.
They were nearing the docks when Charlie got a text on her phone. She looked down and said, “They’re already on the move.”
She typed into the keyboard and called out, “New address on the GPS, Tock.”
“Got it.”
“You ready for this, Streep?” she asked, since Streep was the only one not in body armor.
“Yep.” Then she dug into her purse and pulled out lip gloss.
“Seriously?” Mads asked.
“Shut up.”
chapter TWENTY-EIGHT
He heard the knock at the door of the house they were “borrowing” and opened it.
She was tiny but cute, staring up at him with bright eyes and glossy lips.
“Hi!” she said. “My car broke down and I was wondering—”
He closed the door in her face.
“That was rude!” she yelled.
“Go away, badger. I’m not in the mood to play with you.”
One of the bosses helping to take inventory came out of the office. “What the hell was that?”
“Some badger. Probably came to rob the place.”
“Kill her,” he said, turning back toward the office.
“Really?” That seemed a little harsh. Even for grizzlies doing illegal shit.
“Just do it. No witnesses.”
He shrugged. “Okay.”
Opening the door, he stepped outside. The badger was walking toward the long driveway. “Hey!” he called out. “You can use the phone.”
“Great! Thanks!”
She ran back and, with a big smile, stepped past him into the house. He waited until he closed the door, then grabbed her around the throat and crushed her scrawny little neck. When she stopped moving, he tossed her by the stairs and walked to the office.
“All done,” he told the bosses.
“Good. Deal with the body when we move out tonight.”
He nodded and turned back toward the door he was guarding. But he stopped and looked at the staircase. The empty staircase.
“Uh . . . gentlemen?”
“What?”
“I think we have a—”
She plunged the blade into his inside thigh. When he grabbed it to stop the bleeding, dropping to his knee, she rammed the same blade into his throat.
He dropped to the ground and she gazed down at him for the brief moment he had left. And he watched her crack her neck one way, then the other. Bones knitting themselves back together in a way that didn’t seem possible. But it didn’t matter anymore, did it? Not anymore.
* * *
Who invites a girl in just to crush her neck? Rude! Good thing she was a honey badger or she’d be dead! How tacky w
ould that be?
“What the hell’s going on out here?”
Streep raised the Desert Eagle .44 she’d taken from the weapons room—a gun that she’d always wanted but never wanted to blow the money on—and took quick shots. A weapon of this power was an absolute necessity in a room with six big bears in it. She caught three with one shot each to the neck, chest, and gut respectively. Not sure she’d be able to hit her targets with the rest of the bears coming at her so fast, she ran to the front door, pulling it open. She dropped to a crouch and waited.
The first bear ran out of the office but Charlie was now in the doorway and she pulled the trigger of her own weapon. Clean headshot. The second bear came out and she got him, too. Also a clean headshot. Streep had always heard from Max what a good shot her sister was, but . . . wow.
The third bear avoided the office doorway altogether and came through the wall next to it, tackling Charlie to the ground. But Max was on top of him and she hammered one of her tactical knives into his throat. There was so much blood, so quickly, Streep knew her friend had hit the aorta.
No matter where on the body she struck, Max always hit an artery if she wanted to.
Mads grabbed Streep’s arm and pulled her to her feet. “Stay behind us.”
“Got it.”
Charlie wiggled her way out from under the bear’s body and got to her feet.
“You all right?” she asked Streep, who was so shocked by the question she didn’t answer right away. Then she remembered what the first bear had done to her neck and pressed her hand to her throat. The bones were nearly done putting themselves back together, so she smiled at Charlie.
“I’m fine.”
“Then let’s move.”
* * *
Max followed her sister into the hidden depths of the New Jersey mansion. She could hear men talking in the long hallways. Could smell that they were shifters. And she could smell something else. Something that shocked her.
Easing around a corner, Charlie looked inside one of the rooms. After a few seconds, she pulled back and pointed at Streep, Tock, and Nelle. Then she pointed at the room she’d looked in. She started forward and motioned for Max and Mads to follow her.
As Max passed the room, she glanced in.
That’s what she had scented along with shifters. Full-humans. Bound and waiting to be sold. Not all of them were women. They didn’t have to be. They were just full-humans, none of them truly prepared to face off against shifters with no moral center.
Badger to the Bone Page 36