“Well, they’re coming,” Streep said, dropping to one knee and aiming her weapon. “So whatever we’re going to do . . .”
With a shrug, they all took positions behind trees or an abandoned boat. Nelle, their best sniper, climbed a tree and hid among the leaves so she could take out the best shooters first.
“Get ready!” Tock called out. “They’ll be here in five, four, three—”
The sound of an outboard motor had them all turning, their weapons still raised. The speedboat made a wide arc and pulled to a stop near the shore.
“Get in!” ordered one of the big cats, now in his human form and wearing black sweatpants.
“Huh,” Max observed softly next to Mads. “They didn’t run.”
“Why are you staring?” the cat snarled. “Move those asses!”
“Go!” Mads pushed her teammates, her gaze still locked on the men she could see moving through the trees toward them.
Nelle scrambled down the tree and ran toward the speedboat. Tock and Streep had begun to follow her when the gunfire started.
Mads heard a muffled roar and knew one of her teammates had been hit. And knew it was Streep when that muffled roar was followed by, “Dear God! I’m dying! I’m dying!”
“Get that ass up, drama queen!” Max bellowed.
Mads returned fire, mowing down a few men who weren’t fast enough to take cover.
“Mads, let’s go!”
She knew better than to turn away, so she started to walk backward, shooting as she went. Hoping to keep the men off her until she could at least reach the shore. If nothing else, she could dive under the water and come up on the other side of the boat. Or meet the others out in the middle of the water somewhere. Moving backward, however, was not easy and she started to stumble in the sand. She caught herself before hitting the ground, steadied her weapon, and was about to unleash more bullets, when screaming from the men stopped her. Two of the tigers had attacked from opposite sides, ripping into the men. They tore off arms and legs, tossing bodies and body parts through the air.
Mads was so fascinated by it all, she froze and simply watched until Max grabbed her from behind and dragged her to the boat by her collar. They were moving so fast that when they jumped into the boat, they landed on their backs and were unable to scramble out of the way before the two cats leaped in moments later. The tigers’ big, black tails slapped both Max and Mads in the face.
As the boat powered off across the water, Mads let out three loud sneezes, and one of the cats turned to glare at her with his wide gold eyes.
“What do you expect?” she snapped at him, again vainly pushing away his tail. “It’s your cat dander!”
* * *
While the rest of the team scoured the island, he stared down at the full-humans dead at his feet.
“Where are they?” the team leader who’d been hired to handle this asked.
“Not here, which is a problem.”
“This should have worked.”
“But it didn’t.”
The team leader looked around. “Let me pull everyone together, sir, and re-evaluate our—”
He had the one who had failed him by the throat, dragging him close so he could clearly understand every word. “Stop talking to me.”
When he felt the message had been properly received, he shoved the fool away and pulled his phone from his back pocket, speed-dialing a number.
“Pronto?”
“They’re still breathing,” he told his eldest brother and quickly lowered the phone from his ear when the rage-filled roaring began.
chapter TWO
Nat slipped through the open window but she wasn’t as graceful as she’d hoped to be and ended up flipping head over ass and landing in a pile of her brother Dale’s dirty clothes, which was beyond disgusting but at least muffled any noise she might have made.
It was extremely late but her family was made up of tigers. They were nocturnal. Her brothers were probably out, but her mother was undoubtedly in the kitchen now, watching old episodes of Star Trek: Deep Space Nine and Twilight Zone.
She tried to be as quiet as possible as she pulled her brother’s disgusting dirty clothes off her body but, as she stood, she was faced with The Wall.
That’s what she called them when she got caught like this. The Wall. With a capital T and a capital W, punctuation being all important at this particular moment.
What else could she possibly call them when they stood there like that? All three of them standing side by side with their long, tree-trunk legs braced apart. Their big arms crossed over their massive chests. Their big heads aimed right at her so it seemed as if their gold eyes were part of a targeting system that had locked on her and was waiting to fire directly at her.
She knew she had to act fast, so she quickly produced tears and began to speak in ASL. American Sign Language was her go-to when she wanted to get the most sympathy from her big, caring, and loving bro—
“Don’t even try it,” Keane shot back. He didn’t even uncross his arms so he could respond in ASL. To a family outsider it might seem like a form of punishment, but it wasn’t. She could read her brothers’ lips because she’d grown up with them.
And when she’d lost her hearing, it was Keane who’d begun learning ASL before anyone else. He’d never allowed anyone to think of Nat’s deafness as a problem. A disability. It wasn’t to her or to him. It was simply the way she was. Like being born honey badger or growing up to be five-nine rather than five-six. Not having to be overwhelmed by the noises of the world always seemed like a blessing to Nat. It allowed her to focus, and the rest of her senses kept her safe.
Besides, what her senses didn’t do for her, her giant, scary brothers did. They’d been protecting her since the day her mother had brought her home from the hospital. After she’d pulled Nat off the nurse who’d been trying to change her diaper. At least that’s how the story went every Christmas day. Apparently, Nat had latched onto the cheetah’s hand with her baby fangs and wouldn’t let go, the entire time growling and staring coldly into the nurse’s eyes.
From that moment on, her mother had felt that the only protection her daughter would ever need was from herself. Nat’s elder brothers, however, had other opinions.
How could she ever be mad at them, really? They not only took care of her when her mother was out working full time, but they’d gone to afterschool classes to learn ASL. They wound up speaking it so well, many thought they were deaf, too.
“Where have you been?” Keane demanded.
“Uhhhhh . . .”
As Nat desperately scrambled for a believable lie, her rescue party stormed into the room.
“Why are you always so nice to her?” Dale demanded, asking in ASL and out loud.
Nat didn’t need to hear her brother’s voice to know he was putting in as whiny a tone as humanly possible. Why? Because his whining wore on their elder brothers’ every nerve ending. It showed in the roll of their eyes. The curl of their lips. The baring of their fangs. In fact, Dale could even whine through his hands. That’s how good he was at it.
Dale was only seventeen months older than Nat and, in some ways, they might as well be twins. They covered for each other whenever they needed, and she needed him right now.
“We do not—”
“You do!” Dale insisted. “You always baby her and you always come down hard on me! It’s not fair! It’s not fair how you always give me such a hard time! Why do you always give me such a hard time? What did I do to make you give me such a hard time? Mom!” he called out. “Keane is giving me a hard time again! It’s not fair!”
When none of her brothers said anything for a moment, Nat assumed her mother was yelling back, “You boys stop giving your baby brother a hard time!”
Nat automatically rolled her eyes because her mother was so protective of Dale and insisted on riding her ass all the damn time like she always thought Nat was up to something! As Dale pointed out, it wasn’t fair!
K
eane pointed at her. “We’ll discuss this later,” he told her calmly because it was true. Her three oldest brothers totally did baby her and she loved it.
“See what I mean?” Dale went on, his hand gestures getting more extravagant. “ ‘We’ll discuss this later,’ ” he repeated with his hands but the expression on his face had Nat biting her lip so she didn’t laugh. “All nice and sweet to her! And all mean to me! Why are you always mean to me?”
Keane pulled his giant fist back but Dale screamed out, “Mooooom!” and seconds later Keane lowered that fist.
“Your weakness sickens me,” Keane snapped before shoving past Dale. Shay followed, slamming his elbow into Dale’s chest and sending the much smaller brother stumbling back several feet. Finn caught him before he could land on his ass but when he dragged him up, he made sure to slam him into the wall.
Rubbing his forehead, Dale whined, “Owww.”
Sorry, Nat mouthed.
Glancing into the hallway first to make sure they were alone, Dale closed the door and faced her.
“Where were you?” he signed.
“Out.”
He threw his hands up. His usual “I’m frustrated” move.
Nat held her own hands up and went back to the window she’d come through. She’d been sneaking her way in and out of the house since her brothers had purchased it. Before that, she’d been sneaking in and out of their old house since she was four. She’d learned a long time ago not to bring anything into the house until she was sure her brothers weren’t waiting for her.
She leaned out and grabbed the bag she’d left hanging from the hook she’d discreetly stuck to the side of the house.
Bringing the bag inside, she dropped it on her brother’s bed and opened it. With a flourish, she swept her hands toward it.
Dale looked inside and, his mouth open, immediately closed the bag, yanked it off the bed, and threw it in his closet. Shutting the door, he stood in front of it like he was trapping a wild animal inside, which was kind of funny since technically . . .
“What?” she asked.
“Where did you get that money from?” he verbally asked. He was so freaked out, he didn’t even bother with signing.
“What does that matter?” she shot back. She didn’t sign either.
He put a finger in front of his lips to tell her to lower her voice but . . . seriously?
“Are you stealing again?” he signed.
And she signed back, “When did I ever stop?”
That was when he threw his hands up in the air again.
* * *
Imani Ako stared at the paperwork on her desk, feeling less than enthusiastic about filling it out as Kip and Millie came into her office.
Millie had her arm around Kip’s shoulders and he was holding onto her as if she was about to pass out at any moment. They both had some blood on them and there seemed to be a wound in Millie’s leg.
Imani leaned back in her leather chair and waited for the pair to speak first.
“We have some bad news,” Kip said.
Millie was one of the copter pilots but Kip was the one who did the talking for the pair.
Imani nodded and continued to wait.
Kip choked back a breath before announcing, “We lost MacKilligan’s team.”
Leaning forward, Imani rested her arms on her desk and asked, “All of them?”
“Yeah. All of them.”
“Kip . . . are you sure? You need to be sure before I say a word to Charlie.”
“I’m sure.”
Imani gasped. “My God, that’s so shocking. Especially since they’re standing right behind you.”
Kip turned around so fast he nearly tossed Millie into the wall, but she managed to hang on. Unfortunate, since she only wound up getting punched in the face by Max, who hit her first with a strong right, then hit Kip with an equally strong left.
Was Max ambidextrous?
Max continued to pummel Kip until he was bleeding on the floor. After she had him on the ground, she grabbed Millie, yanked her up, and slammed her onto Imani’s desk.
“Oh, no,” Imani lazily complained. “All my paperwork is everywhere. Now I’ll never get it done on time. What a shame.”
Max climbed on top of Millie, straddling her on the desk, knees pinning the other woman’s shoulders so she could ram her fist repeatedly into her face without getting hit back. All while the rest of her team stood in the doorway and watched. They’d clearly been through hell. They were covered in blood and bruises and cuts. They smelled of full-human men and, weirdly, alley cats. Millie was canine and Kip a cheetah. So why the team would also smell like tigers seemed strange.
Honestly, though, the pair was lucky. They were lucky because Charlie MacKilligan wasn’t here. If they’d come back without Charlie’s sister and that lame “We lost the team” line . . . a good, solid beating would be the last thing they’d have to endure.
Charlie didn’t really waste time with beatings. Or, as Max liked to put it, “My sister doesn’t play with her food.”
With both Millie and Kip out cold and bloody, the honey badger crawled off Imani’s desk and gave a little shake of her head. Other than her bruised and blood-covered knuckles, Max wasn’t even panting from that workout.
“I don’t want to ever see them again,” she told Imani.
“You won’t. I don’t keep people who leave their teammates behind.”
Max returned to the others but they looked at her as if expecting something else, and she gazed back . . . seemingly confused.
“What?” she finally asked.
Her entire team gestured toward Imani.
“You want to ask about getting a raise now?”
“No!” Mads snapped. “The setup, dumbass.”
“What setup?” Imani asked.
“Oh.” Max faced her again. “When we got to the island, there was no trafficked prey, but their guys were waiting.” She frowned. “They wanted the tigers, not us. But something about the whole thing set my teeth on edge. I don’t like it.”
“I’ll make sure to look into that. You guys go home and get some sleep.”
“We can’t. We’re going to get Danish.”
Tock frowned. “We are?”
“Yes.” Max smiled. “For once, we’re going to do something nice for someone. To say thank you for not deserting us, unlike these bitches on the floor!”
Mads frowned. “Not sure the yelling is necessary.”
“According to Charlie,” Max went on, “that’s what you do. You say thank-you for that sort of thing.”
“With Danish?”
“Everybody loves Danish.”
“Yeahhhh,” Imani felt the need to point out, “but if you’re talking about thanking the alley cats, especially this early in the morning, and after a long night, no less, I’d probably just shoot ’em an email. Or maybe even a text.”
Max shrugged. “But everybody loves Danish.”
* * *
It wasn’t until the hand persistently tapping him on his bare back turned into a paw and swiped him across the spine that Finn Malone knew for sure it was his mother attempting to wake him up. That’s when he grudgingly turned over and glared at her.
“What, Ma?”
“We have vermin in our home,” she informed him.
“ ‘Our’?” he asked.
Finn knew it had been a mistake, inviting his family to move into his house all those years ago when he’d gotten his first payout after being drafted. Sure, the NFL draft got all the ESPN coverage but in his mind the shifter football league was a much bigger deal. He’d been up against guys who’d been born in Alaska and had nothing to do all day but grow big and ram into stuff with their giant bodies. One time he’d rammed into the side of a bodega and the next thing he knew, his mother had to come down to the police station and talk them out of charging him for property damage. They kept insisting he must have done the damage with a car or something, but nope. Shay had just bet him ten bucks he wouldn�
��t run directly into the side of the building and . . . ya know . . . he did. Left a real healthy indent in the brick there, too.
Those full-human kids couldn’t do that. Not sober anyway. And not without breaking a bone or two.
All fourteen-year-old Finn did was knock himself out for a few minutes.
It was good to get the new house, though. His family needed a fresh start and the old house held too many memories. But everybody thought they had some kind of financial stake in his house and it was annoying. Sure, Keane and Shay paid part of the mortgage and had tossed in part of the down payment, and according to his grumpy wolf lawyer, because his brothers had their names on the deed, they actually owned the house along with him, but he wasn’t sure he agreed with that.
“It’s the law,” his lawyer had insisted.
“You have proof of that?” Finn had asked.
His lawyer had done that thing dogs do when asked a question that seems to confuse them: the head tilt to the side, eyes staring, expression quizzical. The dog’s confusion at such a straightforward query made Finn wonder if the man really had graduated from Columbia Law as he had said.
And his mother also thought she had some investment in his home because, according to her, “I gave your ass life. That’s why.”
But was that reason enough to allow her to stay here when she insisted on waking him up every time there was the slightest issue in his home?
“If there’s rats, Ma,” he grumbled into his pillow, “let those dogs you insisted on buying take care of them. Isn’t that their job?”
“They’re hiding in the backyard.”
Finn finally opened his eyes and rolled onto his back again. He stared up at his mother. “By our blessed ancestors . . . the aunts are here, aren’t they?”
“Yes. My sisters are here to visit for a few days.”
“How many months does ‘a few days’ translate into this time?”
His mother’s eyes narrowed a bit and he could almost see the wheels turning inside her head as she debated how to handle her son. She finally went with guilt.
“The pain and suffering I went through to have you children. . . and this is how you treat me. Like garbage. On the street! What did I do to deserve such awful children?”
Breaking Badger Page 4