Breaking Badger

by Shelly Laurenston

  “—so I just reacted. You understand, right?”

  “No! You lying little liar!”

  “It doesn’t matter,” the She-tiger said over Charlie’s dramatic gasp. “We’re here for a reason.”

  A cat was an odd partner for a wolf to have, but the Marines made for strange bedfellows.

  And Dee-Ann Smith and Cella Malone were as strange as anyone could get.

  “It’d better not have to do with my baby sister,” Charlie said through her teeth, but with a giant smile. “I don’t want to get angry.”

  “This has nothing to do with her,” Malone said. “It’s all about you and Max. And what you were up to last night in Chinatown.”

  The fake smile on Charlie’s face faded and was quickly replaced by a sly real one.

  “Don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  “Yeah. That’s what the Yuns said. But we don’t believe them either.”

  “Look, I don’t know what you want—”

  “Cops were all over that part of Chinatown yesterday. There was blood everywhere. We have our people on it, but we can’t have a war between you and the Yuns.”

  “A war? Are they threatening a war?”

  “You took out one of the leader’s daughters—did you think that was going to be ignored?”

  “I don’t know why not. You ignored what happened to your uncle.”

  Malone’s gold eyes narrowed and Smith abruptly stopped trying to fix her nose.

  “Excuse me?” the She-tiger snarled.

  “Oh, you didn’t know? Your family kept that from you? You see, Natalie, the half-sister of the Malone brothers, is also the half-sister of the MacKilligan sisters, which makes the Malone brothers family. And I heard how their father was murdered and his own family—the Malones, namely you—did nothing about it. You know, my mother was murdered in front of me and my own father did nothing because, well, he didn’t care, so you can see why that would bother me. But the MacKilligan sisters do care. We care, so we’re going to help. That’s what family does. But seeing that the Malone tigers didn’t help family, I just assumed the Yuns wouldn’t do anything either. I just thought that was the tiger way or something. I thought the Malone brothers were just different or freaks or something.”

  Charlie stepped closer to Cella Malone. “But you can tell the Yuns that if they want a war, they can have a war. And I can do to all of them what I did to their precious daughter after she lured my sister into a trap and threw her into an incinerator.”

  Malone blinked. “Max is dead?”

  “No.”

  Malone glanced off, briefly confused. “So the incinerator wasn’t turned on?”

  “Oh, no. It was on. And if it was anyone other than Max and her friends, they’d all be dead. But it was Max . . . and her friends . . .”

  “I don’t understand. Max is not dead?”

  “No.”

  “But she was in an incinerator.”

  “Yes.”

  “That was turned on.”

  “Oh, yes. Full blast.”

  “And now she’s horribly deformed?”

  “No. A few scars, but she already had a few scars so . . .” Charlie shrugged.

  With seemingly nothing left to say to anyone, Charlie reached over and gently closed Malone’s open mouth, then took Berg’s hand.

  “You guys have a nice night now,” she said before leading him toward her rental house to check on her baby sister.

  * * *

  “Look what that evil bitch did to my nose!”

  “How does anyone survive an incinerator?” Cella asked. She kept telling herself that the honey badger-wolf hybrid must be lying. Except Charlie didn’t seem to lie about big things. She lied about little things. Like not knowing it was Smith standing behind her and being startled. But when it came to her sisters . . . that woman didn’t lie. Ever. “An incinerator that was turned on full blast?”

  “I may need actual plastic surgery to fix this! Do you understand that? Smiths don’t get plastic surgery, Malone! What am I supposed to say at our next family reunion? Got my nose decimated by a mean little hybrid with daddy issues?”

  “It’s not physically possible for them to have survived.”

  “Are you even listening to me, Malone?”

  “No!”

  They were back in Cella’s car. The Trans-Am she’d had in high school and had souped-up all summer so that it was, in a word, awesome! Smith had helped her. The woman knew her way around a car, and they’d had fun working on it. But having to deal with the MacKilligans over the last couple of months had been a nightmare. That family wasn’t . . . normal.

  Okay. None of them were “normal.” But the MacKilligans and the shifters they chose to associate with were so far removed from normal, it was like they were from another galaxy. Light-years away from normal.

  “What are we going to do?” Cella asked Smith. “If the Yuns come for them—”

  “They’ll come! How could they not? It’s about honor now.”

  “Do you actually know something or are you saying this because you used to watch those Run Run Shaw movies with your dad when you were a kid?”

  “I said that one time and no! I’m talking about the fact that they are very Americanized gangsters,” Smith said. “We’d be having the same conversation no matter where their relatives came from because gangsters are gangsters.”

  “We cannot let them have a full-blown battle in the middle of the five boroughs and think that the full-humans won’t notice. Gang wars they notice.”

  “Look, when it comes to the Group, we’re just guns for hire. This is for upper management to handle.”

  “In other words, let your husband and his uncle handle it?” Cella asked.

  “Yeah. That’s what he gets paid for. We ain’t making enough to put up with this level of shit! He didn’t get his nose broken!”

  “Fine. But you need to stop being a wuss about your fucking nose.”

  “Really?” Smith pulled off the towel Cella had given her to help stanch the flow of blood and wiped her hand across her nose.

  “You wouldn’t dare,” Cella growled out, watching as Smith had the nerve to slash her blood-drenched hand across the passenger-side dashboard of Cella’s car.

  “Now are you worried about my nose?” Smith asked. “Or should I do the same thing to your backseat?”

  “This . . . this is why cats hate canines!”

  chapter SIXTEEN

  They wen for fancy, choosing the ultraexpensive Van Holtz Steakhouse not far from the Sports Center. The team must have planned for them to go there, because even though Mads was positive she could hear her teammates somewhere within the four-story building, and the fox hostess instantly recognized Mads from the other times she’d come in with her team after a win, the pair was led to a private dining room that clearly had been reserved by snooty Nelle.

  Not that Mads really minded missing out on a big team dinner. This had just been the playoffs. Her mind was already on the championships. If they won that, then they could celebrate together as a team.

  The gruff black bear waiter handed them each a menu, took their drink orders, then lumbered out the door.

  Giving each other awkward smiles, they disappeared behind their menus, and Mads studied the myriad of options. Cape buffalo. Red deer. Zebras. Giraffe. Antelope. Even wildebeests. She could add a mushroom sauce. Or garlic shrimp. Or an expensive wine. Or a honey glaze. Or . . .

  Mads put the menu down. “I don’t want any of this.”

  Finn put his menu down. “I don’t either. I feel like I’m eating at Grandmother Malone’s house. With the fancy napkins and the glassware you can’t break. She kept slapping our hands until Ma slashed her with her claws. The Malone brothers were never invited back to Grandmother Malone’s house.”

  “I’ve eaten here before but always with Max and the others. So most of my time is spent making sure they don’t kill themselves from the poison-infused tequila they bring or others
from the fights they start. But without anything to worry about, I realize how uncomfortable I am here. That’s no fun.”

  “We come to one of these out on Long Island every Mother’s Day. They have an amazing onion sauce that goes great with everything, including a regular New York strip. But without my mom, my brothers, and Nat, it just feels . . . uncomfortable.”

  They sat in awkward silence, Mads wondering when this torture would end.

  “Wanna make a break for it?” Finn finally joked.

  “That waiter looks like he could take us down.”

  “He’s a typical steakhouse waiter. Looks like he’s been here a thousand years. Has a voice like broken granite. Doesn’t look like he gives a shit whether we stay or go as long as we pay for our drinks and leave him a tip.” He grinned. “Where would you like to eat instead?”

  Mads thought for a little bit, but after a robust game, she really only had one choice. “Do you like Jamaican?”

  Finn shrugged. “I never had Jamaican.”

  “Never?”

  “I was born in Syosset. Not a lot of Jamaican restaurants there.”

  “That you know of.”

  “That’s true. We weren’t exactly looking for Jamaican restaurants.”

  “Then want to try it?”

  “Is there going to be zebra on the menu?”

  “Jerk chicken. Jerk goat. Peas and rice. Meat patties. Those are really good. And no zebra in the meat patties. Just chicken or beef.”

  “Let’s give it a try.”

  They both stood as their waiter walked in with their drinks. He took one look at them, grunted, and warned as he walked back out, “You better leave a tip.”

  Finn shrugged again. “Told ya.”

  * * *

  They ended up back in Queens, only a few blocks from her new place and the MacKilligan’s rental house. It wasn’t exactly surprising that Mads would choose a restaurant in the neighborhood where she’d been staying for weeks, and Finn was just glad to be out of the city.

  What Finn didn’t expect, though, was not only how well Mads was known by the waitstaff, but how loved. As soon as she walked in, she was greeted with calls and hugs. Everyone was full-human, so there were no mentions of shifter pro basketball playoffs or zebras and Cape buffalo. Instead, Mads simply introduced Finn as her friend and they were led to a small table in the corner that he sensed Mads always sat at.

  “Hey, girl,” greeted a tall man with shoulder-length dreads, leaning down to kiss Mads’s cheek. He placed plastic-covered menus in front of them.

  “Hey, Danny. This is Finn. Finn, this is Danny. He owns this place along with his wife, Cherie.”

  “You sure you comfortable there, my man? Your shoulders look a little”—Danny moved his hands around—“cramped.”

  “Well . . .”

  “You don’t mind if we move you, Mads, yeah?”

  “No.”

  “This is Mads’s usual table. But you need a little more space. Let’s get you a table over there.”

  Finn stood and Danny watched as he rose until Finn towered over him, which only made Danny laugh.

  “Did you really need all this, Mads? Seems like a lot for a little girl like you.”

  “I thought you were taking us to a new table.”

  “No need to get snippy.”

  They moved to the new, bigger table and Finn was relieved that he could actually move his shoulders and stretch out his legs.

  “Now isn’t that nicer?” Danny asked.

  “Don’t you have something to do?” Mads asked.

  “I’m just making sure everyone’s happy.”

  “Cherie!”

  A stunning older woman with amazingly long dreads that nearly reached the back of her knees came out from behind an office door and, without saying a word, silently pointed a damning finger toward the kitchen.

  Laughing, her husband moved on; a waiter quickly replaced him to take their drink orders.

  Mads mouthed, Thank you. And Cherie gave a wink and smile before heading back into the office.

  Finn looked around and immediately knew he liked the place. It reminded him of his favorite restaurant, where his family often went for authentic Mongolian food. Not Mongolian barbeque. Those were actually a Taiwanese invention and not remotely “authentic Mongolian.” But after their father died, and her family had been forced to go back to their own lives, their mother had needed some comfort food that she didn’t have to cook herself. She’d been lucky to discover a little hole-in-the-wall restaurant with a chef transplanted from Mongolia. They’d become fast friends, and he always made sure that Lisa’s growing boys had enough food. Easy enough when they were younger, but when the Malone brothers kept growing and eating more and more and more, he did seem to find it a little disturbing. Not that anyone could blame him. Especially when they had their growth spurts. Going from five-six or five-seven to six-two or six-three in the two-week period between family visits to the restaurant would freak anybody out.

  “This is a nice place,” Finn said after the waiter dropped off lemonade for Mads and passion fruit punch for Finn.

  “I love it here. Reminds me of home.”

  Finn looked around again, lingering on the giant wall mural of Bob Marley.

  “This place reminds you of Wisconsin?”

  “Oh, God, no.” Mads laughed a little. “I mean Detroit. I lived in Detroit until we moved to Wisconsin. I spent most of my time in my great-grandmother’s store with her. Next door there was this Jamaican fast-food restaurant. She and the owner hated each other, but I liked him. He gave me free food because he thought Solveig was purposely starving me, and he taught me about reggae music.”

  “You like reggae?”

  “Reggae and ska.” Her eyes narrowed. “What’s so funny?”

  “I haven’t heard about ska since high school.”

  “My dad’s favorite sister was a huge fan. She got me into it.”

  The waiter returned with a plate of what Mads called, “Meat patties. They’re really good. These are chicken. These are beef.”

  Finn smiled.

  “What?”

  “They look a little bit like khuushuur.”

  “Which is . . . ?”

  “Fried dough with meat, onion, and seasonings inside. Kind of like these. Although if you get them in Mongolia, you might get mutton or camel instead of chicken.”

  “Camel? Never had camel. But I’ve had black mamba, so I don’t judge.”

  “Millions of people eat camel as part of their regular diet, so you shouldn’t.”

  Finn tried the beef patty and enjoyed it so much, the waiter brought another plate of beef patties just for him when he finished off the first plate in a few minutes.

  “I’m going to order the combo plates for us,” Mads announced. “Jerk chicken, oxtail stew, and beef stew. That way you get to see what you like.”

  “What about the curry goat?”

  “I don’t like curry.”

  Finn frowned. “I don’t know what that has to do with me.”

  The waiter came and Mads gave their order before explaining it. “I don’t like curry because I can’t stand the smell of curry. You get curry, I’m leaving.”

  “Oh. Okay. So you don’t go to a lot of Indian restaurants, huh?”

  “No. Which makes Streep insane, because she loves Indian food. Apparently I’m ruining her life because she’s not able to go out for Indian food with all her teammates. That’s my fault.”

  “Streep’s an interesting woman.”

  “Streep’s a nut. But she’s a shit-hot baller, so I put up with her craziness.”

  “I think I’ll be saying that to the league a lot about Charlie.”

  A smile spread across Mads’s face. “You drafted Charlie MacKilligan to your team?”

  “We did.”

  “That’s . . . bold.”

  “You should have seen her,” Finn explained around bites of beef patty. “When she was coming at you, she was like a loc
omotive and you were just the car stuck on the tracks. But when you were going at her . . . she was just the mountain you couldn’t move. The coaches love her and fear her in equal measure.”

  “That’s how I feel about her.”

  “And yet you don’t fear Max?”

  She shook her head. “I only fear what Max will do to others. Or any civilians that get in her way. She does not care about civilians in the heat of the moment. So the rest of us have to. Her sister has to. It’s a lot of work for all of us.”

  Their main meal arrived and both of them dove in. After all the physical work they’d each done that day, they worked through their plates of delicious food without much effort. The problem was that Finn was still hungry. Very hungry. Starving, in fact. And about to ask for more when another plate of food was placed in front of him before he could say a word.

  “I came in here with the Dunn triplets once for lunch,” Mads explained while continuing to eat, her head over her plate, her fork shoveling food in. “They had to close the restaurant down for the rest of the day. They couldn’t even open for dinner afterward.”

  She leaned back and a different waiter whisked her empty plate away and replaced it with a full one. She went back to work and so did Finn.

  Mads finished eating after her third plate of food. But Finn didn’t until after his fifth. Still, the wait staff and owners didn’t say much about it. Maybe because of his size.

  About halfway through their meal, a reggae band took the stage at the front of the restaurant. They weren’t bad and Mads seemed really happy. He got the feeling that she kept her love of reggae to herself, maybe by listening through headphones when around her teammates. He got that. though. He’d always liked tech music. But it drove Keane nuts and, according to him, made him want to kill the first full-human male he saw. So it made sense for Finn to listen to that kind of music through his headphones. If only to protect full-human males from Keane and Keane from a lifetime in prison.

  When the band took a break about forty minutes later, Mads asked, “Want to order dessert and take it back to my house? I don’t know if I have coffee but . . . I’m sure I have something.”