“That’s going to be a problem with my neighbors,” Tiny admitted. “Especially the ones with hives.”
“Why would that matter?” Charlie asked. She was confused until she realized Max had taken that particular moment to return to her side. A dripping honeycomb was in her hand and hundreds of angry bees were hanging from her face like some bizarre tribal mask.
“Jesus!” Charlie snapped, quickly stepping away from her sister and waving more angry bees from her own face.
Max gazed blankly at her, ignoring the other bees that were still attacking her like the horde they were.
“What?” Max asked.
Deciding it was a waste of her time to have this discussion now, Charlie returned her attention to the men and guessed, “I see. You’re all bears. This neighborhood is all bears!” She grinned, proud of herself for finally figuring that out without her ability to smell.
The two men glanced at each other again. “You didn’t know that?”
“Allergies,” she reminded Berg.
“You couldn’t tell just by looking at Tiny?” Berg asked.
“There are big full-humans everywhere. Most of them are on steroids, but still . . .”
“Look,” Tiny said, “it’s nothing personal. But”—he pointed at Max—“she’s already stealing from hives. That one”—he pointed at Stevie—“is way too jumpy. And you . . .” He stared at Max a moment before ending with, “You smell weird.”
“I had a shower and my clothes are clean.”
Berg shook his head. “He doesn’t mean you smell bad. You just don’t smell like a breed or species he’s dealt with before.”
“Which means you’re a hybrid. And not a bear hybrid either. We only deal with bear hybrids.”
“Racism!” Stevie yelled from the safety of the tree.
“It’s not racism,” Tiny grumbled.
“But it is bigotry,” Berg told him. “And you know how my sister feels about that.” The bear gave Tiny a strange, knowing smile, and Charlie briefly wondered what it meant. “I really would hate to tell her about this. You know how she loves to lecture—”
“All right,” Tiny cut in. “All right. But if they turn into a problem, it’s on you.”
“Fine.”
“No, no.” Charlie grabbed Berg’s arm and pulled him away. “Excuse us.” She dragged him across the yard until they reached the fence. “Dude, you do not want to be responsible for anything that me and my sisters—especially Max—do.” She leaned in to Berg and whispered, “Trust me on this.”
He leaned down and whispered back, “I appreciate your concern, but Tiny is a difficult bear. If he thinks the hives are at risk he will not let you and your sisters—especially Max—stay.” He straightened up, smiled. “It’ll be fine.”
“It won’t be fine. My sisters and I attract trouble.”
“I’ve noticed that.”
“So why would you want to be part of it? Do you have poor decision-making skills? I bet you do.”
“I don’t think—”
“Look, I’ll take care of this,” she said, patting his chest. “Trust me.”
Charlie walked back until she stood right in front of Tiny. “Listen up, I’ll take full responsibility for my sisters. Any damage done, any hives invaded, any bears startled into panic, it’ll be all on me. I’ll fix, repay, replenish, or apologize as needed. You have my word on it.”
She held her hand out and, after staring at it for a long moment, Tiny took it, his freakishly large fingers swallowing her hand whole.
“I trust you,” Tiny said to Charlie. But then he locked his gaze on Max. “But this one I don’t trust.”
Max shrugged, her mouth filled with stolen honeycomb. “That’s probably wise.”
Charlie waited until Tiny and Berg turned away before cuffing her sister on the back of the head. “Idiot!” she quietly snapped. She started to follow the two men, but stopped long enough to bark at Max, “And get those goddamn bees off your face!”
* * *
When Tiny led them into the unoccupied house, Berg grimaced a little. It had been ages since Tiny had had tenants here and he’d not kept the place up. Even worse, he’d clearly been using it as some sort of hoarder’s extra storage.
“So what do you think?” Tiny asked.
“Ummmm . . .” Charlie began.
“You also hoarding pets here?” Max flatly asked. “Maybe some dead bodies?”
Charlie grabbed her sister by the neck of her T-shirt and shoved her toward an open doorway. “Go check out the kitchen, please, and let me handle this.”
Her sister shrugged and walked off, and Tiny led Charlie on a tour of the house. Berg trailed behind, still cringing at every new sign of how bad this house actually was. He was suddenly glad his sister wasn’t here. Britta would be all on his back over this.
“How could you let Tiny show her such a shitty house? What were you thinking?” His sister had little tolerance for what she called “The Obliviousness of Berg and Dag.”
An obliviousness she prided herself on not having. “Daddy and I are the only ones who keep this family alive,” she would remind her brothers. “You do realize that, don’t you?”
They ended up back in the living room and Tiny began, “So what do you—”
“All right,” Charlie cut in, “here’s the deal. Take five hundred off the rent—it was way too high anyway—and we’ll get this place cleaned up for you. So clean, you’ll actually be able to rent it for what you’re trying to squeeze out of us.”
“Uh—”
“Plus, no thirty days’ notice. When we leave, we leave. But, before you complain, we’ll give you three months up front and in cash. And if we leave before the three months, you get to keep the extra. Deal?”
Tiny gazed at Charlie until he shrugged and said, “Uh . . . deal?”
Berg had no idea why Tiny had made that sound like a question but . . . okay.
With a smile, Charlie shook Tiny’s hand again, turned her head, and yelled out, “Max!”
Max came in from the kitchen. She’d finished the honeycomb and had cleaned off the honey and dead bees from her face. Now she had bright red, angry sting marks all over her skin. If it bothered her, she didn’t let on.
“What?” she asked her sister.
She jerked her thumb at Tiny. “Money.”
With a nod, Max suddenly pulled off her T-shirt and both Berg and Tiny backed up, hands raised.
“Now wait a second—” Tiny said, trying to halt her. He had a sow mate who’d tear his balls off if he even entertained the idea of taking out rent in trade.
But Max shook her head. “Get over yourself,” she said before digging into her bra and taking out chunks of cash. She’d managed to place the bills in a way that made them look like actual breasts. She handed the big chunks to her sister and put her T-shirt back on.
Charlie quickly counted out the cash and handed it to Tiny.
“Okay. Well.” Tiny blew out a breath. “Um . . . if you need anything, I’m down the street. Berg knows where.”
“Thanks.”
“And remember, Tiny,” Berg added as the bear lumbered toward the front door, “they’re not here. If anyone that’s not from the neighborhood asks about them, let me know.”
With a grunt, Tiny walked out, and Berg offered, “You know, we’ve got extra bedding you can borrow over at my house. And me and my siblings can come by tomorrow to help you clean up the place. I’m sure this is all really daunting.”
“Sure.” She smiled at him. “And I can’t tell you how much I appreciate everything you’ve done. After the day I’ve had . . . you were my only bright spot. Thank you.”
“No problem.” Now. He should ask her out now. Mostly because he didn’t know when she’d leave. She’d paid for three months, but he got the feeling she’d only done that because she didn’t expect to be here three months and she didn’t want any complaining from Tiny. “Um . . . sooooo—”
Sensing he was being watched
, Berg glanced down and to his left. Max stood right next to him, gazing up at him. He then looked to his right and down. Stevie watched him, eyes narrow in distrust. But when she realized he was staring back, she forced a smile that just made him feel terribly uncomfortable.
Maybe this wasn’t the best time to ask Charlie out. Yeah. Probably not.
“Okay, well . . . see ya tomorrow.”
* * *
Charlie watched the bear walk out of their temporary home, the front door closing behind him.
Alone with her sisters, she let out a breath and looked around the room.
“You said we’d clean this place?” Max asked.
With an eye roll, Charlie snapped, “Don’t worry. I wasn’t including you. I know how much you hate to . . . you know . . . help.”
“As long as we’re clear.”
“I can help,” Stevie said, grabbing the first thing she saw. “I can organize or . . . uh . . . put stuff in a pile. Or I can—”
“Or,” Charlie quickly cut in, “you can relax. Let me handle this.”
“Charlie, this is a lot of stuff, and you have to be as tired as—”
“Let me handle it. I’ll give you guys things to do . . . later.”
“Sure you will.” Max snorted and disappeared up the stairs. Stevie just shook her head and went toward the kitchen.
Once they were gone, Charlie let out a relieved sigh. Now she could see what needed to be done and handle it. It wasn’t that she didn’t trust her sisters or Berg to help her; it was just that people tended to get in her way when they thought they were helping. And everyone always needed some kind of direction. It was just easier for her to take care of it herself.
What Charlie didn’t understand was why everyone insisted on acting like that very sound reasoning was somehow wrong!
* * *
The house was way bigger than Max had realized. Old but very nice. It just needed to be cleaned. Something she was sure her sister could easily handle. Charlie wasn’t one for sitting around, doing nothing.
Max picked a room with a window seat. She sat down and stared out at the quiet Queens street. The big bear who she felt positive really liked Charlie came by with fresh bedding and towels, handing it off to Stevie.
Sadly, though, Max couldn’t concentrate on much, like the bears and all the hives they had around this street. She shook her head. Her father wasn’t dead. How could she concentrate enough on anything when people were still after them? And now they were on a street filled with bears. For their safety.
Charlie would try to fix this on her own, but nope. They needed backup. They needed friends.
Pulling her phone from her back pocket, Max hit speed dial and waited for the other side to connect.
“Is he dead?” a low voice asked without even a hello.
Max smiled. “Sadly, no. And we’re in trouble.”
The low chuckle she knew so well. “Of course you are. I’m across country . . . but I’m on my way. And there’s one other thing I heard about your father that I think I should tell you . . .”
Max closed her eyes . . . and sighed.
chapter SEVEN
The front door slammed open and Berg dropped his head so he could focus exclusively on his breakfast. Dag tried to do the same thing, but his plate was already empty. So he tried to make a run for it, but their triplet was already in the kitchen doorway, snarling like an angry sow. Which was exactly what she was at the moment.
“That woman,” she snapped, pushing Dag back into the kitchen. “That obsessive, crazy woman!”
He knew she meant Coop’s oldest sister, Toni Jean-Louis Parker Reed. A jackal that he now realized made a grizzly sow look like a crack-addicted mom, she was so protective of her siblings.
Britta dropped her travel bag and purse to the floor. “She was on my ass from the time I met her at the airport in Milan through dealing with local authorities about the attack, until I was finally able to shake her at JFK. And the whole time she’s freaking out on me!” She pointed an accusing finger at Berg. “And you left me with her!”
“You said you could handle her,” Berg reminded her
“We all know I think highly of myself and think very little of everyone else. But this time I didn’t realize the depths of her crazy!”
She pulled out a chair and dropped hard into the seat. She looked around at the table and reached over to snatch bacon off his plate. He growled in warning.
“Don’t even start with me!” she bellowed.
They ate in silence, and Dag made more bacon and toast for their sister and Berg. After several cups of coffee and the food, his sister’s entire demeanor changed.
Britta relaxed back in her chair, one foot resting on the opposite thigh. “So what are we up to today?”
Amazing what a little food and coffee could do for a grizzly female.
“I’m going over to help out Charlie and her sisters.”
Britta rubbed her nose with the back of her fist. “Who’s Charlie?”
Dag, still eating, poured honey onto a slice of wheat toast. “The woman who almost got him killed.”
“You met her again? How?” Britta leaned forward. “Was she still naked?”
“Sadly, no,” Dag said with a grin.
“Why is she here?” Britta asked. “Did you track her down and bring her here?”
Insulted by even the suggestion, “Of course not!”
“But he did get Tiny to give her the old house across the street so he can easily stalk her.”
Berg glared at his triplet. “Why are you talking?”
Dag wrapped his big hands around an oversized coffee mug. “I just find it fascinating what you’re doing for this woman. It’s so unlike you.”
“I’m helpful,” Berg argued. “I help where I can. I’m beloved.”
Dag and Britta quickly looked away from each other and Berg knew they were trying not to openly laugh in his face. Something he did appreciate.
A sound at the kitchen doorway attracted their attention. They watched as their two-hundred-pound Caucasian Bear dog or Caucasian shepherd—depending on who you asked—stretched and yawned before briefly sitting so he could use his back paw to scratch his neck and jaw.
When he was done, he moved beside Britta, placed his paws on the table, and leaned over until he could grab the entire pile of bacon Dag had made. Then he disappeared into the other room to eat in peace.
The siblings refocused on each other and Britta asked Berg, “You know, you said this woman was a shifter, but you never told me what she is.”
“She’s a hybrid,” he said, trying to keep it simple.
“Hybrid what?”
Berg spun his answer carefully. “She said her mother was wolf.”
“Echhhh.” The entire left side of Britta’s face twisted in annoyance and disgust. Like most bears, she had little tolerance for wolves. Something that should distract his sister for quite a—
“But her father is honey badger,” Dag volunteered.
Britta threw up her hands. “Really?” she asked Berg. Berg, at the same time, threw up his hands. “Really?” he asked Dag.
* * *
Charlie opened the front door and three very large people who looked almost exactly alike stood on her porch. She briefly wondered how that would be. Having siblings who actually looked like each other. She and her sisters each resembled their mothers. Thankfully. Charlie disliked her father so much, she would not like to see his mug staring back at her from the bathroom mirror every day.
“Hi,” she said with a smile. It surprised her that not only was she not unhappy to see Berg, but she was actually glad to see him.
“Hey.” Berg held up a bucket filled with cleaning supplies. “We’ve come to help.”
“Sure. Come on in.” She stepped back and let the trio into her home. The males had to duck to clear the doorway. The female didn’t, but her brown and gold hair nearly got snagged on the doorframe.
Berg walked farthest into the hous
e, pausing in the living room. He stopped. He stared. Then disappeared through the hallway to the kitchen. A few moments later, he came back in and gawked at Charlie.
“What?” she finally asked.
“Where is it?”
“What?”
“The mess. The hoarder mess that Tiny left you with.”
“Oh. That. I cleaned it up. Started yesterday. Worked late into the night. Slept a couple of hours, then got up around three or so and finished. Looks pretty good, too, right? I put all his junk in the garage so he can pick through it at his leisure.”
Max walked into the room, holding a jar of honey. She used a spoon to ladle big gobs into her mouth.
“I don’t understand,” Berg said. “How did you three get this all done so quickly?”
Max gave a short laugh and said around the spoon in her mouth, “Three? This is all her. We didn’t do anything.”
“Not true,” Charlie reminded her. “You two cleaned your bedrooms.”
“So we could go to sleep before you did.”
“So, you cleaned this house by yourself?” Berg asked Charlie.
“Well—”
“But I told you we’d be back today to help. Why didn’t you wait?”
“Uh . . .”
“Yeah, Sis,” Max taunted. “Explain to him why you didn’t wait.”
“Shut up,” Charlie told Max. She didn’t need to yell it. She knew Max understood without yelling. She focused on Berg. “It was just easier—”
“To do it by yourself? Really?”
“I could just get in there and get it done. Easy-peasy.”
“I get it,” the woman said. “If you do it yourself, you get it done the way you want without having to constantly explain or give direction.”
“Yes! Thank you!”
“Because you’re the only one who can do it perfectly. Everyone else is a fuckup.”
“Yes! Wait . . . no.”
Berg shook his head. “Fell into my sister’s trap. This is Britta, by the way. And you remember Dag?”
Feeling stupid, Charlie admitted, “It’s not my fault that people can’t take basic direction. I can tell them. I can write shit out. I can give them diagrams, and they still do it wrong! It’s just easier for me to do it myself. So I do. It’s nothing personal.”
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