Hot and Badgered

by Shelly Laurenston

  So Charlie wasn’t exactly surprised when she started hearing weird noises. Puffing. Air puffing. Why the hell was she hearing air puffing? What was puffing air around her?

  Charlie lowered her hands, opened her eyes and saw the bear sitting right by her stairs. An actual bear shifter in his bear form.

  Such an interesting world she currently lived in.

  “Hi, Berg. How are you?” Berg puffed in reply and, unable to help herself, Charlie placed her hand on his head and stroked the fur. It wasn’t soft like a dog’s but it was still cool to be petting a bear that she didn’t worry would rip her arm off.

  Now . . . if she could just keep herself from throwing up because of the migraine, her night wouldn’t be so bad.

  * * *

  Berg and his brother walked home from the bodega three blocks over. The sloth bear who ran it was “madly in love” with their sister so they’d been forced to stand there while the sixty-year-old asked questions about her dating habits. Questions neither of her brothers were willing to answer. But he always asked just before he rang up everything, making what should be a twenty-minute outing into a forty-five-minute drag.

  Now Berg just wanted to get home, break open a beer, and put his feet up. But as he neared his house, he had to stop and stare at Charlie petting the head of another bear.

  “What’s going on over there?” Dag asked.

  “I really don’t know.”

  “She thinks it’s you, doesn’t she?”

  “Probably.”

  “It’s a juvenile black bear. Todd’s not even fifteen.”

  Sighing, Berg handed the grocery bag over to his brother. “I’ll handle it.”

  “You better,” Dag said, continuing on toward their house. “Because in two more minutes, we both know Todd’s gonna roll over on his back.”

  “Dirty little perv.”

  * * *

  Charlie put her free hand to her forehead and closed her eyes tight. She should go to bed, but she knew as soon as her sisters saw her crawling up the stairs, they’d be all over her trying to help. But there was no help for migraines. There was medication, vomiting, and sleep. Oh, and carbs. She always needed carbs after she had one of her bad migraines.

  She knew what had brought this on, too. Everything. Her life right now was stressful, but this had been the first time in days when she’d been able to relax. When she’d felt remotely safe. Despite the bears wandering around her house, eating her baked goods, and terrorizing her baby sister. And because she was able to relax . . . her adrenaline had gone down and whatever caused her migraines had gone up.

  Now she was in complete misery with her migraine meds somewhere in goddamn Milan.

  “Hi, Charlie.”

  Charlie opened her eyes and squinted up. She recognized that blur, but she put her glasses back on anyway.

  She gazed up at Berg and asked, “If you’re there . . . who is that?” She looked down at the bear she was still petting.

  “That’s Todd. He lives down the street with his parents.”

  “So he’s a child.”

  “Pretty much.”

  Sighing, Charlie pulled her hand away.

  “Go away,” Berg ordered the kid, but apparently feeling a little sassy, the young bear rose to his hind legs and gave a short roar, which did not help Charlie’s migraine.

  Berg’s chin dropped and his eyes narrowed. He glanced at Charlie. “Excuse me a minute, would you?”

  She shrugged and watched Berg suddenly walk around to the other side of the house. Once he was gone, the kid dropped back to all fours and placed his big bear head on her leg.

  “You must be kidding,” she snarled at the little bastard. But the kid wouldn’t move and Charlie wasn’t sure she was in the mood to get in a fight with a bear.

  But then Berg returned. Only now he had shifted. And he was huge. So huge her mouth dropped open as she watched him stomp his way around her house. He, too, was puffing and growling a little, but he wasn’t running. He didn’t have to.

  The kid stepped away from Charlie and went up on his hind legs again. But so did Berg and he was at least a foot or more taller.

  Then Berg roared and Charlie winced, her brain making it very clear that it hated the sound by sending a searing pain to a spot right behind her eyes.

  The kid took off running and Berg went after him. Neither made it far, though, because Berg swung out his front leg, slapping the kid against the side and sending him flying into the middle of the street, where he hit the ground hard, bounced up in the air, and landed on the other sidewalk.

  Charlie had to admit, she found it kind of entertaining.

  The kid, unharmed—although Charlie was guessing his ego was badly bruised—scrambled back to his feet and ran off, but Berg turned around and trotted back to Charlie’s house.

  He briefly stopped in front of her and rubbed his snout against her leg.

  “Dude. You’re drooling on my leg.” She scrunched up her nose. “Ew.”

  Berg went back around the house and a few minutes later, returned. Human and fully dressed. He sat down next to her on the step.

  He pointed to where the kid had been standing. “Black bear.” He pointed at himself. “Grizzly or brown bear. Huge difference.”

  “I see that now.” She laughed but immediately regretted it. Her head was screaming.

  She put her fingertips to her forehead and began rubbing, shutting her eyes. “Owwww.”

  “Hey, what’s wrong?”

  “Migraine.”

  “You don’t have anything for it?” He was silent for a moment, then asked, “Does Stevie have anything for it?”

  “Stevie doesn’t get migraines. She gets average headaches. Generic aspirin works for her. And I kind of hate her because of that.”

  “My sister has over-the-counter migraine meds. I can get you that. And some Coke.”

  Charlie stared at him and he was momentarily confused before he finally said, “Coca-Cola. Not cocaine. We don’t do that because it would probably make our hearts explode. And it’s illegal.”

  Charlie thought a moment. Shrugged. “Actually, anything that could possibly help this would be greatly appreciated.”

  Berg grinned. “I’ll be right back.”

  She watched him jog off toward his house, and only one thought made it through the pain in her head . . .

  “He’s got a great ass.”

  * * *

  Berg returned to a wounded-looking Charlie, still sitting on her stoop. His sister had handed over an entire bottle of meds and a freezing cold bottle of Coke as well as her “recipe” for managing her own migraines.

  “Okay,” he said when he stood in front of her, “take four of these and then drink the Coke. The entire bottle.”

  Charlie opened her eyes and held her hand out. He put the pills in her palm and she popped all four into her mouth. He gave her the Coke and she drank half the bottle. Took a breath and drank down the rest.

  “Now give it a few minutes.”

  He took the bottle from her and sat down beside her.

  “You don’t have to stay,” she told him.

  “I know.” He put the bottle aside and rested his elbows on his knees. “But I’m gonna.”

  “Good,” she sighed, resting her head on his shoulder. “I could use the company.”

  “I’m sorry about your head.”

  “I’m sorry I thought that little bear was you.”

  “You have so much to learn, my child,” he teased, pleased to hear her chuckle. “Do your sisters know you’ve got a migraine?”

  “No. And please don’t tell them. They worry about me and when they’re worried about me, they argue more.”

  Now Berg chuckled. “That’s Dag and Britta. And me and Dag when we’re worried about Britta. And Britta and me when we’re worried about Dag. So I get it.”

  “You do get it, don’t you? It makes talking to you easier.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “I’ve bee
n with a few people—friends, boyfriends—who don’t quite understand why I drop everything to rush to Stevie’s side. Or why I can’t go on a last minute getaway because the money I have is set aside in case I have to bail Max out of jail or, if she’s in prison, bribe gang members not to kill her. If you don’t have the kind of relationship I have with my sisters, you don’t understand. But you seem to get it.”

  “I was trapped in a very tight space with two other people for nine months. When that nightmare is over, you either love each other or hate each other. We’re lucky. We actually get along. We protected a set of quadruplets once who were actively trying to kill each other. Now they all have restraining orders, which just seems sad.”

  “Very.” Charlie looked up at him. “Do you three all own the house?”

  “We do. Together we had enough for the down payment. Separately, we could only afford human-sized condos. We checked a few out. We couldn’t clear the doorways, our beds and couches wouldn’t fit. And the showers were absolutely impossible for any of us to fit in. This made more sense.”

  She smiled. “I think it’s cool. The question for me is how long will Max and Stevie be able to stay in the same house without killing each other.”

  “As long as you’re here, they should be fine.”

  “Oh, really?” she asked, her smile growing a bit.

  “You may not realize it, but you have a lot of control on those two.”

  “I learned the hard way. Trial by fire.”

  Berg studied her face. Noticed the deep frown had eased. “Feel better?”

  “Actually . . . I do. Thank you. And Britta.”

  “No problem. She loves helping migraine sufferers.”

  “We’re a very loyal group. Our suffering is kind of unique. It bonds us.”

  She glanced back at her house. “I should get inside. Make sure Dutch hasn’t filmed my sisters beating the shit out of each other and sold it online.”

  “Oh, is the weasel here?” Berg sneered, unable to help himself.

  “Don’t worry. Now that I’m feeling better, I’m throwing him out in ten minutes.”

  “Good. So . . . breakfast tomorrow?”

  She smirked. “I thought I said no date?”

  “Not a date. Breakfast. Meeting for breakfast. It’s something you do with your mother. Or an old aunt.”

  Charlie laughed. “Sorry. I can’t. Have plans tomorrow morning.” She glanced at her phone. “Or today. I’ve lost track of time.”

  “Maybe lunch then. I’m free all day.”

  Charlie patted his shoulder “ ’Night, Berg.”

  “Goodnight, Charlie.”

  She stood, then disappeared into her house. Berg grabbed the empty Coke bottle and walked back to his house. When he went inside, his sister and brother sat at their kitchen table.

  “Did it work?” Britta asked.

  “It did. Thank you.” He dropped the Coke bottle into the recycle bin.

  “You like her, don’t you?” Britta asked.

  Berg faced his siblings. “I really do.”

  “You do know her sisters are kind of nuts, right? She’s great, but . . . she’s not alone.”

  “You mean as opposed to me?”

  “We may be with you until the end of time, brother, but we’re normal,” Britta argued.

  Berg walked over to the kitchen table and reached into the wild beehive his siblings had placed on a piece of wax paper before tearing into it. He tore off a honey comb, ignoring the angry killer bees stinging his hand and put it into his mouth. It was still warm and delicious.

  “You were saying?” Berg asked before he slapped at the bees now attacking his face.

  chapter TEN

  Right after the sun came up, Charlie and her sisters piled into the “clean” car Dutch had found and headed toward the Bronx with Dutch driving.

  This whole thing was not exactly what Charlie would call a “good idea,” but it was really all they had. Because if her aunt was right, this would be their only chance to let their Scottish kin know that they should never involve Freddy MacKilligan’s daughters in Freddy MacKilligan’s bullshit.

  If he’d really stolen money from his brothers—and Charlie was sure he had—then they should deal with Freddy directly. Not try to use his daughters to get revenge. Freddy’s American half-siblings already knew that, but not the Scottish ones it seemed.

  Although there was still a small, sadly hopeful part of Charlie that wanted her assumptions to be wrong. That hoped this would just be a normal meeting between relatives and not a grand plot for something else.

  They reached the abandoned building in the Bronx, and while her sisters got out of the backseat, Charlie crouched in the open passenger doorway. “Drive down the street like you’re leaving us here and then loop back after a couple of miles. Okay? Meet us on the other side of the building.”

  Dutch nodded. “Got it.” She started to stand but he leaned in a bit and said, “Whatever you guys are doing . . . be careful. And be lucky.”

  Pushing her glasses back up on her nose, Charlie couldn’t help but snort. “Luck is not something we MacKilligan girls ever really have. But thanks, Dutch.”

  She stood and closed the door, walking toward the boarded-up building.

  Looking down both sides of the street and across it, Charlie nodded at Max, and her sister yanked off a few of the boards so they could get into the building in a different way than her sister had the day before. No one else would know they’d already been in the building to prepare for what was happening right now. Max went in first and Charlie helped Stevie through.

  Once they were all inside, Charlie took the lead, heading up to the tenth floor of the building on the shaky stairs since the elevators no longer worked.

  This had once been a school of some kind and there were still desks and chairs in the classrooms. It reminded Charlie a little bit of her high school days, when she used to spend most of her time protecting her sisters. Max had been a year behind and Stevie was about to start taking college prep classes because she’d quickly advanced out of middle school.

  They reached the tenth floor and entered a very large room that was once a science lab. The large, long tables and cabinets were still in place but the equipment had been stolen or damaged by squatters over the years.

  One of their cousins stood at the opposite end of the room in a tailored dark suit. His black-and-white hair freshly cut. His black leather shoes expensive. He looked a lot like their dad and, despite herself, Charlie held that against the men of the MacKilligan Clan. She couldn’t help it.

  “Cousin Charlie,” Dougie MacKilligan greeted with that lilting accent. He was part of the Scottish side of the family. And, like their American kin, they barely acknowledged that Charlie and her sisters were related by blood unless they needed something from them.

  Charlie used to think that their family acted this way because of racial prejudice. But no. It was because they were Freddy’s offspring. It was Freddy they wanted to pretend didn’t exist. Freddy they wished wasn’t blood. And, by extension, his three daughters.

  “Long time, Dougie,” she replied.

  He motioned them into the room. “Come. Come. Let’s talk.”

  The three of them entered the lab, and as soon as they reached the middle of the room, they were surrounded. Not by more MacKilligans, unfortunately, but by military types. Like the ones who’d already come after them.

  “This seems a little harsh,” Charlie said to her cousin. “Letting them kill us.”

  “Now, now,” Dougie quickly corrected. “That’s not what’s happening here. We’ve worked out a lovely deal for you three.”

  Max snorted. “Really?”

  “Yes, cousin. Really.” He held up a finger. “One thing, though.”

  Two men quickly checked Charlie and Max for weapons, and Charlie was really impressed. Max didn’t kill even one of them.

  The guy checking Charlie stepped away from her after a few seconds, but the one checking
Max was still finding weapons.

  Dougie rolled his eyes. “You haven’t changed, Maxine.”

  “It’s Max. Just Max.”

  Once a small pile of knives of varying sizes sat on a lab table, Dougie continued explaining the “lovely deal” his father and uncles had come up with for Freddy MacKilligan’s girls.

  “Now, we know you lot have no say in the shite your father does. And we also know that threatening any of you with death . . . well, to be honest . . .”

  “He’s not going to care,” Charlie reminded him.

  Dougie smiled. “Exactly. But, dear cousin Charlie, we know how persuasive you can be with your father. So this is the deal. These gentlemen will take your baby sister”—one of the men grabbed Stevie’s arm and pulled her close; all the men in the room ignoring how Stevie’s eyes widened and her body went completely rigid—“but, and this is an important ‘but,’ they’re not going to kill you and they will never hurt her. In fact, you’ll even be able to get her back.” His eyes locked on Charlie’s. “Once me Da gets his money and she helps out our associate.”

  He spread his arms, palms up, smile wide. “That seems fair, don’t you think?”

  “You really think you can trust these men?” Charlie asked, a little disgusted by her cousin.

  “They want one thing. They want Stevie.”

  “Me?” Stevie demanded, her panicked voice hitting new notes that had the wolf in Charlie nearly howling. “What did I do? Why do you want to kill me?” she screamed hysterically.

  Dougie’s eyes crossed and he raised his hand toward Stevie. “No one wants to kill you! You are safe. You cooperate and your sisters cooperate, everyone will be fine.”

  “Do you really believe that?” Charlie asked her cousin.

  “Not everyone’s like your father. I made the deal, it’s solid. Just don’t do anything stupid.”

  “But . . . we’re MacKilligans. All we do is stupid things. And I can’t let them take my sister.”

  The door leading to the lab suddenly closed and one of the men stood in front of it.

  Charlie smirked. “Do you really want to play it this way, gentlemen?”

  “Charlie,” her cousin said, his voice calm. “Don’t do this.” He stepped closer and whispered, “These men may be full-human but even a honey badger can’t handle a shot to the head. And once they get over the shock of your shifting . . . that’s exactly what they’ll do. Shoot you in the head—and they’ll still take your sister.”