Hot and Badgered

by Shelly Laurenston

“I did not!”

  Charlie paused to let her shoulders slump in exhaustion. “Really, Dad? Seriously? Of course you stole that man’s money. And I hope he cuts your throat for it.”

  Freddy slapped her phone out of her hands and Charlie had her gun pulled and pointed at her father’s head, but before she could squeeze the trigger Berg had picked her up and moved her away. Dag had one hand around Freddy’s throat, moving the much smaller badger back, ignoring his thrashing and curses.

  “Get her out of here,” Max said to Berg, tossing him Charlie’s phone. “Otherwise, she’s going to kill him.”

  He took Max’s direction and carried Charlie toward his house. But unable to keep her rage in check, she screamed, “This isn’t over, old man! I will hunt you down and kill you! I’m calling Will and telling him exactly where you are! I will have all the MacKilligans looking for your dumb ass! And when he cuts your heart out, I will dine on it with a good Scottish ale, you worthless son of a bitch!”

  Berg carried her inside his house and into his living room. He placed her on the couch and sat down beside her, taking the gun from her. He cleared the chamber and dropped the mag, placing all the pieces on the coffee table in front of them.

  Done with that, he relaxed back on the couch, his arm touching her shoulder.

  For several long minutes they sat like that, in silence until he finally repeated, “With a good Scottish ale.”

  Charlie laughed and couldn’t immediately stop. Only her father could make her this . . . psychotic. With every other part of her life she was reasonable, calm, rational. But with her idiot father . . .

  She rested against Berg’s big arm, tears of laughter streaming down her face.

  “It was so specific,” Berg noted, his laughter joining hers.

  “I’m sorry,” she said.

  “For what?”

  “Bringing my family’s crazy to your nice, quiet street.”

  “Don’t even worry about it. Bears love this shit.”

  She wiped her tears, gazed at him. “They do?”

  “We say we hate it, but we’re all so nosey . . .” He shrugged. “We really love watching when it’s not happening to us. Sorry.”

  “As long as my father’s crazy isn’t putting you in a bad situation with your neighbors, I don’t care if they watch every second of the drama. It’s the least we can do for you guys. You know, entertain.”

  “You sure it’s okay to leave Max with your dad? She looked about as ready to kill him as you did.”

  “She reacts to me. If I’m not there, she should be fine. Besides, she wouldn’t upset Stevie by killing him. She knows she’d never hear the end of it. We could be in an old age home, Max on her death bed, and Stevie would find a way to bring that shit up and make her feel guilty all over again.”

  “Wow, she’s good.”

  Charlie smiled, proud of her sisters for completely different reasons. “Stevie can learn anything from a book. And when it comes to psychiatry, she’s read them all. So she wields guilt like a master swordsman. And Max isn’t nearly as much of a psychopath as the social worker said because otherwise, she wouldn’t feel any guilt at all. At least that’s what I tell myself. All the time.”

  * * *

  Grabbing her father by the back of the neck, Max dragged his dumb ass into the house, with Stevie leading the way because she was too afraid to remain behind with the bears.

  Dag took it upon himself to get the neighbors to disperse, although Max heard a few of them ask if Charlie was upset enough to start baking again.

  Once in the kitchen, Max shoved their father away. He spun around, fist pulled back. But all Max had to do was cock her head to the side and stare at him. He quickly changed his approach.

  He lowered his fist, smiled, and opened his arms wide. “Honey!”

  She held up her hand. “Don’t even bother. Just get your shit and go.”

  “I have nowhere to go. They’re out to kill me.”

  “Because you stole from your own brother.”

  “That’s not—”

  “Dad.”

  “It was an accident.”

  Max glanced over at Stevie, but her little sister just sadly shook her head before dropping into one of the kitchen chairs.

  “Okay, well, not an accident,” her father corrected. “But—”

  “Where’s the money, Dad?” When her father did nothing but stare at her, Max guessed, “Someone stole it from you, didn’t they?”

  “It’s not my fault!” he cried. It was the man’s refrain. According to their aunt, he’d been using it since he could talk. It was his first full sentence. “But Will is blaming me anyway. He’s always been out to get me. You have to help me.”

  “No,” Stevie said before Max could. “No, Daddy, we don’t.”

  “You’d throw me back out there?” he cried, arm sweeping wide.

  “We don’t have to,” Stevie reasoned. “The bears will do it for us.”

  She looked behind Freddy, and Max moved so she could see as well. Dag stood outside the open kitchen window, brown eyes watching their father closely.

  “Everything all right?” the bear asked. “You guys need anything?”

  “Not yet, Dag,” Max said. “But don’t go anywhere.”

  Freddy’s head dropped, realizing he couldn’t manipulate his way into a place to stay. Not even with Stevie.

  “Fine,” he said. “I’ll go. But do you think I can get a little more—”

  “Cash?” Max asked, and when her father simply gazed at her, she finally snapped. “How the fuck do you steal over a hundred million and still have no goddamn money?”

  chapter SIXTEEN

  Charlie stood. “I better go back over there.”

  “That sounds like a really bad idea to me.”

  She nodded. “It is. I can’t lie, but—”

  Berg gripped her arm and she thought he was about to pull her back onto the couch, but he stood and led her to his kitchen. He stopped and grabbed two beers from the refrigerator, then continued to lead her out the back door.

  He stopped on the porch, closing the screen door and dropping to the top step. Still holding onto her arm, he guided Charlie until she sat on the step beneath him. He handed her a beer and held onto his own.

  Charlie honestly didn’t know what she’d expected after that, but she was totally unprepared for what he did do.

  Which was absolutely nothing.

  She kept waiting for something. One of those “dude moves” as Max called them. A stroke on the back of her neck. A kiss to her cheek. A massage for her shoulders. But nope. He just drank his beer. Quietly.

  Charlie became so anxious, she finally asked, “What are you doing?”

  “Me? Nothing.”

  “Yeah. Why are you doing nothing?”

  “Do you want me to do something?”

  “No.”

  “Then . . . okay.”

  “I guess I’m just used to guys making the move.”

  “What guys?”

  “Just guys.”

  “Full-human guys?”

  Charlie sipped her beer. “Yeah. Mostly.”

  “Well, most shifter guys aren’t making the move.”

  “Why not?”

  “We like our faces attached to us rather than on the floor . . . in front of us.”

  “You think I’d hurt you?”

  “Not on purpose. My sister didn’t mean to nearly tear her high school boyfriend’s arm off when he snuck up behind her and tried to cover her eyes. That was an uncomfortable conversation for my dad with the kid’s parents.”

  “So you’re just cautious . . . in general.”

  “Yes. I don’t want my arms ripped off.”

  Charlie chuckled a little. “I don’t think I could tear those arms off.”

  “I’ve seen you in a fight. Yes, you could.”

  Britta came around the side of the house carrying a big duffle bag and her hockey stick, several other players with her.

 
; “What’s going on?” she asked. “People are milling. I know there’s drama afoot when people are milling.”

  “It’s not a big thing,” Berg said, attempting to protect Charlie from what he couldn’t. The walking embarrassment that was her old man. “Just go to practice.”

  Charlie frowned. “I thought you guys were at practice.”

  “That was practice with Novikov. Then we come here, get a little snack, and go to the rink a couple of streets over so there’s no sobbing.”

  “I couldn’t help it!” one of the players announced, pacing away. “He was really mean to me.”

  “See?” Britta asked. “Now what’s going on here?”

  “Britta.”

  “My father’s here,” Charlie announced, refusing to pretend anything when it came to Freddy MacKilligan. “Being an asshole!”

  “Why did he come here?” Britta asked. “Didn’t he steal, like, a hundred mil from his own brother?”

  “Britta!”

  “What, Berg? Is that a secret?”

  “It’s nothing to be announced.”

  Charlie shrugged. “Announce away.”

  Charlie began stretching out her neck, tensing up at the thought of another confrontation with the idiot.

  “I should go over there,” she said again, but even she knew there was no real commitment behind the statement.

  “He’s still over there?” Britta demanded.

  “My sisters will try to get rid of him, but Stevie’s too nice and I don’t want to see Max in prison, so . . .”

  Britta dropped her bag and sticks. “Come on, guys,” she said to the other players before marching off.

  Charlie jumped up to block the sow, but Berg placed his hand against her hip and advised, “You’ll never stop her.”

  “But she doesn’t have to—”

  “It’s not about ‘have to’ for Britta. It’s about her infinite will.”

  * * *

  Getting blindingly frustrated by her father, Stevie was relieved when she heard the doorbell. She rushed to the front door and yanked it open.

  “Yes?” she asked the young man standing there.

  He sighed, shook his head. “You still don’t remember me?”

  “I should?”

  “You just saw me a few hours ago. I’m Cooper.” When she continued to silently stare, he added, “Mr. Needy?”

  “Oh! Kyle’s brother.” His gaze rolled up and he took several deep breaths. “Do you need something?” she pushed. “Or do you just want my autograph?”

  “At first I felt bad about this, but now . . .”

  Gazing directly at her, he reached his arm out and yanked something over.

  Kyle.

  “Do you mind if he stays with you for a while?”

  “Well—”

  “Great!” Kyle’s brother shoved Kyle into the house, ignoring the fact that his brother tripped and nearly fell to the floor before he got control of his long legs. “I think the family needs a break from him, and you seemed like a better option than the Motel 6 near LaGuardia.”

  Disgusted, Stevie shook her head and chastised, “I don’t believe you people. Kyle Jean-Louis Parker is a genius. And as a fellow genius, I think all of you should treat him much better than you—”

  “I can’t!” the overrated pianist yelled out dramatically before stomping back to his waiting limo. “I can’t!” he screamed again before getting in and disappearing down the street.

  “Wow,” Stevie said to poor Kyle as she started to close the door. “Your brother has issues. Has he had any psychological tests?”

  “Of course not. Although I’ve highly recommended them.”

  Stevie nearly had the front door closed when something pushed it open again.

  “Hey, Stevie.”

  It was casually said. But it was casually said by a bear standing with several other bears and some dogs and cats.

  Without thinking, only instinct, Stevie arched her back and jumped back about ten feet. Then she scrambled over a wingback chair and pressed her body into the corner.

  Britta gawked at her before stating, “I don’t know what the hell that was. But we’ll not discuss it. I’m here for your father.”

  Stevie gasped. “Are you going to eat him?”

  Britta started to answer, stopped, headed into the house instead; her friends followed behind her.

  “Outstanding specimens,” Kyle noted. “Think they’ll sit for me?”

  “Aren’t you worried they’ll eat you?”

  “No.”

  “Lucky.”

  Before Stevie could warn her father about the bears, there was another knock at her front door and a, “Hello?”

  “Yes?” she called out, afraid to move.

  The Asian male slowly walked inside, looking around.

  “What are you doing here?” Kyle asked the man with contempt.

  The male grinned when he saw Kyle. “Your sister ordered me here. I’m to stay by your side as long as you’re away from your family. In case anyone tries to kill you. Since you’re just so important.”

  “I am important, peasant.”

  “Keep calling people peasants, you probably will get killed.”

  “Whatever. I’m hungry.” Kyle sniffed the air, and headed toward the kitchen.

  “Hi,” the male said, giving Stevie a little wave. “Sorry about this.”

  “Kyle should be protected. His brain is very important.”

  “If you say so.”

  Stevie came around the chair and walked over to the man, holding out her hand. “Stevie MacKilligan.”

  “Shen Li. We met. At Livy’s apartment? When your sister tried to kill her cousin and the grizzly.”

  “Oh. I do think I remember you.”

  Pulling her hand away, she asked, “Are you a bear?”

  “Yes. Giant panda.”

  “You know”—she put her hand to her chest—“I’m not afraid of you at all.”

  “You shouldn’t be.” He grinned. “I’m very nice.”

  “And so cute!” She grabbed his cheeks with both hands and twisted. “Like a big stuffed toy!”

  “Uh . . .”

  “Hey,” Max said from behind her, “Dad’s getting in an argument with some bears. I’m really hoping they kick his—Stevie! What the fuck are you doing?”

  “Isn’t he cute?” Stevie demanded, her fingers still on Shen’s face. But then her sister was next to her, slapping her hands down.

  * * *

  Max didn’t know what her idiot sister was thinking! Not only did the giant panda look confused and irritated, but he was armed. A holstered Sig Sauer attached to his jeans, just barely covered by a light jacket.

  He wasn’t as big as the grizzlies and cats that had just stormed into their house. Only six feet or so, but his shoulders were wide as hell and there was nothing but muscles under that black T-shirt and jeans. And unlike Max herself, he didn’t dye his black hair one color, instead letting those black stripes cut through his thick, white strands with pride. Sharp cheekbones accented the black eyes currently staring at Stevie.

  “But look at him!” Stevie practically squealed. “He’s just so damn adorable!”

  Max didn’t know what her sister was looking at. The man she saw was probably military trained and would have no qualms about hurting people that got too close to those he was trying to protect. But Stevie was acting like he was one of those giant stuffed pandas at the front of a big toy store.

  Grabbing her sister’s hands away from the poor guy’s face, she yanked her across the room. She was about to start yelling when Britta came stomping through the house. She had their father caught by his hair, bending him over at the waist so he couldn’t put up a fight. She kept him in front of her, pushing him while her friends backed her up by merely being there.

  “Your daughter wants you out, so you’re out,” Britta said to him calmly. “And if you come back, we’ll rip the skin from your bones.”

  She led him out of the hou
se, and her friends disappeared with her. The door slammed shut and Max let out a sigh. She didn’t know how Charlie did this on a daily basis. Maintain order. Honestly, it would have been easier just to make a run for it or lay waste to everyone in a five-mile radius. Illegal but easier.

  Oh, and . . . yeah . . . morally wrong.

  Moving away from Max and Stevie, the panda said, “I’ll be staying here to keep an eye on the kid. Hope you guys don’t mind.”

  “Wait . . . that kid’s staying?”

  “Just for the night, I’m sure. There was some family drama apparently.”

  Well, Max completely understood that.

  “He’s my friend,” Stevie said, yanking her arms away from Max. “Kyle can stay for as long as he wants.”

  “How old is that kid?”

  “Seventeen.”

  Max raised an eyebrow and Stevie gasped. “We’re not that kind of friends!”

  “You better not be. I’m sure Charlie wouldn’t like that one bit.” She started to return to the kitchen, but she realized that Stevie was heading toward the unsuspecting panda, who had turned away as he put his bag down on the couch.

  Terrified at what she might do next, Max rushed over and grabbed her sister around the waist. She lifted her up and carried her out of the living room and into the kitchen down the hall.

  Max dropped her and spun Stevie around to face her. “I’m going to say this once: Stay away from the panda.”

  Stevie clapped her hands together and crowed, “But he’s just so cute!”

  * * *

  About fifteen minutes later, Britta returned, looking quite proud of herself.

  “All done.”

  “Thanks.”

  “And just so you can relax, I paid three of the Mueller boys down the street to drive him to Philly. They’ll drop him in the middle of the Southside; he’ll have to fend for himself there.”

  Shocked laughter exploded out of Charlie. “You . . .” She gave herself a moment to regain control. “You didn’t have to do that.”

  “I spent two minutes with that man. Trust me . . . it was a pleasure.”

  She retrieved her bag and sticks. “You should stay for a while. I’ll bring dinner back.”

  “I don’t want to put you guys out.”

  “You’re not. But I know from personal experience, sometimes you need a break from your family. Even the ones you love. Besides, some smart-ass kid is at your house now. You probably don’t want to go back tonight.”