Hot and Badgered

by Shelly Laurenston

  “All right. I’ll do it. But you two are helping me,” she said to her sisters.

  “Why is this our problem?” Max asked.

  “I’m not leaving you two with nothing to do in Bear Town. I’m going to keep you both busy. It’s in everyone’s best interest.”

  Stevie gave a sad sigh and said to Bernice, “She’s right.”

  “By the way,” Charlie added for her aunt, “I consider my sisters expenses.”

  “Whatever.” Bernice looked at her watch. “All right. I’ve gotta get back to that demon beast I gave birth to.”

  Max slid from the booth, allowing her aunt to get out.

  “Another thing,” Bernice said before she walked away, “your father—”

  “I’ll work with the wedding planner and security about him. You do have security for this event, don’t you? Real security?” When her aunt just stood there, gazing at her, eyes blinking, she said, “Don’t worry about it. I got it.”

  She’d clearly been expecting more of a fight before Charlie would take this job, but what was the point of putting up a fight? For that kind of money, Charlie would deal with her father.

  Once her aunt left, Stevie asked, “So what are we doing first?”

  “Our first step . . . we find out what our bitchy little cousin is doing behind her mother’s back.”

  Charlie’s phone vibrated and she pulled it from her back pocket. “Yeah?”

  “Hi. It’s Berg.”

  She couldn’t help but smile when she heard his voice, relaxing into the leather booth. “Hi. What’s up?”

  “Do you have some free time today?”

  “Everything okay?”

  “Yeah. The Group wants to meet with you, Katzenhaus, and the BPC. I can pick you up and take you there.”

  “Where?”

  “BPC offices. And you can say no. I’ll back you all the way.”

  “Hold on.”

  Charlie lowered her phone, “There’s a meeting with the Group later today. Berg says he’ll pick me up.”

  “Want me to come with you?” Max suggested. “I can kill everybody . . . get this all done.”

  “I could be wrong,” Charlie replied calmly, “but that seems like it would not get this done as much as it would make everything worse.”

  Max shrugged. “You may have a point.”

  “Thank you. Now you two stay here, start sniffing around the bride. I’ll deal with everything else. And no fucking fighting!”

  “Should I call Dutch?” Max asked.

  “The traitor?”

  “Wow, you’re really not lettin’ that go.”

  “Not lettin’ that go. And do what you want. I already kicked his ass. He knows where I stand.” Charlie returned the phone to her ear. “Berg. Tell me where to meet you.”

  chapter TWENTY-ONE

  Berg picked Charlie up at the corner, outside the hotel. He’d planned to come alone, but Britta and Dag insisted. They sat in the backseat, waving at Charlie when she looked at them.

  “Everything okay?” he asked, pulling back into mid-day traffic.

  “Yeah. I got a job.”

  “Really? Doing what?”

  “Making sure my cousin goes through with her wedding. I’m supposed to remove all obstacles. Legally,” she quickly added. Not that Berg doubted that. He didn’t think Charlie would kill for anyone but her sisters and only to protect them.

  “Obstacles?” Britta asked. “You mean, like, the priest not showing up? Or the cake not being delivered?”

  “My aunt has a wedding planner for that, apparently. I’m guessing, based on what she told me about my cousin Carrie, it’s a lack of love.”

  “Your cousin doesn’t love the guy she’s marrying?” Berg asked.

  “I don’t think so, but I don’t think it matters to my aunt.”

  Britta leaned forward, her hand resting on the headrest. “Who’s the poor schlub she’s marrying?”

  “Uh . . . Ronald P . . .” She thought a moment. “Farmington. The Fourth.”

  “Oooooh,” Britta said, leaning closer. “He’s rich. Like he-could-have-a-gold-yacht rich.”

  “I assumed. My aunt was adamant she needed this wedding to go through. To the point that she’s willing to pay me eighty-five grand.”

  “American money?” Britta asked.

  Charlie shook her head. “What is it with you and my sister and this concern over me not getting American money? It’s the strangest thing.”

  * * *

  The SUV turned on a street and Charlie looked back at Britta. “How expensive are you guys?”

  Britta frowned. “Pardon?”

  “I meant as security.”

  “Oh! Oh. Oh, we’re very expensive.”

  Charlie looked at Berg and he nodded. “We really are. We do it to weed out the reality TV people who just want big guys walking behind them, looking terrifying while they’re throwing wine in some woman’s face. Why?”

  “You and Britta have seen my dad, and I was hoping you could come to the wedding as additional security to keep the idiot from coming in and making an already horrible day even worse. It’s this Saturday. I can get you specific times later.”

  “We can do that,” Berg said, pulling into a large building’s parking structure. “We’ll do it for free.”

  “No you will not.” Charlie smirked. “But only because I won’t be the one paying. My aunt is covering expenses and she wants my dad not to infiltrate. So I expect you to double what you normally charge.”

  “Well—”

  Knowing Berg was too nice, she looked at his sister and said, “Double charge.”

  “Got it!” Britta’s fingers flew across her phone and, after a few seconds, she added, “Booked.”

  Berg stopped the SUV at the security booth. A man that had to be at least seven-and-a-half-feet tall looked down at him.

  “Berg.”

  “Garland.”

  The metal gate went up and Berg drove in, quickly finding a parking spot.

  They all got out and walked to the elevator. The doors opened and Charlie stepped in, her mouth open as she looked around.

  “This thing is huge.”

  “We don’t like to feel trapped.” Berg pressed a button for the top floor. “Now, if you don’t feel comfortable at any time, if you feel unsafe, you just let us know, and we’ll get you out.”

  “Okay.”

  The floors ticked by.

  Berg faced her. “Are you armed?”

  “To the teeth. Anyone even twitches wrong—”

  “No, no, no.” Berg shook his head. “I need you not to kill anyone today.”

  “But if they twitch—”

  “No!”

  “What Berg means,” Britta explained, “is if there are any problems, we’ll handle it.”

  “Exactly,” he agreed, nodding.

  “If, let’s say, some feline from Katzenhaus gives you any trouble, we’ll be the ones to rip his arms off and beat him to death with them!”

  “No,” Berg sighed, again shaking his head. “That is not what I meant either.”

  * * *

  Max peeked around the corner, watching her cousin Carrie on her cell phone. She was pacing and crying, but keeping her voice low.

  Carrie turned to pace in Max’s direction, so she quickly moved back behind the wall.

  “What’s going on?” Stevie asked.

  “She’s on the phone and crying.” Max looked at her sister. “Crying.”

  “People cry.”

  “Honey badgers don’t cry. Honey badgers don’t cry.”

  “I heard you the first time.”

  “But I felt it can’t be said enough.”

  “Hey!” Dutch barked, coming down the hall and both Max and Stevie shushed him.

  “What?” he whispered, dramatically slamming his back against the wall, his gaze bouncing from one end of the hall to the other. “Are we under fire?”

  “We’re spying,” Stevie softly explained.

&n
bsp; “Oh, I love spying.”

  “So we’ve heard,” Max teased.

  Dutch grimaced. “Okay, I walked into that one.”

  “Dumb ass.”

  “Your sister still hate me?”

  “Yes,” Max and Stevie said together.

  “Seriously?”

  “Well, she hated you before,” Stevie explained. “Now her hate is just enhanced.”

  Max checked around the corner and saw that Carrie had gone in the back way to the big hall where her wedding was being set up.

  “You know how Charlie is,” Stevie was saying when Max leaned back.

  “She’s a Leo with a Taurus moon,” Max explained. “You’re lucky all she did was kick the crap out of you.”

  Stevie rolled her eyes, a sound of disgust coming from the back of her throat.

  “What?”

  “You still believe in that astrology crap?” she asked.

  “You don’t?”

  “I believe in tangible things,” Stevie announced in her haughtiest voice. “Not ludicrous things.”

  “What about Eastern astrology? I bounce back and forth between Eastern and Western, so do you believe in Eastern astrology?”

  “No.”

  “Where is Charlie anyway?” Dutch asked to stop the fight he probably knew was coming.

  “Berg picked her up to take her to some meeting with the BPC, the cats, and your people.”

  Dutch’s usual smiling, relaxed face fell. “What?”

  “No one told you?”

  “No.”

  Max studied him a moment. “Should I go there and kill everybody?”

  “Why is that always your first suggestion?”

  “It’s the most expedient.”

  “Should we be freaking out?” Stevie demanded. “I feel like we should be freaking out.”

  “No. I’m sure it’ll be fine. If you’re worried, though, I could go. Protect Charlie.”

  Max looked at Stevie and even her baby sister rolled her eyes.

  “Dude,” Max felt the need to point out, “she’s surrounded by three grizzly bears. I think our sister’s safe.”

  “Is she armed?”

  Stevie snorted. “To the teeth.”

  * * *

  “She’s crying?” Charlie suddenly said out loud while staring at her phone. “What does Max mean she’s crying? Honey badgers don’t cry. Honey badgers don’t cry.”

  Berg walked back to her and tapped her arm. She lifted her head, frowning. “What?”

  “Could we get this done?”

  She looked around and seemed to suddenly remember that she was in the middle of the BPC hallway talking to herself and tapping on her phone.

  “Sorry,” she said. “Sorry.” She walked quickly to catch up to Britta and Dag, and Berg followed behind her.

  They were headed to the office at the very end of the hallway. Bayla Ben-Zeev’s office. She was the head of the BPC.

  Berg cut in front of her so he could walk into the office first. He wanted to look around, make sure everything was as it should be. It wasn’t that he was so worried, it was mostly habit. Personal security was his business, after all.

  Unfortunately, Britta and Dag had the same idea, so the three of them ended up briefly caught in the doorway until Britta pulled free first, reaching back with both arms to slap him and Dag on the shoulders.

  The two Van Holtz wolf males immediately looked out the window. Bayla sighed and rubbed her temples from behind her desk, and the newest New York head of Katzenhaus, Mary-Ellen Kozlowski, a cute but vicious little lynx, just rolled her eyes and sneered as only a cat can.

  “Sorry we’re late,” Britta said. “Traffic.”

  “No problem.” Bayla motioned to several empty chairs around her desk. “Come in.”

  Dag stayed by the door and didn’t sit. He just stood there . . . glaring at the non-bears in the room. Britta sat down by the wolves so she could practically face the cat. Britta really didn’t like cats.

  Berg turned to escort Charlie into the room, to let the others know—in no uncertain terms—the level of protection she had. But she was again focused on her phone, her thumbs tapping away on the screen.

  “Charlie,” he said softly, trying to get her attention. “Charlie,” he said a little louder, but still . . .

  “Charlie!”

  She didn’t jump at his bark, just muttered, “One second.”

  He couldn’t even bring himself to look at Bayla. Not when he already knew she hated to be kept waiting.

  “Okay.” Charlie slipped her phone back into her jeans. She stepped around him and fully into the room. “So sorry. There’s a wedding, and you know how crazy those can be.” She said it so smoothly that she sounded like she was legitimately part of the wedding rather than just spying on her cousin for cash. “I really appreciate all of you taking the time to meet with me like this. I always get so worried about my family, but I’m sure this will make me feel much better.”

  She said all that without sarcasm. Without any of the viciousness that always seemed to taint the conversations of different breeds put together in one room.

  Charlie sat down, her smile warm. “Um . . . I’m Charlie MacKilligan, which I assume everyone here knows. But I’m unclear on who’s who.” Out of everyone, she looked at the lynx first.

  The cat in a tiny white designer dress and designer heels, her designer white purse resting in the big chair with her because she barely took up any room in the bear-sized furniture, took a moment. She seemed stunned. Probably because cats were considered so rude that most of the other breeds purposely ignored them just to get under their skin.

  Charlie wasn’t doing that.

  Pale green eyes gawked at Charlie before replying, “Uh . . . I’m, um . . .” She cleared her throat, quickly tossing on her mantle of not caring. “Mary-Ellen Kozlowski.”

  “Hi, Miss Kozlowski.” Charlie got up again and went across the room, her hand held out.

  Kozłowski jerked back, the legs of her chair scraping against the floor. Then she realized that Charlie just wanted a handshake.

  Charlie patiently waited, smiling.

  Glancing around, expecting an attack of some kind, Kozlowski finally took Charlie’s hand, shook it.

  “Nice to meet you,” Charlie said before pulling her hand away.

  Those pale green eyes narrowed, desperately searching for sarcasm. When she didn’t find any, she nodded. “You too.”

  Charlie moved over to the wolves.

  “Charlie MacKilligan,” she said to the younger Van Holtz.

  “Ulrich Van Holtz. You can call me Ric. And this is my cousin, Niles Van Holtz.”

  “Call me Van.”

  “I thought he was your uncle,” Britta asked, also clearly uncomfortable with Charlie’s ease and warmth with everyone in the room.

  “It’s a respect thing, right?” Charlie said, moving across the room to Bayla’s desk. “We have a couple of ‘uncles’ like that,” she laughed, reaching her hand out to Bayla.

  “Charlie.”

  “Bayla Ben-Zeev.”

  “Very nice to meet you. And I love your name. Bayla’s pretty.”

  “Uh . . . thank you?”

  Charlie returned to her chair, sat down.

  Immediately, Bayla opened her mouth to get the discussion rolling, to make sure that everyone there understood that Charlie and her sisters were under BPC protection, that she would not tolerate any of their bullshit.

  Berg knew exactly what to expect from the head of the BPC and he also knew what to expect from the Van Holtzes—calm, rational, barely perceptible threats—and from the lynx—blatant, outright threats and viciousness.

  But without letting Bayla get in a word, Charlie just began talking.

  “I have to say that I really appreciate everyone coming here today to help us.”

  Surprised, Berg looked up; his sister already gazing at him, eyes wide.

  “I usually have to deal with these kinds of problems on my own
and I’m starting to get overwhelmed. I mean, my father stealing money from his own brother, his brother using me and my sisters in the hopes of getting the money back by basically selling us to whoever wants my baby sister. And, I mean, I’m not handing over my baby sister to anyone, but especially not full-human males. My uncle knows we don’t have the money to pay him back and he also knows that no matter what might happen to me and my sisters, no matter how bad, how horrifying or brutal, it will mean nothing to my father. But my Uncle Will was hoping that I could get the money back from my father and he felt I would do that if someone had my sister. If her safety was threatened.” She blew out a breath. “Once again, my father has forced me and my sisters into a situation that could get all of us killed.”

  There was a long silence until the elder Van Holtz asked, “Where’s your father now?”

  “He came to the house I’m renting in Queens. He wanted money and someplace safe to stay. I . . . overreacted a bit and now I don’t know where he is.”

  “But he has the money?” Ric Van Holtz asked.

  “He did. Max—my middle sister—talked to him after I left and she seems to believe that he’s lost the money.”

  Kozlowski looked around the room before refocusing on Charlie. “I understood that your father took about a hundred million dollars.”

  “A hundred million British sterling, actually.”

  “How does one lose a hundred million of anything?”

  “Oh, that’s easy,” she said with a casual air. “By being the biggest fucking idiot known to man or God.”

  * * *

  Stevie wished she could say that such lowbrow activities were an insult to her amazing brain power and all her plans to change the world and humanity for good.

  But she couldn’t say that because she was enjoying herself so much.

  Carrie had stormed away from her mother, screaming, “It all sucks! I hate everything you’ve done! Why are you trying to ruin my wedding? This is my day!”

  It seemed to Stevie that Carrie had one level. Loud and hysterical screaming. She had no off switch.

  Now, she stomped through the hotel like a linebacker in those ridiculous heels. She went straight for the exit and out on the streets.

  Stevie, Max, and Dutch all followed, keeping in contact with Charlie through texts.

  It was stupid but so much fun! Stevie rarely had fun like this. She was either working or in therapy. Only when she was around her sisters did she seem to have any fun.