wasn’t a woman either. Whatever it was, though, it was pissed, tearing into those men with claws and fangs and absolutely zero pity.
Still holding his . . . um . . . uh . . . what were these called again? Oh. Yeah! His gun! Still holding his gun, Zé raised the weapon to shoot the other men who, after a moment of stunned screaming, launched themselves at the . . . thing? Yeah. The thing that was attacking their teammates.
But Zé didn’t get to pull the trigger before more of those giant not-rat things showed up. They joined the attack, dragging the men to the ground, ripping them apart. Body parts and blood flew. Men, begging for their lives, screaming in panic and fear, were dragged across the floor in front of Zé.
At that point he didn’t know whether to shoot, ask questions, or just go back to sleep. He was thinking sleep when a Latina woman he didn’t recognize stepped in front of him. She was armed with a very expensive automatic weapon. She gazed down at him with cold, dark eyes before raising the gun and aiming it at his head.
It didn’t occur to Zé that she was about to blow his brains out because he wasn’t sure about anything at the moment. But by the time he realized what was about to happen, a voice said, “No, Streep! Not him!”
The Asian woman reappeared, only now she was naked and covered in blood. She stood next to the Latina, smiled down at him. “That’s my kitty cat. You can’t shoot my kitty cat.”
“Wait . . . is this that Denmark Syndrome thing?”
“It’s Stockholm syndrome, Einstein, and no. He’s not with these guys. He tried to protect me.”
The Latina sneered down at him. “Good job.”
The Asian woman crouched in front of him, gently took his gun away, then stroked her hand over his head. “Don’t worry, kitty cat, we’ll take care of you. You just get some sleep.”
He wanted to tell her that she shouldn’t take him from the scene. That, for some reason, he needed to stay . . .
But he was just so sleepy and his head hurt so bad and he was sure if he didn’t go to sleep, he’d vomit instead and he really didn’t want to do that so . . . yeah . . . sleep.
* * *
The cat’s head dropped and he was out cold. Max felt his forehead. He was already slipping into what shifters called “the fever.” It helped seriously injured shifters heal if they weren’t killed outright. At least that’s what she’d heard. Max had never had the fever and, according to Charlie, none of the three MacKilligan siblings could get the fever, no matter how badly they’d been hurt and, of course, that anomaly was their father’s fault. Their father and his fucked-up genes.
The rest of Max’s teammates now stood around her: Streep, Tock, Mads, and Nelle. The most loyal bunch of outstanding ladies Max had ever known. They’d played basketball together since junior high. But their relationship had always been more than mere teammates. All five were honey badgers in a land of wolves, bears, and cats; most of them had family issues beyond “Daddy works too much and Mom is always in a yoga class”; just in general, they simply didn’t fit in with anyone. Not with other badgers. Not with other shifters. Not with other people. But they fit each other for some strange reason and that made all the difference.
Max had realized, even as a young teen, that if these girls were going to be part of her life, they would need to know how to protect themselves. How to fight, how to hurt, how to destroy. As honey badgers, they had a natural instinct for all that but Max had always agreed with Charlie: just being shifters wasn’t always enough. Especially when it came to protecting their baby sister. So Max and Charlie had learned how to protect themselves when human, too. They learned how to use guns and knives as well as hand-to-hand combat. And what Max had learned, she’d taught to her teammates. She simply didn’t tell Charlie about it.
In fact, when it came to her teammates, Max didn’t tell Charlie about a lot of things. Not only because she knew her sister would freak out, but because her teammates begged her not to say anything. They were terrified of her sister. They’d never understood how dangerous Stevie was, but