Badger to the Bone (Honey Badger Chronicles #3) - Shelly Laurenston Page 0,36

before jaws snapped and claws slashed, a honey badger appeared.

An actual honey badger. In basketball shorts, tank top, and high-top sneakers. Because that was the kind of weird day Imani was having. First Malones and Smiths and now honey badgers.

The honey badger jumped between the two groups, standing close to the interloper cat. She spread her arms out and opened her mouth to speak . . . but all she could do was pant. Hard.

Putting her hands back on her waist, she bent over. How far had she run? From Utah?

“Sorry,” she finally got out. “Sorry.” She pointed at the jaguar. “He’s with me.”

They all gazed at the She-badger for a moment, processing that information. Because it was weird information. Why would a badger be hanging around a cat? Ever? In this universe? Before any of them could figure that out, a wolverine showed up. Bloody and bruised, limping as he joined the badger.

“I think we can all calm down,” the wolverine suggested when he finally made it close enough for all of them to hear. “This is not a big deal.”

The bears didn’t seem to like that sentiment at all and one of the grizzly males roared at the wolverine.

“Hey, hey, hey!” the badger bellowed. “Don’t you yell at my friend!”

“Max, it’s okay. It’s okay,” the wolverine soothed. “Let’s just discuss this like reasonable, civilized—”

With one swipe of his paw, Kapowski sent the wolverine flying down their street. And they all watched him go before refocusing on the She-badger.

“That,” the honey badger announced, “was unnecessary.”

Kapowski pointed his paw at the cat she was standing in front of.

“No,” she immediately replied. “He doesn’t know what he is. He’s still learning. And he didn’t know that chubby kid was your nephew. So I’m telling you to leave him alone.”

The bear took two big steps toward her and the badger held her hands up. “Don’t make me get nasty, Kapowski.”

The bears laughed at the tiny female. Harsh because bear laughter was always particularly mocking in its tone.

But as the bears laughed, the woman slid one hand behind her back and carefully lifted her shirt. She had a knife sheath strapped to her back and with deft fingers pulled the weapon from its holster. Imani had done a lot of work for Katzenhaus. They had trained her from the time she was fifteen with the blessing of her mother and grandmother. And if there was one thing Imani knew, it was a fellow trained combatant. This badger, no matter how small, wasn’t going to let her claws and fangs do her talking for her. Not when she could open arteries and remove eyes without working up much of a sweat.

Imani stepped forward, finally ready to intervene, but she heard that sound first. Even from this great distance, she could hear it perfectly. So could everyone else. The cats, dogs, and most of the bears hit the ground or made a mad run for it. Except for Kapowski, who had reared up onto his hind legs to scare off the She-badger. It wasn’t until that tranq dart hit his neck that he became aware of anything other than the honey badger and that black cat.

From her spot on the ground, Imani watched the bear blink, stumble back, blink, stumble forward . . . blink . . . and go down like the Titanic.

That surprised Imani. She’d been hit by a tranq once, shot by scientists at an animal park in Botswana. It took her ages to finally pass out, only to wake up with one of those damn collars on her neck so that the scientists could monitor her location and vitals. The worst part was the laughter of her mother and aunts before they took the damn thing off, but that was beside the point. A bear shouldn’t go down this fast. Especially not a one-thousand-pound bear with a thick neck.

But there he was . . . snoring.

Standing, Imani looked in the direction the shot had come from. There was no one standing in range. Tranq rifles were not long-distance weapons. The shooter had to be pretty close for it to not only hit the target but also get past the target’s hide.

The honey badger had slid the blade back into its holster. She crouched beside a snoring Kapowski, her hands on his shoulder. But as soon as she attempted to push him over, his two brothers were there, snarling in warning.

“He should be on his side to sleep this off,” the badger