Badger to the Bone (Honey Badger Chronicles #3) - Shelly Laurenston Page 0,55

honey badger would do that, but only for themselves. She did it for you.”

“Your point?”

“That protectiveness could fade. Badgers are crazy . . . and mean . . . and hate everybody. Remember that. Because if she changes her mind about you . . . Well, don’t let her tiny size confuse you. You might be a large cat but honey badgers are not easy to kill, they’re willing to take on anybody, and they won’t stop. They’ll attack and attack until you either go away or you kill them.”

“That is lovely information you just provided. It should be put into verse.”

She laughed and Zé had to ask, “Are you here for a reason? Or just to freak me out?”

“Just observing,” was her reply but there was something really weird about it. So weird he decided not to engage in any more conversation unless it was about the weather or something else inane.

Thankfully, the silence between them stretched on for quite a bit and Zé had just gotten comfortable again when a male he didn’t recognize sat down to his right, leaving only one empty seat between them. Which seemed strangely close considering they had the entire fucking arena to sit in.

Holding a giant soda from the nearby 7-11, the man greeted Zé with a wide smile. “Hey-ya! I’m Dutch. Dutch Alexander. Max’s best friend. I was the one who tried to help you when your brain was still healing. You’re Zé, right? How are you doing? Holding up? You look really good. Like you’re all healed up. Must be a relief, huh? So what’s going on? You just hanging out here? Not that I blame ya. Max’s friends are cute, right?”

Dutch was chatty. Dutch kept talking. Talking so much that Zé really just wanted him to shut up. But that wasn’t happening fast enough for him.

So when the words just kept pouring from the man’s mouth, Zé did the only thing he could think of.

* * *

Dutch was trying to make Zé feel comfortable and relaxed in this new world he’d been thrust into. He knew how the MacKilligan sisters could be when it came to outsiders. It had to be rough on the poor guy. Right? So he wanted to let the cat know that if he needed someone to talk to after a lifetime of thinking he was one thing, when he was, in fact, another . . . well, Dutch was here for him.

At first, the cat just stared at him. Frowning. He didn’t say anything. Just kept staring. Dutch was used to breeds that stared. Cats were big on staring. Lions, tigers, bobcats. All of them tended to stare. Even when Dutch tried to involve the man in the conversation by asking whether he’d always lived in New York . . . Zé continued to stare at him. For at least a good minute. Then, with his gaze still on Dutch, Zé slowly reached over and, with a flick of his wrist, knocked Dutch’s soda out of his hand.

The Ako Pride She-lion sitting on the other side of Zé threw her head back and laughed as Zé returned his gaze to Max’s team practice.

* * *

“You five! Over here!”

Max, Nelle, Mads, Streep, and Tock made their way over to their coach. They’d been practicing for two hours and were exhausted, sweating like pigs. Someone handed each of them a towel to dry off and they slowed down a bit to wipe their faces until Coach yelled, “I said move, move, move!”

There were not a lot of people that Max and her teammates would run for but Coach Diane Fitzgerald had been working with them since they were in high school. She’d actually used the high school team’s record to get the job of coach for the Wisconsin Butchers. She didn’t need to be a college coach first. Which was fortunate, because she never would have lasted coaching a human college team.

Full-humans could never handle having a She-wolf like their coach as a leader. To put it nicely, Coach Fitzgerald was a vicious animal with few boundaries.

Max adored her.

“Why were you five late?” Coach demanded once they were standing in front of her; her massive shoulders always made her appear as if she was ready to tackle any one of them like a linebacker for the New York Giants.

“Why are you asking?” Max questioned. “You know we’ll just lie. We’re very good at lying.”

“I’m not,” Tock admitted. “I believe in painful honesty. The kind that destroys