Badger to the Bone (Honey Badger Chronicles #3) - Shelly Laurenston Page 0,68
that foreign beer you guys had in your fridge to forget anything that might have happened with you.”
She rolled onto the couch with a laugh. “I’m going to take that as a compliment.”
“If it makes you feel better.” He yawned, scratched his head, and was a little relieved to see they were both wearing their clothes from the day before. “Where did you go last night?”
“Just around.”
Zé frowned, motioned to his cheek. “You have something on your face.”
She wiped at it with the back of her hand. “Oh. Yeah. That’s honey.”
“Are there going to be pissed-off bears this morning?”
“Probably.” She tapped his leg. “You still freaked out about me?”
“Less so.”
“Good. Then let’s get ready and we can go buy you that phone. And breakfast.”
“Shit.”
“What?”
“I don’t know where the clothes we got yesterday are. I think we left them in Staten Island.”
“Nah. Nelle had them brought here by . . . somebody. I mean, she just tells people to deliver things and . . . they do.” She leaned in and whispered, “There is a world that rich people exist in that I have no idea about.”
“How rich is she?”
“It’s not her so much as her entire family. It’s family money. And there is a lot of both, meaning she has a shit-ton of cousins and a shit-ton of money. Beyond just a few million.”
“But she grew up in Wisconsin—”
“That’s one of their homes.”
“—and plays basketball for the—”
“Wisconsin Butchers!” Then, she balled up her fists and growled out, “Goooooo, Butchers! Ar! Ar! Ar! ”
Zé leaned back. “What was that?”
“Our team chant.”
“That last part sounded like a seal bark.”
“Gee. Thanks.” She jumped up from the couch and spun around to face him. There was so much energy in Max, she was starting to remind Zé of one of those crazy little dogs that race from room to room because their owners don’t walk them enough. “Let’s go. Your clothes are probably upstairs.”
Zé began to stand as well but spotted someone peeking around the corner of the living room entryway. He was going to point the stranger out to Max when the man spoke first.
“How’s my sweetie pie?”
Max’s habitual smile disappeared and her brows lowered so much they nearly reached the tip of her nose.
With parts of her face twitching, Max opened her mouth and fangs abruptly replaced her teeth. Not the way he expected either, with two fangs on top and two on the bottom. Instead her entire mouth was filled with fangs. They weren’t huge but there were so many that the damage they’d do would be devastating.
Then, without turning around, Max snarled, “Dad?”
* * *
Max faced her father. “Have you lost your fucking mind? Coming here? Again? Dougie was already here looking for you!”
“Okay, before you get hysterical—”
“I don’t get hysterical,” she reminded him. “I just kill things. And you’re a thing I’m feeling the need to kill.”
“I’m still your father.”
“Are you fucking kidding?” She looked at Zé. “Is he fucking kidding?”
Knowing the poor cat wouldn’t have an answer, and not caring either way, she again looked at her father. Freddy MacKilligan. Conman. Thief. Idiot.
“You need to go.” Thankfully Charlie had spent the night at Berg’s house across the street. But she’d be back soon since she liked baking in her own kitchen and she’d promised the Kapowski brothers honey buns for the next week to make up for Zé trying to eat their offspring. So if Charlie found Freddy MacKilligan in their home when she got back . . . there would be blood. And body parts. And a sobbing Stevie who would never recover from seeing her sister kill her father; she seemed to care about that sort of thing!
“Get out now.”
“I’d love to.” Her father shrugged. “But I need some cash.”
Max again snapped. “Are you fucking kidding me?” She was trying to keep her voice down since Stevie was upstairs with her panda, but her father was testing the strength of her will not to kill him. “I’m not giving you any money.”
“Fine. I’ll ask your baby sister. She’s upstairs, right?”
He turned to go bother Stevie but Max grabbed her father by the throat, yanking him back. She knew she was squeezing his neck harder than was necessary, but she couldn’t help herself. Plus, he was a honey badger. She’d have to do a lot more than that to kill her father. But at the very least, she could hurt him. She enjoyed hurting him because he so richly deserved to be hurt.