Badger to the Bone (Honey Badger Chronicles #3) - Shelly Laurenston Page 0,85
and gets rid of you.”
“We could hide,” Rina pointed out. “She will never find us.”
“Oh, you think so?” The auntie laughed and shook her head. “All this money you made and not a brain in either of your heads. She’s a badger. Finding shit is what we do. The farther underground you go, the easier it is for us to find ya.”
“You did not find us.”
“We weren’t lookin’, were we, girls?”
“Nah,” all the other women said.
“Do you know why, my Italian princess?”
Rina sighed. “Because we had the Kraken?”
“Exactly. And if we had liked the Kraken, even a little bit, you’d both be dead. Be grateful we don’t like her. That being said, she’s still family. Her uncles and cousins won’t want to kill her. Being loyal to each other is all we got when we have to go up against lions and hyenas and shit. You, however, don’t seem to have a problem with all that. So we’ll leave it to you.”
The auntie nodded at the one holding onto Tina, and Rina’s sister was immediately shoved to the ground.
“We’ve done what we can for ya,” the auntie said. “You take care of Mairi and you stay away from ours, and we leave you be. But if you try to come for us again—especially me sons—it’ll be the last time anyone outside the family ever sees you. But I can promise you one thing, niece: it won’t be over quick for you or your sister. Remember that when you think about fucking with the MacKilligans again.”
She raised her hand, made a circular motion with her forefinger. Instantly the other women slipped out into the darkness, disappearing. Not making a sound. Just going. The yacht wasn’t even docked. They were anchored in open waters. And yet . . . Rina never heard them actually leave.
Tina sat down on the bed next to Rina.
“This,” her sister pointed out, again speaking in their language, “has not been working out for us.”
Slowly Rina turned her head toward her sister and told her plainly, “Shut the fuck up.”
* * *
“I am in love with whoever this guy is.”
Irene Conridge looked up from the book she was reading. Her former protégé was grinning at the computer screen, entertained by what she was seeing. Of course, Miki Kendrick was entertained by many things. Unlike Irene, who found most things annoying and a distraction to her work.
“So you have the hacker locked down?” Irene asked.
“Nope.”
“Then why are you boring me with this conversation?”
Miki glared at her from under all that curly hair. Of course Irene also had curly hair but anytime she brought that up to Miki, she would just grumble, “It’s not the same, dude,” and they were meant to leave it at that. Of course, Miki was African American, so that could have something to do with it, but Irene didn’t let things like race or religion or any of the usual reasons human beings disliked each other affect her life. Instead, she saw people in one of two ways: annoying . . . not annoying. It used to be “stupid . . . smart” but she’d found that there were so many stupid people in the world, she began to run out of people she could allow into her life. Even smart people tended to be stupid and the frustration was more than she could handle. So she’d settled on “annoying . . . not annoying.” It worked for her.
“I said one fucking thing,” Miki complained, “and it wasn’t necessarily to you.”
“So you often speak to yourself?”
“Sometimes. I find myself quite interesting.”
“That’s called delusion, dear.”
Irene hid her smile when she saw that middle finger raised in her direction.
“You’ve been working on this for quite a while,” Irene reminded her. “I don’t mind your staying in my New York home, but is there any chance you can find the culprit before my daughter gets her second doctorate?”
Miki turned in her chair, resting her arm on the back. “While your middle son has gotten his . . . what was it again? That ‘degree’ ”—she said with air quotes—“at Jiffy Lube?”
“He’s taking a gap year, thank you very much. This is just a temporary delay before he—”
“Makes it to a BMW dealership as head mechanic?”
“Engines are hard.”
“Are they, though?”
Irene lowered her book, raised an eyebrow. “And how are your two friends doing? The one who dresses like she’s expecting Coco Chanel to come visit? And the tall one who knows all about how a bicycle works!”