In a Badger Way (Honey Badger Chronicles #2) - Shelly Laurenston Page 0,104

three of them were staring right at her, their heads angled the same way, tipped a little to the left, gazes narrowed.

They might not be able to see Dee-Ann, but they all knew she was here.

“Goddamn,” she muttered.

“What is it?”

“I find these girls just . . . wrong, Malone. Real wrong.”

“You’re being paranoid. Again.”

“If you say so . . .”

* * *

“Want me to kill her?” Max asked.

“Not yet,” Charlie said, looking back at her phone.

“No,” Stevie corrected. “She means no, do not kill her.”

“That woman would kill you as soon as look at you,” Max told her. “I’ve looked that bitch in the eyes. She is exactly what Gramps said all the Smiths are: a pack of rabid dogs. We’re better off wiping her from the earth now rather than after she kills you.”

Stevie took a step back. “Me? Why would she kill me? I’m lovely. You’re the psycho.”

“Thank you very much.”

“I’m just being honest.”

“She totally is,” Charlie said on a chuckle.

Someone tapped Stevie on the hip and she looked over her shoulder at the elderly lady sitting in a folding chair in the black tent that had been set up beside the grave so the older MacKilligans would have a place to sit.

“Move so I can see,” the woman ordered. “I want to make sure the old fuck gets buried.”

“Not sure why you’re here, Daphne,” one of Uncle Pete’s brothers complained. “Peter divorced you a long time ago.”

“I’m still the only one that matters!” she yelled at Pete’s younger and more recent wife, forcing the poor woman to start crying and rush away from the grave. She’d been a hysterical mess since Stevie had first seen her at the church.

“Can we just get through this?” Bernice barked.

The coffin was lowered into the grave, the rites nearly at the end. Immediate family would be throwing dirt on the coffin in the next few minutes. A step that Stevie never quite understood. Was it that “dust to dust” thing? Maybe she should research it. Then again, Stevie, Charlie, and Max had already decided that no matter when they died or how, they all wanted to be cremated. It was the only way they could ensure their father wouldn’t sell their remains for easy cash.

“Oh, no,” Stevie heard Kenzie gasp behind her.

Stevie looked to her left and saw her father stumbling toward them. Not because he was drunk but because he’d tripped on a headstone, knocking it over—and not caring.

“Oh, God.” She turned away, wishing she’d stayed back in the limo with Shen, Kyle, and the Dunns. Kyle had wanted to come to the graveside portion of Pete’s funeral, but Shen had insisted that he stay away from an open hole with a bunch of honey badgers encircling it. And Charlie had insisted the Dunns stay behind because, “You guys tend to lumber and when this is over, we’ll be gettin’ the fuck out of here.”

Berg had not liked that at all, concerned about how “open” the location was, but when Charlie insisted on something, it was hard not to comply. It was something Max and Stevie already knew but Berg was still learning.

“You just left me,” Freddy complained, speaking over the priest who’d replaced the older one from the earlier service. “I was hit by a truck and you didn’t even stop to help!”

Charlie had to look away from their father because, Stevie knew, it was the only thing keeping her sister from beating him to death in front of witnesses.

“I’ll take care of this,” Dutch said, pushing past Charlie and Max, but Freddy threw his hand up.

“Back off, canine.”

Stevie cringed, Max snorted, and Charlie started rubbing that spot on her forehead that told Stevie her sister was getting one of her migraines.

“Actually,” Dutch corrected, “I’m a wolverine, which are not canines. We are not wolves. Wolverines are badgers.” Dutch suddenly smirked and raised his arms as if he was pleading to the masses. “And are we all not badgers . . . together?” he solemnly intoned.

That made Max snort louder, her shoulders shaking. But Freddy tried to wave Dutch away.

“Do you mind? I’m talking to my useless daughters. Not you.”

Stevie was used to her father’s insensitivity. She’d grown up with it, but her uncles and aunts had never really seen how he treated his own offspring . . . not until now. She fully understood that when both Bernice and Will cringed at his words.

“I thought you were childless,” Charlie noted, not even bothering to look away from her