In a Badger Way (Honey Badger Chronicles #2) - Shelly Laurenston Page 0,13
Berg leaned in and said, “It’s time to go.”
“Oh.” She looked at him. “Everything okay?”
“Yeah. But we have another appointment.”
“Okay.” Charlie stood; the Van Holtz men stood with her.
She held out her hand and Van Holtz took it, giving a firm shake. He then tried to pull his hand back, but Charlie held it and tugged him forward a bit.
Gazing into his eyes, she said, “You stay the fuck away from my baby sister or I’ll find out where you live. Sneak into your house. And, while your wife is sleeping next to you, I’ll peel the skin off your body. And if you don’t believe me, ask the Peruvian drug lord who once kidnapped my sister. His wife never even knew I was there . . . and your wife won’t either. So . . . stay away from my baby sister, so I don’t have to make your wife weep.” She smiled. “Okay? Do we understand each other?”
Van Holtz didn’t answer, he just kept staring at her. So did his younger cousin.
“Great!” she said to his non-answer. “Speak to you guys soon.”
Charlie turned and followed Max out the door. Berg paused long enough to say, “Uh . . . ummmm . . . okay, bye.”
Head down, he followed Charlie and Max to the elevator at the end of the hall.
Once the doors closed, Berg observed, “That seemed a little. . . strong.”
Charlie’s smile was faint. “I like clarity.”
Berg expected more on the subject, but nope.
Turning to Max, Charlie asked, “Is there a problem?”
“Got a call from Shen. Stevie’s meds stopped working.”
Charlie cringed. “I was afraid that was going to happen.”
“Don’t worry, though. Kyle went to his mom’s town house downtown. He said she could help.” Max shrugged. “Let’s face it, with those kids of hers, I’m sure she’s got some great psychiatrists on speed dial.”
* * *
“That could have gone better,” Ric said, dropping into the chair near his cousin’s desk.
“They’re crazy.” Van was still standing there, staring off, his expression blank and confused. “They’re absolutely crazy.”
“I thought we’d already figured that out.” Ric shook his head. “So now what?”
“Plan B, I guess.”
“Plan B? You want me to call Dee-Ann and—”
“Dear God, I’d never ask your wife to involve herself in this in any way.”
Ric smirked. The fear in his cousin’s voice was, to say the least, entertaining.
“No offense, of course,” Van eventually added.
“Of course.”
“No. I’ve got a better plan. My wife—”
The snort-laugh was out before Ric could stop it.
Ric cleared his throat. “Sorry. You were saying?”
“My wife is in town—”
“Great. We should have dinner togeth—” The glare was so harsh, Ric stopped speaking.
“—and she, I’m sure, can handle this.”
When Van didn’t add a wink to that statement, letting Ric know he was joking, Ric nodded and said, “Of course. I’m sure . . . that Irene Conridge, PhD, internationally known for making a Pope cry, can deal with three women—one of which just threatened to skin you alive while the other happily offered to mow down the women and children of her own family—without any problems.”
Van rubbed his nose. “Your sarcasm is noted, cousin.”
“To paraphrase my wife, just sayin’.”
chapter THREE
Kyle unlocked the front door to his parents’ rental home and walked inside. He turned back and watched his friend step in behind him. Stevie had her arms wrapped around her middle, hands clasped around her elbows, and her eyes darted around the hallway. It was like she was expecting some kind of random attack that could come from anywhere.
Over the years of knowing her, Kyle had seen Stevie under stress. He’d seen her become stressed over what many would consider little things. He’d seen her lash out when she heard noises she didn’t like or scream hysterically when someone touched her shoulder. He was used to that.
He was not used to this.
This quiet, tense, softly growling Stevie. This Stevie was freaking him out. It wasn’t what she was or wasn’t doing, though. It was her energy. An intense, dangerous energy that had the jackal in him ready to head for the hills. And his jackal side was something Kyle didn’t really deal with. It was there, it was a part of him, but as an artist, he felt he didn’t need it. He barely acknowledged it.
But for the first time, he felt it scratching inside him. Panicked and ready to bolt.
“Why don’t you wait in here?” Kyle softly suggested, gesturing to the grand ballroom with a wave of his hand because he was afraid to touch her.