In a Badger Way (Honey Badger Chronicles #2) - Shelly Laurenston Page 0,35
three freaks.”
“Really? Well, good job!” she laughed. “Because we both know it’s not just you.” She used her free hand and pointed. “There’s a kitty there. And there.” She leaned over him and pressed her finger against his nose. “And there!”
He pulled his head back. “It’s for your protection.”
“Of course. I’m sure it has nothing to do with my Uncle Will coming to town.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Liar, liar, I’ll set you on fire.” He tried to pull away from her, but she yanked him back. “Look, you can’t be here. The bears aren’t going to be okay with that, and you should know better than to have empty food bags in your car. That’s only going to attract more bears. But your friends can stay where they are, if you want. Just keep in mind that if they do anything to upset my sisters”—she grinned—“I’ll kill all of you. And, in case your boss didn’t tell you, I’m really good at that. Now all my sisters are good at it, too, but I don’t have a moral issue with wiping out the lot of you. Do we understand each other?”
“I understand you’re nuts.”
Max nodded. “Then we do get each other.” She stared at him a moment until she finally had to admit, “Your hair is amazing.” She removed her claws from his throat and buried both her hands—claws now retracted—into his gold mane and ran her fingers through it. “Look at this thing. It’s so thick and well-conditioned!”
The cat pulled away from her so quickly, he slammed into his own SUV.
He pointed at her. “Stay away from me.”
“Do I make you uncomfortable?” she asked.
“Yes!”
“Good. Remember that feeling . . .” She grinned again. “Hopefully it won’t be your last.”
Max turned her back on him and headed to the house. Fresh clothes were waiting for her on the swing, but the house dog—she could never remember the dog’s or the dog’s girlfriend’s names—had put his big body on top of them.
“If I asked you nicely to move . . . would you?” All that got her was an eye briefly opening before the dog went back to sleep.
Shrugging, Max walked naked into the house to get another set of clothes and see if her sister had saved her anything with honey in it. She had her hand on the banister of the stairs that would take her to her room when Britta walked out of the kitchen, a giant, half-eaten honey muffin in her hand, crumbs around her mouth.
“Katzenhaus?” she asked.
“Katzenhaus,” Max replied.
She heard Charlie talking to Berg in the kitchen, so Max added, “Keep it between us, huh?”
“Sure. But if they bother you . . . come to me.”
Max nodded. “Will do.”
She jogged up the stairs and walked down the hall to her room, smiling as soon as she entered.
The plate sat on her side table, a pile of still-warm honey buns waiting just for her.
* * *
“It’s stupid. And if you think it’s not stupid, you’re stupid too.”
Stevie was shocked. She’d never seen Shen truly angry at . . . anything, actually. He’d certainly never been really angry at her. Not like this.
“I’m just trying to—”
“I know what you’re trying to do and it is stupid.”
“I didn’t mean to upset you,” she said softly, eyes downcast on her now-melted banana split.
“Do not try that lost-little-girl thing on me. It won’t work.”
Annoyed he’d caught her, Stevie shoved her split away with a flick of her finger and dropped her forearms on the table.
“Fine,” she snapped, gaze focused directly on him. “What do you want me to say?”
“Say you won’t do this. Say you won’t talk about it again. It’s wrong and you know it.”
“What’s wrong? What do you think I’m talking about?”
Mirroring her, Shen dropped his forearms on the table and leaned in. “Genetic engineering.”
Stevie couldn’t hide her surprise. He even had the terminology right.
“Don’t look at me like that. I’m not stupid. And I saw The Boys from Brazil,” he added in a whisper.
Stevie crossed her eyes. “Seriously?” she demanded. “You think I’m trying to clone Hitler?”
“You’re trying to change who you are. You talk about using medication, but you’re really talking about that ex-boyfriend of yours. Who’s killing people, by the way. No wonder you agreed to work with Conridge. I should have known.”
“But what if he’s figured out something?”
“By testing on unwilling victims?”
“We don’t know they’re un—”
“Stop. You know, you act like you’re something that has to be fixed. There’s nothing wrong with you.”