In a Badger Way (Honey Badger Chronicles #2) - Shelly Laurenston Page 0,95
doesn’t mean those twin bitches won’t have her try something else.”
Stevie couldn’t help but smile. “Is this where you give me the ‘you have to be careful out there’ speech?”
“Nah. You already know it by heart. And you may not have killed her, but she’s well aware it wasn’t from lack of trying. She won’t want to go head-to-head again with you anytime soon.”
Stevie shoveled another spoonful of oatmeal into her mouth as the Dunn triplets walked into the kitchen. All three had on dark blue suits, Berg and Dag wearing ties and Britta without one. Instead, she had on heels, which was pretty bold since they made her taller than her grizzly bear brothers.
Kyle pushed past the triplets and ran into the room, making his way onto Stevie’s seat, and putting his arms around her shoulders.
“Please let me come today,” he begged.
“What?”
“To the funeral. I promise I’ll be good.”
“Who wants to go to a funeral?” Charlie wanted to know.
“I do,” he insisted. “I’m fascinated.”
Charlie cringed. “With death?”
“Of course not,” Kyle replied. “I’ve already decided I won’t be dying, so why would I need to know about it?”
“He has a point,” Berg laughed.
“I want to go to the church. To see the rituals.”
“Didn’t you once throw that Nazi quote at me about religion being the meth of the masses?”
Kyle rolled his eyes at Stevie, telegraphing how annoyed he was at having to deal with all these “normals” before replying to Charlie’s question, “It’s opium and it’s not Nazi, it’s Communist. A Karl Marx quote to be exact.”
“Is that the guy from World War T—”
“That’s Stalin,” he barked before focusing on Stevie again. “I promise not to engage any of your relatives.”
“It could be dangerous.”
“Do you mean the cult-like activity and belief in a higher power?”
“No. My family. Badgers at funerals are unpredictable. In other words, I don’t know what they’ll do.”
“I’ll bring the burly servant.”
Britta sneered at Kyle. “Do you mean Shen? Who is not your servant. He is the only thing standing between your ridiculous little ass and the bad guys.”
“In other words he works for me? Like a servant?”
Britta took a step forward but Berg quickly put an apple in her mouth before she could start yelling, and Charlie called out, “Shen?”
“Yo?” he answered from the second floor.
“Mind coming to a funeral with us?”
“I was planning to. Figured we could lock the boy in your dark, moldy basement. For his safety.”
Charlie grinned. “Ya gotta suit?”
“Already on it!”
“Great. We’re leaving in ten.”
“I’ll be ready.”
Max walked back into the kitchen. She was wearing black now. But it was still a minidress and it sparkled. Like the sun.
“Seriously?” Charlie snapped.
“What? It’s black.”
“She looks nice,” Stevie felt the need to point out.
“Yeah. Like a high-priced hooker.”
Max pointed at her. “But high-priced.”
“Are you trying to get the attention of Creepy Roy?”
“Who’s Creepy Roy?” Berg asked.
“He’s the married father of four who has always thought that the possibility of birth defects shouldn’t stop you from hitting on your own cousins.”
Max’s lip curled. “I forgot about Creepy Roy,” she said softly.
“He’ll definitely be there. He’s probably hoping to get something from the will.”
“And he will definitely misinterpret your outfit,” Stevie added.
Max nodded. “Yeah. I’ll go change.”
She walked out again and Dag shook his head. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen Max back away from anything.”
“You’ve never met Creepy Roy.”
Stevie pushed Kyle off her chair. “Are you planning to go to our great-uncle’s funeral in sweatpants?”
“I’m an artist, so—”
“Just go. You’ve got five minutes to find a suit and make yourself presentable.”
Kyle took off and Britta smiled.
“You handle him well, Stevie.”
“I’m the only one he respects. And before you ask . . . he doesn’t respect any of you.” She motioned to her sister. “But he does fear Charlie.”
Charlie shrugged. “That still works for me.”
* * *
The funeral at the big Catholic church in Downtown Manhattan had already begun by the time their group arrived. Shen could hear the organ music. But people were still heading inside.
As they reached the stairs, a male voice from behind called out, “Wee little Charlie and her sisters.”
The three sisters stopped and looked left. Shen saw a group of male honey badgers a few feet away.
“That’s Will MacKilligan,” Berg said quietly to Shen. “The sisters’ uncle.”
And the head of a crime syndicate, which was a problem since the MacKilligan sisters’ father had stolen from him.
Black and white hair, cut short; untrusting dark brown eyes; and a sneer that was less than friendly. Will MacKilligan was staring at his nieces like