Page 30 of To Kill a Badger (The Honey Badgers Chronicles #6)

C harlie stood in the doorway that separated the kitchen from the dining room.

She’d removed the swinging door that was there, because it got on her nerves going through it constantly and having it open when she least expected it.

She’d tried to properly take it off with a screwdriver, but someone had painted over the hinges, and not being in the mood to scrape that off, she’d just torn the fucking thing off with her bare hands.

Berg had been walking toward her when she’d done it, and all he said was, “Awww, babe, I could have done that for you.” And she knew he’d meant tearing it off with his bare hands, not removing it properly.

She’d quickly discovered bears didn’t really do “proper removal.” Not when they could just, ya know .

. . tear it apart with their brute strength. Something she really loved about bears.

Now she stood in that empty space and stared at the four older badgers, whom she barely knew and wasn’t sure she even liked, sitting at her dining table, not speaking.

That discussion with Van Holtz had really upset them.

Well, it upset the three married to Van Holtzes.

The Russian badger didn’t seem too bothered about anything as she scrolled through her phone like a fifteen-year-old in science class.

The fact that the four badgers were just sitting there, in her house, for no obvious reason, and not speaking, was making her uncomfortable.

Honey badgers were cranky monsters. They did not sit in stillness like meditation masters.

Besides, she’d assumed they would leave like everyone else.

Go home or to the safe house where they’d sent their adult kids.

But nope. They didn’t do any of that. They simply sat there. Not speaking.

It was weird!

“What’s going on?” Max asked from behind her. Charlie had heard her sister coming in the back door and stopping behind her. Sadly, she couldn’t smell her. Her allergies were acting up again. That’s why she enjoyed baking, though. She could always smell her food once it started baking in the oven.

“I don’t know,” she told her sister. “They’re just sitting there. Have been for a while.” She glanced at her sister. “You stink, which is saying something, because my allergies are bad today.”

“Mads had us practicing all damn day. Like Louisiana prisoners on a work farm in August.”

“I didn’t see you outside.”

“Nelle put a half-court in Mads’s backyard. So we practiced there.”

“Nelle put a—”

“Don’t. They have been arguing about that half-court all afternoon long, and I can’t talk about it anymore. Anyway, they’ll be ordering dinner soon, but I wanted to get a shower in before I eat.” She motioned to the other She-badgers with a tilt of her head. “Want me to handle this?”

“You think you can handle this?”

Max raised a forefinger before walking into the dining room, over to the dining table, leaning in, hands clasped in front of her and bending at the knees so she was at eye level with the She-badgers.

Then, once in position, Max yelled, “Would you ladies like to leave now? Would you like me to call a nephew? Or an older grandchild to come and get you and return you to the home?”

And she said it like the four had wandered away from some senior center.

Charlie had to twist her lips to stop herself from laughing, because she understood how annoyed the She-badgers must be with Max. The other day, a nine-year-old bear cub had called Charlie ma’am , and she nearly decked the kid in her pretty pink tutu and ballet shoes.

Slowly—oh, so slowly—the four She-badgers looked over at Max. All four glaring. All four insulted. All four ready to kill Charlie’s younger sister.

“Whatever you need, ladies!” Max brutally went on. “We’re here for you! Just let us know!”

“We’ll be back tomorrow,” Rutowski announced before she stood up, the other three following suit. “We’ll talk more then.”

Angry gazes locked on Max; the four females headed out.

But just as Rutowski reached the front of the house, she whistled, and five Belgian Malinois ran in from the backyard, into the kitchen, and toward the badgers.

It wasn’t that Charlie hadn’t known the extra dogs were on her property.

She’d simply assumed they were extra strays that had wandered into her yard.

She had already given them treats. Tested them with the other dogs to see if they were aggressive. Fuck! She’d actually fed them!

“See?” Max said when the She-badgers and the dogs were gone. “Told you I could take care of it.”

“You’re lucky you still have your skin.”

“Yeah,” she said with a happy laugh. “I know!”

* * *

“Who just puts a wine cellar in someone else’s house?” Mads demanded when they were nearly done eating.

“Are you going to keep bringing this up?”

“Yes.”

Nelle rolled her eyes and focused back on her food.

They’d found a nearby bear-run diner that delivered and, about ninety minutes later, an enormous amount of food was dropped off by two cranky grizzlies and a very cheery black She-bear.

It wasn’t exactly the best dining experience Nelle had ever had, but it was good enough.

And to make it better, she’d finally had the chance to inform Mads and the others of the wine cellar she’d had built into Mads’s basement and then stocked with good wine.

Because who didn’t want access to good wine when they were eating?

“Did you enjoy the wine you just drank?” Nelle asked, pushing the remains of her platter-sized chicken pot pie in front of Keane Malone.

Her meal had been pretty good, but it was made for a grizzly appetite, and she simply didn’t have a big enough digestive system to take it all in.

Yet the cats had devoured their massive amounts of food like they hadn’t eaten in years rather than a few hours.

“I didn’t drink any wine,” Mads sneered back. “I hate wine. I like beer.”

“I know. That’s why there’s beer downstairs, too.”

“That’s not the point, Nel— really ?” Mads demanded, when Finn and Shay jumped up and ran toward the basement to get some of that beer.

“Look how happy they are to have options,” Nelle said, knowing perfectly well how annoying she was being to Mads. Sometimes she couldn’t help it. And Mads insisted on making it easy for her. “Again . . . that’s called being a good hostess.”

“I hate you.”

The two cats returned quickly with several bottles of beer. Finn tossed one across the room to Keane before he sat down and offered other beers to everyone else.

“You found Mongolian beer?” Keane asked Nelle, staring at the label.

“Yes. A Mongolian lager, I believe. Didn’t know anything about it, but thought I had to include that. As well as your typical European lagers and, of course, a few American brews for the unrefined palate.”

“You better not mean me,” Mads warned.

“Hey!” Tock held up a bottle of beer with Hebrew writing on the label. “I haven’t had this since I was at the kibbutz.”

“The kibbutz you got thrown out of?” Streep asked with a smile.

“It was the best decision,” Tock said. “For everyone involved.”

“I don’t want this,” Keane said.

“Why not?” Nelle asked. “This is the drink of your people.”

“My people are from Long Island.”

Finn reached over and snatched the beer from his brother’s hand, and Shay quickly replaced it with a bottle of Guinness.

“This’ll work.”

“How could I forget the Guinness of Long Island?”

Keane ignored her, taking several gulps before letting out a satisfied sigh. Almost smiling. She was just grateful he didn’t burp. She had an older brother who did that, and it drove Nelle insane.

The front door opened, and Max walked in. Her still-drying hair smelling like honey shampoo and wearing cutoff shorts and an oversized football jersey from her boyfriend, Zé. Nelle, however, had been too busy arguing with Mads the last few hours to get a chance to shower.

“How’s Charlie?” Tock asked.

“Baking, baking, and more baking.” Max said, standing in front of them. “But it’s calming her down, and the demanding bears are keeping her busy. They’re lined up down the block like she’s giving out cocaine. And there will be chocolate cake for dessert.”

“With her ganache?” Streep asked, hopefully.

“Yes.”

The squeal had the tigers side-eyeing her, but they didn’t snarl. That was nice.

“There’s food for you in the kitchen,” Nelle pointed out. “I ordered you beef stew with white rice.”

“Oooh! My favorite.”

“Beef stew is your favorite?” Keane asked, frowning.

“Yes. Why?”

“It just seems kinda normal for . . . ya know . . . you .”

“I’m normal.” When he only continued to stare at her, Max changed it to, “I can be normal. With some effort. Oh, and Mads . . . your aunt and her snobby friends were hanging out at Charlie’s house when I got there.”

“They were? Why? Why are they still here? Were they bothering Charlie? Tell me they weren’t bothering Charlie. What’s going on? What’s happening?”

Max simply shrugged at Mads’s growing panic and paranoia. “I don’t know. They were just sitting there, quietly. Doing absolutely nothing.”

“And that’s a problem for you?” Keane asked.

“Yes. Because it’s weird. Honey badgers don’t sit around contemplating life.”

“When my grandmother’s quiet,” Tock noted, “someone’s going to feel pain.”

“We actually weren’t bothering anyone,” Nelle’s aunt announced from the archway leading to the hallway and the set of stairs that led to the second floor. “Which is new for us.”

Nelle pulled the .40 she’d felt between the cushions and aimed it at the four older She-badgers. Her teammates pulled the weapons taped to the back of the couch or on the back of chairs. The tigers, however, didn’t react at all, continuing to drink their beer.

“I approve of your reaction time,” Tracey Rutowski noted. “But I am not digging the fact that none of you noticed we were here until we walked into the room. The cats knew.”

“You use a lot of perfume,” Keane muttered between sips of his beer.