Page 46 of To Kill a Badger (The Honey Badgers Chronicles #6)
She shrugged. “He’s fine. He’s a honey badger.
Not only that, he’s a MacKilligan honey badger.
That family seems to have evolved into a superior species of indestructible badger.
It’s a shame that the males seem to have lost some brain cells in the process.
If it wasn’t for the sisters and female cousins .
. . honestly, though, I’m not sure if even a shot to the back of the head would kill a MacKilligan.
I think as long as they keep their head on their shoulders, they’ll be fine.
Once it’s separated from the spinal cord, however . . . I’m pretty sure that’s unfixable.”
“Really? You’re pretty sure that’s unfixable?”
“What can I say? Honey badgers are a wonder to behold.”
* * *
The sub was served on fine china. A platter, specifically, because the one sub was actually three foot-longs.
The pattern on the platter was, if Keane was guessing, the Zhao family’s insignia around the edge.
Seemed kind of fancy and expensive, but he was hungry and honestly didn’t care.
He especially felt that way after he took his first bite.
The meat was fresh and perfectly seasoned, and the milk was cold and fresh and full of fat. None of that one-percent crap.
“Personally, I think it was the de Medicis,” Nelle was blathering on about Charlie’s uncle, but he’d stopped caring when he realized a bomb would never get past the Malones or any of those bears surrounding Charlie’s house and his sister and niece.
Not after the Malones’ experience with Westies—New York Irish gangsters—and the IRA.
“But I also must admit that the MacKilligans are not a well-loved badger family, and those MacKilligan brothers are quite involved in gangster-type activity in Great Britain.”
“The MacKilligan name is well known among my leg-breaking uncles,” he said around his first sandwich.
“Exactly. So this could easily just be some criminal enterprise sending a message to the MacKilligan brothers.” She took a bite of her croissant, chewed, swallowed. “Everybody hates the MacKilligan brothers.”
She sipped her orange juice. “But it should be looked into. Charlie will start to feel responsible for everything if the de Medicis do any real damage to that side of her family.”
“Isn’t she kind of responsible for all of this?” he asked. “She did plop their dead father in the middle of their house, then burned the shit down.”
“The de Medicis started the fire, and we were simply returning their father’s remains.”
“You’re so full of sh—”
“You know, I need to change.”
“Why?”
“We’re going to Paris! You want me to look presentable, don’t you?”
“I don’t care what you do.”
“You’re so cute.” She reached over and tweaked his nose between her thumb and forefinger. “So very cute!”
And Keane was beyond insulted, because he’d seen full-humans do that kind of shit with their house cats on the Internet!
* * *
“What about this?” Nelle asked, turning one way, then the other.
“I don’t understand what you want from me,” the cat admitted.
“Do you think this outfit is okay? Or should I try something else on?”
“I don’t know.”
Useless. Why were men so useless? At the very least, she could always get some fashion guidance from Streep.
She did have a terrible personal fashion sense, but she did all right with everyone else.
And Max was always great. She had a good eye, considering she personally lived her life in either jeans and sneakers or kilt-like miniskirts with steel-toe Doc Marten boots.
Deciding the simple black dress with black heels was always perfect for a Paris run, she sat in the leather seat across from Keane.
His long legs nearly bridged the distance between them, his knees occasionally brushing against hers.
She grabbed a copy of the latest Italian Vogue from the seat next to her and began flipping through.
“Are you pissed at me?” he asked.
“No. Just annoyed.” She was surprised he’d noticed anything, since his gaze was focused out the window.
“Annoyed about what?”
“I was looking for a little feedback. Would it have killed you to say I look nice?”
“Why do I need to say that?” he asked, and she wanted to slap him. “You always look nice. Do I really need to pump your ego anymore when you never look bad in anything?”
She looked up at him and said, “Awwww.”
His head snapped around, and his gold gaze locked on her face. “What was that noise?”
“That was my ‘you are such a cute thing’ noise. Just adorable.”
“I am not adorable. I simply lay out the facts as I see them. Coldly and bluntly.”
“So if someone you thought was unattractive had asked . . .”
“Would I tell them they’re ugly?” Keane frowned. “No. Why would I do that?”
“Lots of people do that.”
“Lots of people are assholes. Doesn’t mean you have to be one, too.”
The cat had no idea how that response only managed to make him appear even sweeter.
“Stop smiling at me,” he growled.
“How can you tell I’m smiling at you? You’re back looking out the window.”
“I can see you out of the corner of my eye.”
“Is that your cat sight?”
“No. That’s healthy human eyesight. Most of us have a decent peripheral vision until we move into our late forties.”
“That’s weirdly . . . specific.”
“I have an interest in ophthalmology.”
Nelle had to work hard not to laugh in astonishment. “You have an interest in ophthalmology? Seriously?”
“Don’t you find eyes interesting?”
“Not when I want to dig them out and study them, no.”
“They can do so much. That interests me.”
“Am I about to find out you always wanted to be a doctor, but your tragic background stopped you from your one true dream?”
“My one true dream was to be a starting linebacker on the Pittsburgh Steelers in the nineteen-seventies alongside Jack Lambert and Mean Joe Greene, with Terry Bradshaw as our quarterback. Being a doctor was never part of that dream.”
“Fair enough.”
Nelle went back to her copy of Vogue , but she wasn’t really comprehending much. She had too much on her mind. Plans on top of plans on top of plans. Plus, she was kind of hungry again.
“So what are we going to do when we get to France?” Keane abruptly asked her.
“Meet with Zeus.”
He let out a little sigh. “Yes. I am aware we’re meeting Zeus. I mean, what’s our main goal there?”
“Marti is setting up a meeting with the Von Sch?fer-Müllers of Hamburg as we speak.”
“Do we actually have to call them that?”
“It depends who we end up meeting with.”
“And do you think this will really”—he shrugged—“help anything?”
“I don’t know. But if we don’t do it, trust me, one of those crones would have simply made everything worse.”
“You really should stop calling them that.”
“You’re worried about them?”
“Based on what Van Holtz said at that lunch, it seems they single-handedly extended the Cold War. So, personally, I wouldn’t mess with them. But you do you.”
“No, no. You have a point. And they are trying to be helpful in their own drug-addled, post-menopausal way.”
“Yeah, sure, keep saying shit like that.”
“I’m just joking.”
“Look, I have uncles who grew up in the eighties. That generation are a breed unto themselves. Not to be fucked with lightly. They may have gray hair and complain about back pain, but don’t fool yourself.
My uncles and those broads are mean . We’re better with Rutowski and her friends on our side than on anyone else’s. ”
“I’ll make sure to keep that in mind.”
“You should. I’d hate to see that pretty face torn right off your head.”
Nelle held back her laugh and asked, “You think I’m pretty?”
Keane finally looked away from the window. “What is wrong with you? I keep trying to have a nice, logical conversation, and you keep trying to make it about—”
“Us?”
“There is no us. Why would you think there’s an us?”
“Because you like me.”
“I do not.”
“You do, too. I can tell, because you’re still here. When you don’t like someone, you’re like my great-grandfather. You just walk away.”
“So you’re saying I’m like a cranky old man?”
“You are a cranky old man. But it really works for you.” She tilted her head to the side to study him. “We should have dinner tonight.”
“Why wouldn’t we eat?”
“Not just eat. I mean, we should have dinner . At a nice place. Just the two of us.”
“So no Zeus at dinner?”
“It’ll be lovely. Some place with delicious food and excellent ambiance.”
“You mean like a Van Holtz restaurant?” he asked, sounding less than enthused.
“It’s Paris. There are all sorts of shifter-owned restaurants there that can cater to us.
Besides, if you want to go to an amazing Van Holtz restaurant, you should go to the one in Mülheim.
It’s huge, and the food is amazing. Their red wine pepper sauce is to die for.
” She smirked. Just to annoy him. “I’ll take you there sometime. ”
He shook his head, but she saw a hint of a smile. “You’re hopeless.”
“A hopeless romantic?” she asked, fluttering her eyes.
“No. Just hopeless.”
Chuckling, she slipped off her heels and put her feet on top of his outstretched legs.
When he didn’t push her off, she leaned back in her seat and returned to reading her magazine.
* * *
“This is Zeus.”
Keane gazed up at the seven-and-a-half-foot polar bear staring down at him.
“He’ll be our protection while we’re in Paris.”
“Bonjour,” Keane thought he heard grumbled from deep inside the bear’s chest.
“ Bonjour , Zeus,” Nelle said back, as she walked up the grand stairs leading to the Llewelyn Arms. She said something else in French and gestured at Keane.
The bear nodded at him and grumbled, “Bonjour.”
“Hiya,” Keane replied back before following Nelle inside.
“Mademoiselle Zhao!” a very loud Frenchman called out before rushing over to her.
Air kisses to cheeks followed and some gibberish in French before Nelle was immediately led to the elevators. She didn’t even have to check in at the front desk.