Page 66 of To Kill a Badger (The Honey Badgers Chronicles #6)

I t didn’t feel like they’d been digging for that long.

They came up from the earth to find a dark-red SUV waiting for them, the keys in the ignition.

Rutowski drove, and Nelle kept moving her arms so her wounds didn’t heal completely.

She wanted them cleaned out before that could happen.

She also wanted her phone. Or a phone. She needed to contact her father.

Let him know to watch his back. She didn’t want him blindsided.

Yet, despite all the things crowding her mind, she couldn’t ignore what was happening with the cat.

He’d been silent since they’d come out of the hole that last time; he’d sat in the vehicle without saying a word.

Naked, his clothes left somewhere else, he’d climbed into the back seat inside and immediately opened the window.

As they’d traveled the roads leading away from Versailles and Paris—and France’s well-trained police force—he’d kept his head outside that window like he couldn’t get enough fresh air.

When they arrived at the small, but extremely nice chateau Nelle didn’t recognize, álvarez cut in front of her while the rest went into the home.

“Just a suggestion,” the She-badger said quietly, holding onto a large, red-leather Louis Vuitton bag just out of Nelle’s reach, “but you may want to watch out for your cat. I think traveling underground has really freaked him out.”

“Really?” Nelle snatched the bag from the female’s hand. “I wouldn’t have figured that out if you hadn’t said anything.”

álvarez leaned back. “Are . . . are you okay?”

“I’m fine. Why?”

“You just seem a little . . .”

Nelle stepped closer and snarled, “A little what ?”

“Nothin’.”

Rolling her eyes at this female wasting her time, Nelle went around álvarez and walked into the house. She dropped the bag on the stairs leading to a second floor, and tracked everyone down in the kitchen. A kitchen that was quite large for such a small-ish house.

At least someone had given Keane a towel, but it was barely covering him, despite his narrow hips. He had to hold it with one hand until he sat down on a kitchen chair and laid it across his lap.

Why couldn’t anyone get him a proper towel? Were they trying to annoy Nelle? Because it was starting to feel that way.

Then she noticed that Rutowski was on her phone.

“Who are you texting?” Nelle asked.

“My niece. Figured I should—”

Nelle stomped across the kitchen and slapped the phone out of the female’s hand. “Are you stupid?”

Gawking at her empty hand, Rutowski asked, “What the fuck?”

“Are you trying to make this situation worse?”

“No, but—”

“Then don’t call anyone! Don’t text anyone!”

“You seem a little stressed, Nelle.”

“Shut up!”

* * *

Keane hadn’t been listening. Not for the last hour.

He’d been too busy imagining himself being buried alive, and what if he couldn’t get out?

What if he couldn’t get out and no one could save him?

Every time he had that thought, he would start to quietly hyperventilate.

So quietly no one seemed to notice, but he could feel his heart rate increasing and his blood pressure growing.

But then he heard something strange. Nelle Zhao yelling.

Nelle didn’t yell. She didn’t get truly angry.

She could be mean and dangerous, but she didn’t go into a rage like Charlie or Mads or, well, him.

But there she was, standing at one end of the kitchen table, yelling at the stunned She-badgers on the other side of the table who had stepped in and saved them both.

True, according to local news radio—as translated by álvarez for Keane—the entire country of France was freaking out about the “attack” near Versailles, and every entry into the country was being watched to find the “culprits.” But other than that .

. . these four lunatics had really been trying to help.

In their own Gen-X, kill-or-be-killed, honey badger way.

Nelle grabbed a fresh baguette from the table and brandished it like a long knife. “Did you do this?” she demanded, jabbing the baguette toward them. “Was this you?”

The four badgers looked at one another and back at Nelle.

“Was what us?” Rutowski asked.

“If you’re asking if we trashed Versailles... ?” Yoon shrugged. “Sorta.”

“If you’re asking if we saved your ass . . . yes!” álvarez told her.

“Other than that, we’re lost,” Rutowski said.

“And do not care,” the Russian tossed in.

“We care , Oksana,” Rutowski quickly insisted. “We do . . . sort of.”

“They wanted my father,” Nelle told them. “Did one of you give me up so they could get to him?”

It was like cold water had been thrown on the four She-badgers.

Their expressions changing from mild concern and annoyance to something darker.

Of course, Keane recognized their expressions.

He’d seen it in his own mirror so often the last two decades.

Even the Russian moved away from the counter she’d been leaning against to stand beside her comrades. The four of them glowering at Nelle.

“Let me tell you something, kid,” Rutowski growled out, “when we join a team, we are fucking loyal. We don’t turn tail and run. We don’t rat anyone out to cops. And we definitely don’t give up snobby bitches to runty full-humans who know who we are. And if that’s what you are accusing us of—”

“That’s what I’m accusing you of—”

“Okay!” Keane quickly stood, the wood chair scraping against the tiles as it skittered back. He held both his arms out, although the table was between them all. “Ladies, look, I don’t know how to do this . . . this . . . right here . . .” He motioned with his hand, trying to find the word.

Yoon guessed first, “Mediate?”

“Yes! I don’t know how to do that. That’s Finn’s job, and he usually is stopping me from . . .”

“Biting someone’s head off?”

“Yes! That’s what I do, when tiny people annoy me. When it’s bears, I just try to take their faces off. But that’s not what I want to do right now. Instead, I’d rather . . .”

“Put on some pants?” Rutowski suggested.

“ That and my loyalty is torn here.”

“Really?” Nelle snapped.

He moved the hand aimed at Nelle higher. “Meaning”— he pointed at the four She-badgers with the other hand—“they saved our lives. And you —”

“You want to fuck her?” álvarez coldly suggested when he pointed at Nelle.

“Please stop talking,” Keane begged. “I am just trying to get through this with as much dignity as possible and the limbs I was born with still intact. Is that too much to ask?”

When they all remained silent, Keane continued.

“Nelle, I don’t think they ratted us out. And, ladies, I think Nelle has been through a lot in just a few short hours and instead of swarming her like the angry badgers you all are, maybe we should just sit down and discuss what may have happened so we can fix it.”

Keane cringed a little, not knowing if suggesting they “fix” things was the right direction. He really needed Finn here for this sort of thing. Especially when he was still naked and had the taste of some dude’s hair, scalp, and blood lingering inside his mouth.

He started to think he should have grabbed Nelle and run when the four badgers didn’t stop glaring at Nelle and she didn’t stop glaring back.

But then Rutowski’s cell phone pinged, and she reached down to pick it up from the floor.

She took one look at the message that had come in and said, very calmly, “Why don’t I cook us something to eat?

I’m sure everyone’s hungry. And while we eat .

. . we can talk. Calmly. Rationally. Sound good? ”

Yoon nodded. “Sounds good to me.” She looked at Nelle. “Your highness?”

“Not helping!” Keane snapped.

* * *

Keane had wanted a shower before he ate, but he seemed afraid to leave her alone with the crones while they whipped up some dinner from the fresh supplies someone had left for them.

So he’d insisted she come with him to one of the upstairs bedrooms. While he went about showering the blood and dirt off his body in the adjoining bathroom, Nelle had spent time cleaning the wounds on the backs of her arms. Of course, first she had to cut each one open again.

Then she cleaned out the dirt and grime the wounds had picked up on their travels through the holes in the dirt.

After that, she’d applied rubbing alcohol and wrapped each wound with clean bandages.

Once done, she’d stretched out on the bed, arms and legs akimbo, and stared at the ceiling.

She felt a little more centered now. A little calmer. She didn’t want to cut the Russian’s throat nor hack off Rutowski’s head with an axe . . . so . . . that was good.

“Have you been in touch with your dad?”

She hadn’t realized the shower had gone off and that Keane was back in the room with her.

“Not yet.” She sat up and froze. He’d pulled on a pair of jeans, but that was it, and damn .

She watched him continue to dry off his shoulders and hair. Muscles flexing . . .

What, exactly, was wrong with her?

Oh, honestly! She knew what was wrong with her. She wanted to fuck him! Who wouldn’t want to fuck that man? Fresh from the shower, his hair smelling like Olaplex conditioner, and his body just rippling in those jeans. He’d even brushed his teeth. He smelled “minty fresh.”

“What’s wrong?”

She blinked, realizing she was staring at him. Practically drooling. She had to get it together!

“Nothing.”

He sat down next to her, the damp towel between his hands. “I’m sure your dad is okay. But if you want to go check—”

“No, no. I know he’s fine. Charles immediately contacted Marti, who contacted—”

“Charles! Where the hell was he?”

Damn. She’d meant not to bring Charles up, since she knew Keane would only be angry. But he simply didn’t understand.

“Charles did what he was supposed to do.”

“Bullshit! He abandoned you!”

She held her hand up. “Keane, I wasn’t kidnapped. I was arrested. When one of us is arrested, the family has to be informed by security. That’s exactly what Charles did. So the next time you see him—”