Page 73 of To Kill a Badger (The Honey Badgers Chronicles #6)

But, like most bears, the Dunn triplets didn’t need much to be happy.

A house; comfortable, size-appropriate furniture; and a regular shipment of sustainable frozen salmon; and the three of them were more than content.

What money they didn’t use, they saved for rainy days like now. And it felt very rainy.

“You do whatever you need to do,” Berg told her. “We’ll be here until it’s done.”

She pulled back a bit so she could look into his face. “On your keyring, I put a small safety-deposit-box key. Dutch has the password, and my grandfather has the bank name and location. If anything happens to me and Max, that box has everything Stevie will need. Understand?”

He did understand. Completely. But he didn’t like what he was hearing.

He knew, though, that telling Charlie he didn’t want her or Max in danger, and he could manage all of this himself, was not the way to go—and possibly not true.

He had no idea if he could handle this himself.

Or even with his brother and sister in tow.

Besides, the MacKilligan sisters didn’t want anyone rescuing them. They didn’t need it.

“I’ll take care of everything,” he promised.

“I love you.”

Berg held her even tighter. “I love you, too.”

“And if Max ever ends up going to prison, Dutch handles the escape plan to get her out.”

He kissed the top of her head. “Always good to know how to help with a felony.”

“It’s a badger specialty. Felony help.”

* * *

Analia de Medici was busy doing the washing up when she heard the knock on the back door.

When her sister answered it, Milano de Medici walked in.

He barely acknowledged her with a nod of his head.

Then he dropped into a chair at the kitchen table.

His twogreat-nephews who had accompanied him were dismissed to the nearby living room.

She immediately went to the refrigerator, assuming he’d want something to drink, but when she came over with a glass and glass jug, he waved her away.

Analia returned everything to its proper place and went back to her dishes.

She usually had a staff to take care of these small things, but that had been when they lived in Italy and weren’t at war.

A war her husband had started. Now no one who wasn’t a de Medici by blood or marriage was to know where they were.

It was said their lives were in danger. But Analia’s life had been in danger since she’d been handed off to the de Medicis by her pride.

By giving Paolo a girl to marry, her mother and her sisters prevented the murder of their youngest children.

Analia’s younger sister had been given to Silvio, her mother telling her, “This way, you won’t be alone.

” Her mother had also promised her two daughters they’d be rich and have everything they could ever want.

Instead of feeling satisfied with her life, though, Analia often wondered what it was like not to flinch every time her husband moved.

Paolo walked into the kitchen with his shadow and brother, Silvio.

Throwing his big arms wide, Paolo greeted his family. “Uncle Milano! What brings you here?”

“Our money.”

Paolo stopped walking and lowered his arms. “Our money? What about our money?”

“We don’t have any.”

Analia motioned to her sister and the other women helping in the kitchen to leave, and she followed them out the back service entrance.

She sent them all up the back stairs to their rooms, but stayed and listened at the door.

Analia had learned long ago that to avoid her husband’s rage, she always needed to know what was going on. Even if she risked getting caught.

“What are you talking about?” Paolo asked.

“Our money is gone. All the bank accounts cleaned out. Only the cash is left. And there’s not a lot of that since you started this fucking war.”

“Are you accusing me of taking that money?”

“No, you idiot! We know who took it! The vermin! This is what they do! And why your father told you not to fuck with them!”

“He thought he could control them. And look what happened. They killed him! I’m not making the same mistake!”

“You started this, and now we are all fucked. Do you know why? Because you don’t think , boy. When your father was alive, we were willing to take the risks, but not anymore.”

“Meaning?”

“I’ve discussed it with my brothers, Paolo. It’s time you withdraw from what’s happening. I can work with Katzenhaus to handle ending this.”

“I’m not ending anything.”

“You’ll do what I tell you, boy, or—”

Analia knew the second her husband shifted and attacked his uncle. She could hear the two lion males tearing her kitchen apart. Then it all stopped.

Swallowing, she pushed open the door enough to see inside.

Paolo had his uncle pinned to the ground by his neck, while Silvio had Milano by his hind leg. The older lion kept trying to fight them off, battering them with his paws, but they wouldn’t let him up.

Paolo readjusted his hold on his uncle’s windpipe and bit down harder. For long minutes, they stayed like that until the old lion, finally, stopped moving.

Silently, Analia backed away, carefully closing the door, and went up the stairs. Her sister was waiting for her in her bedroom. They sat next to each other on the bed, but Analia didn’t have to tell her sister anything. Over the years, they’d learned to communicate without words.

Now Milano was dead, and the remainder of his brothers would be coming for Paolo and those willing to back him.

But it wouldn’t stop there. Not for the de Medicis. If Paolo and his brothers were killed, the uncles would also wipe out any cubs they had. That’s how they avoided future retribution when Paolo’s sons and daughters were adults.

But they weren’t just Paolo’s sons and daughters. They were hers, too.

Of course, if Paolo went after his uncles first . . .

Whatever her husband and his brothers did, though, after all this, was only going to make everything absolutely worse. And now it sounded like there was no money to hire mercenary cats and bears who could be bought to fight on their side.

Analia looked at her sister, and she knew they were both thinking the same thing.

They had to get the fuck out of here.

* * *

After spending some much-needed time with Berg, Charlie slipped out of their bed while he slept. She showered and got dressed, and went back to her house, greeting the bears that were loitering around her property, most of them in their shifted form since it was still dark out.

Once back in her kitchen, Charlie didn’t start baking.

Instead, she simply sat at the table with a hot cup of coffee that was rapidly going cold, and just gazed across the room.

She had so many thoughts, and was busy trying to organize them into something usable.

Something that would get her through all this, because time was no longer on her side.

“Are you okay?” Stevie asked as she grabbed a bottled water from the fridge and sat down at the table with Charlie. “You look befuddled.”

“No. Just thinking about things,” she admitted.

“What things?”

“Just things.”

“Have you heard from Max?”

“No. But I doubt I will until they have something to tell me. I’m sure it will be fine, though.”

“I have to admit, I was surprised you sent them out.”

“Why?”

“It seems like a crazy badger plan. The kind you usually avoid.”

“Maybe. But I’m sure Streep can handle it. She’s smart and knows how to cry on cue.”

“True.” Stevie stood. “If you need anything, just let me know.”

“Sure.”

She heard Stevie leave, but then her sister was back at the table.

“You’re not baking,” Stevie noted.

“No. Because I’m sitting here and thinking. Remember? We just had that conversation.”

“But everything is okay, right?”

“Yeah.”

“Okay. Okay.”

Again, Charlie heard her sister walk away, but three seconds later, she was back.

“How is everything okay?” she asked.

Charlie leaned back in her chair. “Huh?”

“What I mean is, why are you okay? You should be baking and freaking out. Why are you not baking? You should be baking.”

“You sound like the bears. And usually you freak out when I start baking.”

“That’s not true. I love when you bake.”

“Okay.”

Stevie nodded. “Okay.” She smiled. “Okay!”

This time she made it down to the basement before darting back upstairs and sliding to a stop in front of Charlie, who had not moved.

“You know, don’t you?” Stevie asked.

“Know what?”

“You know. ”

“You’ll have to be more specific.”

Stevie stomped her foot. “Charlie!”

“Oh. Do you mean that I know that Nelle had originally told Rutowski not to tell me about her idea? To not involve me at all? That anything that might involve me should only go through her first?”

Stevie cringed and turned to walk away.

That’s when Charlie said, “ Or do I know about the time you ran off to Nepal to join a nunnery?”

Stevie spun around, eyes wide now as she gaped at Charlie.

“A nunnery,” Charlie repeated. “Even though you are a very proud atheist, even then. And then Max had to run after you and get back in time for her prom and, of course, before I noticed that you were gone at all. Or do I know about the time Max was arrested in Canada for stealing gold bars from some dude’s house, dug herself out of the jail, only to eventually punch a moose for some reason?

Thankfully, she was only fourteen, and my grandfather was able to get her back home before I noticed.

Although he was told not to tell me . . .

and not to let Max return to Canada. Ever. ”

Charlie leaned forward and said, “Or do I know that you and Max have been working together to track down and kill each bastard that was involved with my mom’s death? I believe you’ve gotten three out of the six, right?”

Stevie groped for the chair before dropping into it, mouth open, eyes still wide.

Finally, her sister tried to speak, “Char—”

Charlie held her hand up. “No, no. No need to apologize, which is what I’m assuming you were about to do.

I get it. But let’s understand something .

. . I always know what you guys are up to.

When I don’t know what’s going on is when you have to worry.

That being said, of course, don’t tell Max I know what’s going on.

She’s happier when she thinks she’s getting something over on me.

If she finds out she’s not . . . I worry what she’ll really get up to. ”

With a full-body cringe, Stevie nodded in agreement.

* * *

Stevie fought the wave of panic that washed over her. When she usually got like this, she would have to go into a dark cabinet and spend hours doing her deep-breathing exercises until her heart rate went down.

But thankfully, her new medication was helping control that need—and her heart rate—as was Charlie’s calm reaction to all of this.

She knew.

She’d always known.

Max used to wonder if their big sister knew, but then they’d dismissed it.

If she knew, wouldn’t she step in? That’s why they hadn’t told her, because they didn’t want her to worry or be involved or get mad.

There were tons of reasons why, for all these years, they’d kept her on the outside of what was going on.

Because Charlie, could be, when provoked, a bit . . . reactionary.

Charlie picked up her phone and read something, texted back a reply, and put her phone back onto the table.

“So,” she said, briefly glancing at her phone again before continuing, “why don’t you guys ever tell me what’s really going on? I mean, I think I know, but I’d love to hear your thoughts.”

Stevie knew there was no point in lying to her sister at this point. But she wanted to be gentle. She didn’t want to hurt Charlie. She loved her!

Satisfied with the direction she was going to take, Stevie began, “Vlad the Impaler—”

“Wow!” Charlie immediately exploded. “Really?”

“Okay. Okay.” Stevie held her hands up. “Wrong example. Get it. You are not Vlad the Impaler.” She tried again. “Genghis Khan—”

“Oh, my God.”

“—was a master of psychological warfare. He would wipe out entire civilizations so that when he went to the next civilization or city or empire, he could point at the one he just destroyed and say, ‘If you don’t do what I want, what happened to them will happen to you.’ And that plan was quite effective for him. ”

“Your point being . . . I kill old people and children and take the stronger women as slaves?”

“Not on purpose.”

“Oh, my God,” Charlie let out in a stunned whisper.

“No, no, no! I mean . . . you don’t do that.

Of course you don’t do that. But when you’re making a point .

. . you tend not to see the potential long-term, more wide-ranging damage that could come from your angry reactions.

Especially when it comes to protecting me and Max.

We try to save you from that so we don’t lose you forever if one of the shifter organizations decides you are a danger.

Or you’re thrown in prison for murdering someone. ”

Charlie glared at her, but the fact she didn’t have an immediate, angry response meant she was listening.

Listening was good. Listening was one of Stevie’s favorite things, and she believed the world, in general, didn’t listen enough.

“Okay” Charlie finally said. “I get your point. Thank you,” she said with a nod. “For being honest.”

“I love you, Charlie.”

“Love you, too.”

With that, Stevie headed back to her basement. She had just opened some files and began to prepare to add a few more things into the notes section when she froze, gazing at the wall behind her desk.

“ ‘Love you, too?’ ” she repeated, realizing how foolish she’d been.

Spinning around, Stevie bolted back up the stairs, sliding to a stop in front of her sister and slapping the phone she was typing into from her hand.

“What the—”

Stevie pointed an accusing finger. “Tell me what you did!”

When Charlie did nothing in response but smile, Stevie knew everything was fucked.