Home > In a Badger Way (Honey Badger Chronicles #2)(7)

In a Badger Way (Honey Badger Chronicles #2)(7)
Author: Shelly Laurenston, Charlotte Kane

Head down, he followed Charlie and Max to the elevator at the end of the hall.

Once the doors closed, Berg observed, “That seemed a little. . . strong.”

Charlie’s smile was faint. “I like clarity.”

Berg expected more on the subject, but nope.

Turning to Max, Charlie asked, “Is there a problem?”

“Got a call from Shen. Stevie’s meds stopped working.”

Charlie cringed. “I was afraid that was going to happen.”

“Don’t worry, though. Kyle went to his mom’s town house downtown. He said she could help.” Max shrugged. “Let’s face it, with those kids of hers, I’m sure she’s got some great psychiatrists on speed dial.”

* * *

“That could have gone better,” Ric said, dropping into the chair near his cousin’s desk.

“They’re crazy.” Van was still standing there, staring off, his expression blank and confused. “They’re absolutely crazy.”

“I thought we’d already figured that out.” Ric shook his head. “So now what?”

“Plan B, I guess.”

“Plan B? You want me to call Dee-Ann and—”

“Dear God, I’d never ask your wife to involve herself in this in any way.”

Ric smirked. The fear in his cousin’s voice was, to say the least, entertaining.

“No offense, of course,” Van eventually added.

“Of course.”

“No. I’ve got a better plan. My wife—”

The snort-laugh was out before Ric could stop it.

Ric cleared his throat. “Sorry. You were saying?”

“My wife is in town—”

“Great. We should have dinner togeth—” The glare was so harsh, Ric stopped speaking.

“—and she, I’m sure, can handle this.”

When Van didn’t add a wink to that statement, letting Ric know he was joking, Ric nodded and said, “Of course. I’m sure . . . that Irene Conridge, PhD, internationally known for making a Pope cry, can deal with three women—one of which just threatened to skin you alive while the other happily offered to mow down the women and children of her own family—without any problems.”

Van rubbed his nose. “Your sarcasm is noted, cousin.”

“To paraphrase my wife, just sayin’.”

chapter THREE

Kyle unlocked the front door to his parents’ rental home and walked inside. He turned back and watched his friend step in behind him. Stevie had her arms wrapped around her middle, hands clasped around her elbows, and her eyes darted around the hallway. It was like she was expecting some kind of random attack that could come from anywhere.

Over the years of knowing her, Kyle had seen Stevie under stress. He’d seen her become stressed over what many would consider little things. He’d seen her lash out when she heard noises she didn’t like or scream hysterically when someone touched her shoulder. He was used to that.

He was not used to this.

This quiet, tense, softly growling Stevie. This Stevie was freaking him out. It wasn’t what she was or wasn’t doing, though. It was her energy. An intense, dangerous energy that had the jackal in him ready to head for the hills. And his jackal side was something Kyle didn’t really deal with. It was there, it was a part of him, but as an artist, he felt he didn’t need it. He barely acknowledged it.

But for the first time, he felt it scratching inside him. Panicked and ready to bolt.

“Why don’t you wait in here?” Kyle softly suggested, gesturing to the grand ballroom with a wave of his hand because he was afraid to touch her.

Stevie nodded and walked in. Kyle turned and started down the hallway, but his overly familiar bodyguard yanked him back by his shoulder.

“Where the fuck are you going?” the giant panda demanded.

“To get someone who can help her.”

“You’re leaving me alone with her?”

“Aren’t you the trained professional?” Kyle demanded, turning to face the security guard his sister insisted he have with him anytime he was away from the family. “Can’t you manage one tiny woman until I get back?”

“That’s not my job. I’m supposed to be managing one tiny boy.”

As Kyle was at least two inches taller than the six-foot panda, he didn’t take the bait. He wasn’t so easily taunted into giving someone what they wanted.

“I’ll be back. Keep her away from everyone.”

Kyle headed deep into the house, ignoring the bear’s “Wait . . . what do you mean? What does that mean?”

He knew where his family would be if they weren’t in the grand ballroom practicing or working. The kitchen. It was where the Jean-Louis Parker clan gathered. But as he neared that room, he heard strange sounds for the middle of the day. He heard children laughing and running. Giggling and screaming.

For most houses with lots of children, these might be considered normal sounds, but not for the Jean-Louis Parkers. If they were home at all this early in the day, each of them would want quiet so that they could do their work. Usually, the only sound they tolerated was the music that came from Coop, Cherise, or their mother, Jaqueline. His older sister Oriana was a dancer, but she wore earbuds to listen to her music. So the only sounds that came from her was of her toe shoes against the floor and the occasional snarl when she couldn’t get a move exactly right. His other, younger siblings leaned toward math, science, and art. All of them demanded silence and hours to work alone. Especially in the summer when they weren’t forced by ridiculous government laws to attend regular schools with regular, useless children.

So what were these annoying noises Kyle was hearing?

He finally reached the kitchen and pushed the swinging door open. He immediately froze, a faint sense of panic inching up his spine.

“Shit,” he said out loud.

“You cursed,” a child he’d never seen before told him, pointing her finger. “You cursed. You cursed. You cursed.”

Thirteen-year-old Freddy—although he preferred to be called Frederick now—pushed the child toward the back door. “Go away.”

Still chanting, the kid walked off and Freddy turned toward Kyle, grabbing his T-shirt and raising himself on his toes so he could more easily look his brother in the chin.

“Help me,” he growled.

“What is going on?” Kyle demanded, looking around the room. There was evidence of children everywhere. Stickiness, half-eaten sugary things, electronic handheld games . . . that were covered in more stickiness. It was disgusting!

“Mom decided we needed a playdate with the wild dog pups across the street. She and Dad felt we weren’t getting enough—”

“Of a real childhood,” Kyle finished for his brother. He rolled his eyes. “Don’t blame Mom. This has Dad written all over it. Dad and Toni.”

The only two normal people in their family, Kyle’s eldest sister Toni and his father, Paul, were lovely human beings, but they sometimes managed to get in the way of “the work.” And “the work” was all the rest of them cared about despite the fact that each of them focused on different things. Kyle was a sculptor. Freddy was all about physics. Family members were divided between the artists and the scientists/mathematicians, but each of them was a prodigy. All except poor Toni, his oldest sibling, and their father. They were nothing but average people with average lives.

Kyle shuddered at the thought.

“Where’s Dad now?” Kyle asked.

“Out back with most of the children and a few wild dog adults.”

Kyle glanced back down the hall; remembered why he was here. “You know what would be great?”

“For me to make a run for it while you distract everyone?”

“No. For you to take everyone back over to the wild dog house. For a little while.”

“I don’t want to do that. I want to get back to work. I thought you, of all people, would help me get back to work.”

“Later. Just get everybody out.”

“Why?”

“Would you trust me?”

“But I don’t trust you.” Freddy’s eyes narrowed. “You just want the house to yourself.”

“I don’t, but believe what you want. Just do what I’m telling you and get everybody over to the wild dog house. Now.”

“Fine. But I’m not happy.”

“I am aware.” Kyle moved away from his younger brother and headed toward his eldest, Cooper. He was standing by the refrigerator, a bottle of soda in his hand; chatting with one of the adult wild dogs.

“Excuse me,” Kyle interrupted. “Can I speak to my brother for a moment?”

“Sure!” the wild dog cheered. Then he stood there. Smiling.

Kyle took a breath. “So go away.”

“Okay!”

Coop chuckled as the wild dog went outside. “Why can’t you be nice?”

“I don’t even understand what that means. Now, have you seen Aunt Irene today? She texted me earlier. Is she still here?”

“I think she’s upstairs with Mom. Why?”

“I need her—”

The rest of Kyle’s words became lodged in his throat when he glanced out one of the windows that overlooked the yard. While Freddy did his best to shepherd the annoying wild dog pups and the adults back to their own home, Kyle saw who stood by one of the tables, his eldest daughter leaning beside him, wearing a hockey jersey six sizes too big for the girl. Although Kyle had no doubt that one day, that “little girl” would grow up to be a very large and dangerous female. Just like her father.

Her father. Bo Novikov. Homicidal hockey player and great organizer.

And if Bo Novikov was here with his kids that meant . . .

“Where is she?” Kyle demanded of his stunned brother, grabbing him by his T-shirt and yanking him close. “Where is she, Coop?”

* * *

Wow! That had to be the best soda in the world! The Jean-Louis Parker twins had told her it was when they handed her the bottle. Even though the soda was caffeine and sugar free, it tasted so great! She couldn’t believe how great it tasted!

   
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