Keane took a moment to get his annoyance under control. He let out a long breath and said, “Half honey badger. And there are things about her that you simply may not be able to handle.”
“I understand your concerns. I really do.” Charlie walked back across the kitchen and opened one of the drawers. “I have been dealing with Max, Stevie, and their issues since I was a kid. I know what’s involved in managing a MacKilligan girl.”
“She’s a Malone.”
“Uh-huh.” Charlie moved over to the counter that stood directly under the open window looking out over the backyard. The window had been slightly raised so a thin arm could snake in and dig through a big purse that had been sitting on the counter; a wallet was half hanging out of it.
“I understand your concerns, Keane,” Charlie continued. “I really do. But your sister is at that age when she can be quite a handful, and I’m not sure three brothers who adore her are going to be able to manage her the way a honey badger needs to be managed.”
“What does that—Oh, my God!” he barked out, watching as Charlie grabbed the hand digging through her purse, slapped it flat onto the counter, and stabbed it with a fork she’d taken from the drawer.
“Owwwwww! Motherfuckerbitchwhoreburninhell—”
“Stop whining,” Charlie calmly ordered, releasing Nat’s hand, but only so she could drag her halfway through the window so Keane’s younger sister could see exactly what Charlie had to say. “If you’re going to steal, Nat, don’t steal from family. And be good at it. If you’re not good at it, you’ll get worse than a fork to the hand. Capiche?” She shoved Nat out the window and turned to Keane, letting out a charming little giggle. “I guess I’m still feeling a bit Italian today.”
Keane pointed at the now empty window. “You stabbed my sister in the hand.”
“Yeah. If she’s going to steal, she needs to be better. Or she needs to not give a fuck about being stabbed in the hand. She can’t have it both ways.”
“What?”
Tossing the fork into the sink, she explained, “With honey badgers, there are two types of thieves: the brazen, and the smart. The smart ones steal from you, and you never know until you open your safe to get the bonds your grandmother gave you twenty years ago and just find a little card where the bonds used to be. And on the card is a smiley face. Or a middle finger. It really depends on the mood of the badger.”
“And brazen?”
“They just take what they want. I have several uncles and cousins like that. They just walk in and take what they want and dare you to call the cops on them. Brazen is what you do when you like going to jail sometimes or getting slapped around by people much bigger and stronger than you. There is, sadly, a little too much brazen in the MacKilligan bloodline. But since I don’t want my sisters to go to prison, I train them in the smart ways. And the smart way is no stealing from family, and everyone else never knows you were there.”
“And that means stabbing your sisters with forks?”
“No, no. I never stabbed Stevie. She doesn’t steal. She thinks it’s morally wrong.”
“She’s right.”
“Although she does love stealing magazines from doctor’s offices. Just to see if she can get away with it. And I’m okay with that—it keeps her natural skills sharp.”
“But you stabbed Max with a fork?”
“No.” She shook her head. “I stabbed her with a knife. More than once. But she was stealing from everybody, including the Pack, which would have ended much worse than getting us thrown out. Plus, she’s a little bit of a sociopath, so she doesn’t have a memory of pain the way normal people do. She doesn’t fear its reoccurrence.”
“Oh, my God.”
“I know. That one has taken a lot of work, but she’s come a long way. And Nat,” she added, gesturing to the empty window, “is a fast learner. I know that she’ll never try to steal my wallet from my bag again while I’m standing right there because she’s not a sociopath. She absolutely remembers pain. It’s a deterrent.”
“You know, Charlie, I’d prefer you not stab my baby sister.”
“You want me to punch her?”
“No!” He stopped, forced himself to calm down. He knew he couldn’t be his usual self with Charlie. She was . . . different. Not like anyone—full-human or shifter—he’d ever known. And unlike everyone else, she wasn’t scared of him. Not even a little. “We try to avoid abuse in our family. That’s kind of what Nat’s used to. What’s so funny?” he asked when she laughed.
“I’ve seen how you treat your baby brother.”
Keane let a snarl slip before he could stop it, but he quickly recovered. “The idiot—” He stopped, gave himself another second. He began again. “Dale is a bit of a momma’s boy.”
“So are the rest of you!” she retorted, still laughing. “All four of you are momma’s boys. You just give him shit because he enjoys his momma-boy status. Don’t hate the player, Keane, hate the game. And as much as you don’t want to believe it, Nat is not a cat. She’s a honey badger. Loud and proud about it, too. And if we’re not careful, she will go from trouble-making Rasputin right into Lucrezia Borgia territory, and then where will we be? I’ll tell you where: talking to your sweet little Nat through plexiglass at Rikers while she does twenty-five to life for—as her defense team will argue—accidentally poisoning someone to death. Is that what you want?”
“Uh . . . no.”
“Exactly. So let me handle it. Because, honestly, after Max . . . everyone else is a fucking cake walk.”
Keane didn’t know what else to say. What could he say? He didn’t think Charlie was wrong. He knew his sister. Better than he probably wanted to, and she was, in a word, trouble. Max MacKilligan was nearly thirty and hadn’t gone to prison yet, so maybe . . . ?
He started to walk toward the front door, but stopped to look back at Charlie.
“Lucrezia Borgia?”
“Dude . . . her father became pope despite his litter of children and many mistresses. Of course the Borgias were honey badgers. But,” she added with a smile, “they were the smart ones.”
With a nod, Keane walked out of the kitchen. He was near the front door when Charlie called out, “I gave Finn extra sauce for you guys. But don’t leave it in your car too long. The bears will start tearing that thing apart to get to it. Especially since it’s after dark.”
Keane took off running, pushing past both his brothers on the porch. He ran down the stairs and stopped on the sidewalk. That’s when Keane roared toward his SUV. Lions and wolves on other streets responded in annoyance and panic with their own roars and barks until Keane bellowed out, “Get your grizzly asses away from my SUV! That sauce belongs to the Malones!”
Chapter 10
“Why does Charlie want to see us?” Streep asked. She looked at Max. “What did you do?”
“Why do you guys always ask me that? It hurts my feelings.”
“You don’t have feelings.”