Born to Be Badger (Honey Badger Chronicles #5)

“Look at that!” he enthused. “The size difference. Fascinating, isn’t it? But look how long your claws are, considering the size and all. Do you ever paint them? I know a tigon that paints her claws the colors of her favorite football and hockey teams. Do you ever do that?”

It was in that moment Tock thought about putting a bullet in the cat’s head and ending this situation right here and now. She could easily dispose of the body and, after a shower with good soap and extra-strength shampoo for her hair, she was sure his brothers would never know that Tock had been with Shay Malone in the last few minutes of his life.

But no. She would not do that. Why? Because she wasn’t her grandmother. Either one of them. One was a descendent of Caribbean pirates who had quietly but firmly owned the seas, and the other was from a very long line of Polish Jews that were always on the side of any resistance. Both were from matriarchal families that had no patience for weakness. Tock, however, had promised herself she wouldn’t just remove people who got in her way or simply annoyed her. Life was too short to be that angry all the time.

So, after letting out a very long, slow breath, Tock refocused on the papers her cousin had handed her and began to read. Moments before she exited the jet, she would set these same papers on fire to get rid of evidence, and do her best not to do the same to the cat sitting across from her, who was busy focusing his attention on a new piece of thread he’d just found on his own seat.

*

“Nice building,” Shay noted, looking the office building over from his spot in the passenger seat of the black SUV. “It’s kind of weird, though, being out here in the middle of the night.”

Once they’d landed at the private airport, they’d waited on the plane for hours. It had been a long and boring wait because Tock wouldn’t talk to him. She’d spent her time going through those papers her cousin had given her as well as a small notebook she carried in one of her many pockets. Unable to get a conversation started, he just watched videos on his phone. He ended up having to use his ear buds, though, because she’d snapped at him when the Marvel heroes got a little too loud for her. Who didn’t want to listen to superheroes destroy entire cities in an attack that no full-human could ever hope to survive?

He heard Tock sigh at his comment about the building. “I thought you were the quiet one.”

“Quiet? I guess I can be. If I have nothing to say. But if I do—”

With a small growl, she got out of the vehicle. He followed, closing the door behind him.

“What are you doing?” she asked, when she reached his side of the SUV.

“Going with you.”

“No. Absolutely not.”

“Yeah, but—”

“In exactly five minutes, you will switch to the driver’s side of the vehicle and start it. You will be ready to drive away from here when I return. Do you understand?”

That seemed reasonable to him, so he replied, “Yeah. Sure.”

“Let me see your watch.”

Grinning, Shay held his arm out for her.

“What is that?”

“My Gumby watch.”

“That looks like a kid’s watch.”

“It is. My dad gave it to me when I was six. I keep changing the band because, ya know . . . I got bigger.”

“Is there a timer on it?”

“On a Gumby wristwatch? No.”

Another sigh. “Gimme your phone.”

He pulled his cell phone from his back pocket and handed it to her.

“Unlock it, Einstein.”

“Oh. Yeah.” He used his thumb and she immediately took the phone back once it opened.

She spent a few seconds looking through his apps before announcing, “You don’t have a timer app on your phone?”

“What do I need that for?”

“I don’t know. For football practice?”

“The coach and Keane tell me what to do and I do it. Then they tell me when to stop, and I stop. What do I need a timer for?”

“Oh, my God,” she muttered before he watched her download a free timer app and set it up, after glancing at her own ridiculous timepiece. It looked like something a three-star general in the Navy would use.

She handed his phone back to him. “It’s on vibrate, so pay attention. When it goes off, get in the car and start it. Understand?”

“Yes. What about security?”

“There isn’t any except the guy at the front desk inside.”

“Are you going to kill him?”

“No.”

“I’ll be really mad if you kill him.”

“I’m not going to kill him.”

“Promise?”

“Oh, my God,” she muttered again before turning away and disappearing around the right side of the building.

*

Tock began to climb the side of the building, using nothing but her hands and feet. She wore gloves to protect her palms and climbing shoes for her feet. She’d been “free soloing” since she was three, when her father found her climbing the side of the house to get inside the room where they kept the family safe. She needed some cash to buy a watch. She loved how the little arms on watches moved and how the device kept one apprised of each second, minute, and hour of the day. Her parents thought her love of time was “cute,” so they’d purchased her a Mickey Mouse watch, which she simply found insulting. She wanted a real watch. Not some ridiculous kiddy watch. So, while her parents were unloading groceries for a big family party, she’d decided to scale the side of their house, get into the room with the safe, break it open, take some money out, and buy herself a good watch. A proper watch.

It never occurred to Tock that her parents might be angry. She just knew what she wanted. So she began scaling. She was halfway up when her father caught her.

“What the hell are you doing?” he’d demanded. Once he got her down, he’d told her, “You never steal from family, baby. If you want something from one of us, you ask.”

She’d held out her arm to silently explain that she had asked. She made sure her face expressed the disdain she felt because she wanted to let him know that she had asked and this was what she’d received.

Her father had smirked. “Got it. Got it.”

And he did. Despite her mother’s disgust at “catering to a three-year-old’s whims,” he’d taken his daughter away from the family party in their backyard and driven her to a special watchmaker. There he’d had a watch put together just for her, one that wasn’t too big for her little wrist but still had the kind of information she wanted and was sturdy. As she outgrew one watch, he’d get her a new one. She never had to ask again. He always knew exactly what she needed and when.

Despite that, though, she still kept learning to climb. She didn’t like ropes and all the gear mountain climbers used. She liked just using her hands and feet. Her ability had gotten better with age and surprisingly helped with her basketball skills. And if she ever slipped, she always had her claws to catch her.

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