Hot and Badgered. Shelly Laurenston

of you are so moody.” Max took the car out of park and drove through the path she’d created until she was able to enter the woods. This got them off the road and, hopefully, away from any law enforcement who’d be heading this way.

      * * *

      So this was what it was like to be a true “maestro.” Berg thought he’d “gotten it” before, but he hadn’t. Not until men came from the Vatican, sent personally by His Holiness so that they could escort Coop to his next venue.

      Even cooler? They were waiting to board a private jet that was only used for His Holiness. The Pope had sent it to transport Coop and his entire team, and apparently he wouldn’t take no for an answer.

      Coop had tried. Politely. Not wanting to put the Pope and his attendees out in any way. And Coop wasn’t bullshitting. He really didn’t like to put people out, but again . . . His Holiness wouldn’t hear it.

      Of course, Coop had not asked for any of this, but his sister. . . ?

      Well, Toni Jean-Louis Parker Reed was a different matter. Plus, she was trapped in Siberia at the moment and couldn’t make her way to Italy just now. At least not in time to help. So she’d called the Vatican herself—of course she did—and had them make all these arrangements. For her brother’s safety, she’d said. A sentiment that Berg could only roll his eyes over.

      “Hey, Berg,” Coop said next to him.

      “Huh?”

      “My sister is sending even more backup, to get us home.”

      Berg rolled his eyes again. “Oy.”

      The jackal chuckled. “Don’t take it personally. It’s just my sister’s way. She can be obsessive when it comes to her siblings. Among jackal families, she’s considered the gold standard of proper older sibling behavior.”

      “Is she sending someone I’m going to hate?”

      “I don’t think so. But I can never tell with you and your brother, which people you guys hate. Unlike your sister, who is very direct about her hatred.”

      “You do always know where you stand with my sister.”

      “I heard she’ll be the one ‘handling’”—he made air quotes with his fingers—“Toni when she gets here.”

      “Well, Dag and I weren’t going to do it.”

      “Nope,” Dag muttered.

      “I don’t blame you. She wanted to fire you guys, by the way. But I said, ‘Absolutely not. They’re my friends. And so what if they put me in grave danger and put my life and, more importantly, my God-given gifts at risk? A loss that would deprive the entire world, maybe even the universe, of something truly amazing. They’re still my friends.’”

      Berg gazed down at Coop. “How big of you.”

      “I thought so.”

      “We’re friends?” Dag asked.

      “The jet is ready, Maestro,” one of the Vatican’s men announced.

      With Dag on one side of Coop and Berg on the other, the trio began to walk toward the door that would lead them to the private airstrip. But as they passed the front desk, Berg caught sight of the TV behind the attendant.

      Both he and Coop stopped walking and briefly watched the Italian-language news announcement about a helicopter in Switzerland that had been shot down on a private road.

      Berg didn’t understand Italian but he got the gist of the story from the visuals.

      He looked at Coop and the jackal stared back, both of them silently asking the question.

      Then, after several seconds, they both said together, “Nahhh.” And continued on toward the awaiting jet.

      * * *

      “Get out. I have to set this thing on fire.”

      Charlie stared at her sister. “Are you just on a rampage? What are you doing?”

      “Don’t worry. We have another car waiting right there. We’re totally covered.”

      With another pleasant smile, Max walked off.

      “She’s going to get us killed or put in prison for the rest of our lives,” Stevie informed Charlie. “I just want you to know that.”

      “I wish I could argue with you,” Charlie admitted. “But I can’t.”

      They got out of the car, each grabbing a duffle bag from the back of the SUV, and headed in the direction Max pointed out to them.

      As Charlie walked, she smelled smoke from behind her just before Max ran up to them. Another bag was hanging from her shoulder. And the . . .

      Charlie stopped and her sisters stopped with her. “You brought the rocket launcher?”

      “You expect me to leave it? Do you know how much these things cost? Especially these really compact ones? Are you nuts?” she scoffed before heading off again.

      “You know,” Stevie noted, “we could kill her here and bury her and no one would ever know.” She frowned, shook her head. “I guess that was a horrible thing to say.”

      “No, sweetie. It was just a honey badger thing to say. Nothing to worry about. I say honey badger things all the time but never do them.”

      They followed Max, reaching a brand-new Range Rover painted a very bright red.

      “Subtle,” Charlie said to Max. Her sister grinned, oblivious, and quickly began packing the trunk, stopping to answer her vibrating phone.

      “We’re all going to jail, aren’t we?” Stevie suddenly asked as she and Charlie finished up the trunk packing.

      “Not if I can help it,” Charlie promised. “I’ve worked too long and hard for any of us to go to prison now.” She paused a moment, then added, “But if we have to sacrifice someone, it’ll be Max. She could handle prison way better than either of us.”

      After a few minutes, Max returned to their side and Charlie knew, as soon as she saw her sister’s face, that something had changed.

      “What?” Charlie asked when Max didn’t say anything.

      Max glanced at Stevie, then back to Charlie. “I just got a call . . . from New York.”

      “Oh, God,” Stevie began. “Oh, God, Oh, God, Oh, G—”

      “Stevie,” Charlie said, raising one finger. “No.”

      She could see her sister was readying herself for another panic attack, and Charlie simply didn’t have the patience for it right now. Especially when Stevie could go from zero to hysterical in six seconds.

      She was the Ferrari of panic.

      “Breathe,” she ordered Stevie before facing Max. “Who do we know in New York?”

      “Not a lot of people. But . . .” She cleared her throat, glanced at Stevie who was now doing her deep breathing exercises. “It’s Dad . . .”

      Charlie briefly closed her eyes. “Let me guess. He’s in jail. He wants bail. Well, fuck him! I’m a thousand percent positive that we’re on the run because of him. So he can stay in jail until he rots.”

      “He’s dead,” Maxie abruptly announced. “They need someone to identify the body.”

      Stevie put her hand to her chest and turned away from them, her head bowed, shoulders beginning to shake, her pain and grief clear to anyone who might be near.

      Charlie and Max, however, didn’t hesitate to silently bop around each other, performing dance moves they really shouldn’t because they just didn’t have the talent for it. However, it wasn’t a dance of skill, but of excitement. Of relief. Of downright giddiness.

      Neither