Hot and Badgered. Shelly Laurenston

for this at all. But my sister . . . she won’t be as . . . open-minded. You should prepare for that.”

      “I’m sure I can handle a She-jackal.”

      Using his cell phone to call his sister, Coop chuckled, “Yeah. Sure you can.”

      Staring at the open bedroom door, Berg asked, “Think I’ll ever see her again?”

      “The girl that was never here?” Coop asked. He shrugged while waiting for someone to answer on the other end of the phone. “If you keep an eye on the FBI’s ‘Ten Most Wanted’ list . . . sure! Because let’s face it. That’s a woman who seems to have trouble following her around like a needy puppy.”

      * * *

      Charlie avoided the elevator and found the stairs. She ran down until she reached the parking lot. She eased the door open, keeping the friendly giant’s gun in her hand. She peeked around the door, didn’t see anyone, so she ran toward the exit.

      She dodged around the expensive cars, staying low and moving fast. She dashed past a car valet, and out of the lot.

      Charlie moved down the street, cutting around the surprising number of people who were up this early. She’d just reached the corner when a man in a black tactical outfit and body armor stepped in front of her. They both raised their weapons at the same time, Charlie already pulling the trigger when a Lamborghini jumped the curb and rammed into the man. Both weapons missed their marks but now her attacker was pinned to the ground, screaming in agony as the passenger window lowered and Charlie heard the familiar—and shockingly casual, considering the circumstances—“Hey, shithead.”

      The petite Asian woman with the short pixie haircut dyed blue grinned at her. They were sisters but one would never know it by looking at them.

      Max MacKilligan asked, “Miss me?”

      “Can you just drive?” Charlie got into the passenger seat. “But be careful. You still have human stuck to the grill.”

      “I should let him shoot you? What kind of sister would I be?”

      “One I don’t have to visit in an Italian prison.”

      Chuckling, Max put the car in reverse and Charlie worked hard to ignore the short-lived begging and too-long crunching sounds coming from under the car as she pulled out. Charlie knew her sister was taking her time driving back over the gunman.

      Max “Kill It Again” MacKilligan was known for being vengeful.

      Once they were on the road and cutting through early-morning Milan traffic, Max pointed down. “Check by your feet.”

      Charlie did and found a small case. She opened it and let out a relieved sigh.

      “Thank you!” she said, putting the eyeglasses on. Suddenly she could see again! She hadn’t had time to grab her regular pair off the bedside table before she had to make a run for it and she hadn’t gotten her contact prescription refilled in a few months. She kept forgetting. So for the last fifteen minutes, everything had been one blurry mess. Even the helpful giant was just a big, blurry spot. She’d have had to get close to his face to identify him. But he had sounded cute. And so nice!

      “Better?” Maxie asked.

      “Much. I can now see who’s trying to kill me.” She looked at Max and immediately cringed at the sight. “Oh, wow. They really beat the shit out of you.”

      “Excuse me,” Max replied, indignant. “These lacerations and bruises are not because of the men who came to kill me. With my usual aplomb, I have dealt with those scumbags.”

      “Uh-huh. Then what did happen?”

      “Why do we have to discuss that? Our lives are in danger.”

      Charlie gazed at her sister for a few moments before guessing, “Squirrels again?”

      “They started it!”

      “It’s nice to see that nothing has really changed since we last saw each other.” Charlie glanced out the window, but she had to look away. Her sister was moving so fast that it was kind of making her nauseous. “What about Stevie?”

      “I’m waiting to hear back from her boss.”

      “Her boss?”

      “She’s not answering her cell and her assistants have no idea where she is.”

      “Is she still in Switzerland?”

      Max shrugged. “Maybe. And stop glaring at me.”

      “How hard is it to keep an eye on one woman? I take six months. And you take six months. That was our agreement.”

      “Why is she still our responsibility?”

      “Because she’s our sister and we love her and if we don’t watch out for her, she will get involved with the wrong people, and destroy the world. Is that what you want?”

      “You always ask me that question, and you’re always disappointed with my answer.”

      Charlie sighed. “Well, we need to find her.”

      “I know.”

      “She’s in as much danger as we are.”

      “I know.”

      “They sent trained military after us.”

      “I know.”

      “And I know this car is stolen.”

      “Of course it’s stolen.”

      “Well, that seems like kind of a problem since we have cops behind us.”

      “Buckle up.”

      “Oh, God.” Charlie put on the seat belt. “We’re going to die before we even get to her.”

      “Stop whining. You know how hard we are to kill.”

      “Hard to kill doesn’t mean we can’t lose body parts in tragic car accidents. And we can’t exactly save our little sister if we’re both in prison . . . and legless.”

      “What is your obsession with losing your legs?”

      “It could happen!”

      Max downshifted and swerved around a truck making a turn, barely missing the front end.

      “I don’t understand why you insist on worrying about something that may or may not happen,” Maxie noted casually as a group of nuns dove out of her way, their panicked screams horrifying Charlie. “If you lose your legs, I’ll get you a wheelchair with a Ferrari motor that goes from zero to sixty in four seconds. Wouldn’t that be great?”

      Hands pressed against the dashboard, Charlie admitted, “I’d rather have my legs still attached to my body.”

      “That’s such a narrow view. What about bionic legs?”

      “Schoolchildren,” Charlie warned.

      “Bionic legs would be so cool.”

      “Schoolchildren!”

      “I see them. Calm yourself.”

      The car stopped—somehow—and Max patiently waited for the children and their teachers to get across the street. Out of nowhere, she began to whistle “H.R. Pufnstuf.” Charlie had no idea why, but she blamed her mother. She loved that crap and made them all watch it in re-runs when they were too young to put up a fight.

      Once the children were safely out of the way, Maxie hit the gas and roared down the street. Still whistling.

      “We need a new car,” Charlie told her sister when the cops caught up with them again.

      “What’s wrong with this one?”

      “A lot.”

      Maxie’s phone rang and she insisted on taking