Badger to the Bone (Honey Badger Chronicles, #3)

by Shelly Laurenston

When his blood-related granddaughter had come to his Pack-owned home, she’d brought her half-sisters with her and all three had become his concern. His responsibility. His problem. And, to be quite honest . . . his entertainment. Because where the three of them went—whether together or apart—trouble didn’t simply follow. It nested inside them like a parasite. The trio were the Typhoid Marys of trouble.

him more than they did. “Lord Unhappiness” was a personal favorite and “Colonel Fussy-Bottom” was another that almost made him smile. But the one his former teammates used the most was “Captain Destructo.”

Then it hit him. This was not some crazy girl who happened to get her desperate hands on a knife. This . . . this was a well-trained killer. And staring at him, that well-trained killer put her blood-covered forefinger to her lips and said, “Shhhhh.”

“Who’s a cutie kitty?” she asked, loving his appalled expression. “Who is? You are!” She then slapped her hand over his face so she could lever herself up. She threw her blade at the shooter, nailing him in the throat. More shooting now from

father and his fucked-up genes. The rest of Max’s teammates now stood around her: Streep, Tock, Mads, and Nelle. The most loyal bunch of outstanding ladies Max had ever known. They’d played basketball together since junior high. But their relationship had always been more than mere teammates. All five were honey badgers in a land of wolves, bears, and cats;

That Charlie MacKilligan was the most terrifying being on the planet.

bears came in and fucked all that shit up. It was kind of cute, too. The Dunn triplets did it sometimes, when they thought no one was looking. In their grizzly forms, they marched through the house humming “The Bare Necessities” from that old Disney movie. The three of them, in a line, lumbered through the living room with their big grizzly heads swinging, all three thousand pounds marching along . . . and humming. Humming “The

“Can we talk to you outside?” Charlie politely asked. “No.” Charlie pointed at the back door. “Get your ass outside!” she snarled from between clenched teeth. With another eye roll, Max walked out of the kitchen, her sisters following. A minute or two later, Stevie’s boyfriend came in, took a large stash of bamboo from one of the cabinets, and sat

“I’d hate me, too . . . because I’m always right. I understand how painful that must be for others who aren’t always right.”

“Why are you asking?” Max questioned. “You know we’ll just lie. We’re very good at lying.”

“I’m not,” Tock admitted. “I believe in painful honesty. The kind that destroys your soul and breaks your mind.”

“They’re coming over,” Streep whispered. “Everybody be cool! Be cool!” Max watched as her four teammates attempted to “be cool” by striking poses like they were at a 1993 Beverly Hills pool party photo shoot. She closed her eyes and sighed. “Such idiots.”

probably in denial.” “Probably. But you know what? Most of my family lives in denial and they all seem pretty happy there.”

that point, Zé couldn’t do anything but look as confused as he felt. “Why the hell, as an actual adult, would I want to climb a tree with another man?” Shen simply looked at the tree and so did Zé. It was a good-sized tree with a wide trunk. The branches were extremely thick and covered in lush leaves. “Oh, my God,” Zé gasped out. “I want to climb that tree.”

but none of them had badges, so they weren’t detectives Max would expect. She was always interrogated by detectives—at least in major American cities. In other countries,

“Wait . . . why did we run?” Keane Malone asked. “Because you’re weak and pathetic?” Zé asked.

Dag gawked at him. “Wow. You went full-cat fast.”