A blond woman watched her from outside the busted window, but she didn’t move. Didn’t run away. Didn’t even flinch.
Another badger.
Still, Charlie thought about killing her, too.
“The Desert Eagle,” the blonde said with a thick Eastern European accent, “it jams. You are better with CZ or Makarov.”
“The Makarov? Do they even still make those?”
The blonde motioned to Charlie with a twitch of her forefinger. “Come, little freak. We must go.”
God, Charlie was just so tired. All she really wanted to do was crawl into one of the empty cabinets in the back kitchen and get some sleep before the cops showed up and handcuffed her.
“Lady,” she finally sighed out, “I don’t know you. As it is, I am thinking of killing you, too. Might as well, right?” Charlie added. “If I’m going to prison, I might as well go out with a bang.”
“Prison? You think they would ever allow you to go to prison? They would kill you first. Or have me do it. But for now . . . we just need to move you to some place safe.”
“My sister—”
“My friends have her.” The blonde wagged the finger she’d just been gesturing with when Charlie’s fangs made a sudden reappearance. “Now, now, little freak. No need for that. She is alive. We’re here to help. Not to kill. Unless you make us. So come. Move that pretty ass and let’s go.”
Charlie looked at the jammed gun in her hand, dropped it, and followed the woman as she walked to a waiting Mercedes.
*
As they all got back into the clothes they’d quickly grabbed before making a break for it, the van they were in turned hard at a corner, and Tock nearly landed on poor Streep.
“Sorry. Sorry,” she said, pushing herself away from her teammate’s prone body.
“They drive like Max,” Mads complained.
“They really do,” Max agreed. “And do we have any idea who these people are? Friends or enemies?” When all she got back were shrugs, Max nodded and said, “Great, great. Always good to know we might die any minute.”
“We have to do something,” Nelle pointed out. “We’ve already lost poor Streep.”
Streep’s eyes opened. “I’m not dead.”
“Yet, sweetie.” Nelle patted her head. “Yet.”
“Tock said I’d be fine!”
“Tock is not a doctor. But don’t worry . . . we’ll miss you when you’re gone.”
“How are we going to get out of here?” Mads wanted to know.
Before any of them could think of a way, the van suddenly stopped.
Tock knew they hadn’t gone far. They were still near the docks and all the shipping containers and the people trying to murder them.
She went to the back doors, expecting them to be jury-rigged so she couldn’t open them from the inside. But they swung open easily and Tock jumped out.
“Wait here,” she told her teammates before going around the vehicle.
The Asian—whom Tock had realized was a fellow badger before even driving away from the containers—stood in front of a severely damaged white van, the back doors flung open and facing them.
“Come on!” the She-badger yelled into it. When she spotted Tock easing up behind her, she motioned her over. “Can you please help me here?”
Tock didn’t understand what the woman was talking about, so she stepped closer and took a look inside.
“Maybe they’ll listen to you? Because we have to go. Now.”
Tock walked closer to the van and said, “All right, guys. Let’s go.”
The three Malone brothers—still in their tiger form—just stared at her. Tock had to admit . . . it was off-putting. They were so fucking big, they completely filled the inside of the van. It also didn’t help they were covered in blood and didn’t seem to recognize her at all. Those cold, cat glares just . . . staring at her.
“Guys,” she tried again, “let’s go. We have to go.”
The three males exchanged glances before a massive Keane jumped out of the van and loped over to the other vehicle.
Tock knew he’d reached it when she heard Max exclaim, “Holy shit! More cats! Oh. It’s just the Malones.”
Finn quickly followed Keane, but when Shay tried to do the same, Tock stopped him with one raised finger.
“Drop the head,” she told him.
Shay took a step back; a giant male lion’s head was securely locked between his jaws. You’d think, with all that golden mane getting in his eyes, Shay would be happy to get rid of the thing. But he clearly didn’t want to release his prize. Instead, he growled a little and shook it.
“Shay Malone,” Tock barked, using her mother’s authoritarian tone, “drop that head and get the fuck out here!”
Shay’s prize hit the floor and rolled out of the lopsided van, landing on the ground with a wet thud. A second later, Shay followed, running over to the van and jumping inside.
“Let’s go,” the She-badger ordered, already moving back to the driver’s side.
Tock began to follow but a full-human woman was standing on the sidewalk, gawking at her. She was so stunned, she hadn’t even bothered to use her phone to record what she had witnessed. It simply hung limply from her hand.
With a shrug, Tock told her, “Wild animal trafficking gone horribly, horribly wrong. Never put different apex predators in the same van.”
When the woman only frowned in confusion, Tock walked away. She didn’t have time for further explanation.
Tock forced herself inside between three really big Siberian tigers and her teammates, all of whom were trying to give Streep some space, and leaned back out to grab the doors and slam them closed.
The van began moving again and Tock sat down on the floor, a now-human and naked Shay sitting beside her.
Both covered in a good amount of blood, the pair glanced at each other, then away.
“How was your morning?” Tock asked the cat.
“Pretty bad. And yours?”
“Shitty. Quite shitty.”
“Yeah,” Shay said on a long sigh. “Yeah.”
Chapter 17
Captain Desiree “Dez” MacDermot watched in fascination as nearly the entire Eastern Seaboard was shut down in record time. Not by the United States government. They’d only managed to shut down the Jersey docks.
But the United States shifters? They didn’t play. As soon as they heard about what was going on at the docks, they moved with a speed she’d never actually witnessed before. The area was blocked off in all directions for up to ten miles. Communications were completely shut off. Suddenly, cell phones didn’t work. There was also an immediate media blackout—local and national news were unable to get anywhere near the epicenter of “animal trafficking gone very wrong.”
At least that was the story the media was getting and would continue to get. About how some very bad men had been moving apex predators through the docks to sell to rich billionaires when the animals got loose and went on a rampage.
What about the bullet casings? And reports of drive-by shootings? No, no. That was just the bad guys trying to get their animals back under control. Yes, there were guns, but no one was actually hurt.