“All done,” he told the bosses.
“Good. Deal with the body when we move out tonight.”
He nodded and turned back toward the door he was guarding. But he stopped and looked at the staircase. The empty staircase.
“Uh . . . gentlemen?”
“What?”
“I think we have a—”
She plunged the blade into his inside thigh. When he grabbed it to stop the bleeding, dropping to his knee, she rammed the same blade into his throat.
He dropped to the ground and she gazed down at him for the brief moment he had left. And he watched her crack her neck one way, then the other. Bones knitting themselves back together in a way that didn’t seem possible. But it didn’t matter anymore, did it? Not anymore.
* * *
Who invites a girl in just to crush her neck? Rude! Good thing she was a honey badger or she’d be dead! How tacky would that be?
“What the hell’s going on out here?”
Streep raised the Desert Eagle .44 she’d taken from the weapons room—a gun that she’d always wanted but never wanted to blow the money on—and took quick shots. A weapon of this power was an absolute necessity in a room with six big bears in it. She caught three with one shot each to the neck, chest, and gut respectively. Not sure she’d be able to hit her targets with the rest of the bears coming at her so fast, she ran to the front door, pulling it open. She dropped to a crouch and waited.
The first bear ran out of the office but Charlie was now in the doorway and she pulled the trigger of her own weapon. Clean headshot. The second bear came out and she got him, too. Also a clean headshot. Streep had always heard from Max what a good shot her sister was, but . . . wow.
The third bear avoided the office doorway altogether and came through the wall next to it, tackling Charlie to the ground. But Max was on top of him and she hammered one of her tactical knives into his throat. There was so much blood, so quickly, Streep knew her friend had hit the aorta.
No matter where on the body she struck, Max always hit an artery if she wanted to.
Mads grabbed Streep’s arm and pulled her to her feet. “Stay behind us.”
“Got it.”
Charlie wiggled her way out from under the bear’s body and got to her feet.
“You all right?” she asked Streep, who was so shocked by the question she didn’t answer right away. Then she remembered what the first bear had done to her neck and pressed her hand to her throat. The bones were nearly done putting themselves back together, so she smiled at Charlie.
“I’m fine.”
“Then let’s move.”
* * *
Max followed her sister into the hidden depths of the New Jersey mansion. She could hear men talking in the long hallways. Could smell that they were shifters. And she could smell something else. Something that shocked her.
Easing around a corner, Charlie looked inside one of the rooms. After a few seconds, she pulled back and pointed at Streep, Tock, and Nelle. Then she pointed at the room she’d looked in. She started forward and motioned for Max and Mads to follow her.
As Max passed the room, she glanced in.
That’s what she had scented along with shifters. Full-humans. Bound and waiting to be sold. Not all of them were women. They didn’t have to be. They were just full-humans, none of them truly prepared to face off against shifters with no moral center.
Pissed, Max put away her gun and took out another tactical knife.
She moved her shoulders to loosen them up and waited for her sister. Her team leader.
Charlie found the room where the most voices were coming from. She started to move to the door but stopped, looked up . . . and grinned.
Max raised her gaze and saw the air vent. She loved air vents.
* * *
Zé looked away from all the ballerinas twirling on the stage and glanced at his watch again.
“We’ve got tons of time. Stop worrying.”
He nodded at Shen’s words, glad there was at least a five-second break from the goddamn chewing. Because the panda never seemed to stop chewing. How did Stevie put up with it? She said she found it soothing, but . . . how? How did anyone find that noise soothing?
Zé dug his fingers into his hair and scratched before he looked at Shen and said, “Can I ask you a favor?”
Shen grinned around the bamboo stalk in his mouth. “Sure!”
“Go away.” Zé pointed at the audience seats across the aisle. “Over there.”
To his surprise, Shen’s grin didn’t waver. “It’s the chewing, right?”
“I like you so much, dude, but the chewing.”
The panda stood, chuckling. Though he was a couple of inches shorter than Zé, those muscular and massive shoulders, chest, and arms made him much wider. There was no denying the damage the man could do if he was pushed too far. But at the same time, there was something about him that still suggested “adorably rolly-polly,” like any panda in the zoo.
“Look,” Shen said before moving away, “I’ll check in with Stevie, give her a little reminder that we’ve got somewhere to be. Okay?”
“Thank you.”
“No problem. Just relax. No one likes an anxious cat. I’m worried I’m going to find you hanging from those chandeliers up there.”
Zé nodded but then quickly asked, “Wait. Is that something I can actually do?”
Shen shrugged. “Probably. But I wouldn’t do that here. I’m pretty sure those chandeliers would cost a fortune to replace.”
Deciding not to focus too much on whether he could hang from the ceiling or not, Zé realized the panda was right. Zé was anxious about getting to the Sports Center on time, which really surprised him. Max was playing in a basketball game, not making a speech at the United Nations.
Still . . . he wanted to be there early so he could get his seat, a hot dog, and beer, and watch his girlfriend—
Hold up. Girlfriend? He was thinking of Max MacKilligan as his girlfriend? The crazy female who’d decimated an entire team of well-trained mercenaries with her badger teammates? Or who didn’t seem too concerned that he’d almost eaten a child? That woman he was thinking of as his girlfriend?
It was true, Zé really didn’t have a type, but if he did, it sure as fuck wouldn’t be a Max MacKilligan!
“Hi!”
Zé jumped a little, surprised by the female voice beside him.
“I’m Mandy.” She held out her hand. “And you’re Zezé Vargas.”
He looked at her but didn’t say anything.
“I see.” She lowered her hand. “A little paranoid, are we? Understandable, I guess, considering your line of work.”
“Do I know you?”
“No. That’s why I introduced myself. Remember? I’m Mandy.”
“Why are you talking to me?”
She smiled. “I have an offer for you.”
“You have an offer for a man you don’t know? So you’re a prostitute?”
That smile disappeared and those eyes went from brown to a bright and dangerous blue.
“Do I look like a prostitute to you?”
“Well—” Zé blew out a long sigh. “I don’t know how to answer that without getting punched in the face, soooo . . .”