* * *
Charlie waited until Max and Mads had disappeared into the air vents. Then she waited another forty-five seconds before she kicked the door in.
Her weapon was already raised and she nearly took her shot, but the bears were ready for her. And smart. They were using some of the full-humans as their shields. One bear had two in his arms, raising them so high, they protected his head.
“Hello there, pretty girl,” he said behind the two sobbing women he was holding hostage. “Smelled you badgers coming a mile away.”
Pressing the left side of her body against the doorframe, her weapon raised so that she was locked on target, Charlie said, “Hello, Paddington. How are we going to play this?”
“First, before we can do anything . . .”
Charlie heard him grunt and one of the bears behind him punched his fist into the ceiling. A few seconds later he yanked Mads out of the air vent, slamming her to the ground with such force, Charlie was worried he’d sent her through the floor. The same bear reached back up and snagged a snarling, hissing Max out of the vent, too. Her sister put up much more of a fight, trying to wiggle out of the grip that held her.
But neither badger could get away, and their guns and a few knives were tossed aside before they were pinned to the floor by several bears.
“Now that we’ve got that cleared up,” the lead bear went on, “let’s discuss whether you’re going to sacrifice all these full-humans just to get to us?”
* * *
“Katzenhaus?” Zé repeated, staring at the business card Mandy had given him. “You guys run that snobby library, right?”
“That library—” Mandy stopped, took a moment to stare off at the stage filled with dancers. When she seemed calmer, she cleared her throat and said, “Katzenhaus is a protection agency. We protect the cat nation all over the world.”
“Uh-huh.”
“I’m a recruiter.”
He held up her card. “Yeah. I read that.”
“And you seem to have what we may be looking for.”
“You do know I just found out I’m a cat.”
“Yes. I’m aware. And we’re the ones who can teach you what you need to know.”
“Could you teach me to hang from the ceiling?”
She frowned. “Why would you want to hang from the ceiling?”
“Why wouldn’t you want to hang from the ceiling?”
“Okay.” Mandy stood and Zé had to admit that the woman definitely moved like a cat. Of course, she also moved like a hooker. “When you want to be serious, call the number on the card, and we can talk about your future. Sound good?”
“Yeah.”
“Excellent.”
She turned away from him and strutted off without making a sound, despite those six-inch heels.
Zé leaned back in his seat and studied the card in his hand.
“Hey, darlin’,” a new female voice said from his right.
Zé jumped again, this time hissing a little.
“Sorry ’bout that,” the woman wearing a Tennessee Titans baseball cap mocked. “I always forget how nervous y’all are.”
“You’re not a cat,” he told the woman sitting next to him.
“Definitely not.”
“Pitbull then?”
Her yellow eyes narrowed. “Gray wolf. And a Smith.”
“I don’t know what that means.”
“Dee-Ann Smith’s the name.”
“And howling is your game?”
Those eyes narrowed even more. “You really didn’t know all this time that you were a cat? Because you sure as hell sound like one.”
* * *
Charlie lowered her weapon.
“You’re right,” she admitted. “I wouldn’t hurt full-humans just to get to you.”
“That’s excellent,” the lead bear said, although he didn’t lower his shields. “Now we can have a nice discussion about how we should move forward from here. Because you need to understand something. The people we work for, they won’t tolerate some worthless badgers fucking with their money stream. Do you understand what I’m telling you?”
“I understand.”
“So, maybe it’s best that you and your friends walk away before we crush you like the beer cans we drain on a Saturday night.”
“That’s a good plan.” Charlie threw her gun on the ground and the bears slowly lowered their human shields.
The lead bear released one of the women so he could point a gun at Charlie’s face.
He smirked, putting his finger on the trigger. “Now I’m debating what I should do.”
“Really?” Charlie asked. “Because I’m not.” She took in a breath, then bellowed, “Badger fight!”
* * *
Darren didn’t know how he’d gotten here, why he was here, or if he’d leave here alive. He just knew he was chained and about to be moved to another location. The bizarrely large men who seemed to love anything with honey on it had been getting ready to give them all injections. Those injections were filled with something that knocked all the captives out. Every time Darren got one of those shots, he’d wake up in a new place. At this point, he no longer knew which country he was in. He assumed he was in America, though he’d started in Canada.
But as the large men had been getting those shots ready, they’d suddenly stopped what they were doing and lifted their heads, sniffing the air. And, as they’d sniffed, they’d begun to growl at each other. Like some kind of weird warning. A few minutes later, they’d grabbed several of the prisoners to use as shields seconds before that woman had busted through the door.
At first, Darren had thought she was a policewoman, coming to rescue them. But she’d been alone and other than the body armor and her weapons, she’d had no badge or any markings on her equipment that suggested she was law enforcement. Then her friends had been dragged out of the ceiling and he’d given up all hope, ready to be taken wherever the large men were planning to take them.
Until the woman had screamed something. Darren couldn’t quite make it out. Whatever her words had been, her friends seemed to understand. Despite the grip the men had on the backs of their necks, the women were able to turn and face their captors; their skin stretching in a way that was terrifying to say the least. Then Darren saw claws and fangs and those two women attacked with such viciousness, he backed up even farther against the wall he was near and began to pray.
The attacking women climbed the large men holding them and dug their claws into their necks and faces. They used their fangs to tear off bits of them. The nose of one. The lips of the other.
The other large men jumped in to help, grabbing the women from behind. They ripped off one and threw her across the room. She hit the wall and landed on the ground. Not even a second later, she rolled over and got on all fours. With a snarl, she charged, climbing the back of another large man and slamming her claws into his skull.
By now, the woman who’d kicked in the door had picked up her weapon and she began firing. Carefully, though. Not spraying the room. No, she shot with precision. Head shots when she could get them. Neck or chest shots when she couldn’t. It took at least two head shots to take down each large man. At least six shots to the throat or chest to kill them that way.