A Deleted Scene from Hot and Badgered

After a quick shower, a change of clothes, and a much-needed thermos of coffee, Charlie headed out with her sisters. Instead of going directly into Manhattan, though, they went to Brooklyn where the shifter-only division of NYPD had its offices.

She’d had no idea what to expect from such a thing. A shifter-only NYPD? She didn’t know that sort of thing existed, but here she was. To meet with a “Polar bear named Crushek,” Britta had told her. Then she’d added, “Don’t worry. He only looks like a serial killer. He’s actually quite nice. You know…for a polar bear.”

Charlie had thought Berg’s sister had been joking or exaggerating about the serial killer thing. Or maybe it was some sort of bear-on-bear bigotry. But as she gazed up at the six foot nine, three-hundred-plus polar bear glaring down at her and her sisters—while sitting no less—with impenetrable black eyes from under thick white hair tied in a loose ponytail that was long enough to hang over one shoulder…she began to seriously question Britta’s idea of what “actually quite nice” might mean.

“So…ummmm…in conclusion…” Charlie, rarely at a loss for words, glanced over at Max who, for once in her entire life, seemed to be stunned into complete silence, simply staring at the giant.

“Anyway, we need information about that jewelry heist in Manhattan,” Charlie rushed to finish.

There was more silence for another full minute before Crushek finally asked, “Who are you people again?” He leaned across his desk a bit and sniffed. “I don’t recognize the scent.”

Charlie cleared her throat. “Well, um, I’m Charlie MacKilligan and this is—”

“I don’t want your name. I know your name. Your name is meaningless. Who are you?”

Max leaned into her a little. “I think he means—”

“Right! Right. Such an interesting part of our lives now.” Charlie cleared her throat. “I’m a honey badger-wolf.” She pointed at Max. “Honey badger. Only.” She then gestured to Stevie. “Honey badger-tiger.”

“Really? Tiger?” He glared harder at Stevie. “She’s so tiny.”

That’s when Stevie burst into tears.

Mortified, Charlie looked at her baby sister. “Are you sobbing? Why are you sobbing?”

“He’s going to kill us all,” she squealed through her tears.

“What’s wrong with her?” Crushek asked, appearing faintly disgusted.

“She’s mentally ill.”

Max snorted and quickly looked away, but Stevie slammed her hands down into her lap.

“I am not mentally ill!” she screeched, and all the shifters in the room turned to look at them. “I have a panic disorder and bouts of depression! I do not hear voices!”

The polar abruptly stood and walked away.

“Is he coming back?” Charlie asked Max, but her sister was too busy doubling over in her chair, laughing hysterically. Of course, she did manage to spit out, “I love our family!”

Resting her elbow on the arm of her chair, Charlie leaned her head into her hand so she could rub her temples with her fingertips. “I’m getting one of my headaches.”

Stevie placed her backpack into her lap and began digging inside. “I’m sure I have something for that.”

Charlie quickly placed her hand over her sister’s, stopping her from pulling out the plastic bag of drugs she kept with her at all times. All of them were prescribed and never abused, of course, but she also knew a room full of cops—shifter or otherwise—would be way too interested in that stash for Charlie’s comfort.

“Let’s hold off on that,” Charlie gently suggested, not wanting to set her sister off again.

“Are you sure?”

“I’ll be fine. I just wonder—”

A slamming phone had the three sisters looking at the corner office, and the clear glass allowed them to watch as the woman inside picked up her phone’s receiver and then slammed it down six more times before storming out into the main room. She shut the office door behind her. So hard that Charlie was shocked the glass didn’t break.

“They put reinforced glass in a few years back after they had to replace it for the fourth time,” a detective sitting at the desk behind them quietly explained.

“Where’s Crushek?” the woman bellowed and Charlie watched the shifters not in the woman’s line of sight make a desperate run for it. “Was my question unclear?”

“He went to the file room, boss,” someone called out. “You know how he feels about computers.”

The woman stalked over to Crushek’s desk. She grabbed a notepad and pen and began writing something out.

Stevie said against Charlie’s ear, “She’s full-human.”

“No way.” Charlie shook her head. “No way.”

“I don’t have allergies,” Stevie reminded her. “Trust me. She’s got lion all over her but she’s not a shifter.”

And yet the shifters in the room—whether bear, cat, or canine—appeared terrified of a not particularly tall or in-shape Latina woman.

Finishing her note, she tossed the pen—accidentally hitting one of the nearby cops in the back of the head—and picked up the pad so that she could slam it down again on the desk.

As she straightened up, she asked the room, “Can anyone explain to me why I decided to have a child?”

“Love?” someone called out.

“That cat gave you no choice?” another asked.

“Biological need?” Stevie suggested. When her sisters gawked at her, “I thought she really wanted an answer.”

Ignoring everyone, the woman continued, “All I can say is never mate with a lion. Because you’ll have a son and he will make it his business to make your life and the life of every one of his teachers absolute hell.”

“I warned you,” one of the female detectives stated. “I told you when we first met. You can love ’em, you can screw‘em, you can marry ’em, but do not have sons with ’em. And I should know.” She raised her hands, palms up as the full-human stormed off. “I’m head of my Pride.”

Stevie suddenly leaned forward. “I can tell by your tawny mane.”

The She-cat grinned at Charlie’s sister and winked. “Thanks, honey.”

“What are you doing?” Charlie asked Stevie.

“Enjoying the banter,” she replied with a happy smile.

The polar walked back to his desk and handed Charlie a thick stack of papers. “Here.”

Charlie glanced at the first page. It was the report she needed. “Oh! Thank—”

“Now get out.”

“Ooo…kay. Well, no need to get bitchy.”

“Maybe,” Stevie snarled, “we shouldn’t call the man-eating animal bitchy.”

“Or maybe you should just sack up. Besides, I doubt he’d eat your bony ass.”

“I have a high metabolism!”

Completely disgusted with everyone, Charlie started to get up, then realized Max was again doubled over in her chair, hysterically laughing.

“Seriously?” Charlie demanded.

“I can’t help it!” she squeaked back. “I just love our family!”