by Shawn Keys
He directed his driver to roll across the lawn, not bothering to stick to the curving drive-way. Jostling in his seat as they cut the corner, the armored car lined up with the front door to the central mansion. There were no steps up to the palatial house, like it had been transplanted right out of somewhere in rural Spain. It was all wide corridors, heat-diffusing tiles and colors that caught the California sun beautifully. Dirk picked out the details without really being impressed. All he saw was a fragile structure large enough to smash through with the truck.
They rammed through the large entry doors. The top of the armored car dug into the ceiling and began grinding them to a halt. Even the powerful engine couldn’t break through once it hit a major support beam.
As soon as they were dragged to a stop, Dirk swung his door open and stepped out onto the tiles. Firing twice in rapid, he downed two insiders. One was a guard. The other was probably a servant. He had been running away. Worth killing to prevent him from warning anyone. This was a brute force approach, but no need to make it any harder than it had to be.
Behind him, a stream of three other Dawn operatives spread out. He had a team of four. Zara had another identical team. Her truck parked outside, positioning itself as the getaway vehicle. Two operatives remained behind to guard it as vital ground. Zara and the other two joined him and prepared to sweep the house.
Gesturing with his hands, Dirk directed the various agents to start their predetermined activities. Most of them fanned out over the lower level of the house. Dirk then took his first steps up the wide, sweeping stairs leading to the small second floor. There was only a single set of rooms up there, which were Drake’s personal living space and office. Zara went with him, supported by another agent.
At the top of the first broad flight of shallow steps, they flattened onto a landing. To each side, a wing of steps doubled back to finish the climb to the second floor. Those side-wings of steps were also broad. All the architecture was meant to be open and breezy. Fortunately, that also allowed for good sight-lines and limited the points for an ambush.
They reached the top, looking into a sunlit sitting room. This was the center-piece of the second floor. If they went left, they would find Drake’s sleeping chambers. If they went right, they would be in his offices.
Before they could decide which way to turn, the hammer blow of gunshots blasted the air. Zara was already collapsing back down the stairs by the time Dirk saw the exit holes along the office walls. The shooter had fired right through the walls, probably guided by surveillance cameras to spray the area. Dirk pulled back behind the stairwell, dropping down to take himself out of the immediate line of fire. The guard dove forward, crawling into the sitting room and hoping that would obscure him from view.
Dirk didn’t bother to consider Zara. She was either dead or useless for the rest of the fight. His focus went to finding the offending camera. Fortunately, it was still an older model that was large enough to be easily seen and mounted to the top corner of the sitting area. Dirk leveled his weapon and blasted it apart, blinding the shooter.
As soon as he had done it, the shooter unleashed another blind hail of bullets, trying to suppress any advance. From Dirk’s count, he expended a whole magazine from a 30-round weapon, reloaded, and then quickly fired again.
Unfortunately, the other guard read the brief pause wrong. He jumped up and tried to charge in through the office door, only to be caught by the second pulverizing series of shots.
As the guard collapsed, Dirk rolled out from the staircase, keeping to his stomach. He unloaded his own chain of shots this time, punching back through the drywall and trying to catch the shooter still exposed. He heard a sharp cry. Instead of heading in, Dirk did his own reload, then narrowed his fire on the spot he thought he had shot to get that reaction. Another grunt came to him. Zooming in ever further, Dirk fired a whole other magazine on that same spot before he stopped.
Then, he waited.
Nothing.
Moving forward in a combat crouch, he crept in toward the office door. By now, two other agents were coming up the stairs, finished with their sweep of the first floor. Dirk summoned them over, and began counting with his fingers. 3… 2… 1… and with a sharp chop of his hand, he pulled open the door.
The two went in, rifles at the ready, but immediately called back, “Clear!”
Dirk swiveled around the entry and entered. He absorbed the site of the man behind the desk in an expensive silk suit reduced to nothing but tatters. Dirk had caught him with about a dozen rounds, including one in the head. He was dead, beyond a doubt.
Dirk said, “Go. Remove any traces that it was us. Find the security camera computers. Get the dead into the trucks. Five minutes, we’ll be gone. Kill anyone who sees us on the grounds.”
The operatives didn’t hesitate at the orders. Dirk had no doubt they would kill even a passing jogger who was unfortunate enough to pass by the property and look in. That was acceptable, he thought, imagining a pudgy, unhealthy member of the idle rich. Probably wouldn’t be baseline anyway.
Dirk set about his task. He slipped his crowbar from his bag slung across his back, wedging it into every locked draw and shelving unit he could find. He flipped through them fast, looking for key words and certain templates that would speak to real estate. He passed over what would be a wealth of information for the IRS, Secret Service or FBI doing forensics on his dark financial deals. None of that concerned him. He feared he would have to start combing through the man’s data files on his computer. He couldn’t leave until he had the information he needed. This couldn’t just be a raid, because he couldn’t come up empty. Failure was not an option.
Fortunately, he found what he needed in the lower-left drawer of the desk. He recognized the real estate listings. The sheets had pictures of about a dozen properties that Drake was floating as off-the-book rentals to supplement his income. Six commercial, six residential. He threw away the first set and kept the second.
He glanced down at the dead man on the ground. It was probably Drake. With the bullet hole in his face, there was some possibility for error. He turned away without any real effort to confirm. Once again, it didn’t matter. They would handle the fallout of Drake coming for revenge if the dead man was in fact a brother, cousin or son who only looked like him. It would take him some time for even a man with Drake’s means to find out who had done this.
Dirk flowed down the steps and out the door. The operatives fell in around him, carrying the last of the evidence they had cleaned up. He hopped into the passenger side of the second truck, showing no concern that he was replacing Zara in her spot while she was lying in the back as a bloody corpse.
He had what he needed. That was all that mattered. There was no real hate in his mind. That emotion was as absent as concern, worry and remorse. There was only a cool sense of satisfaction. Hutchings had been a thorn in their sides for some time, mostly because he was moving around the countryside like a ghost without his implant.
Now, they had a way to pin him down. They had a way to cut off his retreat. They could bring the fight to him.
That was most satisfactory.
Chapter 11
Danielle flung her sweep of blonde hair back, screaming in ecstasy up at the ceiling. “Ohhh, yeeessssss!!!” Her hands clawed at the arms of the chaise, then reached into clutch at her breasts with one hand while biting the meat of her palm on the other. “Nnnnnggghhhh, ohhh, mmmmmm…” The muffled exclamations of sweet release slowly warbled into a sigh that was rich in total, needed relied. “Oh, that was nniiiiccceeee… mmmm, I needed that!”
Her knees were split wide. Between them, Laura was stretched out on her stomach, resting on the lower half of the chaise. She was totally naked, letting her athletic body be a source of inspiration for her friend to enjoy while getting eaten out. Her red hair was spilling over Danielle’s bare thighs, hiding the sight of her tongue stroking fondly over Danielle’s wet mound, which was still flushed and throbbing from the intens
e kissing that had brought her to orgasm. Laura favored her netherlips with one more, tender kiss, then peeked up at her long-time girlfriend over the swell of her baby bump. They were no strangers to encounters to like this, having pleasured each other many times over the previous years. The only new part was doing it to relieve the burning need brought on by Danielle’s advanced pregnancy. Laura grew a naughty grin and said, “Ohh, I missed you too, Danni.”
She might have teased Danielle a little more for how randy she was being lately, but they were interrupted by a sudden round of gasps from the next chair over. Yvette was lounging deeply in another cushioned chair, though it didn’t have the same extended base as Danielle’s chaise. The French woman’s slender legs were hooked up over the arms, spreading herself completely, her own arms hooked under her knees to help anchor them in place. Her dark hair was swishing back and forth along the back of her chair, mewling in wanton pleasure as another pair of lips feasted on her. Her panting grew more desperate, then rose into a long, lasting, keening cry, “HHnnnnmmmmmmmohhhhhhhhhhhh… ooouuuiiiiiii….!!!” Reverting to her native language in the final moment, she screamed ‘yes’ in French with such passion that it actually made Danielle and Laura grin and blush and giggle.
From between Yvette’s gorgeous legs better suited to a fashion model than a teacher, Claire’s face popped up with a look of delighted triumph. “I did it!” The scientist had stripped like Laura. Her curiosity had finally given way, leading to her tasting of Yvette. That didn’t mean she was ready to invite the others to sample her back. However, her experiments and the realization she had given Yvette an orgasm broke past her barriers a little. She leaned forward; her breasts still concealed behind her cashmere sweater rested on Yvette’s thighs. It wasn’t yet flesh to flesh, but it was more than she had been willing to do until just then.
Yvette purred. “You did marvelously. What a tongue you have!”
Claire tried not to smile, but the praise was too wicked and too thick with sexual pleasure. She blushed and grinned in a way she hadn’t done in fifteen years, feeling like nervous college student all over again, experimenting in a way she had never done during University the last time around. “Coming from a French woman, that’s a real compliment.” Her eyes traced up and down Yvette’s svelte form, which was a study in contrasts; she was still relatively thin with long, shapely limbs, but her expanding pregnancy was impossible to ignore. Yet Yvette wore it well, only adding to her glowing beauty. Claire said as much, “Kyle’s right. You’re lovely.”
Yvette smiled at her, brushing a hand over her cheek. “You’ve talked to him about me?”
Claire blushed again. “He offered that… well, if I ever wanted to be with him, I could invite anyone I wanted to share it. Whoever would make me comfortable. I was sure it would be you.” She cleared her throat, realizing what she was saying. “Ahem, I mean, if Megan was willing to share you at any point.”
While Yvette let out a purr of anticipation at the idea, Megan managed to gasp out from the couch beside her, “A-any…any time…Doctor…” Then, a soft laugh of delight, followed by, “I-I-I l-love…t-to…share…” It was all she could manage before a deep, primal moan tugged away her rational thought and sent her into her own climb toward climax.
Between her legs, dressed in a tight, white dress that was actually one of her least provocative nurse attires, Lily’s pixie-cut mess of blonde hair bobbed about, doing a rather excellent job of keeping the normally dominant history teacher hovering right on the edge of orgasm. Lily was pretty much an expert by that point in how to make each of the pregnant women cum, knowing all of their sensitive, favorite spots to be touched. She was being rather devilish right then, allowing the other two to find satisfaction while keeping Megan quivering on that edge.
Megan cried out, “Oh, you evil girl… oh fuck… let… let cum… oh hit, you… need… to…”
Lily giggled, not used to hearing the proud woman even come close to begging, and seemed to be considering making her do exactly that. Megan was the undisputed mistress of the household while Kyle was away, but Lily was the impudent one least under her control. Claire deferred to her. Laura and Yvette were her submissives, outright. Danielle had settled into a role much like a little sister, listening to her without being truly subservient. But Lily? She acquiesced, knowing Megan knew what she was doing, but acted a lot like one of Megan’s pet cats; no-one was ever quite sure of who owned who when it came to pet cats.
Claire watched with obvious fascination as Megan shook, twisting and writhing on the couch, trying to catch Lily off-guard and accidentally grind a little extra sensation out of their contact so she could mercifully explode. Lily wasn’t having anything of that, fluttering her tongue with expert, butterfly soft touches until Megan was ready to scream in madness.
Which, Megan did. “Lily! Make… me… cum!” It was still a command, not a beg.
They never got the chance to see who would have won that particular war. In that moment, an incessant beeping came from the next room over.
Lily’s head rose from between Megan’s sculpted thighs. “What’s that?”
The teacher’s hand snapped up to her short hair, trying to drag her back down. “Don’t stop!”
Claire’s fascinated smile faded a little, turning to look at the door. “She’s right. There is… what is that? That beeping?”
Laura had rested her head on Danielle’s belly, as if listening to the baby’s heartbeat and looking incredibly peaceful. It was her turn to tense up as she emerged from her haze of enjoyment and realized what she was hearing. “Oh, shit! That’s the perimeter alarm!” Adrenalin surged into her cheerleader body. She kipped up to a standing position as if by levitation.
Megan groaned in pure, sexually driven frustration, “Please, just another minute…”
Laura exclaimed, “Are you kidding me? That’s the outer marker alarms! They’re only a couple miles away at most! We need to go. Now! I’ll check the screens! Get dressed. All of you!” She bolted from the room, naked in spite of her advice.
Lily flashed her an apologetic smile, then rose away from her and ran over to help Danielle get up off her seat while Claire did the same with Yvette.
Megan laid there for one more second, trying to deny reality. “Could it be a deer?”
From the other room, Laura called back, “No! I’m seeing at least two motion sensors going off!”
“Two deer?”
“Megan!”
“Alright, alright.” The normally responsible woman dragged herself back from the edge, then rolled around on the couch, working to get back to a standing position. She knew the truth. Kyle wouldn’t have dared approach the chalet without calling first. They had agreed before he left: unless they came up the trail, they would not come to the chalet. They would call if they had to come a different way. It was a fail-safe procedure: if those markers went off without having heard a call, assume it’s the enemy.
Which meant… run.
Megan chased away Claire who tried to offer her another hand. “No, Claire. You need to get to your lab.”
The scientist’s face went a little pale. “My research!”
“You backed everything up before you quit yesterday?”
She nodded. “Everyday. But…”
Megan smiled sadly, knowing that old computer files couldn’t capture all the nuances and ongoing experiments the doctor was running. She was going to lose at least a week of progress. “Get your go-bag, Doctor. Then get yourself out toward the door. We’ll be right behind you.” She shifted to Yvette. “Did you get a response from Kyle and the others?”
Yvette nodded. “I translated as much as I could before falling asleep last night. I haven’t started yet this morning.”
“Alright. That’ll have to do. Hope it gave them enough to start with. I’ll call him once we’re safely away. Come on, all of you! We only have a couple minutes!” Ignoring her own previously lethargy, Megan was once more back in charge, goading them along.
It took three minutes, but they managed to get themselves to the door and out into the snow with everything they needed. All of them cast a few regretful looks behind. The chalet was always meant to be temporary, but it had started to feel a little like home for all of them. All they had now was the bare essentials, along with a couple of furry heads that poked out of the snowsuits of Megan and Yvette. Laura had managed to catch sight of the two pet cats, scoop them up, and stuff them into arms of the two women.
Hustling down the steps, Laura bolted ahead and tore all the covers off the snowmobiles waiting for them. She ran them up three times a day, often giving them riding lessons to the other women as a way to keep ready for exactly this moment. They paired off as previously agreed: Laura, Claire and Lily each took one of the pilot’s seats, while Danielle, Megan and Yvette paired up with them.
Laura lingered behind only a few more seconds. She sparked into life a few surprises she had arranged. Neither her nor Danielle had told their fathers where they were going, but they had risked a couple emails to let them know they were safe… and to ask for a little advice. Laura’s father knew a thing or two about laying traps, but Danielle’s father was a former special forces operative. He had suggested a few more kinetic means to welcome anyone who dared to chase them out of the chalet.
With those in place, Laura started her engine and drove away with the others in tow. They didn’t gun the engines, trying to keep them to a dull roar. Sound could carry in the mountains, but there was a small chance they might be able to slip away.
* * *
Dirk took another bound forward in the snow. Thankfully, there was no fresh powder, and the last two days had been warm enough to melt things down so that none of the drifts were any higher than his knee. They might get a little wet, but that was what waterproof tactical gear was for.
