Prey for Us

by Geoffrey Neil

  “That’s how Steinway makes them,” the buyer panted. “This model has a cast iron harp, and all the fittings are brass,” the buyer said, freeing one hand to point to the pedals. “She’s about 600 lbs. C’mon, we can do this.”

  “I’m not so sure,” the moving guy said. “We might need to come back with a hydraulic lift.”

  “Any chance we could get some help?” the buyer said sarcastically, pointing to Uncle Jesse.

  “Help them, boy,” Uncle Jesse snapped at Thane. “You moved it across the garage floor all alone, the least you could do is lift a finger to help them now.”

  Thane looked at Morana.

  She gave him a slight nod.

  Thane went to the men and positioned himself at the end of the piano with them.

  The moving guy called out another three-count, and they all heaved.

  Morana smiled while Thane contorted his face to exaggerate his effort.

  They slid the piano the rest of the way up the ramp and into the truck bed.

  The moving guy slammed the tailgate closed and threw a blanket over the piano. He began unraveling some ratchet straps to secure it.

  Thane returned to Morana’s side.

  The buyer produced a wad of cash from his pocket. He licked his thumb as he approached Uncle Jesse, whose grin broadened as the buyer counted out hundred dollar bills into his hand. “…Sixty-two, sixty-three, sixty-four hundred dollars.”

  Thane’s mouth dropped open.

  “It was a pleasure doing business with you,” Uncle Jesse said, re-counting the money.

  “No, I should thank you. It’s in wonderful shape.” The buyer and the mover got into the truck and drove out the driveway.

  “Half of that money should be mine,” Thane said. “Mom left the piano to me and you know it.”

  Morana squeezed his hand.

  Uncle Jesse briefly waved the money in front of Thane’s face. “If you had any business sense, you would have already sold the piano.” He folded and forced the fat wad of cash into his front pocket. He then pulled a wallet from his back pocket and pulled out a five dollar bill. He flung it toward Thane and it fell to the ground. “That’s for moving the piano to the door. Labor’s the only thing you’re good for.” He looked at Morana and said, “I don’t know what you see in him, but be prepared to financially support him—forever.”

  “Excuse me,” Morana said. “Thane is your family. How can you treat him this way?”

  “Look, our real estate deal is done, lady. Now is a good time for you to mind your own business.”

  Thane squeezed Morana’s hand.

  Uncle Jesse turned and shook his head as he walked up the driveway to the front of the house.

  Thane whispered, “Did you make the call?” Thane asked.

  “Of course, Sweetheart. Everything’s in place.”

  “But he’s leaving!” Thane said. He started to walk up the driveway, but Morana stopped him.

  “He isn’t going anywhere. Trust me, your plan is in full effect. I wish I had thought of it.”

  They went to the back door of the house and the kitchen where Clay waited. “Come see the show,” he said, leading them to the living room window.

  Out front, Uncle Jesse had just exited the driver’s door of his car after discovering that it would not start up. He went to the front of the car and raised the hood.

  “I don’t know what he’s looking for,” Thane said. “He doesn’t know anything about cars.”

  After leaning over the engine to look at nothing specific, Uncle Jesse slammed the hood closed and kicked the car’s fender.

  “What’s taking so long?” Thane said.

  “Be patient, Sweetheart,” Morana said, rubbing his back.

  They watched Uncle Jesse pull out his phone.

  “This’ll be interesting,” Clay said.

  Uncle Jesse tapped the screen and then put it to his ear. He looked at the phone and then walked along the street to the driveway entrance. As he headed toward the house, he didn’t notice a dark gray sedan pull to the curb behind his car. He remained focused on his phone while climbing the porch to the entryway. He rang the bell and pounded on the door.

  Morana turned to Thane. “Why don’t you take care of this?”

  Thane went to the door and opened it.

  “My car won’t start,” Uncle Jesse said. “I need to use your landline.”

  “Use your mobile phone,” Thane said.

  “Boy, don’t you think I would’ve done that if I could? I’m getting no signal.” He frowned at his phone. “That’s odd—the signal is always strong here.”

  “So you want to use our landline?”

  “That’s what I said, boy.” Uncle Jesse tried to push his way inside.

  Thane sidestepped and blocked him. “That’ll be $3,200.”

  “Very funny,” Uncle Jesse said.

  Behind him, two large men in suits got out of the sedan. One of them opened the car’s back door before they strolled toward the porch.

  Uncle Jesse didn’t notice them because he was too busy glaring at Thane. “Boy, if you think I can’t bring you as much trouble as you make for me, you are dead wrong,” he said, still not noticing the approaching men. “Let me use your landline and I’ll be on my way.”

  “Thane gave you his price,” Morana said.

  “Dammit! You people are useless.” Uncle Jesse turned to leave and was startled by the two men, who had reached the porch. They looked larger than they had when exiting the car. They stood side by side, blocking Uncle Jesse on the porch.

  One of the men cracked his knuckles, leering at him. “What’s up, Jesse?” he said.

  “What do you want?” Uncle Jesse said, backing away.

  “C’mon, you know that’s a silly question.” The men chuckled and looked at one another. “I’m sure you remember us. We’re your helpers. We help you get the money you owe the boss, to the boss.”

  The other guy said, “And the boss made it clear that if you pay his money late, there would be a late fee.”

  “I’ll pay it,” Uncle Jesse said, panic spreading on his face.

  “And you were also informed that if we had to make a special trip to collect the boss’s money and his late fee, there was gonna be an additional inconvenience-fee.”

  Uncle Jesse swallowed hard and raised his hands. “Listen, we can work this out.”

  The guys laughed. One said, “Oh, we know. That’s the beauty of it. And from what we hear, you can handle a couple of extra fees at the moment, so our timing is good.”

  They stepped closer.

  “Listen, guys,” Uncle Jesse said, his voice wobbling. “I can pay everything, including all the fees tomorrow.”

  “Unfortunately, that’s 24 hours too late. The boss figured you’d say something like that. He wants you to spend some time with us until your promises come true.”

  Uncle Jesse lunged, trying to dart through the narrow space between them, but the men sidestepped, closing the gap. One grabbed him and slammed him against the wall. When Uncle Jesse tried to break free, the other man delivered a gut punch that doubled him over.

  Uncle Jesse gasped and coughed. He caught his breath and said, “Thane, don’t just stand there! Do something, boy! Help!”

  Thane replied, “If you had any business sense, you would have already paid these guys.” He slammed the door and locked it.

  Morana, Clay, and Thane moved to the living room window where they watched the men drag Uncle Jesse across the front yard to the open rear door of the sedan. When he put up a final desperate fight, resisting their efforts to get him into the car, one of the men delivered another blow to his stomach, shoved him into the back seat and slammed the door closed.

  “Will they kill him?” Thane asked.

  “No, not these guys,” Clay said.

  Morana added, “But we can’t make any promises about tomorrow’s visitors. He’ll need that escrow money.�
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  End of Book 1

  Free Bonus Material

  After writing each book, I put in some extra work to create bonus materials as a way to connect directly with my readers. For Prey for Us, I’ve created a virtual tour of the sub-lair as I envisioned it. This POV video footage will take you on a journey where you’ll descend from the garage to the sub-lair and move about the corridors and rooms of Thane’s creation. (He doesn’t know I’m showing you so keep this under your hat.) If your imagined concept of the sub-lair is perfect and you don’t want it affected, move on to the book 2 preview below. But if you’d like to see how the sub-lair looked in my mind while writing the story, just tell me where to send your link to the tour. Visit: http://gneil.co/sublairtour

  What’s Next?

  Morana, Clay, and Thane have big plans and a great deal of work ahead to prepare for their new venture. The total isolation offered by the sub-lair has provided an unprecedented opportunity for seclusion and protection as they embark on a mission of vigilante justice with stunning effectiveness.

  In book 2 of Prey for Us, you’ll see the rapid expansion of the sub-lair, development the intricate Prey for Us security measures, acquisition of new prey, and a stunning influx of cash beyond even Morana’s expectations. With so much going for them, what could go wrong? You’d be surprised. Here’s chapter 1 of book 2:

  Prey for Us, Groundwork - Preview

  Chapter 1

  IF ANYONE KNEW the truth about 113 Bearing Lane, the community would be a ghost town. Many residents had an inkling that something was wrong at the address long before the disappearances made them certain of it. Some neighbors refused to walk near the quaint bungalow anymore, swearing that their leashed dogs pulled away when passing the cobblestone path to its white plank porch.

  At yesterday’s emergency homeowners meeting, speculation from panicked residents grew into a competition for the scariest observation about the home. A few long-timers urged calm, reminding everyone that the additional detectives assigned to the case would solve the terrifying mystery soon. Old Man Dunley waved his cane hook over his head to hush the other voices and shouted, “A hundred bucks says this is nothing but a ballsy publicity stunt. Some magician’s trying to score some free media.”

  Old Man Dunley would have lost that bet. There were no stunts and there was no magic. What happened inside the home at 113 Bearing Lane was real and warranted every bit of the panic it had triggered.

  Eleven days ago, a uniformed Florida Energy Services employee arrived at the address, anxious to finish his last meter reading of the day. After parking his truck in front, he crossed the lush yard and hurried along the narrow walkway beside the home. Halfway to the back, he dropped to one knee and parted the bushy honeysuckle that concealed the meter. He stared at the dials, frowned and leaned closer. He set his clipboard aside, pulled a phone from his pocket and took two photos of the usage readings. After swatting some gnats from his face, he logged the numbers, then checked over each shoulder. He crept toward the back of the house, keeping close to the wall until he reached the rear corner. He peered around it for his first-ever glimpse into the backyard. A covered swimming pool was surrounded by a thick array of stand-mounted solar panels protruding from dead grass.

  He tilted his head and listened, noticing a silence broken only by the occasional, faint chirps of birds out front. He pinched his clipboard under his arm and took a few more photos, checking each one until he had a clear image that allowed the solar panels to be counted. “There’s no way,” he said under his breath, stepping closer to the array.

  “Are you lost?” A sharp voice startled him. He flinched and turned to it. The house’s back door eased open enough to see one side of a woman’s shadowed face.

  “Oh, hi,” the man said. He took a deep breath while the prickles subsided. “I’m from Florida Energy Services.” He hid his phone behind him.

  “Have you installed a new meter in my back yard?” the woman asked.

  “No, I was just… uh—”

  “Then I wonder what you are doing back here.”

  “I’m sorry, ma’am. I saw an abnormal reading on your electric meter and thought the reason might be your fine solar array here.” He pointed with the clipboard while trying to slip the phone into his back pocket. He missed and the phone crashed to the ground.

  “I saw you photographing my property,” the woman said. “Is that standard protocol for collecting meter readings?”

  “No.” He picked up the phone and checked it for damage while desperately trying to think of an exonerating reply. “I was just—”

  “You were just committing a flagrant privacy violation, right?”

  “Uh, no, ma’am.” He closed his eyes and shook his head at his own stupidity. “Listen, ma’am, I’m really sorry about that. I can delete—”

  “I forgive you,” the woman cut him off.

  “You do?”

  “Yes, and I hope your employer does, too, when I send them the footage.” Her hand emerged and pointed up to a tinted dome camera mounted under the corner rafter.

  The man bowed his head and sighed.

  “I’ll tell you what,” the woman said. “You don’t want a reprimand and I don’t want any special attention. Maybe we can come to an agreement.”

  The man mimed wiping sweat from his forehead. “I can be very agreeable.”

  “I like that. Come closer,” the woman said. “I want to ask you something.”

  He approached her while fanning his face with the clipboard.

  She opened the door wider and stepped into view.

  He stopped fanning and froze.

  She was tall and shapely with piercing blue eyes and straight, espresso hair that fell below her shoulders. She wore only red panties and a white T-shirt so thin it masked nothing.

  He felt his smile growing crooked and stifled it, forcing his gaze to her face.

  She looked down at herself. “Oh… I didn’t expect company.”

  “No worries!” The crooked smile rushed back. “My God you’re, you know—beautiful,” he stammered.

  “Thanks.”

  “I’ve always wondered who lives here,” he said. “Finally, I can put a… face with the address!”

  “What’s your name?” she asked.

  “I’m Manny. And you?”

  “Listen, Manny, can you tell me more about my ‘abnormal’ meter reading?”

  “Sure, it’s simple, actually. Your net metering, which is excess electricity you send back to us, is off the charts—I’m sorry, I didn’t catch your name…”

  “What does that mean—off the charts?” She spread her fingers, inspecting her nails.

  “Well, in a typical month, a house on your street uses anywhere from 600 to 900 kilowatt-hours. This month your meter shows a net metering credit of over 7,100 kilowatt-hours. That’s the kind of juice a commercial building would consume and you’re sending it back to us.”

  “And that’s a problem because…” She motioned for him to finish the sentence.

  “Because, even this large array,” he thumbed over his shoulder, “couldn’t possibly generate that amount of juice.”

  “You still haven’t told me the problem,” she said.

  Manny stepped closer. “Ma’am, I’m going to sweeten our agreement by giving you some free scoop.”

  “I love scoop.”

  Manny grinned. “When I report this reading, your account will get flagged because the amount of power you’re generating is suspicious for a home in this neighborhood. My bosses will dispatch a higher-level technician for an inspection. They’ll question you, and if you don’t have a power source and an inverter that can support the amount of juice you’re sending back to us, then it automatically becomes a meter tampering investigation. Nothing I can do about that.”

  The woman fingered hair over her ear. “Manny?”

  “Yes.”

  “You have me in a really vulnerable po
sition. I’m willing to do almost anything to make sure you’re the only one who knows about… my ‘juice’.” She bent forward and slowly scratched her knee. “Can you think of anything we can do to keep it between us? …Anything at all?”

  Manny eventually blinked free of his stare. “I’m sorry. I’m gonna have to report this reading. I just wanted you to be prepared for special attention I can’t prevent.”

  The woman nodded. “I understand, Manny. You’re curious about my power source aren’t you?”

  He laughed. “I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t. You’re generating an ungodly amount of electricity somehow.”

  “Manny, do you enjoy seeing new technology?”

  “Of course!”

  “I was hoping you’d say that because I want to show you something if you wouldn’t mind coming inside.”

  Manny checked his watch and grimaced. “Technically, we’re not supposed to, uh…”

  “C’mon,” she coaxed. “I’ll give you the quick tour. We won’t be two minutes.” She opened the door wider, leaning to hold it for him.

  As he eased past her, he couldn’t resist committing to memory a close-up glance through the shirt.

  “You seem like a guy that can keep a secret. Am I right?” she asked, closing the door behind them.

  “Don’t worry,” Manny said, raising his right hand to swear. “For a chance to know what you’ve got going on in here, torture couldn’t break me.”

  The woman smiled for the first time. “Wonderful. Trust me, this secret won’t be hard for you to keep.”

  Manny pivoted, frowning as he looked around an empty kitchen. “Ah, that explains part of your power surplus—you’ve got no fridge or other appliances!” He laughed, turning back to her.

  Her smile was gone. She stepped away from the door and two heavy clunks came from it when automatic deadbolts locked.

  End of Preview