Shellshock (Spent Shells, #2)

by Hunter, Bijou

  SHELLSHOCK

  BIJOU HUNTER

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  Copyright © 2020 Bijou Hunter

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  No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other noncommercial uses permitted by copyright law.

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  Publisher’s Note: This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are a product of the author’s imagination. Locales and public names are sometimes used for atmosphere purposes. Any resemblance to actual people, living or dead, or to businesses, companies, events, institutions, or locales is completely coincidental.

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  For more information about this series and author, please visit her website.

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  Cover

  Photographer: Alan Poulson

  Source: Depositphotos

  Cover Copyright © 2020 Bijou Hunter

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  Dedication

  To SaJaMaLu

  My betas Sarah, Debbie, Cynthia, Sheri, and Carina

  &

  Judy’s Proofreading

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  Book Summary

  I am a weapon. She was the slave of a cult. I spilled blood to make her mine.

  The Children of the Black Sun suffered a painful wakeup call when they attacked our safe house. They realize they’re no match for weapons such as us.

  But the cult refuses to yield. A bounty is now on our heads. We travel through a foreign land where every face might belong to the enemy. Nowhere is safe. No one can be trusted.

  I refuse to yield either. This woman and child own my heart. My destination offers paradise. With my sister and a hardened mercenary at my back, I will destroy anyone who stands in our way.

  TABLE OF CONTENTS

  ≫ONE SPENT SHELL≪

  COBAIN

  KAI

  NERI

  SUNNY

  ≫TWO SPENT SHELLS≪

  KAI

  COBAIN

  KAI

  NERI

  ≫THREE SPENT SHELLS≪

  SUNNY

  COBAIN

  ≫FOUR SPENT SHELLS≪

  KAI

  NERI

  SUNNY

  COBAIN

  ≫FIVE SPENT SHELLS≪

  KAI

  SUNNY

  KAI

  NERI

  COBAIN

  KAI

  SUNNY

  NERI

  ≫SIX SPENT SHELLS≪

  KAI

  COBAIN

  NERI

  KAI

  SUNNY

  NERI

  COBAIN

  KAI

  NERI

  ≫SEVEN SPENT SHELLS≪

  SUNNY

  COBAIN

  KAI

  NERI

  COBAIN

  SUNNY

  ≫EIGHT SPENT SHELLS≪

  KAI

  COBAIN

  NERI

  ≫NINE SPENT SHELLS≪

  SUNNY

  COBAIN

  KAI

  NERI

  ≫TEN SPENT SHELLS≪

  SUNNY’S EPILOGUE

  COBAIN’S EPILOGUE

  NERI’S EPILOGUE

  KAI’S EPILOGUE

  EXCERPT FROM “GATOR”

  ABOUT BIJOU

  ≫ONE SPENT SHELL≪

  COBAIN

  Spoiled brats. That’s my first thought when I get the call. Two rich kids got themselves in trouble, and now their daddy needs to bail them out. I’ve seen the scenario plenty of times. Not usually in this part of nowhere that I’ve called home for a decade. But back in the day when I traveled the world, a commonly heard story was stupid shits losing their way only to get saved by their wealthy parents.

  Gator isn’t a name I’ve heard in a long while. DeMarco knew him personally. Nilsson shared stories about a close call with the assassin from long before I worked in the business. Having retired decades ago, the merc’s name rarely gets spoken except for when old men swap stories about their prime.

  The Arizona Moving Company operator gave Gator the number for my safe house. The merc asked for DeMarco, but I was the only one around. Just like it’d been for over a year.

  Saving the spoiled asses of rich kids wasn’t worth my time, but Gator isn’t a man who asks for help. He demands it. While I never bow to men like him, I’ve always respected assholes who earn respect. He wanted his snot-nosed kids protected, and I had nothing else on the calendar for... Well, it’s been a while.

  I nearly bailed on the fucking job when Neri called to whine about being tailed and having no clue what to do. Fucking amateurs. But I still went out to what remains of an old safe house and saved them. Brought them back to my home and planned to send them on their way.

  What I didn’t expect was a cult called the Children of the Black Sun would take shit so personally.

  Or that Neri James would wield her witchcraft on me. There’s something altogether wrong with that woman.

  How else can I explain wanting her more after she nailed me in the balls? Or that her inability to actually apologize was somehow sexier than her plump tits and taunting smile?

  Neri quickly fucked me up in the head. I blame some of that on being alone for too long. Any woman was bound to get my dick hard. Except Kai’s woman does nothing for me. She might as well be a child. If it had been Kai, Sunny, and the kid, I’d have barely spoken to them. I certainly wouldn’t die to keep them safe. And no way in hell would I consider giving up the sweet release of death.

  Yet as I unleash hell on the incoming enemy at the perimeter line, I begin reassessing my plan to go down with my safe house. Nearby, Nilsson’s black shepherd growls at the gunfire. He’s in the last years of his life. More than once over the last few months, the dog disappeared for so long that I assumed he died somewhere in the house. Then he’d show up as if nothing was amiss. I’m more than ready for him to die.

  And now we can go out together, taking dozens of religious nutjobs with us. It’s how a man like me ought to die. Retiring and living to a ripe old age like Gator is a betrayal to our calling.

  But I keep thinking of Neri. Not only about her soft hair—once brown, now bleached blonde—against my skin last night or her long, tanned legs wrapped around my hips or her possessive hands exploring my body. I don’t imagine how sweet she tasted or the vulnerability she revealed when her first orgasm hit. My mind isn’t on fucking. I’m focused on her fate.

  If I die here with the dog and these assholes, that’s one less line of protection for Neri. Surviving today isn’t enough for her. She needs to return to her home, and her brother is distracted by that woman and her child.

  Neri needs me to live, so she can live.

  That’s why I packed a bag in the Tahoe this morning. Just in case she asked me to protect her. Of course, Neri hadn’t said the words. She isn’t an emotional woman. Tears and begging aren’t her style. She left me to do what I wanted because she doesn’t believe a man should be weak.

  But she didn’t need to ask. I know she isn’t safe. Even if I kill every man currently attacking this safe house, she’ll be in danger until she returns to Nicaragua.

  I ought to leave the damn dog, but he whimpers when the outer wall is breached. Without thinking, I pick him up and take off running for the bunker door. I hear the cult fuckers blast open a side entrance. With the growling dog on my shoulder, I reach for my security tablet as I shut the door between the assholes and the underground bunker.
<
br />   Next, I turn off the lights in the house, leaving the Children of the Black Sun in the dark. To disorient and prevent them from fleeing, I set off the smoke grenades.

  After taking two steps at a time down the stairs to the underground garage, I shove the dog in the passenger seat. When I join him in the SUV and hit the gas pedal, he growls at me, and I growl back.

  If I want to kill the assholes upstairs, I need to hit the failsafe before my retreat. If I want to survive the safe house’s destruction, though, I need to get out of the underground tunnel and create some distance between the explosion and the Tahoe.

  Glancing at the security cameras on the tablet, I see the men moving through the house. A few wear gas masks and use flashlights to make quick work of their search. It won’t take long for them to figure out we’re gone.

  As soon as I reach the outer doors of the tunnel, I hit the failsafe trigger.

  The house’s cameras go black instantly, and the ground shakes from the explosion. As I watch the house that I called home for a decade disappear, a part of me worries the blast might reach my SUV.

  Instead, I not only survive but catch up to Kai, who’s driving far slower—and safer—than I would in his situation. I should fault his hesitation, but he doesn’t know the terrain. Crashing now would only leave them stranded and waiting for help he knows won’t come.

  I level my SUV with his and signal for him to allow me to take the lead. Kai’s expression reveals nothing. Though he’s too fucking pretty to be a killer, I can’t deny he owns a helluva poker face.

  Neri isn’t as lowkey about her feelings. She’s ready to fire at my vehicle, assuming I’m the enemy. Seeing me, the gorgeous witch woman smiles full of relief.

  Even with only a second to admire her expression, I realize Neri James is smugly excited to see me. Yes, the little brat knows I’m here because of her, and she’s immensely pleased with herself for ensnaring a bodyguard.

  She isn’t the first woman to con me into this position, but there’s no doubt she’ll be the last.

  KAI

  No amount of death or suffering will ever make me regret my decision to steal Sunny and Anika from their hellish lives. Even if they one day turn their backs on me, I’ll never view my choice as a mistake. I’m a man whose heart refuses to waver with Sunny and Anika.

  In the back seat, my love and child seem less certain. Anika repeatedly asks to go home. I don’t know if she means the safe house or the cult’s compound, but Sunny must repeatedly distract the four-year-old. They play games on a tablet and look out the window. Sunny names things while Anika sits on her lap and holds her precious toy-filled bag.

  As I drive on back roads, Neri tracks all vehicles we pass to ensure we’re not followed. She also texts our father back in Nicaragua to inform him of our situation. He immediately calls her because yelling in Spanish is preferable to angrily typing.

  “Where are you now?” he demands. Once I inform him of our location, he sighs loudly. “You need to get to Boise and fly the fuck out of that shithole.”

  “Papa,” Neri murmurs in a soothing voice, “Cobain says the airports aren’t safe. The cult has people in the big cities.”

  “Small towns aren’t any safer.”

  “The enemy doesn’t fear death because they’re brainwashed cultists. If we’re in a big city, we can’t fight back like in a smaller area. We’ll worry about the police. They won’t. We’ll worry about innocent bystanders. They won’t. We’re at a disadvantage in a large area.”

  Our father falls silent, and I fear he’s hung up. The last thing I want is for him to fly to the United States to save us, but it’s what he’s been itching to do since he heard about our situation. My father’s heart suffers from only three weaknesses, and two of them are in this car.

  “If this is true,” he finally says, “then you should stay on the back roads and stop at safe houses rather than hotels.”

  “The planned next safe house is now behind us,” I explain. “I’m not sure where Cobain is headed.”

  “Ask him, Kai,” my father growls.

  “He’s in a different car, and we’re following him.”

  “You’re too passive.”

  “No, I’m calm. Losing my temper does no good. Much like you losing yours right now isn’t helping,” I coolly state. “Your anger has Neri nearly in tears.”

  My father grunts in response to how I push his buttons. “The woman better be worth it,” he growls.

  I glance at the rearview mirror and smile at the sight of Sunny. Her fair brown hair is a mess from hiding under the blankets earlier. I smile at how she doesn’t worry about her appearance.

  “She is,” I admit. “Now, settle down and focus on how you can help us.”

  “And how is that?”

  “You contacted Cobain when we were in need. You still have access to information in the United States. When we know where we’re headed, you can check if the people at our destination are trustworthy.”

  “No one is.”

  “True, but some are more untrustworthy than others,” I say and give Neri a grin. “Cobain risked himself to help us. Not all will be like him.”

  My father's silence hangs in the car. He’s considering the motives of the mercenary leading our group.

  “Call me soon with your destination,” he finally says and hangs up.

  “Cobain must have a destination, right?” Neri asks me.

  For three hours, I have no answer to her question. We zigzag down two-lane roads in the middle of nowhere. Finally, we follow Cobain to a small gas station near a larger road. At no point does he signal that he’s stopping. He just makes a hard turn and pulls into the parking lot. No doubt, Cobain forgets he’s part of a group, and other people need to adjust to his whims.

  “Home?” Anika asks when we park.

  An exhausted Sunny hugs the child tighter and whispers, “Not yet.”

  I turn around to study my woman and child. Anika’s short haircut sticks in every direction, only made worse by her choice to sit on her mother’s lap where she nuzzles like a baby. Their big brown eyes find me, needing reassurance after a traumatizing morning followed by hours of boredom.

  “Bathroom time,” I announce in my happiest voice. “Stay close to Neri like before. We’ll be back on the road soon. I know it’s not fun, but each hour on the road brings us closer to your new home.”

  Sunny’s dull gaze warms at the thought of reaching my house on the beach where my family waits.

  They slide on their shoes and climb out of the SUV. Anika asks to play and points at a grassy area nearby.

  I expect the child to cry when she’s told no, but life at the cult’s compound offered no fun. Anika is accustomed to disappointment. Soon, though, she’ll know freedom.

  Neri says nothing to Cobain when she sees him. Yet her soft smile elicits a frown from the large man.

  I want more for my sister than this grumpy mercenary. She deserves a man willing to shower her with love and comfort. However, Neri doesn’t look sad when she notices the scowl on his dark brow. Instead, she pats his black dog’s head before escorting Sunny and Anika to the restroom.

  After filling up the Suburban’s tank, I walk to the small grassy area where Cobain frowns at his elderly dog.

  “Piss,” he orders the animal.

  With locals lingering nearby, I speak in Spanish, “We’re far from the safe house you suggested for us originally.”

  Cobain and I must make an odd sight in this vanilla population. Him with his six-and-a-half-foot build, long black hair, olive skin, and dark-as-sin beard. Me with my wavy brown hair barely hidden under a ball cap and pale brown skin made darker after years in the Nicaraguan sun. We’re clearly foreigners in their reclusive world.

  “That safe house was in the direction the cult came from. Couldn’t chance running into their reinforcements,” Cobain explains after he considers ignoring me. “The new plan is to head for Salt Lake City. We can get a flight out of there to Augusto C. Sa
ndino, stopping only in Houston. We need to avoid Los Angeles if you want me to stay alive.”

  “Was this your plan before we left today?”

  “No. I searched while we were driving.”

  “Don’t we have to drive past Boise to get to Salt Lake City?”

  Cobain doesn’t appreciate my second-guessing his plan. Though he again considers ignoring me, he exhales loudly instead. “We’re taking a lot of back roads to avoid their possible allies. This road here,” he says, gesturing to the four lanes next to the station,” is a faster way to Salt Lake, but we’ll pass by a few militia compounds. We can’t know the pacts made between the local fuckers. Our best bet is to stay off the main roads even if it takes longer.”

  “What if Salt Lake is a bust? Is there a Plan B?”

  “If we’re desperate, we keep driving south to Las Vegas or Phoenix. We can bounce from safe house to safe house until we reach a large city with an airport.”

  I study the map on my phone. “Why not aim for Sacramento or San Francisco?”

  “I’d rather stay out of that entire fucking state.”

  Even without knowing the details of how Cobain ended up on the run from someone in Los Angeles, I see no reason to push our luck. He doesn’t scare easily, and I want the safest path home.

  “Where do we stop for tonight?”

  “Hotels near the highways are dicey. At least until we’re out of this state. We’ll need to stop at a safe house located around three hours from here.”

  Cobain picks up his dog, who has finished his business and now sits at the large man’s feet. Walking to the SUV, he mutters in Spanish, “The safe house is not part of the Arizona Moving Company’s network. Meaning, they offer sanctuary, but they’re further off the grid.”

  “I don’t understand the difference.”

  Shoving his dog in the passenger seat where it growls at me, Cobain rolls his eyes at the animal’s reaction. “These people could just as easily kill you and me and sell the women and child. We’ll have to sleep in shifts once there, and no one can even take a shit alone. Understand?”

  I consider asking if he ever planned to warn me before we reached the safe house. Then I remember how Cobain’s been alone with only that growling dog for a long time. The man truly forgets how other people need to hear information for them to know it. He’ll assume we’re all reading his mind until he gets the hang of human contact again. Of course, it’s also possible he’s always been this way.