Blind Copy (The Technicians Series Book 5)

by Olivia Gaines

  Raphael stopped, “Willow, am I hurting you?”

  She nodded her head yes.

  He didn’t move.

  Willow yanked the necktie from her mouth, threatening to strangle him with it if he stopped. She whispered a few other gems in his ear that nearly made him come undone. He never expected such a sweet woman to know exactly, and completely what to say to him, in the right order of words, in the right cadence, perfectly pitched to make a trained assassin lose his shit.

  “You are so thick,” she whispered. “I feel as if you’re stretching me to the limit, hurting me and pleasing me at the same time. I’m crying because you feel so wonderful, touching me in ways I didn’t know I could be touched. Raphael, make my body react to your every command. Make this yours. Show me what it feels like to be loved by you so that no other man can ever turn my head or change my loyalty to Mr. Hoyt.”

  In his line or work, when a challenge was issued like that, a man had to stand and deliver. He held nothing back. The parts of himself he’d never shared or given to another woman in his entire life, he gave to Willow. Open, honest, and sincere were the ministrations between him and the woman who wanted to know what it felt like to be loved by him. Midway through the lesson, she began to shudder against him. Raphael didn’t care if she’d had two orgasms already, he wanted the lady to have at least two more.

  “Willow,” he whispered in her ear, rolling his body to the side and sliding his hand between them. His thumb rubbed the nub of flesh and he pumped his hips. She allowed the necktie to slip from between her slack jaw. Her body stiffened. Long, dark legs extended outward like she’d been electrocuted, and she went limp. “One more and this time bring me with you.”

  He continued the assault on her body. His hands were everywhere; his mouth on her breast, his fingers probing, exploring areas he should not have access to, but she didn’t complain. Instead she went to work on him, flexing her inner muscles, clamping on, clamping down, squeezing. The necktie was jammed back in her mouth.

  “Oh shit,” he moaned, blinking twice to stabilize his vision. He’d come to the end. He couldn’t hold on anymore. “In or out?”

  “Whaaa?” she mumbled through the necktie.

  “My finish: in or out?”

  Willow was confused for a moment then she thought about the few pornographic movies she’d seen where the man spilled his hot seed across the woman’s breast or on her backside. That was a waste of good genetic material in her opinion. She didn’t answer him but moved her hips, up and down in a slow movement, then in a circle, still clamped down, still squeezing, and she flexed her pelvis upwards. Mr. Exit unwillingly squealed.

  Willow did it again, and he found himself squealing once more like a piglet being chased with an axe by a butcher.

  “What in the hell?” he asked and smacked her across the ass.

  Willow did it once more. His jaw fell open, his right foot started to shake and his left testicle retracted. Raphael let go, shooting everything he had inside of his body into the woman. He pumped hard, holding her in place like the mating animals of Serengeti ensuring that no other bull could come along to take their turn with his woman. Strong fingers sunk into the skin of her buttocks, digging deeply and holding her in place as if he wanted his manly swimmers to find an egg to create a new life.

  The necktie fell out of her mouth as she held him tightly. She started to laugh while she lay under him in post coital bliss.

  “I’m going to have to change these sheets before Marla gets here in the morning,” she said, feeling the wet spots underneath her.

  “That’s the first thing that came to your mind after all of that?” he asked, feeling a bit disappointed that she hadn’t praised his performance. He’d thought he’d done exceptionally well.

  “No, my first thought was that in a matter of days I’ve fallen totally, head over heels in love with a man who will probably never love me back,” Willow said, “and then I realized that at some point, before Tuesday, you need to tell me what it is you do for a living. I don’t want to come across as an idiot in front of your co-worker’s wives.”

  “Willow, loving you is going to be the easiest thing in my life I have to do,” he said, “and my job...well, I don’t know what to say about it.”

  “Raphael, you just made me orgasm four times in 22 minutes. You could tell me that you were an assassin for a covert operation of the CIA and the other day you killed a man in a bathroom stall while he was taking a poopy,” she said. “Wouldn’t change a darn thing. I’d still be up in the morning making you waffles with sausages, perfectly crisped on the edges.”

  “If that were my job,” he said, stiffening at the accuracy of her guess and leaning back to look at her face, “would that frighten you?”

  “Honestly, you know what scares the poop out of me?”

  “No, what?”

  “That one day you leave for work, and I have no idea what I’m dealing with in your world, and I’m not prepared for what happens if something happens,” she told him, “and that scares me.”

  “You scare me, Willow.”

  “Me?” she asked, looking up at him as her fingers toyed with the hairs on his chest.

  “At times, I feel like you are reading my soul and can see right through me. You know exactly what I want when I want it and how I want it. That scares the shit out of me,” he said, detaching their bodies.

  “Too bad,” she told him, rolling over to lay across his chest. “You licked me. I’m yours now. Plus, four times in 22 minutes, you will be hard pressed to not wake up and find me on top of you having my way. I’m going to be so sore in the morning. I don’t even care. I’ll give you whatever the hell you want, Mr. Hoyt.”

  It was the same thing the Archangel had spoken. He licked her good too and yes she was his. The thought crossed his mind that after six years of no sexual activity, there was a high probability that he’d just impregnated the woman, which made him feel warm on the inside. Suddenly, he realized a random fact, that scientifically, how long it’s been wouldn’t matter. It’s about the timing and how many eggs she has left at her age. Either way, he was going to put a bun in the chocolate cake baking oven.

  “Yeah, I’m going to have to marry you one way or another,” he said, looking at her. Willow was asleep and didn’t hear his words. It didn’t matter. He was going to marry her sexy, gourmet-cooking ass anyway and give those girls his last name. “I want a son, Willow, so give me that. A handsome fellow to go along with the two beautiful daughters you walked into my life with.”

  If she were able to do that, then he’d be content to spend the rest of his life doing nothing but fishing off his boat. He frowned as he thought about the cat in the hat and the necktie wearing dog named Pierce. In the morning, he would make a new list of things to do, and calling the indoor waterpark in Concord, North Carolina to amend his reservation was high on the list. Suddenly, he was hit with another genius idea which required the help of Yield, The Mann, and an Archangel.

  “Coolness,” he smiled, snuggling up to Willow, and drifting off to sleep.

  RAMI COULDN’T SLEEP. Every which way he turned, every rock he flipped over, every hill he climbed, the trail went cold. There was no way in hell that woman and kids could simply disappear without a trace. Maybe they were dead.

  “I’ll make the call in the morning, touch base with Proderick, and get my money,” Rami said, looking at the ceiling.

  He was hit with a brilliant idea. All of it could fall right into place if he lined it all up just so. Lined it up just perfectly to get the money and get free of the likes of Proderick Hymn. The word would spread, and he’d be in the money.

  “Just a bit more time,” Rami said, leaning over to touch the bag of glitter. “A little more time is all I need.”

  Chapter Fourteen – Replica

  RAPHAEL WASN’T SORE per se, but he felt like he’d had a rough night at the rodeo. His tongue felt dry and too thick to sit behind his teeth as he attempted to swallow, but it f
elt like the spit congealed in his mouth. A futile attempt to open his lips sounded like a bad case of cottonmouth just before he was due to deliver his Easter speech in church.

  “Growl,” he said aloud, stretching, rolling to his side, and finding the bed empty. To his displeasure, when he turned to the other side and looked into the bathroom, thinking maybe she’d gotten up to relieve herself, he heard no noises. She’d gone back to her room so Karli would wake up next to her Mama. “Thoughtful for the kid, but not so much for me. I wanted to wake up next to her Mama too.”

  Tossing the covers aside, he slowly dragged himself from the bed, crossed the room, and turned on the bedroom light. His eyes wandered back the bed where he’d spent 22 minutes making love to a woman that made him squeal twice. The sheets were a mess. It looked like he’d pissed in the bed three times: at the head, the foot, and center of the bed.

  “Good times,” he said, stripping the bed. He would take the sheets downstairs and throw them in the washer. The mattress covering needed a good wash as well, so he added that to the pile. Whistling, he went for a shower.

  IT WAS CLOSER TO 7:30 than he’d planned when Raphael came downstairs to start his morning coffee and take a walk out on his deck. At close to eight, he planned to call the Lodge and the Archangel. He heard a slight whimper and looked down to find Pierce Brosnan sitting at his heel wearing a doggy pajama top.

  “I know, man. I have no idea how she found time to make you a dog wardrobe, make sandwiches, and cook me that yummy dinner,” he said, opening the patio door. “She also baked that cake from scratch because I don’t have any boxed mixes in this house. The shirt is cute, though.”

  An incredibly happy Pierce ran down the stairs, found a bush, and loaded it down with yellow thoughts. He sniffed about the back yard and then made his way up the stairs to sit by Raphael’s feet. Initially, Raphael half expected the animal to run off, but it didn’t. As soon as he finished his coffee, he went to find kibble or food for the guy, since he, the cat with the hat, and Pierce were the only men in the house, they had to stick together.

  Raphael located food for both animals, curious as to how she came by it, unless she drove to the store. While he was at it, he opened a pouch of kitten food, which smelled like a back room in a bordello in Bangkok. Daniel Craig was missing the hat, but he too had on a striped pajama top.

  “Dudes, this just ain’t right,” he mumbled and set about making waffles with sausages that had crispy edges.

  Turning the sausages, he dialed the lodge in North Carolina, upgrading the room to a suite and asking for one that allowed pets. It cost him an extra hundred bucks a night, but at least the animals wouldn’t need to go to pet day care while their family was away. He used his phone to add another task to the list: Get travel watering containers for the pets.

  “Okay, that’s done,” he said, making the next call to the Archangel. Gabriel Neary answered on the third ring.

  “You’re up early,” the Archangel said.

  “Not much of a later sleeper, plus, I have things to do,” Raphael said. “You know why I’m calling. My last name is Hoyt. I spell Hotel. Oscar. Yankee, Tango.”

  “I know how to spell your name. Why are you telling me this?”

  “Because I licked it, man. I licked it and liked it, and it made me squeal like a 10-year-old girl seeing a snake in the back yard,” Raphael said to a laughing Archangel. “I have never squealed in my life, so there’s that and I plan to keep it. Give it my name next week, so make sure you get that marriage license right.”

  “Oh, you want me to perform the ceremony?”

  “Yes, please and bring your wife,” he said softly. “I want her to have a bridal party and someone there to help get her dressed and put flowers in her hair and shit. Sorry. Excuse me, but yeah, I’m processing emotions and stuff.”

  “And stuff?”

  “I’m looking at renting a room and ordering a cake. If, and I’ll send you money and stuff, your wife will order nice flowers, maybe make Nate Jr, the ring bearer. One of the girls the flower girl. I want it to be nice, but I want it to be a surprise too,” he said.

  “Anything thing else you want to order while I’m on the phone?” Archangel asked sarcastically.

  “Uhmm, I could use some counseling, a prayer, and a bit of advice,” Raphael spoke, lowering his voice and taking the sausages from the pan to drain on a napkin.

  “Speak freely.”

  “I know you’ve married the other Technicians, but I don’t know how to tell her what it is I do,” Raphael said. “How did the guys tell their wives what they do?”

  The Archangel was silent. He wanted to provide guidance as best he could, but at the end of the day, it would be up to Mr. Exit as to how much he wanted to divulge to the woman. Based on what he’d read about her thus far, she had no one else. Her father’s only living relative had passed while she was locked down at the compound. The mother whom she lost as a child had no siblings, and her sister, as far as he could tell, was no longer among the living.

  “In the case of Mr. Yield, he is a Retrieval Specialist. An overpaid hunting dog who can pick up a cold trail and find anything that has been lost,” Archangel said. “He’s painted himself as a modern Indiana Jones to his family.”

  “Yeah, none of that for me,” he added. “The others.”

  “Well, Mr. Mann was sent to kill the woman he married, which you know after your slumber party for killers,” Archangel said.

  “Hey! How did you know I stayed over?”

  “I know where each of you are at all times.”

  “Did you know that Wrong Way was going to get blinded and that the Glitter Man was on her tail?”

  “I knew he was on her trail, as did she,” Archangel said, “but she was presented several opportunities to make a different choice, which she did not. At some point, we all must go home.”

  “Tracking and of course, Mr. Stop?”

  “That one became a matter of safety as in the same case of Mr. Yield’s wife. There were bad men coming and willing to take what didn’t belong to them. A big, angry husband tends to deflate small minded men who seek to lord their positions of authority over the little person,” Archangel provided. “Mr. Stop went to the home to deliver a message and a package from the husband and found the wife half dead with pneumonia, a young child, a hole in the roof, and no food in the house. He did right by them both, and in the process of helping her heal, he found a home for them all.”

  “So, what you’re saying is that I’m creating a home for us as well?”

  “No, it sounds like that’s what you are telling me, Mr. Exit. You’re offering your name to two children who aren’t yours and a woman you’ve only known since Saturday. I may not be a man with a fleshly history, but one night and you want to make it permanent, you’re the one who needs to explain this to me,” Archangel said.

  “I can hear the smile through your voice. You’re laughing at me and I get it because this morning I am up making waffles and laughing at myself after feeding a dog and a kitten that are wearing pajamas,” he said.

  “Breakfast in bed on her birthday, how chivalrous, and you have pets for the girls; nicely done,” Archangel said. “Anything else I can help you with?”

  “Shit, you ain’t helped me yet. What do you mean, anything else? Was that your form of counseling to a man on the ledge? If so, I want a refund,” Mr. Exit said in a tone that meant business.

  “You wanted to know how the other Technicians told their wives what they did for a living, and I answered you. When it comes down to a matter of life and death, plus having nowhere else to turn, that woman doesn’t care as long as you’re not hurting her, the children, or doing an illegal thing which can land you all in jail,” Archangel replied. “You are a contract employee. Very few people know you exist. The ones who did are no longer around to speak of it, and the rest of us avoid you unless we are required to be around you.”

  Raphael sighed deeply. “For some odd reason, that hurts my feel
ings,” he replied solemnly.

  “It shouldn’t. Raphael is an archangel,” Gabriel said. “He is tasked with the healing of humankind and the bodies of all living creatures. Tell me, are the animals rescues?”

  “I guess. They were kind of given to the each of the girls,” he added looking down at them. “Sure.”

  “See, you’re on the right path. When the subject comes up, ease into it, but she has a right to know before she says I do,” Archangel told him.

  “Still thinking about shooting you,” he said to Gabriel.

  “You can’t. I’m the bearer of His messages. I shall see you on Tuesday,” he said and ended the call.

  “Why is he always hanging up on me? If I knew where he lived, I would drive, fly, or take a train there to bust him in the mouth,” Raphael mumbled, “then I would shoot him in the right ass cheek just so he can’t sit down, then I’d hit him in the mouth again with my fist.”

  “Who are you talking to, Daddy?” Karli asked, bending down to scratch Daniel Craig behind the ears. She had a new outfit in her hand for the kitten plus a matching red tam for his head.

  “I was on a call,” he lied, looking at the poor kitten who was looking at him and silently pleading for help. “Where did you get the clothes for the animals?”

  “Mommy and Dusty made them. I didn’t like the idea of seeing the animal’s buttholes, so I wanted to dress them up,” Karli said, “but Mommy told me they were animals and we couldn’t cover up their poopers.”

  “Well, that’s a good thing. I made waffles,” he said. “You hungry?”

  “Am I ever? Mommy is knocked out in the bed. Her mouth is all open, and she’s drooling. I don’t know what all she did yesterday, but maybe making that cake was too much and she wore herself out,” Karli said, taking a seat at the table.

  “Nope, you just changed Daniel’s clothes, so go wash your hands or you’re going to be eating cat fur,” he said, taking the eggs from the fridge. The washer beeped, indicating the sheets were done, and he needed to place them in the dryer.