“Mr. Exit, running? That will be the day,” the Archangel said. “What do you want to do?”
He accepted another drink, knocked it back, and made his way across the room. The women who had surrounded his wife cleared a path as he took to one knee in front of her.
Willow had no idea what he said since he spoke it in French. He shook his head, cleared his throat, and said it all again in Spanish. She caught a few of the words.
“I feel like an ass because I’m not a drinker and in the next 10 minutes, I’m probably going to be drunk and drooling. I love you. Marry me. Make us a family, Willow, and let’s get this done,” he said, followed by a hiccup.
“You had to get drunk to ask me?”
“Who do you think planned all of this, Willow? You think these people just showed up and said hey, let find some flowers for a bouquet for a lady we don’t know? I told you, I don’t do anything half assed and definitely don’t do shit I don’t want to do. So, you gonna marry me or what?”
“Fine! I’ll marry you,” she yelled.
“Fine!” he yelled back. “Archangel, come over here and finish this so we can eat dinner.”
Seven minutes later, sporting a new bridal set, Willow Palm Rayne became Willow Palm Hoyt. After a few signatures on pieces of paper, Karli Marie Hoyt and Dusty Rose Hoyt were also official, receiving small golden rings for their right hands as a promise from their father to guide them through life.
The festivities kicked off as the food rolled in on carts. The small camera hidden inside the podium was clicked off after the remote feed had filled a thumb drive in a room on the second floor.
A soft voice leaned forward, editing the footage of just the wedding ceremony before it went awry. That would be the portion he would share with Proderick Hymn, that Willow was now married and his children had been adopted by a man in North Carolina. Technically, it was the truth.
“The Archangel,” Rami Slanecki said. “Who might you be...?”
RAPHAEL HOYT DANCED with his bride. He danced with his daughters and even the wife of the Archangel. By the end of the evening, his eyelids drooped and he was ready for bed. He stood outside with Dusty as she let Pierce take care of his evening business.
“Daddy, everything turned out all right in the end,” she said to him.
“Hm, Hm,” he replied.
“I hope we didn’t embarrass you in front of your friends,” she spoke softly.
“I want to know when you took your eyes off your sister and let that Jamal put his mouth on her?” he asked.
“My eyes never came off Karli. He kissed her on the cheek to calm her down after the kids laughed at her. Jamal did it to shut them up so Karli wouldn’t be the butt of their jokes,” she said. “He’s a nice kid, Daddy. Karli is just...Karli. She talks likes an old woman and he likes to read. The other kids don’t, so they share that bond.”
“Yeah, well there’s that,” he said, noticing a tall Black male peering in the side window were the party was happening. “Get inside Dusty, now.”
Raphael eased his way around the side of the building, coming up behind the man, who was also seen by the Archangel who was coming out the door. Zeke flanked him on the left and Yield was on his right. Suddenly Archangel stopped in mid stride, holding up his hand.
“Mr. Merge? What are you doing here? You working?”
The other Technicians stopped. No one had ever seen Mr. Merge and they sure as hell didn’t know he was African American. What scared Mr. Exit more than anything was why the man was here.
“Who did you come for, Merge? Who did you come for, Merge!”
“An old man who is staying at the lodge with his family. Yeah, in about two minutes, he’s not going to be able to catch his breath,” Merge said, looking about. “Hey what is this, some kind of party and no one invited me?”
“An old man?” Exit asked.
“Yeah, dirty old fucker, likes to sell images and movies with underage kids,” Merge said, looking at the bow tie and cummerbund on Mr. Exit. “Hey, what kind of party is this, Gabe? Wait, hold up. You marrying Mr. Exit? Holy shit. I heard you’d married Yield, Stop, and the Mann. Are you those guys? I guess so in your matchy-matchy ties. I didn’t get one.”
No one said a word, but it didn’t matter to Merge. His attention was drawn elsewhere. “Ambulance is right on time. They’re so predictable, which I am counting on. I know those dudes are going to go with one or two options to save that dirty old bastard and both are going to mix with the chemical I gave him and kill the hell out of that dude. Good riddance,” Merge said, looking at the men.
The Archangel was trying to get his attention, but Merge had a plan. It didn’t include an impromptu gathering of hitmen. He needed to get home.
“Hmmph. Nice to meet all ya’ll, but whatever this is, not sure I want any, especially if folks keep getting married,” Merge told him.
“I need to speak with you,” Archangel said, “and so does Mr. Exit.”
“You can call me. I’m out. Send me my tie. I like that,” Merge said, easing around the side of the building and disappearing into the night.
Mr. Stop came outside with a chicken leg and another can of beer. “Hey, what did I miss?”
Zeke looked at Stop with wide eyes, asking the obvious. “How the fuck are you able to track anything. You are always a day late and a dollar short!”
“I can track all kinds of stuff, especially with the blueberry soap your wife likes to use. You also like wearing Aramis, which hasn’t been worn in years. You are limping on one leg, creating an uneven pattern in the dirt, carpet, and anything else you step on. You favor your right arm when you sit down, meaning you’re going to be slow to take a swing if I punch you in the gut, so it’s those details which keep me a day early and paying my damned bills, G-Man,” Stop said. “Does anybody want more of that chicken? It’s pretty good.”
The men all laughed, but Raphael found no humor in any of it, especially the small detail of Merge calling the Archangel Gabe. He knew the man. The Archangel knew them all and more importantly, “Gabe” had recruited him to be a Technician. That uncomfortable feeling arrived again, which often happened when he was in the company of people he didn’t trust. Raphael was starting to distrust the preacher man.
“Hey, Exit, get out of here. It’s your wedding night,” Mr. Mann said.
“Not going to be much of a night sharing a room with them girls of yours. Lord, I’m praying for you,” Zeke said.
“I have a suite, so we’re good. Night, everyone,” Exit said, heading inside the building to locate his family and prepare for a wedding night he wasn’t sure he wanted.
Chapter Twenty-Two – Ditto
WILLOW SAT ON THE SIDE of the bed amazed at the weight of the bridal set that glistened even in the soft light of the bedroom lamps. She was staring at her hand when Karli and Dusty came into the room to say goodnight. Hugs were given by both girls whom she feared had seen too much and known too much fear in their young lives and never had an actual childhood. Tears formed in her eyes when she thought of the wedding from hell and her 10-year-old daughter forming a trust circle to talk through her issues. Karli was an old soul, one she often believed housed the body of either her mother or her sister, but she was thankful for the child.
“Willow? Do we need to talk about anything before we go to bed?” Raphael asked, looking at the woman who was now his wife.
“No, I’m good,” she said, trying to reconcile the odd feeling of nervousness inside her belly. “I’ll prepare for our wedding night.”
“I’ve been drinking, so if you would prefer to not...you know tonight, with me being under the influence, I understand,” he said.
“Man, you had two shots of liquor and half a glass of wine. Is that what you call drinking?” she replied, laughing and thinking of her father and his Army buddies in the back yard on a holiday weekend. “You are a long way from being drunk, husband.”
“Husband, I like the sound of that,” he said, removing the
cummerbund and walking over to the bed. “That was some wedding. A trust circle formed by a 10-year-old. What have you done to that child? I swear she is like a little old lady shoved into a tiny body. And what is up with this Jamal kid? I have way too many questions right now, and I think it might be best for me to just go to damned sleep.”
“You don’t want to claim your rights as my husband tonight?”
“I want to claim all kinds of shit when it comes to you woman, but emotionally, if I were to be honest, I’m in overload.”
“My apologies for my portion of that overload. The insecurities stood up in the middle of the room and said hey, look at me in the pretty dress. I was scared and still am. Those stories of those women. What the heck are you a part of?”
“Did I mention that I was an assassin?”
“Well, kind of, but not really. You’re admitting this to me now,” she said, removing the dress and standing in matching underwear, black and trimmed in lace that he began to quickly appreciate.
“Yeah, well. Yield isn’t an assassin, he’s a retrieval agent. Stop is a tracker, he hunts down bad people who have been on the Most Wanted List for too long kind of stuff. He prefers the ones that are dead or alive,” Raphael said.
“Enough. I don’t want to know anymore,” she said. “I’m in overload as well. You know what would make me feel better? I need a good dicking.”
“What...why can’t you call it making love or our special time...it sounds so nasty when you say it like that,” Raphael said, rolling to his back. Willow moved over him, straddling his lap.
“Because that’s how you make love, Mr. Exit, real nasty like. I enjoy it too. I like how you get all nasty, using your mouth, fingers and whole body when you get all up in this...”
“Willow, my Lord,” he said, feeling the blood surge to his lower extremities. His hands went to the lacy bra, running his fingers over the delicate fabric. In one motion, he had the brassier in his hand and tossed it across the room. It took even less effort to get his wife out of her underpants and to remove his own. No words were spoken as they consummated the marriage, ending in a satisfied sigh on both their parts.
“I love you with everything in me, and I love those girls,” he whispered in her ear.
“We, and that really does mean me, love you too,” she told him. “I’m sorry if I made you doubt it.”
“Never doubted it for one minute,” he lied, snuggling close and drifting off to sleep.
HE’D SLEPT LONGER THAN planned when he was awakened by what he thought were loving kisses from his new bride, only to find it was Pierce trying to get him out of the bed. Groaning, he pushed the dog aside. A moment of panic hit him as he jumped up, sliding into his pants and snatching open the bedroom door. Willow and the girls were on the couch.
“Morning. I sent Pierce to wake you up,” she told him, bringing a cup of hotel room coffee to him. “Thirty minutes and we are due downstairs for breakfast. Cabrina has a presentation before yours on insurance and then the ladies also want to understand the investment plan you’ve brought.”
“Okay,” he said, accepting the coffee. “And good morning. Anything else I need to know before we head down?”
“I think the women want their own investment group with a smaller buy in of maybe $500,” Willow said. “I don’t have $500.”
“If you want in, you have $500,” he said.
“Daddy, I want to buy in too. Can I have 500 dollars as well?” Karli asked, looking at her mother. “Mommy, what are we buying into?”
Dusty Rose was not going to be left out. “I want 500 hundred to add in too Daddy.”
Raphael didn’t bother to answer any of them. He took his hotel room coffee, which tasted like chemicals and bad life choices, did a perfectly executed about face, and left the ladies in the living room. Shower. Dress. Meeting.
In the closet, he reached for his clothing which had been pressed and hung together, including his white shirt and black tie with the exit sign on it. He showered quickly, avoiding the blueberry soap which clung to Zeke and his wife’s skin. Stop had been right. The smell wasn’t overwhelming or even powerful, but the scent was enough to leave a distinctive odor trail to follow. He would speak with Zeke about that one on one.
Zeke was the Archangel’s brother.
Ezekiel Neary.
Gabe.
Gabriel Neary...the CIA Operative in Ohio?
Blue. Bleu. Isiah Neary, PhD., the mind fucker of Alcohol, Tobacco and Firearms Division out of Kentucky.
The sons of Joe Neary, FBI.
FBI, CIA, ATF. What was Zeke a member of...need to find out today.
“Better yet, what in the fuck am I a part of?” he said, stepping out of the shower.
CABRINA NEARY GAVE a fine presentation on insurance options, co-pays, HMOs, PPOs, and other stuff that made little sense to the wives since none of them really had any health insurance coverage in the past. The men all shifted in their seats as she discussed well woman care, pap smears, mammograms, and other routine exams which would be covered and were important for a woman’s health.
She finished her presentation to a small round of applause, and they took a break before Mr. Exit began his presentation. In between as breakfast dishes were taken away, snack plates were brought forward. The kids were set up in a corner with video games. Karli read a book. Dusty stayed on her phone, texting with Skylar, Michelle and Johnnie enjoyed playing with Pierce.
“I’m going to make this short and quick so we can get the kids outside and into the water, which is why we are here,” Raphael said, plugging his tablet into the overhead projection system. “This is a simple investment plan that will work well for a three to five-year gains if we take nothing out.”
“Mr. Exit, the wives would love to discuss a separate plan for us, but with a smaller buy in. Do you have any suggestions?” Judy wanted to know.
“We can do a mutual fund for the ladies, with a collection of no front loads, but the question would be do you want an investment fund which pays dividends or do you want growth?” he asked Judy.
“I have no income, so anything which can pay a dividend would be helpful,” Judy said, and the other women nodded.
It was information. Hard core, tangible information sent directly to the husbands’ minds. Outside of Cabrina, none of the ladies had a real income. They were totally reliant upon the husbands. Mr. Exit saw where that, in the long term, would be an issue.
“Okay, so what you ladies want is a low buy in on a fund with high yield and dividend payouts that would provide an income on regular basis,” he said. “Have you ladies considered combining your talents and creating an Etsy shop? Mrs. Zeke and her soaps and shampoos...those teas, and the rest of what you ladies create living off the land. Instead of several shops just make one. Call it Intersections or a play on words with the Construction Crew of Technicians. One email address that pings you all when an order is placed for your items. I dunno. You have options to create income without relying on us for money.”
Everyone in the room looked at him as if he’d just lost his head and it had rolled across the floor. He didn’t stop but went right into his presentation, showing the difference in the six men in the room.
“These numbers of course will shift if we add in Wrong Way and the other five Technicians,” he said, looking at the Archangel. “Gabe, if you reach out to the other five this afternoon and see if they want to buy in, I’m sure Willow would be willing to make them all a necktie as well, so they can feel a part of the group and be prepared for our next meeting.”
The Archangel raised one eyebrow at the use of his given name. That was his only reaction. He provided a nod and let the man continue.
“If we have all 10 Technicians buy in, then we are talking 100,000 and we can really look at some real growth stocks which in three years, we can cash in and plan for retirement, which is the goal,” he said, again looking at Gabriel.
“Why are you looking at me when you say retirement?” Archangel
asked.
“Because the more I learn, the more I realize,” Exit said.
“Pray tell, what are you realizing?” Archangel wanted to know, turning in his seat.
“I’m realizing that we’re going to have to find a job and a handle for your Gimpy ass brother. He was a life saver for Wrong Way. What was your company of employment G-Man before your forced retirement, Zeke?”
Zeke didn’t like being put on the spot. He answered through clenched teeth, “Secret Service,” he said.
“Stop was right, a G-Man with the SS,” Exit said, looking over at Archangel.
The Archangel got to his feet. He planned to put an end to Mr. Exit’s conversation, but thought differently of it. Mr. Exit had a way of thinking that he was growing to appreciate and now he was curious.
“State your need, Mr. Exit,” Archangel said.
“I was a member of the team who went in for Bin Laden,” he said. “We had good intel and every member of the team knew their role and what had to happen. I think we will function better if, outside of Beauty and Kurtzwilde and the occasional conversation with you, information flowed better. It would make us better.”
“Again, I say, state your need.”
“I don’t know the need, man! None of us do, which is the problem. We didn’t realize that these wives aren’t getting regular womanly medical care until your wife pointed it out. We didn’t realize that we didn’t have a retirement plan until I pitched this idea. The more we are together, the more we realize,” Exit said. “We are independent contractors for “The Company” which I’m starting to think is an undercover arm of one of the Spook Divisions your family works for, Archangel.”
Gabriel Neary liked Mr. Exit a great deal.
He was a smart man.
A learned man.
He wasn’t a thug with a rifle who liked to shoot shit or a paid sociopath who liked to kill more than just bunny rabbits. Gabriel Neary appreciated a man of intelligence.
Blind Copy (The Technicians Series Book 5) Page 25
