Protected by the Damned BoxedSet 1
Page 60
Maybe she needed to work on her social skills a little bit more for the future.
Calvin leaned over and spoke in her ear. “I know you are hungry, but you aren’t reacting like a human with a heart at the moment.”
When dinner was over, Calvin covered the tab and Charlotte thanked them over and over for letting her talk to Chloe. She knew she would probably never see her again, but just knowing she was safe and she was alive made Charlotte feel a hell of a lot better—and not so alone anymore. That was one thing Katie could relate with, not feeling alone anymore.
They walked out the door together before going their separate ways.
Just then, Pandora popped into her head like clockwork.
That reporter, as sweet and disgusting as that scene just was, ruined my dinner, Pandora bitched.
How? We ate, Katie told her, striding to the SUV and opening the door.
We ate a steak, she stated, when we could have spent the entire evening stuffing you full of food again. Seriously, that is like the best place ever. We could have had another all-night food fest.
Well, I’m telling you right now that I’m not overeating another damn thing until you explain why my new bras are already too tight, Katie barked. Like, we just got these damn things. You promised me when we gorged on donuts that you would only work on muscle, not curves.
I did only work on the muscle, Pandora protested.
Why do I not believe you? Katie asked suspiciously.
Hey, breasts have muscles too, she said innocently.
Oh. My. God, Katie growled. You made my breast muscles larger?
Yeah. You said muscles, so I took the leftover protein and calories and built your pecs up. She snickered. Voila! Big beautiful boobies which don’t need a bra.
Never say that again, Katie said, slamming her door. Never!
Which part? Pandora wondered. Big? Beautiful? Boobies? Or no bra?
Five minutes later Katie responded, BIG, you slut!
Oh.
Chapter Twenty-Five
Things had finally gotten back to normal around the base.
Everyone was training on a daily basis, the intel was flowing in steadily, and Katie seemed to be back to her old self once more.
When Damian got back he’d had a long, extensive talk with Korbin about what had happened in the cemetery that night, and Korbin had told him he needed some time to think about everything.
He didn’t call Katie in or let her know that he knew, just took time to think about what the next steps might be and what he was supposed to do with the information.
After dinner that night, Damian wandered around the complex, trying to find Korbin. Surprisingly enough, he wasn’t in his office or the office at the company next door, either. Damian checked his room and the chapel, but still no sign of Korbin.
Finally he decided to go up to the roof, and he found him up there. He was sipping scotch while lounging on a chaise and contemplatively watching the sun drop behind the mountains.
It was clear from the scotch and the look on his face that he was thinking about more than swords and weapons. His mind was obviously clouded with a million other things—and it made Damian a little nervous, since he was there to talk further about Katie and what Korbin believed would be the best course of action.
Damian felt like he had become Katie’s protector, in a way.
“Hey, boss.” Damian plopped down in the chair next to Korbin.
“We don’t use this roof enough,” Korbin remarked, looking at his glass as he swirled the amber liquid. “We spent the money to decorate it. It looks really nice and the view is killer, but no one ever comes up here to enjoy it. I sure as hell don’t.”
“I remember when we decorated it.” Damian chuckled. “We were so confused about what the hell the decorator meant by ‘stucco.’”
“I thought it was some kind of cake.” Korbin shrugged and took a sip. “I went to every baker in the city trying find it.”
“Who knew it was just a strange paint?” Damian laughed.
“Painting technique,” Korbin corrected.
“Ah yes, technique.” Damian nodded.
Korbin looked at Damian. “You want some?”
“Sure,” Damian said, watching him pour three fingers of Glenlivet into a Glencarin whiskey glass. “Fancy glass.”
“You like those? They were the higher-ups’ Christmas present to me last year.” He chuckled. “Obviously they don’t know me in the least. I once drank homemade whiskey from a tin cup in the middle of the desert. I’m not picky about my drinkware.”
“That sounds dangerous,” Damian commented.
“The tin cup or the whiskey?” Korbin asked.
“The sand,” Damian clarified. “You don’t take to the sun really well. I remember the pool party last year. You ended up looking like a freaking lobster.”
“Oh, God, that was miserable.” He chuckled. “I couldn’t sit down for a week. Anyway, what brings you up to the roof tonight?”
“I was looking for you,” he replied. “I wanted to find out if you had come to a decision.”
Korbin took a sip of his scotch and leaned his head back, watching the last of the sun dip below the horizon. He sat there quietly for several moments, just thinking.
Damian sipped his drink and glanced around as he waited for his boss to reply. Finally, he pursed his lips and looked at Korbin.
“Without faith,” Korbin began, “Humanity will fail. That is not a question or a maybe, it is an absolute. And I don’t necessarily mean faith in a higher being, though there is nothing wrong with that. What I am talking about is faith in people, in yourself, in the truth, and in the hard choices. Without that faith, humanity doesn’t stand a chance in the future.”
“I agree.” Damian smiled.
Korbin looked at Damian. “I just hope that my faith is not misplaced.”
“It isn’t,” Damian replied.
“How do you know?” Korbin probed.
“Because,” Damian looked into Korbin’s eyes, “no demon in control of a body would touch that cross, and Katie didn’t hesitate.” He waved a hand, slicing the air. “Not for a second. She might be Damned, but she isn’t lost, Korbin.”
“I really hope you’re correct.” He sighed. “Otherwise the humanity is as good as gone. You know that, right? That if Katie is gone and we let her demon lead us down a path to extinction it will be our fault, and our asses that have to raise their hands and say ‘our bad!’”
Damian chuckled. “I don’t take blame. It’s your decision.” Damian smiled as took a sip of his whisky. “I don’t get paid the big bucks. Besides, I don’t think she would lead us to extinction, just pain and suffering, that’s all.”
“You’re not making me feel better about this.” Korbin smiled tightly.
“You’ve made the right choice.” Damian reached over and patted Korbin on the shoulder. “Trust me.”
It was night. A rather quiet one, but the streets were busy as usual. A woman, tall and pretty but with a certain stare that could stop anyone in their tracks, walked intently through the rough part of the city.
The gangs were always in the streets and didn’t like it too much when anyone was on their turf, but for her they made an exception. For her they created a wide walkway, kept their eyes to themselves, and not a single one of those thugs catcalled, whistled, or even thought about touching her.
Her heels clacked against the sidewalk as she walked with purpose toward a meeting that she was already five minutes late for.
She reached an intersection and looked down at the paper in her hand and then back up at the signs. She turned left and picked up her pace, almost jogging toward the bright club lights on the next street over.
There were people lined up out the door, wearing skimpy dresses and the newest jeans and ready to party. As she passed the line she stopped and stared at a guy who had been stupid enough to whistle at her.
He smiled at first, but as he stared her in the eyes his
smile quickly faded away and a look of fear crossed his face. She chuckled and rolled her eyes before continuing toward the door.
As much as she wanted to put him in his place, she didn’t have time for that—not that night.
The doorman looked her up and down, not sure who she was. Carefully the woman leaned forward and whispered something in his ear. His face went white and he stood up straight, shaking his head and ushering her through the door.
He pointed to the back where two guards were standing. The woman winked at him, brushing off the coat check as she made her way into the club. The music was loud and electronic, and the bass bumped so hard her teeth rattled in her head.
She had never liked clubs. They were too crowded and too expensive, and if she wanted a sweaty man to rub himself all over her she could just go to the male strip club on the other side of the town and pay fifty bucks.
Most of the women in there gave her a onceover and went back to their conversations, while most of the men stopped and stared at her as she made her way through the crowd.
She was beautiful, sure, but it was her eyes that made them stare—something she had come to really like in recent days.
There was no better way to get someone’s attention than by flashing the red demon eyes. The smell of booze wafted into her nose and she crinkled it; no time to even think about relaxing and enjoying some whiskey. She was on a mission—one that required her entire attention, and one she did not want to screw up.
After several pushes, an ass-grab where she put the guy on the ground, and a drink spill she managed to dodge, the woman made it to the other side of the club.
Two guards stood in front of a large ornate door. The woman stretched up and whispered into one of their ears, and the guy—about a foot taller and a hundred pounds heavier—nodded and stepped to the side, opening the door. The woman smiled and nodded as she stepped through the doorway into a nicely decorated room that looked like it belonged in an Asian mob house.
Not in the back of a skanky club.
As soon as the door was shut behind her, the music faded and she was able to hear herself think again.
She pulled on the edge of her skirt and took a deep breath, feeling a little out of it after running down the street and then fighting through the mob of desperate clubgoers. When she had straightened herself out, the woman looked up at another guy, who held open a curtain and welcomed her into the next room. The woman smiled and followed him through the curtain to where an Asian woman in a very pretty green dress was waiting for her.
She smiled at the Asian woman, thinking how elegant she looked in that dress and how her hair reminded her of the fifties, or at least movies about the fifties.
She was too young to remember anything other than the nineties. The woman stood up and held out her hand, offering the seat across from her. She nodded and took the seat.
“Miss…”
“Just call me Mia,” the Asian woman said.
“’Mia,’” the woman said. “Thank you for seeing me. I am sorry I am late. Business was…busier than normal.”
“Not a problem.” She smiled and nodded to the table in front of her. “Tea?”
“Oh, yes please,” the woman said, turning over her cup.
Mia served the tea with an air of confidence. She passed the sugar and cream and sat back in the chair, crossing her legs. The woman smiled, feeling the confidence in the woman and knowing she thought she was in complete control of the situation.
“Your club is…nice,” the woman began.
“Thank you,” Mia replied. “I have owned it for ten years. The secret to it is having security you can trust, employees you can trust, and police you can trust.” She winked. “It’s really all about trust.”
“It’s just a front though, right?” the woman asked.
“You are a smart woman.” Mia laughed. “Most clubs are a front for something or other, whether its simple tax evasion or mobster activity. I can promise, though, that we are neither. You know what service I provide, so I suppose I would need a front for that. It’s not the most legal matter.”
“Of course not,” the woman said. She leaned forward, took off her sunglasses, and flashed her eyes.
Mia’s smile faded and she shook, spilling some of her tea on the saucer. She stared at the woman, realizing that she was no longer in charge. In fact, she was no longer in a situation she was comfortable being in.
She looked around for her security.
“They won’t be needed.” The woman reclined in her seat, taking the cup with her. “I am not here for you, just the service you provide.”
“Of course,” Mia said, bowing her head. “I am honored to have someone of your stature here with me tonight. Had I known you were coming—or that it was you that was coming—I would have made sure to have you escorted back.”
“That would have been nice.” The woman stared at her.
“Right,” Mia said. “Let me just get the documents.”
Mia stood up and walked over to a small stand with a large wooden box sitting on top. She slowly opened the lid and retrieved a leather satchel from inside.
She hurried back to the table and looked to the side, nodding at her service staff. The girl rushed over and took the tea and tray from the table before disappearing into the back room. The woman smiled at the fear in everyone’s eyes.
Mia pulled a stack of paper from the satchel. “Here are the documents for your new identity: your birth certificate, Social Security card, driver’s license with a number that is attached to the DMV in case you get pulled over, a passport where you just need to add the picture, and the credit card you requested in your new identity.”
“Thank you.” The woman checked each piece carefully before looking up. “And none of these will fail me?”
“No, they are all registered to the correct places,” Mia explained. “That is why we charge what we do. They are not fake ID documents, they are legitimate identities.”
The woman smiled. “Wonderful. Will I need anything else?”
“No. Now that you have all of it you will be able to get a replacement license, buy a home, go to Brazil—whatever you wish to do,” Mia told her. “Of course, we ask that you promise anonymity if for any reason you are caught.”
“Of course,” the woman assured her. “My lips are sealed.”
The woman stood up and opened her purse, pulling out a large envelope and laying it on the table. Mia shook her head and piled the documents back into the leather satchel, which she handed to her. The woman bowed slightly and smiled.
“Fifty thousand, right?” she confirmed
“Yes, thank you.” Mia bowed her head.
“It was a pleasure having tea with you,” the woman said. “May I ask what kind of tea that is?”
“It is a family blend,” Mia answered. “A mix of greens and herbals—something my mother used to make to calm us and get us to bed at night. I find that it helps relax two strangers when they are meeting for the first time.”
“I can see where that might be useful.” The woman smiled. “I love tea. All kinds, really, but mostly I drink Chai or English Breakfast.”
“Chai is one of my favorites.” Mia smiled nervously. “Though I must confess, I don’t like making it, since it’s very time-consuming.”
“Yes,” the woman agreed. “Well, thank you.”
“May I just ask one question?” Mia inquired, stopping the woman.
“Yes?” She kept her face toward the door.
“Why did you want a new identity?”
A smile moved over her face as she turned around and looked Mia in the eyes.
“I want a damned car of my own,” Katie said with a wink before placing her sunglasses back on her face.
Author Notes - Michael Todd Anderle
March 24, 2018
First, THANK YOU for not only reading this story, but checking out our Author notes here in the back, as well!
I would tell you what Laurie has been up to
the last week, but then I might take away some of her thunder (or admit knowledge she is hiding? Hmmmm….)
So, I’ll let her divulge her
And her Christmas Cookie adventure on Youtube. I’ll speak to this story and what we are doing!
Loraine (Cover artist)
So, Laurie was wanting cover artist(s) for the 7Sons project we started together. Part of my responsibility was finding additional cover artists. LMBPN Publishing (my company) already had 3 artists working with us monthly, another two on project by project basis and we were looking to bring out 56 more books.
No way I could use our existing artists…No freaking way!
So, time to figure out how to find another GOOD artist.
Now, I happened to accomplish this task. I found three awesome artists, one (Loraine) that I’m trying to keep tied up (not literally…figuratively… she’s in South Africa so it can’t be literal no matter how business savvy that decision might be – you know, chained to her computer working on covers? No? Must be me.) The second I grabbed for a twelve book commission and a third I’d love to work with, but should wouldn’t commit for so many books and we (my company) can’t commit for fewer.
Oh well, life happens.
Anyway, I get in touch w/ Loraine and then I get on a video call with her. She had two (2) clients at the time, but I am trying to explain “I’m someone you will want to work with, give me a shot!”
While I’m a ‘big name’ in Indie writing circles, that really doesn’t mean much to most people, including those who make covers for a living. So, when an author – completely out of the blue – contacts you from the USA when you live in South Africa claiming he wants a 12 book contract?
Yeah, I imagine she could be doubtful. So, I did something that would cause her to believe.