Monkey's Uncle [Drunk Monkeys 2] (Siren Publishing Ménage Everlasting)

by Tymber Dalton

  India’s body rocked harder, faster against him as a fine sheen of sweat covered her. He let her guide him, responding to her, trying to silently urge her over that edge into pleasure.

  And then she came, her fingers digging into his arm as she loudly moaned into his mouth.

  From behind her, Oscar whispered, “That’s it, baby. Come for us. Give it to us.”

  She used his cock, working it, writhing in pleasure between them, her muscles grabbing and massaging his member as she rode her climax to completion. Only when he was sure she’d finished did he take over, his hand dropping to her hip for leverage as he quickly thrust into her wet heat.

  He felt his balls tighten, drawing up as his release grew close. Then she sucked on his tongue and it triggered his climax. With a final hard, deep thrust he embedded himself in her pussy, letting his cock throb and shoot his load deep inside her.

  Five years. Maybe we can get this cleared up by then and she won’t need another birth control capsule.

  * * * *

  In India’s life, even though she hadn’t had an extraordinarily high number of lovers, she’d rarely had an unassisted climax, cock only, with them.

  As she came down from her orgasm, she realized these men were perfect for her in so many ways.

  After Yankee came, Oscar rolled her over, and then he slipped his stiff cock inside her and started thrusting.

  “How about another one, baby?” he whispered before kissing her. Yankee took over nibbling her shoulders, her neck, twisting her insides in a good way.

  It took her a moment to figure out the perfect angle with Oscar, but once she felt his cock gliding along her clit she let out a gasp.

  Then it was game on, motherfucker.

  He held back, working with her, letting her set the speed and tempo. At first she didn’t think it would happen, not like that, without a hand to assist her, but then she felt that delicious tingle begin again. The nerves in her clit responding, starting that sweet vortex spinning inside her again, the one that would take over and sweep away anything in her path as it absorbed her body before releasing the tension with an explosion of pleasure.

  She humped his cock hard and fast, crying out as she savored her orgasm, not just once but twice like this, with them.

  Did she need any other signs? No.

  No way in hell would she let them out of her life.

  Finally he started moving, soon catching up and coming inside her, his deep, throaty groan of satisfaction locking the door on her heart to anyone but them.

  She didn’t want anyone but them.

  And as they settled in for the night, Oscar’s spent cock eventually slipping from her, she spun toward sleep, content to know that as long as she could be with these two men, she’d handle whatever else the world wanted to farking throw at her.

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Silo was met down in the lobby of the church headquarters the next morning by Jerald, who wore an excited expression Silo didn’t dare cast his hopes upon.

  “I’ve got good news, sir.”

  “Wait. Upstairs,” Silo told him as they stepped into the elevator that would take them up to Silo’s penthouse office.

  He could tell the man wanted to spit it out, was all but bouncing around from one foot to the other in an attempt to hold it in and not say anything.

  In the foyer leading to Silo’s private office, his administrative assistant stood when he stepped off the elevator. He made sure to give her the same smile and friendly greeting he did every morning before he and Jerald locked themselves in his office.

  “Okay, what is it?” Silo asked him.

  Jerald smiled. “Our contact notified me. A meeting has been arranged.”

  Silo motioned for him to continue.

  “With someone who’s provided credible evidence that they can give us the whereabouts of the Drunk Monkeys.”

  “Really? Don’t tease me.”

  “It’s a last-minute arrangement. He can’t afford to let the contact slip away without following up on it. They threatened to take their information to the Chinese for a considerable dollar amount.”

  Silo sat in his chair and frowned. Leaning back, he considered their options. “Do you expect to hear back from our contact before the meeting?”

  “I don’t know. They still don’t know who the other party is, except it was made abundantly clear that if there were any signs of a trap that the meeting would be called off.”

  “What is the credible evidence?”

  “A recent picture of the group’s leader, Major Sam Warner. Our contact has met the major before and verified it was him.”

  “How do we know it’s not a trap?”

  “I don’t, sir. But our contact was eager to follow up on it.”

  “So how much money are they going to be wanting for this information?” He wasn’t averse to paying, as long as he was getting what he paid for. He had plenty of offshore accounts that weren’t traceable to the church from which he could move the money so it couldn’t be tracked back to him or the church.

  It was just that Silo felt something off in his gut. He didn’t know why, but usually if he didn’t trust that instinct, it meant bad things happened.

  Had he ignored that feeling and not returned home early from his trip so many years before, his wife would have completely broken free from his control.

  Unfortunately, in this instance he couldn’t afford to scuttle an operation of this magnitude solely on his gut instinct. Their contact in Arliss’ command was an experienced, trained military officer. Silo had to defer to the man’s judgment and let him handle it his way, no matter how much it pained Silo to relinquish that amount of control.

  If the man didn’t know what the hell he was doing, they were screwed anyway, all of them.

  At least Silo had taken great cares to keep himself from being implicated in any way if that particular contact was outed. Nothing specific could be traced back to them. He had met with countless men and women from the military and government before. Having meetings with any of them wasn’t proof of a conspiracy.

  And the man’s faith made him especially valuable. All their research into his life and activities only served to strengthen Silo’s belief in the man’s abilities to provide the kind of information he claimed he could.

  “All right,” Silo said. “Keep me posted. I want to know as soon as you hear anything.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  Alone in his office, Silo laced his hands behind his head and turned to look at the Sandias to the east. The sun had already risen above them, shining down upon them and bathing them in warm, bright sunlight.

  The man he had positioned under General Arliss fell under the “true believer” category. Most of his high-placed informants were under Silo’s thumb because their misdeeds had made them vulnerable to his extensive network, or they were easily bribed—and then extorted for their bribery.

  Silo hadn’t personally seen the man in months. During the last visit with the man, Silo had once again verbalized his promise that the man and his family had a guaranteed safe place in the St. Louis stronghold when the Kite infection finally took off in the States.

  And that the man and his family would be one of the first to receive the Kite vaccine, if he helped Silo get his hands on the members of The List.

  Silo didn’t have direct access to the workings of the military. The knowledge he had came from his contacts. He knew the SOTIF teams were all being sent out to search for people from The List. But a few weeks earlier, his contact had excitedly called him to alert him that General Arliss had pulled the Drunk Monkeys and diverted them to Australia. The general had also given the SOTIF unit specific intelligence data to locate Dr. Phe Quong, a North Korean national who’d been on The List.

  Silo’s contact didn’t know how the general had obtained the intelligence data. And it was at that point Silo had instructed his contact to start using the secret account for contacting him and to not call him directly until Silo let
him know otherwise.

  They couldn’t afford for any suspicion to be cast upon the contact.

  Unfortunately, that might have already happened. Arliss was a wily man who’d seemingly outsmarted them already.

  Contemplating the mountains, Silo wished there was a better way to communicate directly with his contact, but knew he couldn’t force the issue. He also knew his man had at least one other true believer already closely working with him, but his contact had wanted to keep that man’s name out of their communications to prevent any potential exposure.

  One positive development, the man had passed along another tidbit of information a few weeks ago regarding one of his coworkers. About another of the men in General Arliss’ command, albeit a couple of rungs lower in the food chain, as they referred to it.

  Apparently that man had a mistress and child in addition to his wife and children.

  A mistress and child his wife knew nothing about.

  Silo already had people looking into that aspect. If he could gain control of the mistress, bribe her, he could easily bring that man under his influence.

  It wasn’t guaranteed, of course. Every once in a while, if approached too hard or too quickly, a potential contact broke instead of bending. One man had committed suicide, another had simply confessed to his wife, yet another opted to go to jail for his corruption, rather than become an informant.

  Silo didn’t miss the irony of a criminal having a conscious about the level to which they’d debase themselves.

  As for his own actions, why he was simply one of God’s tools, a man devoted to spreading the Holy Word to everyone.

  A man determined to mold the world to his satisfaction. He would get himself elected President, and he would turn this country into one of believers.

  Anyone who didn’t want to step in line could take their chances elsewhere in the world, without the benefit of the Kite vaccine.

  He closed his eyes and smiled, picturing what it’d be like to stand before congress and address the nation upon his election.

  It would be a whole new world. A better one.

  One of his design, by God.

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  India and her men awoke a little after five in the morning. They savored a quiet shower together before they helped her make breakfast. By the time she’d packed a couple of things for the overnight trip and had made one last check of her list of items she wanted to buy for the clinic while in Mexico City, it was almost seven o’clock.

  Papa, Pandora, and several of the men from the Drunk Monkeys showed up right on time, as did John and Robert, and Paul and Ellen. After Papa logged on to the sat-link, he nodded and turned the laptop around so everyone could see it.

  “That’s our guy,” he said. “Colonel Afton Gregor.”

  “Son of a bitch,” Yankee muttered. “I farking know him.”

  Several other men nodded, and various “me, toos” were muttered.

  Papa’s grim expression seemed to speak for everyone. “Hopefully he’ll be alone. Those were the instructions Bubba sent him. We’ll get there and scope the plaza out, especially the meting area.”

  “You think he’ll be alone?” Yankee asked. “He’s smart.”

  “Bubba thinks so. At least, he’s traveling alone. He’s the only one who’s put in for emergency leave.”

  “That doesn’t mean he’s the only one who’s involved.”

  “No, but Arliss is now aware of Gregor. He won’t push too hard when the man goes AWOL. He’s got bigger fish to fry and will pass it off to the proper authorities. Still, we’ll watch our backs.”

  With Paul and Ellen in the clinic, Mac and Q would stay behind and work on their research with four men to guard them and their safe house.

  Part of India hated that the more she learned about the people behind the horrific events, the more conflicted she became about her hatred toward them. As Oscar and Yankee had said, she couldn’t be sure she wouldn’t have done the same thing.

  And they were trying to fix it.

  It did no good to blame the wrench the mad bomber used to build the devices that maimed and killed people. It was merely a tool.

  Although these particular “tools” did have independently thinking minds.

  That was a mental debate she’d have to shelve until later. Helping them would potentially mean a faster resolution and more lives saved. It didn’t mean she absolved them of their responsibility for what had happened, but she’d put it aside for the sake of the greater good.

  For now, at least.

  They took three different vehicles for all twenty of them. John and Robert rode with Papa and Alpha and two other men so the group’s leader could drill facts about the Drunk Monkeys into the cops’ memories, as well as what facts they had about Afton Gregor.

  India and her men shared a SUV with Tango, Doc, and Pandora. It was India’s first chance to really talk to the woman.

  “So how you liking life with the Drunk Monkeys so far?” Pandora asked her.

  “Not sure yet, but I have a feeling I’m going to like it. No complaints so far.”

  “At least you didn’t get abducted when you joined.”

  “What?”

  They’d apparently glossed over that part of the story, so Pandora, whose real name turned out to be Celia, filled her in on all the details.

  “You bit me at our first meeting,” Tango reminded her from his place in the middle seat with Doc. “You’re lucky we didn’t duct-tape you from head to toe right then.”

  Pandora reached across the seat and poked him in the shoulder. “You just keep it up, buster. See if you get laid tonight.”

  “No one’s getting laid tonight,” Doc said. “We’re going to be busy with logistics. We’ll need to scope out the area around the meeting place and keep people watching around the clock to make sure we don’t get ambushed.”

  Tango turned to speak to the women. “If something bad happens tomorrow, you two stay inconspicuous. Don’t turn and start running unless we tell you to, okay? Chances are no one will know who you are.”

  “What about me?” Pandora asked. “You said I’m known to the mole.”

  “Well, okay, yeah, you should run. But Clara, you stay put, pretend like you’re an innocent civvie.”

  “How will we know what’s going on?” she asked.

  “We’re going to be monitoring it. John will do the actual meet, with Robert nearby as backup. The rest of us will lay low and listen unless they give us a cue. We don’t want Gregor spotting any of us.”

  “Monitor how?” India asked.

  “Secure radios. Signal’s scrambled so scanners can’t pick them up. We’ll have John micced. Robert will also have a radio and be right there with visual contact, with the rest of us listening in.”

  “You don’t think this guy will try something dangerous in the middle of a crowded market, do you?” Pandora asked.

  “We don’t know,” Oscar said from the front passenger seat. The men were going to swap out driving duties, and right now Yankee was behind the wheel. “We’re not going to take any chances, though.”

  “How do we know the guy won’t be there looking around when we get there?” India asked.

  “Because his flight doesn’t get in until almost midnight local time,” Doc said. “That gives us a couple of hours to recon. If he shows up early, even better, we can grab him when he’s not expecting us.”

  Their trip to the city was not only uneventful, they made far better time than India usually did, just under eight hours. That gave them plenty of time to scope out the Zócalo. India had guessed right, people were already setting up for the big day tomorrow in the marketplace.

  Vendors ranged from regulars who had built semipermanent booths out of scavenged lumber and other materials, to people who had created makeshift tents, to those who had nothing more than blankets with their wares displayed. The plaza had fallen into disrepair, between the severe earthquake damage to buildings that used to surround it and the
various economic, natural, and medical disasters that had plagued not just Mexico City, but the entire world over the past several decades.

  Shade trees had grown up all over the once-open plaza and were put into use by people to secure ropes for tents and clotheslines. It had once been a jewel in the city’s crown, surrounded by historic buildings now reduced to rubble and dust.

  Pandora, of them all, looked most out of her element. “Holy cow,” she muttered over India’s shoulder. “We didn’t have stuff like this back in Chicago.”

  India smiled. It’d been an adjustment for her, too, when she’d first arrived. Now she enjoyed the quiet insanity of the open-air markets of Mexico, especially this one. “This is the largest plaza in Mexico,” she said. “I’ve seen old pictures of what it looked like in its prime. It was beautiful.”

  Robert and John split off from the group to scope out the meeting area. When they caught back up with the others a little while later, they reported nothing amiss.

  The rest of them, in groups of two, made the rounds of the whole plaza, acquainting themselves with the area, including some of the surrounding blocks beyond the abandoned ruins.

  “Where are we sleeping tonight?” India asked. The light had started turning orange as the sun lowered in the sky.

  Papa turned. “I’m going to get us a hotel room,” he said. “We’re going to take turns keeping watch out here tonight,” he said. “You two can spend the whole night there. I need everybody else on their toes in case we get a chance to grab Gregor by surprise tonight.” He’d already split off earlier in the day to purchase the burner phone John would use to call Gregor, as originally arranged.

  But now they had the advantage of knowing who they were looking for.

  Papa found a small place close by where the rooms opened onto the street, meaning they didn’t all have to take turns tramping through the lobby to get in and out. They’d draw less attention and suspicion that way.