Flying Monkeys [Drunk Monkeys 6] (Siren Publishing Ménage Everlasting)

by Tymber Dalton

  She thought Kilo and Foxtrot looked a little disappointed by that news, but they didn’t interrupt their CO and he continued.

  “We’ll play the schedule by ear, for now. The more training time you can get those three, obviously, the better it will be. But our mission needs to come first. If I need them here for watch or an operation, that takes precedent.” He nodded to Kilo and Foxtrot. “So for the time being, gentlemen, she’s your package.”

  She resisted the urge to protest that declaration. If she was reading more into it than Papa meant, it would make it look like she was looking for something that she wasn’t.

  “Where am I bunking?” she asked.

  Another woman, who’d been passing through to the kitchen, stopped. She looked a little older than the rest of them. “I’ve got that large corner office,” she said. “Plenty of room. And I’m mostly working nights in the lab now, so I’m usually not even there. She can bunk in there with me, if you want.”

  “Problem solved,” Papa said.

  It definitely wasn’t her imagination that Kilo and Foxtrot now looked a little more disappointed than they had before. “Fine with me,” Kyong said.

  Chapter Twelve

  After eating lunch, the two men were going to take her back to McChord. Victor had rejoined them, this time dry and fully clothed. He also looked like he’d just shaved, and seemed eager to spend time talking to her.

  She thinking about setting him straight, that she was there for the mission and that was all, when another guy walked in.

  “Oh, this is Echo,” Kilo said, introducing Kyong to him and explaining to him who she was. “He’s the guy we told you about who was going to fly the helo in Santa Clarita.”

  Okay, that was why his name had sounded familiar to her when Papa had assigned her the crew.

  He wasn’t bad looking, either. “Dude, you tried to fly a helo with less than an hour of instruction?” she asked. “Props, man. Mega props.” She fist-bumped Echo. “No pun intended. Did you shit yourself?”

  “Only three times,” he groused. “But the last time was a shart and technically shouldn’t count.”

  “You should’ve seen the damn pilot who tried to teach him,” Victor chimed in. “He had that poor bastard scared clean out of his mind. Damn good thing the guy had a conscience and didn’t want Echo to kill himself or anyone else while flying that bird. You should have heard him ranting at me after he picked me up. Had to listen to him all the way back to Santa Clarita.”

  Echo grinned. “Hey, I’m no fool. I probably could have managed it, but I was hoping I could use a little persuasion to coax him into flying me there and bringing Victor back.”

  “Well, good for you,” Kyong said. Then, her gaze narrowed and she jabbed Echo in the chest. “You try any of that shit with me and my bird,” she warned, “and I’ll de-nut you myself.”

  “Where the hell do we find these women?” Foxtrot grumbled. “They’re all fixated on castrations and killings.”

  She turned. “What?”

  “Never mind,” all of the men said. Since there weren’t any other women there to ask for clarification, Kyong opted to file it away for future reference.

  It was obvious the men had no desire to enlighten her.

  * * * *

  Kilo was glad to get the captain out of there and get back on the road to McChord. He didn’t like the way Victor and Echo had been looking at her.

  Hello, Pot. My name’s Kettle…

  Hey, Papa had said she was their package. At the very least, the other guys could wait to make moony eyes at her until she’d said yay or nay to them first.

  Dibs.

  Then again, he suspected she was the kind of woman that if she even knew he was thinking those kinds of thoughts about her, possessive—

  Holy crap. I need help.

  It’d been waaay too long since he’d been laid. Not that he begrudged any of the others for finding happiness but he wouldn’t deny he wished there was a woman for him and Foxtrot to share, too.

  He noticed that as she questioned him in more detail about their experiences thus far, she stayed conspicuously clear of any discussions of the more personal aspects of what had happened.

  “Do you really think you can get those guys up to speed on your plane?” Kilo asked her.

  There was something about the thought of three other guys getting to spend all that time with her and they…didn’t. Well, okay, two other guys. Echo didn’t count, because he and Omega were obviously happy with Chief.

  But still…

  “As long as those guys are quick studies and as smart as your CO seems to think they are, yeah. Why do I get the feeling you have another reason for asking me that?”

  * * * *

  Foxtrot couldn’t stand it any longer. “Because he does, okay? Because it’d really suck if someone else caught your eye before we even had a chance to talk to you and see if there might be something there, all right? Happy?”

  Kilo slammed on the brakes so hard all of them would have been thrown through the windshield had they not been wearing seat belts. The tires squealed and laid down twin tracks of rubber on the pavement as he got the four-wheel drive truck pulled onto the shoulder. Fortunately, there weren’t any vehicles right on their ass.

  Both Kilo and the captain slowly turned and looked at him with equally wide eyes.

  “Dude!” Kilo finally screamed. “What. The. Fark?”

  She didn’t say anything, which actually scared Foxtrot more. Her nostrils flared as she stared at him.

  “What?” he finally screamed back. “You’re both dancing around each other. Okay? The elephant in the middle of the farking room. There’s five sets of guys, including us, who are available. Papa said she’s our package—”

  “Whoa, okay, asshole,” she said. “Let me set you straight on something. Your package ain’t getting near my package, I don’t care how cute—”

  “He means,” Kilo said, “that you’re our responsibility. That’s what Papa meant. That’s all he meant? Isn’t it, Foxtrot?”

  He sat back. “Yeah, that’s what he meant. Doesn’t mean we’re getting you in the sack.”

  She swiveled her head to stare at Kilo. “Is there a name for what’s wrong with him?” she asked Kilo.

  “I wish.”

  They’d started to turn around to face forward again when Foxtrot muttered under his breath. “Lỗ đít.”

  Next thing he knew, she’d nearly climbed halfway over the seat and was still coming at him. He scrambled to press himself into the seat and away from her while Kilo struggled to pull her back.

  “Let me tell you something, lỗ đít,” she screamed at him. “Đụ má mày!”

  He was too shocked to do anything but throw his hands up in front of him in an attempt to ward her off. She’d unbuckled her seat belt and moved so fast he’d barely registered it.

  “Dude!” Kilo yelled as he tried to hold onto her. “Whatever the hell you said, fucking apologize!”

  “All right! I’m sorry. I didn’t know you spoke Vietnamese.”

  * * * *

  Kyong finally wrenched herself free of Kilo, falling back into her seat. Still, she turned, even with Kilo trying to block her with his body.

  “Doesn’t fucking matter!” she screamed at Foxtrot, her whole body trembling. “You want to call me a fucking name, grow a set and say it to my goddamned face!”

  She finally faced forward and snapped her seat belt on again.

  Kilo stared from her to him in the backseat and back to her again before throwing the truck into gear, checking the mirrors, and pulling into traffic.

  They didn’t speak, and neither did she.

  No, it shouldn’t have bothered her. Not in the least. She was better than that.

  She was a fucking officer, for chrissake.

  He didn’t know.

  Foxtrot didn’t realize that the way he’d said it had sounded exactly the way Tuan used to swear at bullies under his breath when they were ki
ds. For a second, she thought she’d turn around and see her brother sitting there, smiling that playful smile of his.

  Instead, there sat Foxtrot.

  Tuan had been her protective big brother, taking care of the bullies and bitches at school who’d tried to pick on her because she’d been littler, geekier, smarter, and more awkward than anyone else her age.

  She’d had no friends.

  She’d had Tuan.

  I owe him an apology.

  Well, okay, technically Foxtrot had acted like a dick, but it hadn’t warranted her blowing up at him like a crazy person. That wasn’t professional.

  Damn sure wasn’t how an officer, someone who was supposed to be a professional pilot trained to stay calm under pressure, would act or react.

  When they reached the front gate at McChord, their IDs were scanned, they were stick tested, and then they were sent on through to go about their business.

  “Drive up to the hangar,” she quietly said. “I need to tell Mal what’s going on.”

  Kilo nodded, but didn’t speak.

  When he pulled into the parking space, she shoved the door open and was out and nearly running before he’d even shifted the truck into park.

  * * * *

  Kilo shifted the truck into park and slowly turned to stare at his partner over the back of the seat.

  “Jesus fucking jumped up Christ on a goddamned motherfucking popsicle stick,” Kilo said. “What the motherfucking fucking hell the fuck was that fucking shit?”

  He’d never wanted to kill Foxtrot before. Not seriously.

  Not until now.

  Oh, sure, he still considered the man a brother. He’d kill and die for him.

  But right at that moment, Kilo wanted to climb across the seat, strangle Foxtrot, bury his body, and when he returned to the safe house, answer, “Foxtrot who?” when Papa asked him where the guy was.

  Foxtrot, did you say? Brown hair, brown eyes, swarthy complexion? Speaks Vietnamese and normally has a Minnesota accent and a penchant for out-Roscoe-ing Roscoe and swallowing his goddamned foot all the way to the hip joint?

  Naw, never heard of him.

  Foxtrot stared back at him. Finally, he said, “I said I’m sorry! What the fuck else do you want me to say?”

  Kilo had to take a deep breath to remain in control. “Do you realize what the hell you and your stupid mouth probably just did?”

  “She’s a damn captain, Kilo. She outranks us.”

  “So? Who gives a shit? It’s like Papa said, we’re OTG. It doesn’t matter!”

  “Might not matter to you and me, but I’m sure it matters to her. You weren’t dressed down by her twice now.”

  “Yeah, and both times you opened your mouth and some weird creature spoke for you. What the hell, dude? Are you channeling Roscoe now? I’ve never heard you fark things up with women like this before!”

  The more time Kilo spent with her, the more he wanted to keep spending time with her, but Foxtrot seemed bound and determined to drive her away and into the arms of another couple of guys.

  Which, okay, granted, at this point Kilo couldn’t and wouldn’t blame her, but he damn sure could and would blame Foxtrot if that happened, all because the man apparently lobotomized himself between the time he woke up and when he’d met Captain Tran.

  * * * *

  Kyong found Mal in his office. When she walked in, he frowned when he caught sight of her. “What happened? What’s wrong?”

  She shook her head. “Nothing, I’m fine. Just stuff catching up with me, I think. Look, I’m going to be assigned to, ah, your friend’s unit.”

  Quickly detailing enough information for Mal as to what she’d need to do, he nodded and took notes on his tablet. “Okay. I’ll have her ready to go for you at 08:00. You think they’re trainable?”

  “I hope so.”

  “What else is wrong?”

  She liked Mal, knew he’d keep his mouth shut, but she wasn’t proud of how she’d acted. “Like I said, everything’s finally hitting me, I think. The stuff that…happened.”

  “You sure you’re good to fly?”

  “Yep. I’m not just good to fly, I need to fly.”

  He tossed her his keys. “Take my Jeep down the flight line to get your gear,” he said. “Don’t want to raise any alarms, they see an unauthorized vehicle down there.”

  “Thanks.”

  She headed outside, not even bothering to stop at the truck. She walked past it, head down, aiming straight for the Jeep.

  Her hope had been that they would wait there for her. But they didn’t. She heard the truck’s doors open and close and the sound of them hurrying after her.

  “I don’t need your help,” she called without looking back. “Just going to get my gear.”

  “Don’t care,” Kilo said, so close behind her it startled her. She wheeled around and found he stood right there, inches away. “Our job is to stay with you.”

  “Your package?” She didn’t mean to fill her words with such venom, but now that she’d hooked her wagon to that train of thought, she couldn’t pry it loose no matter how her brain tried to shake her.

  “Look, he’s an idiot. He’s sorry.”

  A few steps behind him, Foxtrot nodded, hard and fast, but didn’t say anything.

  He did look sorry. She almost felt sorry for him.

  Almost.

  “Fine. Stay out of my way.” She walked around the front of the Jeep and got behind the wheel, nearly hitting Kilo in the leg with her messenger bag when she tossed it onto the floor in front of the passenger seat. Kilo climbed in to ride shotgun, while Foxtrot got in the back.

  She didn’t bother asking them to buckle up, or waiting, for that matter. She cranked it and slammed it into gear, almost hoping she’d dump one or both of them out as she wheeled it around and headed down the tarmac.

  * * * *

  Foxtrot felt horrible. He honestly didn’t know what to say to smooth things over with Kyong except sorry, and he was reasonably sure at this point he’d manage to fark that up somehow, too.

  He sat there in the backseat and held on and kept his mouth firmly shut while she pulled up next to the plane and parked. When she went inside, Kilo sat there, glancing over his shoulder but not making eye contact with Foxtrot.

  His intent was clear.

  Sit there. Shut up.

  He didn’t need to be a genius or an officer to know that.

  Thus, he sat.

  And shut up.

  She emerged from the plane about ten minutes later with one large duffel, which she launched into the backseat and directly at him before turning to go inside again. He wordlessly caught it, finding it far heavier than he’d anticipated from watching how easily she’d hefted it, and eased it down to the floor.

  His respect for her went up even more.

  She returned with another duffel of equal size and weight. One last trip, she returned with a large ruck with her bedroll attached, and a smaller ruck. After locking up the plane again, she got behind the wheel and they returned to the truck. While she went in to return the Jeep keys to Mal, Foxtrot and Kilo transferred her things to their truck. It all fit in the backseat next to him, so when she emerged from the hangar they were waiting with Kilo behind the wheel and him in the back, still shutting up.

  That had to be the most quiet and uncomfortable ride of his life. When they were close to the safe house, she finally spoke up. “Sorry I blew up.”

  Kilo glared at him in the rearview mirror and Foxtrot took his chance. “Sorry I’m an asshole,” he said, taking a page from Roscoe’s playbook.

  She turned her head, just enough he could see what might have been a faint smile, but he wasn’t sure.

  Didn’t matter, he’d take the win.

  And he shut up.

  Again.

  Don’t want to ruin a good streak.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Kilo and Foxtrot grabbed her large bags for her and helped her get her gear upstairs after they’d cleared sti
ck tests. They led her to Canuck’s room on what was actually the second floor, if you didn’t count the garage level. The other woman wasn’t there.

  “Canuck’s one of the scientists,” Kilo said as they set her things in a neat pile in what appeared to be the unoccupied corner. “From The List. Dr. Riley Perkins. She’s a nice lady caught in a bad situation.”

  “I know that feeling,” Kyong muttered.

  Boy, do I.

  “I’m sorry,” Foxtrot quietly said before turning and leaving.

  Now she felt even worse. “I didn’t mean it like that,” she said to Kilo. “I meant…” She threw her head back and stared up at the ceiling. “I don’t know what the hell I meant.”

  “Chow’s probably going to be ready soon,” Kilo said. “See you downstairs.”

  As she watched his departing back, he closed the door behind him without a final look in her direction.

  She didn’t blame him.

  Shit.

  Now she felt bad. Yeah, Foxtrot had been a bit of a jerk, but she’d returned a spitball with a tac nuke.

  She also knew she had to be the bigger person and try to start over on the right foot with both of them. Even if she wasn’t sleeping with the two lunks, she’d be working with them, in close quarters, schlepping their asses from one end of the country and back again, too, most likely.

  The least she could do was to make friends with them.

  She found her way to the bathrooms and showers and made use of both. By the time she finished her shower, she smelled food cooking downstairs on the main level where the lab, kitchen, and other areas were located.

  Kilo and Foxtrot weren’t anywhere to be found, but Victor, Echo, and now Zed were. The other two men introduced her to Zed, and before she realized it she had her dinner and was cornered at the end of one table, already discussing the basics of her Zeus with the three men.