Monkey See, Monkey Do [Drunk Monkeys 9] (Siren Publishing Ménage Everlasting)

by Tymber Dalton

  “Not too far west of Kansas City. We’ll be cutting through St. Louis. Not worth the risk taking back roads. It’s the tail end of a holiday weekend. We’ll be less visible among all the other traffic.”

  “Are we being followed?” She suddenly felt very exposed despite the gun tucked inside her holster in her waistband.

  “No.” Uncle laced fingers with her and led her toward the building while Zed pumped the gas. “Papa’s got Roscoe, Niner, and Annie bringing up the rear and watching for problems.”

  They all pulled out less than fifteen minutes later. Feeling a little more awake now, Leta watched the strange landscape pass outside her window. This was so foreign to her. Patches of snow interspersed among barren trees and fallow fields. Hills that might as well be mountains compared to Florida.

  All these people who had not only taken her in and accepted her, but who were quickly becoming adopted family, in her mind. Sure, she’d had coworkers and friends and fellow students over the years, but not even Gary had ever felt like “family” to her.

  How sad is that?

  She’d thought she’d loved him but the truth was, she’d never really deeply thought about it, too busy just staying afloat in school and work and life.

  Forced to sit back and contemplate, she realized it felt like her life had truly just begun. They’d told her Archie’s guy would make a full recovery, thanks to her quick actions. Yes, she’d saved his life by not waiting.

  As the night deepened, traffic thinned around them even as her thoughts thickened and swirled within her brain.

  She was embedded with a covert military special operations unit, traveling across the country, about to help release the biggest scientific breakthrough for humanity since the discovery of antibiotics and pasteurization.

  She was helping save the world.

  With two really hot guys who were fantastic in bed and who seemed to be genuinely good men.

  Was this some sort of karmic reward for all the shit she’d been through in her life? Then again, compared to many, she’d had a decent life, if you didn’t count the part about being orphaned twice and ending up in state care. There were people who’d kill to have the childhood she’d endured, the opportunities she’d been given in return. College and medical school.

  A chance to save lives while safely ensconced within the safety of a hospital’s walls. And yet she’d walked away from that all because of a hot and sleep-deprived sexual encounter with two strangers who’d been able to ring her bell multiple times.

  No, putting on a hero’s mantle was never something she’d envisioned. And she wouldn’t even try to take credit for anything the group had been through before she’d joined them.

  Yet to be on the front row of this monumental development was…

  Mind blowing.

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Sunday night, Tank got up several times to patrol the building and even walk around outside on the roof. It wouldn’t do for them to be caught unawares, and Gatsby’s disinterest in posting a sentry at all times meant no one would volunteer to do it.

  Except her.

  Meaning she’d get little to no sleep right now. Especially since she couldn’t tell them why, following Saturday afternoon’s events, it was so vital for them to pay.

  Fucking.

  Attention.

  Not having a sentry on duty chafed at her on several levels. After the way she’d proven her knowledge, her common sense, for such a basic thing to be ignored was practically an insult.

  It was only a matter of time before one of the idiots grew too complacent and did something dumb and they’d have to move again.

  Hopefully it wouldn’t be too long before she could get them corralled and finally headed to safety. The events in Atlanta worried her. She knew damn well who was behind it. Didn’t take a rocket scientist to deduce it was Rev. Silo’s last-ditch Hail Mary.

  It also meant there might be more military teams in this region than she originally suspected. That meant a lot more danger.

  She was on one of her rooftop patrols about an hour before dawn Monday morning when she felt the sat-phone in her jacket pocket vibrate with an incoming text. Startled, she pulled it out and looked at it.

  ASAP. Window closes Tuesday morning.

  “Shit,” she whispered. She thought about her reply before sending it.

  RR. I’ll do my best. OO

  She slipped it back into her pocket. Getting them moving again this soon after convincing them they had a reasonably safe hideout might be problematic.

  Couldn’t be helped.

  They had one reliable vehicle and two less-than reliable ones. Getting them all to Topeka might be tricky despite how close they were.

  After one final tour around the roof, she headed downstairs again and nearly tripped over Sylvan sitting on the top step of the landing.

  Laptop open, it illuminated her shocked expression as she stared up at Tank.

  “What the—” Tank grabbed the laptop from her. “Oh, hell no. Fuck, no. What did we tell you?” She slammed the lid shut, fighting the urge to go back up to the roof and sling it off said roof and into the darkness.

  “My parents, Tank,” she tearfully whispered. “I have to find them.”

  Tank realized this was actually the answer to her prayers. “What did you do?”

  “I just posted another message. To a different board, I swear. And seeing if anyone responded to my earlier posts.”

  Tank pinched the bridge of her nose. “We have to move again. They’ll be on to us.”

  “But it was one message. Late at night!”

  “They’re monitoring stuff twenty-four/seven. Don’t you realize that? There’s a government sysadmin sitting somewhere looking for hits on searches like this. There’s probably already been a flag raised and an all-call sent out. Dammit!”

  Sylvan had been raised with the hat-trick of privilege—wealthy parents, good looks, and personality. To her, before all of this, survival had meant figuring out when she could get her hair or nails done and not have to wait in line.

  If it hadn’t been for her having an unrequited crush on Gatsby, Sylvan likely wouldn’t be here now.

  Tank grabbed Sylvan by the arm, hauled her to her feet, and dragged her downstairs with her. She marched into the makeshift tent area and turned on a battery-operated lantern. “Everybody wake up. We need to get ready to move. Leave the overhead lights off. We have to leave.”

  Sleepy protests greeted her announcement. Tank shoved Sylvan’s laptop at her. “Sylvan was posting messages.”

  That got Gatsby’s attention. He sat up. “What?”

  Tank turned and pointed at the girl. “Thank god I was doing watches. I caught her on her laptop, posting about her parents. Again.”

  Gatsby settled his glasses into place and stared up at Sylvan. “Well?”

  The girl burst into tears. “I just want to know if my parents are okay!”

  “You don’t think we all want that?” he yelled at her. He glared at her, then to everyone else in turn. “I can’t do this by myself. We have a job to do. Our job is to expose what the government and military did to its own people in LA, Barstow, and elsewhere. How are we supposed to do that if we’re dead?”

  Sylvan clutched the laptop to her. Gatsby got up, took it from her, flipped it over, and removed the sat-card from its compartment at the bottom. Shoving it back at her, he said, “There. Until you can prove you’re responsible enough to follow instructions, I’ll hold on to this.” He turned around, taking everyone in. “Anyone think they can do this better than I am, speak up now. Otherwise, quit fighting logic.”

  Then, he turned toward Tank. “Where can we go from here? Listening to you has kept me alive. Maybe the rest of them don’t appreciate that, but I sure as hell do.”

  Tank hoped no one spotted her sigh of relief. “One of my contacts told me about a place not far from here. Just west of Topeka. If we can get there, we can hook up with another group, a larger group, who ar
e doing sort of what we’re doing.”

  “You trust this contact?”

  “Yeah. They haven’t lied to me or been wrong yet. They’re the ones who kept us from going to Barstow.”

  He studied her for a long moment before nodding. “Everyone, get packed. The one car, it won’t run long in the dark. There’s not enough reserve charge in its system. If we have to ditch it, we will, and pile into the truck. How long do you think we have to get out of here?”

  “After what happened in Atlanta, I don’t think waiting around is a good plan. Anything that threatens domestic peace, in the military’s eyes, will be a valid target. Meaning us.”

  She wanted to scare them all enough to keep them moving, not terrify them into a panicked denning mentality.

  “Good point. Let’s get ready to get out of here.”

  Finally.

  * * * *

  Kali and Ax opted to be packed and out of the room before dawn Monday morning, before most other people were awake and moving around. Less chance of someone spotting and recognizing her that way.

  She drove this time, and headed for the same spot overlooking the compound.

  “Why are we back here?” he asked.

  She stood with her hands in the pockets of her coat, a peaceful smile filling her expression. “Because when you’ve spent forty years in a prison, sometimes it’s nice just to stand somewhere you want, when you want, for as long as you want, and take a look at the scenery.”

  “Oh. Sorry.”

  “Don’t apologize for what you didn’t do, son.”

  He stood there with her as the sun rose, casting light across the valley. Even having seen and heard the video and audio evidence she provided, he couldn’t wrap his head around what she’d endured. Her dreams taken from her, her life controlled, no peace of mind.

  No peace.

  No wonder her sanity had slipped a few cogs. Then again, hadn’t his?

  Hannibal Silo had ruined both their lives, in his own way. Kali, admittedly, had the larger claim.

  Whatever he had to do to help her, he would. Especially since Silo had made him indirectly responsible for the deaths of Scooter’s friends.

  That would lay heavy on his conscience for the rest of his life.

  When this was over, he wondered if they’d ever be able to spread the full story about what Silo did, or if his deeds would forever be shrouded by the larger picture, lost to history once the principals all died off.

  Kali hadn’t been quite so forthcoming with that part of her plan yet, how to handle Silo’s “legacy” once he was dead. Although Ax supposed it really didn’t matter.

  The only thing that mattered right now was killing Hannibal Silo.

  “So we don’t know how long until they get the vaccine in production, do we?” she asked, startling him out of his thoughts.

  “Um, no. They’re moving and have to get settled. I’m guessing the vaccine will go into production at that point and then they’ll start distributing it.”

  She slowly nodded. The rising sun illuminated her face with a golden glow. He couldn’t see her eyes behind the dark sunglasses she wore.

  “We should be ready,” she finally said.

  “For…?”

  “Killing him.” She slowly turned to face him. “Killing Hannibal. Once Bubba tells you that the vaccine is in production, we should be ready to kill Hannibal. I want to be ready to do it at any time.”

  “We…we need to plan the operation. We can’t just run in there and shoot everyone. We’ll end up dead.”

  “That’s why we need to plan. Now. From this point on, our lives will be focused on ending Hannibal’s. After that’s done, we can relax and take a break and figure out what to do next.” Her smile widened, showing teeth. Predatory.

  Wolfish.

  “So close,” she whispered. “Can’t you feel it?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Right now, Jerald is in there. We could go in and kill him.” She turned back where sunlight lay over the compound. “Hannibal will be back from Vermont this afternoon. Wouldn’t that be a shocker for him to arrive and find his little pet toad dead?”

  Fear filled him. “I don’t think that’s a good idea. That would tip him off. We’d never get close to Hannibal again.”

  She let out a sigh. “Just a fantasy,” she said. “Now that my mind is clear, I find myself with lots of revenge fantasies. Fantasies I never let myself indulge in before. It felt like Hannibal almost knew what I was thinking and would punish me for it. If he thought I was happy, if he thought I was in the slightest way not miserable.”

  “I’m sorry.”

  “Stop apologizing. You didn’t do it to me. I did it to myself for not standing up to the bastard all those years ago. I let him into my brain. I should have filed charges against him. Instead, I let him spin it, that he’d ruin me and my reputation. Maybe he would have, but he’d be in jail. My parents had money and he had nothing but a scholarship. They could have buried him. Instead, I let my fear control me. Fear of my parents, fear of Hannibal. I let that make my decisions for me.”

  She turned back to him and pulled off her sunglasses. Her gaze burned into his. “No more fear. I used it all up. That woman is dead now, and all that remains is vengeance.”

  Despite her smaller frame, he felt a chill run through him.

  Fuck, she was scaring the crap out of him now, and they were on the same damn side. “Okay.”

  “No fear,” she said. “Hannibal feeds on fear like a vampire. He is a vampire, feeding on fear and money and a need for people to hope they have an everlasting life. Well, I have news for them all. There is no hell except the one here on earth. No heaven, either, except the one we make for ourselves. God is inside all of us, and the right hand of God is about to smite the ever-loving fuck out of Hannibal Silo. Amen.”

  Ax swallowed hard. He thought he might have just pissed himself a little. The voice coming from the woman sounded forged in the fires of the heart of the sun, a steely, deadly strength to her tone that cut sharply through the crisp morning air.

  “Amen,” he whispered.

  She turned to head back to the car. He tried to walk and couldn’t, just yet. He wasn’t sure who she was, but it felt like he’d just witnessed yet another transformation. Kali Enyo wasn’t just a goddess in name.

  The energy coursing from her felt like the embodiment of a force of divine retribution crammed inside a meat suit and handed a gun.

  Finally, he followed her.

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Tank tried to lead by example, getting her shit packed and ready to move in less than five minutes.

  Everyone else, except Gatsby and Connell, was taking their sweet time.

  Even Gatsby finally noted it. “Okay, people. We need to move.”

  “We’re still half asleep!” Sylvan complained.

  “We’re leaving in thirty minutes,” he said. “Ready or not. Anything not packed gets left behind, including people.”

  Sylvan pouted. “I wanted to grab a shower.”

  “Tough,” Tank said, arms crossed over her chest. “Getting on the road will keep us alive. Corpses start to smell after a while, anyway. Better you’re still breathing and smelly.”

  “You’re a real bitch, you know that?”

  Connell stepped between them. “Whoa, Sylvan. I admit I fucked up before.” He jabbed a finger at the girl. “This time, this is on you. Wouldn’t need to leave if you hadn’t fucked up.”

  “I just want to find my parents!”

  “I don’t know where mine are, either,” he shot back, his voice rising in anger. “They’re probably dead, just like yours are probably dead, just like all our parents are probably dead!”

  The room fell silent, everyone staring at him.

  No one had dared voice that out loud yet, even though they all had to be thinking it.

  Connell leaned over, getting into Sylvan’s face and raising his voice. “They’re dead, all right? Let’s not join them, huh? T
ank has managed to keep our fucking asses alive this long. I’m willing to keep following her until I see proof otherwise. What have you done except cause us to have to move twice now?”

  Gatsby stepped in and eased him back. “It’s okay, man,” he softly said. “Calm dow—”

  He shook Gatsby off. “No, it’s not fucking okay! If no one else is willing to say it, I am.” He turned around, meeting everyone’s gazes except Tank’s.

  “We are alone now. We’ve got the fucking government coming after our asses for exposing what they did. They barbecued a million men, women, and children in Barstow. They set it up and then blew them up. We know that. You don’t think they’ll hesitate to spend fifteen bullets to blow our brains out, think again! We’re walking dead, and unless we keep moving, we’re done.”

  Connell pointed at Sylvan. “So quit your fucking whining about a goddamned shower and let’s listen to Tank, okay? We’re damned lucky she’s with us. If it wasn’t for her parents being in the military and her knowing some of the stuff she knows, we wouldn’t be here right now.”

  It was a hollow victory, but Tank would take it.

  Now they were all staring at her, even Gatsby, but Tank didn’t want to take control of the group like that. Didn’t want the focus on her in that way. Covertly steer them and their actions, yes.

  Lead them?

  She didn’t want that label stuck to her forehead, or that target on her ass.

  Gatsby finally broke the uneasy silence. “Tank, again, thank you for what you’ve done for us. I should have publicly said it a lot sooner.”

  She shrugged, now feeling genuinely uncomfortable, ironically. “Yeah, well, it’s my hide, too. For the record, I don’t know where or how my dad is. Last time I heard from my mom, she was still okay, but I don’t know if she still is or not. She’s over in Germany. My dad was in Manila. Status unknown. I doubt he’s alive.”

  The prickle of tears in her eyes caught her by surprise and she wiped at them. It was one of the few truly personal things she’d been able to talk about with them.

  Gatsby walked over to her. “So tell us, what do we need to do now?”