Grease Monkey [Drunk Monkeys 4] (Siren Publishing Ménage Everlasting)

by Tymber Dalton

  “I…no, sir. No problem. May I call my wife?”

  “You may tell her only that you have an emergency assignment, and you’ll be home by tomorrow night. Anything you need, you can pick up at El Segundo.”

  Well, likely not, but Arliss wasn’t about to tell the traitor that.

  “Yes, sir.”

  Arliss handed him the burner cell he’d already set up with Bubba. “Use this. The number to call me is preprogrammed into the directory. As soon as you’re on the ground out there. Understand me? That’s a direct order, in case you were wondering.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “Get moving. My driver is waiting for you downstairs.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  Macaletto left, closing the door behind him.

  Immediately, Arliss pulled another burner cell out of his pocket and texted Bubba.

  He’s got it.

  A moment later, his phone buzzed in reply.

  Ok. Will let you know.

  Arliss slipped the cell into his pocket. The one he’d given Macaletto had a special feature the man didn’t know about. Even if it was turned off, it had a separate microphone in it Bubba had rigged to record everything nearby. When the phone was on, it would transmit the files to Bubba without the user knowing.

  That meant any calls Macaletto made on another phone, they’d hear at least his side of them.

  Then Bubba could hopefully extrapolate the other person’s identity by looking at the man’s cell records.

  As long as he didn’t have another burner he was using. Which was a likelihood. Still, Arliss wasn’t looking for all the details. He just needed enough to satisfy himself that the man was giving classified information to outside parties.

  Arliss had kept it silent when he’d had the other SOTIF teams sent out to intercept the Church of the Rising Sunset volunteers and take them down. He’d made it crystal clear to the other commanders that no one could know how or where the orders came from.

  Fortunately, he outranked all of them. Between public safety, national security, bypassing due process, and a few other bullshit reasons, he had the authority to classify the missions as need-to-know.

  Macaletto had no need to know any of this. And Arliss knew if word did get back to Macaletto about the SOTIF missions to kill the volunteers, it would mean someone else needed to be eliminated as a mole. He’d also given the order that all SOTIF teams were now direct-report to the command officer in charge of their team. No lower-ranking officers or other personnel were allowed to deal with them or know information on their missions or whereabouts or logistics.

  Period.

  That would drastically shrink the pool of potential leaks to six, not counting the actual SOTIF unit members, once Macaletto was gone.

  Regardless, he needed Macaletto out in LA, where Papa and the team could take him down immediately. It was the perfect setup, because of the riots already plaguing the region.

  He didn’t know if Macaletto had any other moles he’d groomed and handled, but he was a known quantity. Meaning Arliss needed that man out of his food chain.

  ASAP.

  The fastest way to do it, since a court martial would require mountains of hard evidence, be very messy, and likely would take too damn long, was to put Macaletto within the easy reach of the Drunk Monkeys.

  He didn’t trust any other SOTIF unit with this mission. The Drunk Monkeys had already taken out the other mole. He knew they’d take Macaletto out, too.

  Likely with pleasure, since the man was the one behind their unit having to go OTG in the first place. Once Arliss had heard about the circumstances surrounding their rescue of Dr. Perkins, he knew he could use that as a ruse to keep Macaletto unsuspecting.

  Then maybe they could get back to the business at hand of finding more of the scientists so they could develop a vaccine for Kite before the whole world went tits-up. He knew he couldn’t spend the time right then to take down whoever Macaletto’s handler was, but once the members of The List were safe, Arliss would make it his priority to fuck up the unholy existence of whoever had thrown a monkey wrench into his command in the first place.

  He had his suspicions. Based on the information Bubba had previously sent him, and adding what Dr. Perkins had relayed, those suspicions squarely focused on one Reverend Hannibal Silo of the Church of the Rising Sunset. It was too coincidental. Too much evidence was building up against the organization. Why would the church set up a facility, no matter how it couldn’t be completely traced back to them, to infect people with Kite? Why would they be so desperate to secretly get their hands on doctors from The List and not work with others to find them? How would a church have access to an armed extraction team?

  An extraction team eerily similar to the team that abducted Pandora in Australia.

  A practical man, Arliss did not believe in coincidences. Especially not in situations like this.

  In this situation, he firmly believed Reverend Hannibal Silo was enjoying the hell out of this mess. Maybe even profiting from it.

  And if his hunch was correct from the shadowy rumors he’d heard drifting through the bowels of backwater Washington, DC, over the past decade, it would seem Reverend Hannibal Silo had quite a few people in his pocket.

  Possibly including the President of the United States.

  Sorry, but I’m not handing over my Constitution to anyone, even if they are the president. They think they can monkey around with our nation, they can think again.

  * * * *

  George Macaletto had to take a moment to think as he climbed into the car and the driver whisked him away toward the airfield without comment.

  Does Arliss know? Does he suspect?

  Paranoia, something he wasn’t used to experiencing, washed through him. His brain screamed equally loud arguments at him from both sides of the table. He’d heard absolutely nothing via official channels concerning the whereabouts of the Drunk Monkeys.

  And now, there were a couple other SOTIF teams he’d noticed had been quiet today concerning their current missions and locations. While on paper they were still engaged in business as usual, as was the Drunk Monkeys, something felt off.

  He called his wife on his personal cell and then thought about making a call with the other burner in his pocket.

  The one he kept just in case he needed to call Jerald Arbeid.

  He didn’t dare use the one Arliss gave him for such a call.

  There was the paranoia again, scrabbling a little louder in his mind.

  He waited until they were at the airfield. They were still fueling up the plane, so he dashed into the building to an officer’s bathroom, where he was alone.

  Locking himself in a stall, he pulled out his burner cell and made a quick call, hoping Arbeid answered.

  He did.

  “Listen closely,” he said by way of greeting when Arbeid answered. “Being sent to collect Dr. Perkins from LA. She contacted Arliss and wants to come in. Will advise when she’s in my possession and can pass along details to you to make alternate arrangements.”

  “Understood.”

  Macaletto ended the call, pulled the battery from the burner, wiped his prints from it with toilet paper, and dropped the phone into the toilet. He flushed a couple of times, hoping it made it far enough down the pipes that even if the toilet eventually did clog that the phone would be down there long enough to totally destroy any data that might be on it. He’d bought it for cash in Virginia several months earlier and didn’t think it could be traced back to him.

  He hoped.

  He wrapped the battery in a paper towel, wiped his prints off of it, and dumped it in the garbage on his way out of the bathroom.

  Maybe this is the break we needed.

  * * * *

  Jerald didn’t wait for the elevator to take him up to the next floor. He ran up the stairs to the penthouse level, where Reverend Silo’s office lay. He rushed through the outer office, barely waving at the receptionist as he passed, and knocked on Silo’s door
. He had his hand ready to turn the knob as soon as he heard the reverend say, “Come.”

  Reverend Silo sat at his desk. He looked up, his expression darkening when he saw Jerald’s state.

  “What is it? The volunteers?” he asked when Jerald eased the door closed behind him.

  “No, sir. Better. I just received a call. Our friend in a certain someone’s office is being personally sent to Los Angeles to retrieve a certain person. He said he will advise as soon as he has them and can make arrangements with us.”

  Silo sat up a little straighter. “Perkins?”

  “I can only guess so, sir. He didn’t name names, but it would be awfully suspicious.”

  “So perhaps the Drunk Monkeys did get her, hmm?”

  “It would appear so.”

  A slow, cunning smile spread across the reverend’s face. “Excellent. Keep me posted.”

  “Will do.”

  * * * *

  It had taken every ounce of self-control Hannibal Silo possessed not to pump his fist at Jerald’s news.

  Then again, they had come so close before to having Perkins before, perhaps it was best to not get his hopes up.

  He sat back in his chair. Tonight when he got home, after giving his wife her daily discipline, he planned on using her hard, fucking her ass the way he had the past several nights while forcing her to masturbate with the vibrator, putting the whore in her place. Then tomorrow he’d go back to their usual routine for a while. He didn’t want to push her too hard for too long, just long enough to keep her off-balance.

  Besides, hopefully, it wouldn’t be long before she could tragically contract the Kite virus while he was out of town. He wanted her mind filled with loathing over him and her life when she finally died.

  Yes, his new wives, one in each compound, he would be sure to train them up right. But they would be innocents. He wouldn’t have to take them in hand as severely as he had Mary.

  They wouldn’t be whores.

  He would be their first, their only. And they would each begin bearing him children immediately.

  In the next few days, they would start another phase of his long-term plans. He would begin making regular deposits of his sperm for safe-keeping. He wasn’t fond of masturbation simply for ejaculation, not when he had Mary to use for that. But it would be for a worthwhile cause.

  Once they had their new nation underway with him as president, he would begin carefully selecting young, healthy women who would pledge themselves to him. Oh, they could marry, if they wanted. But in exchange for offering to undergo IVF and bear his child, they would be guaranteed, as would any future husband, a safe place high in his church, their needs taken care of for the rest of their lives.

  All they had to do was help repopulate their country with a new wave of true believers straight from his own loins.

  He had to reach down and adjust his slacks. At the thought of all those children running around, sired by him, it had inflated his cock.

  On the other hand, maybe he should let Mary live for a while, so she could witness the first wave of his progeny born to other women. To torture her with what could have been hers had she not been a bitch to him all those years ago.

  Perhaps make her watch every birth, let her observe his young, cherished brides suckle his children, all while he’d ensured, by getting Mary’s tubes tied, that she’d never have the one thing she’d wanted most of all.

  Hmm. That would be a righteous torture for her, wouldn’t it.

  Annnnd there went his erection, fully hard.

  Oh, yes. Mary will definitely get the ass fucking of her life tonight. Maybe I’ll even force her to make herself come four times while I tell her all about my plans.

  He giggled.

  Chapter Eighteen

  Roscoe woke up, unable to believe the night before happened.

  Until he looked and actually saw Dolce lying soundly asleep between them.

  Holy crap!

  At one point he’d basically assumed it was a really good dream and went with it. But where his T-shirt gaped at her neck it exposed one of the hickeys they’d left on her shoulders.

  It took every ounce of self-control he had not to lean in and kiss her awake and make love to her again right that second.

  Yes, from the moment they’d met the feisty woman, he’d felt some sort of draw toward her despite how he’d clashed with her. Never in his wildest dreams had he ever expected her to reciprocate his feelings.

  Especially considering the way they’d butted heads.

  Guess we’re moving to the second floor.

  Niner woke up. Roscoe didn’t miss the slight double-take his friend made when he spotted Dolce asleep between them.

  Their eyes met.

  Roscoe suspected the grin on his face matched the one on Niner’s.

  Could he call this love? He wasn’t that naïve. But he was willing to go with this, whatever this was, for as long as they had. As long as she’d let them.

  Hell, he hoped she didn’t wake up and regret last night. Nothing they could do about it if she did, except apologize and hopefully part on friendly terms. They’d need to figure out a way to keep it friendly, because they could always use a mechanic and a sniper on the team. Especially now.

  Then she opened her eyes and smiled at him. “Good morning, asshole.”

  He laughed. “Good morning yourself.” He leaned in and kissed her, pleased when she slipped her fingers around the back of his head and held on to him when he tried to break their kiss before she was ready.

  He would have gladly stayed there and made love to her again, but he heard people up and moving around and knew they needed to get their own butts in gear. “We good?” he asked.

  She nodded. “Yeah, we’re good.”

  * * * *

  Niner was glad to hear that. When he awoke and realized he hadn’t dreamed the night before, he hoped they hadn’t pushed things too far or too soon with her.

  In the heat of the moment, sure, fair game, but on the next-morning side of it…

  Then she awoke and gave them that gorgeous smile.

  He didn’t care what anyone said. She wasn’t skinny or girlie or any of those other irrelevant qualities. She was a woman who could keep up with them, mentally and physically, and give back in return.

  And he hoped she’d want to stay there.

  He took his turn giving her a good-morning kiss. “Sorry we can’t give you a proper wake-up,” he joked. “But I suspect if we aren’t up and moving here shortly, someone will be pounding on our door.”

  She sat up and stretched, wincing a little. “I need coffee and a clean change of clothes.” She looked down at Roscoe’s T-shirt. “Hope you don’t mind if I borrow this.”

  He grinned. “Not at all.”

  She stood, and as the shirt’s hem briefly revealed the sweet curve of her ass before falling to her upper thigh, he wanted to grab her and drag her back onto the bedroll and have her screaming their names again.

  Okay, tonight. I’ll just have to be horny all day.

  Wasn’t like he was a stranger to that sensation, but this time it felt nearly painful.

  In a good way.

  * * * *

  Dolce found herself walking a little funny that morning.

  Not that she minded.

  After breakfast, she also found the men had quickly swapped rooms with two other men, who were glad to move down to the first floor with the other “singles.”

  And, strangely enough, all her shit seemed to magically make its way into Niner and Roscoe’s room without her having to lift a finger.

  When the men showed her, she crossed her arms over her chest and gave them a sideways glance. “So you two just naturally assumed I’d be shacking up with you, huh?”

  They’d been smiling, but as they stared at her, their smiles started to fade.

  “Um, well, yeah,” Niner said. “I thought we kind of settled that last night.”

  “Seriously?” Roscoe asked. “Because ther
e wasn’t nothing mixed in the signals we were giving you.”

  She finally took pity on them, the sheer disappointment on their faces almost breaking her heart. She grinned. “You guys are too easy.” She grabbed Roscoe by the front of his shirt and pulled him in for a kiss. “Might find myself looking for duct tape for you, sometimes, but yeah, you’re stuck with me for now.”

  Niner stepped behind her. “Maybe we should spank your ass for scaring us like that.”

  “My ass is sore enough right now, thank you very much. Along with a few other places. Give me a little time to recover from last night, first, please. You boys ain’t exactly what I’d call pencil dicks.”

  Roscoe smiled. “We don’t do anything half-assed in this unit, baby.”

  “No, I can see that. You were both all in last night.”

  Niner snorted. “You got that right.”

  * * * *

  That evening, Papa gathered everyone around tables in the dining room. “Day after tomorrow, we’re going to bug out of here,” he told them. “I want prep work done sooner than later. we will roll out of here at 5:00 a.m.”

  “Why are we waiting a day?” Pandora asked. “Why not leave tomorrow morning.”

  “For starters, we don’t quite have a new safe house lined up yet. Bubba is still working on that and should have things finalized tomorrow, thanks to help from Mark. Q, Sin, Canuck, and Clara need time to shut down the lab, move everything to the RV, and get it secured for travel. That’s going to be our mobile lab for when we’re in BFE and don’t have a place to stay. They can’t do a lot of experiments or anything while on the move, but we can keep some things going. Ak’s finished with the solar to genny crossover hookup on it.”

  “I hope waiting another day isn’t too long,” Mark said.