Rogue, Renegade & Rebel
In Her Paranormal Majesty’s Secret Service™ Book One
Michael Anderle
The Rogue, Renegade & Rebel Team
Thanks to the Beta Readers
James Caplan, Larry Omans, John Ashmore, Kelly O’Donnell, Mary Morris
Thanks to the JIT Readers
Dave Hicks
Deb Mader
Debi Sateren
Dorothy Lloyd
Jackey Hankard-Brodie
Jeff Eaton
Jeff Goode
Larry Omans
Lori Hendricks
Micky Cocker
Paul Westman
Peter Manis
If I’ve missed anyone, please let me know!
Editor
The Skyhunter Editing Team
This book is a work of fiction. All of the characters, organizations, and events portrayed in this novel are either products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Sometimes both.
Copyright © 2019 by Michael Anderle
Cover by Mihaela Voicu http://www.mihaelavoicu.com/
Cover copyright © LMBPN Publishing
A Michael Anderle Production
LMBPN Publishing supports the right to free expression and the value of copyright. The purpose of copyright is to encourage writers and artists to produce the creative works that enrich our culture.
The distribution of this book without permission is a theft of the author’s intellectual property. If you would like permission to use material from the book (other than for review purposes), please contact [email protected]. Thank you for your support of the author’s rights.
LMBPN Publishing
PMB 196, 2540 South Maryland Pkwy
Las Vegas, NV 89109
First US Edition, December 2019
ebook ISBN 978-1-64202-672-6
Print ISBN 978-1-64202-673-3
Contents
Prologue
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Chapter 34
Chapter 35
Chapter 36
Chapter 37
Chapter 38
Chapter 39
Chapter 40
Chapter 41
Chapter 42
Chapter 43
Chapter 44
Chapter 45
Chapter 46
Chapter 47
Chapter 48
Chapter 49
Chapter 50
Chapter 51
Chapter 52
Chapter 53
Chapter 54
Chapter 55
Chapter 56
Chapter 57
Chapter 58
Chapter 59
Chapter 60
Chapter 61
Chapter 62
Chapter 63
Chapter 64
Chapter 65
Chapter 66
Chapter 67
Chapter 68
Chapter 69
Chapter 70
Chapter 71
Chapter 72
Chapter 73
Chapter 74
Chapter 75
Chapter 76
Chapter 77
Chapter 78
Chapter 79
Epilogue
Author Notes Michael Anderle
Books By Michael Anderle
Connect with The Author
Genevieve King’s
UK to US Travel Guide
An insight into how the Americans butcher the queen’s English
UK (Correct) — US (Wrong)
Aluminium (ah-luh-min-ee-um) — Aluminum (ah-loo-min-uhm…WHAT?)
American Football — Football
Bathroom / Toilet / Loo — Restroom
Biscuit — Cookie
Bonnet (Car) — Hood
Broadsheet — Newspaper
Car Park — Parking Lot
Chips — French Fries
Crisps — Potato Chips
Dual carriageway — Highway, freeway
Dummy — Pacifier
Duvet — Blanket (yes there are duvets, but not in this story)
Extension lead — Extension cord
Flat — Apartment
Football — Soccer
Garden — Yard
Holiday — Vacation
Ice lolly — Popsicle
Jumper — Sweater
Knickers — Panties
Lift — Elevator
Lorry — Truck
Mad — Insane / Crazy
Motorway — Highway
Mummy — Mommy
Nappy — Diaper
Number Plate — License Plate
Oregano (or-i-gah-no) — Oregano (or-eh-ga-no…I mean, come on!)
Pants — Underwear
Pavement — Sidewalk
Peckish — Hungry
Police / Bobbies / Pigs / Boys in Blue — Cops / Police
Potato (poh-tah-to) — Potato (pah-tay-to)
Rubbish — Trash
Shop — Store
Sofa — Couch
Sweets — Candy
Torch — Flashlight
Tomato (toh-mah-to) — Tomato (tah-may-to)
Trainers — Sneakers
Trollied — Drunk/plastered
Trousers — Pants
Tube — Subway
Waistcoat — Vest
Wardrobe — Closet
Windscreen — Windshield
Prologue
Brussels, Belgium, 1955
Vinnie Romano sat between the pair of hooded young women in the back of the black Jaguar. Its engine purred, the only sound since the sun had long gone to sleep and the moon was high in the sky.
A thin layer of mist floated along the ground. There was a chill in the air as Marco pulled onto the street and cut the engine.
Vinnie grunted. “This the place?”
“Of course.” Marco clicked his tongue and exited the vehicle, revealing a small flash of the pistol holstered to his hip as the moon’s light caught the body of the weapon.
“Fine.” Vinnie opened the rear door and gave the first girl a shove, sending her out of the car and sprawling onto the ground. He laughed, grabbed the other’s arm, and pulled her along with him, ignoring the muffled moans from beneath the hessian sack over her head.
Marco was busy helping the first girl to her feet. “Careful with the merchandise. They don’t like them when they’re bruised. It knocks the asking price.”
What’s a couple of hundred lire to the Messino brothers? Vinnie thought, but he held his tongue.
Marco led the way, strolling up to the front door of the rundown apartment complex. Five stories high, number eighty-two was the only building that showed any si
gns of life at this time of night. A faint flicker of candlelight shone from several of the windows above them.
The door opened, just an inch.
“Yo, Tony, it’s Marco. We’ve got the boss’ package. You gonna let us in, or are we gonna have to shout from the streets and wake the fucking neighbors?”
The door opened another fraction. A head the size of a beachball poked out, the face stony as a gargoyle. He examined the four figures standing on his doorstep, his eyes lingering a little too long on the white-stained dresses of the two girls, before grunting his approval and removing the latch.
Marco thanked Tony as he walked on by. Vinnie couldn’t help but notice the gigantic gargoyle of a man lick his lips as they passed into the apartment and headed toward the stairs.
The air was smoky and stank of cigarettes. All along the corridor, there were men stationed, each resting with their back and the sole of a foot against the wall. Many wore white shirts, black suspenders striping their tops and their brows hidden by fedoras. All had a gun at their hip—a precautionary measure enforced by the brothers at the top.
Vinnie spotted filthy mattresses on the floors through several of the doorways they passed. Most of the rooms were a state, with stains on the floors, yellow wallpaper that curled like hangnails, and empty bottles all over.
Vinnie’s heart rate quickened. He was excited about this. Nervous, but excited. Being a lowly grunt in the whole operation, he had been surprised to have been selected as part of the force that would be sent out to ensure that the deed was done for the brothers.
This is your moment, Vinnie Boy. Time to make it big, earn that top cash, and show them what you’re made of. Don’t fuck it up.
They passed the third floor, then the fourth. They nodded return acknowledgments to members of the gang, although some ignored them entirely—jealousy, most likely. Everyone wanted a piece of the action that night—the clincher of the deal that had been months in the making.
When they reached the final flight of stairs, Vinnie was certain he could hear the grunts of people in the next room doing the dirty—“making luuuurve,” as his wife would say. He cocked an ear, a grin on his face, not paying attention as the girl in front of him slipped and fell forward.
She moaned as her face whacked the stairs.
“Fuck’s sake, Vinnie, what did I tell you?” Marco pulled the girl to her feet. Her sobs were stifled by the material over her head, which had begun to blossom with blood.
“Oh, they’re going to love this,” Marco snapped. A nearby grunt sniggered. “And you can shut your fucking mouth, too.” He squared up to the grunt. “Unless you want me to tell them that the little virgin they paid a pretty price for was actually deflowered in the car by a prospective member of their gang?”
The grunt instantly shut up, the color draining from his face.
“That’s what I thought.” Marco patted the girl down like a mother ironing out the creases to get her child ready for her first day at school. He took the hood off, revealing a disheveled young girl no older than seventeen, her face a mask of blood. Her dark hair clung to her sweaty forehead, and there was a terrified look on her face. “Keep still.”
Marco produced a tissue from his pockets and cleaned her up, getting rid of as much of the blood as possible. He was gentle, cooing over the girl even though she hissed at the touch of the tissue on her nose. It stopped bleeding pretty quickly, which helped him a lot.
When he was done, he held her shoulders and took a good look. “There. Good as new.”
He grinned.
She did not return the smile.
“Lucky for me, I’ve brought spares,” Marco told Vinnie. He pulled out another hood, which he placed delicately over her head.
Vinnie grew impatient. “Can we go now?”
“Sure thing, pal.” There was a hint of sarcasm in Marco’s voice. “Maybe this time don’t damage the goods, and we can get this done sometime before sunup. How about that?”
Vinnie’s face grew red.
They knocked three times on the uppermost door, and a shout from the room gave them permission to enter. Marco grinned back at Vinnie and muttered, “Are you ready for the big leagues, worm?”
Vinnie simply swallowed and followed him inside.
Compared to the other rooms that he had passed, this one was actually hospitable.
There was a four-poster in the far corner. The furniture looked brand-new. Through the smoky haze of the brothers’ cigarettes, he saw a number of comfortable plush chairs dotted around the room, two of which were occupied by the Messino Brothers.
Eugenio and Carmelo sat back in their chairs, cigars clamped between their teeth. They looked near enough identical with their crisp suits, hair slicked back, and their eyes fixed on the girls. They each sported the kind of chubbiness in their faces that came with the comforts of being well-provided for. The pair hardly needed more cash, but what was life if not for the pleasure of coin and sex?
Carmelo rose from his chair and stretched out his arms, walking over to Marco and embracing him. He placed a kiss on both his cheeks, then crossed to Vinnie.
“I knew you could do it, new blood.” Carmelo’s grin was broad. He turned back to his brother. “Didn’t I tell you, Eugenio? Didn’t I tell you I could see his potential?” He wrapped his arm around Vinnie’s shoulder. “This one here, he’s gonna go far, I tell you. He delivers.”
“Show them to me,” Eugenio ordered flatly, clearly not prepared to share his brother’s enthusiasm until the deed was done.
Carmelo roughly grabbed Vinnie’s cheeks and kissed the left, then right before sitting down again cheerfully. He crossed his legs and stared greedily at the girls.
Marco caught Vinnie’s eye, took a breath, and ripped off the girls’ hoods.
They were pretty, like china dolls plucked straight from a shelf and granted the same wish that had made Pinocchio a real boy. They were near-enough identical, with piercing blue eyes that stood out on their paper-white faces like sapphires on snow.
Carmelo clapped loudly. “Oh, bravo. Bravo.”
Vinnie breathed a sigh of relief, his entire body softening. He had feared that the fall on the stairs would screw everything up and risk his chances of making it into the inner circle, but it looked like they hadn’t—
“Wait.” Eugenio’s voice punctuated the room. His eyes narrowed as he peeled himself out of his seat and crossed to the pair. He scrutinized both girls through slitted eyes, his nostrils widening as he inhaled their scent. He ran a finger across their cheeks, and they shivered beneath his touch. He circled them, taking in every centimeter of their being before returning to the front once more.
Vinnie and Marco held their breath.
Eugenio leaned forward and touched his stubby, nicotine-stained fingers to the girl’s nose. He withdrew and examined the small dark drop of blood on his fingertip. “What’s this?”
His voice was deep, the low growl of a lion.
Vinnie looked at Marco for help. Marco rolled his eyes. “A minor hiccup, Eugenio. The girl is clumsy; she fell before we could catch her—”
Before he could finish, Eugenio lashed out and sent a large fist into his cheek.
Eugenio rocked on his heels, moved over to Vinnie, and delivered a similar blow with his left.
Pain exploded in Vinnie’s mouth. He tasted copper and felt a tooth come free. His hand found his cheek, and he stayed crouched for fear of a second blow.
“Perfect condition,” Eugenio uttered, his voice already level. “I asked for perfect condition. Do you know who these two are? They’re the daughters of one of the wealthiest families in all of France. They’ll fetch a price on the market that you could only dream of. Enough cash to make you go blind. You think I can risk this trade by having you break their nose and clot their nostrils with blood?”
Carmelo leaned forward, unfazed by his brother’s reaction. “In all fairness, brother, her nose doesn’t look broken.”
Eugenio cocked his head
and held the girl’s cheeks in his hands. He stared at her for a long moment. “You’re right,” he said at last. “You’re right. Still…” He pulled out his gun and aimed it at Vinnie’s chest. “You only get one chance with the Messino brothers, and you fucked it up, new blood.”
The report was loud, echoing around the apartment like a thunderclap. Vinnie’s hands moved automatically to his chest, a girlish scream coming from his mouth as his eyes screwed shut. He waited for the pain to explode in his chest…
But no pain came.
He opened his eyes. Eugenio and Carmelo were now on their feet, alert and listening.
“What the fuck was that?” Eugenio asked. “I thought you said all our men were armed with silenced pistols?”
“They are,” Carmelo replied, though he suddenly seemed uncertain. “Every one of them since the East Polar docks in ’52.”
Rogue, Renegade And Rebel (In Her Paranormal Majesty’s Secret Service Book 1) Page 1
