Act of Surveillance: Paranormal Security and Intelligence® an Immortal Ops® World Novel (PSI-Ops/Immortal Ops Book 7)

by Mandy M. Roth

  Bill calling Rurik’s cell nonstop from the backseat of the SUV had proved to be more than Rurik’s nerves could handle. The first time the ring had blasted through the sound system, Rurik had hit the hands-free answer button, mostly by mistake, only to hear Bill’s voice boom through the SUV. The little shit had proceeded to call Rurik every Russian-themed nickname he could think of before burping crudely.

  If PSI didn’t award him a medal for dealing with Bill, Rurik was going to have words with the brass.

  With a sigh, he turned and opened the back hatch of the SUV. There, on the floor of the cargo bay, was Bill, hog-tied with a pink stress ball shoved in his mouth. A piece of tape secured the ball in place. Bill wiggled, causing his already snug shirt to lift and a button to pop clean off the vest he was wearing. A small bit of lint fell out of the man’s hairy belly button.

  I am in hell.

  Bill glared at Rurik and mumbled something through the ball in his mouth.

  With a half-smile, Rurik undid the tape, lifting a portion of fake white beard as he did. “Are you going to stop acting like a small child?”

  Bill grunted and spat the ball at Rurik. It fell short of its target, landing on the floor of the SUV and rolling rather undramatically out of the SUV and onto the driveaway. “You Red-Army-loving, Cosma-lick-my-nut bastard! When I get out of this, I’m gonna shove my foot up your—”

  With an even wider smile, Rurik secured the tape over Bill’s mouth once more, patting it for good measure. He leaned in closer. “Auberi said I had to keep you with me and out of harm’s way. He did not say I had to listen to you. I am keeping you safe. You can’t get into trouble while you’re bound.”

  Bill grunted and carried on to the point Rurik made a move to shut the hatch again and leave him there. The man stopped and mumbled something that sounded a lot like “I’ll be good.”

  Pulling the tape open on one side, Rurik watched him. “Come again?”

  “I’ll be good,” grumbled Bill. “Untie me. This tape itches, and I gotta take a leak. So, unless you’re gonna hold my wee-Billy-winker, you need to free my hands and find me a place to piss or I’m gonna use my pants.”

  Against his better judgment, he undid Bill’s bindings and freed him.

  Bill rolled over onto his side with his back to Rurik and pulled up his leg before letting out a long, loud fart.

  Backing up and out of the stench, Rurik growled. “Was that necessary?”

  Bill belched as he sat up, his shirt riding higher on his belly. “Nope. But it was fun. Damn, I think I smell the sauerkraut I ate last week in that one. Could be wrong. Might be all the milk I drank last night. Gus says I’m lactose intolerant, whatever the fuck that means. Might have been a little of that pie in that fart too. I love pie.”

  Rurik’s nostrils burned from the lingering smell in the air. “I do not know what the cause of your stench is, but I think you should see a medical professional. Nothing alive should smell that bad.”

  With a grin, Bill slid out of the back of the SUV, showing a sizeable amount of butt crack as he did. He lifted a leg, jerked it a few times, and farted more. His eyes widened, and he set his foot down fast. “Might have trusted that last one more than I should have.”

  “You didn’t,” said Rurik, unable to believe this was what his life had been reduced to. If he ever got his hands on the hybrid assholes that left him on light duty, he’d rip their damn heads off.

  Bill looked over his shoulder at his backside and grinned. “False alarm. All is well.”

  Rurik rolled his eyes. “Go shower. You stink. That only added to the smell that was already coming from you. When is the last time you bathed?”

  “I got me a streak going and I ain’t breaking it. No shower for me today, Russia,” replied Bill, taking large, rather awkward steps in the other direction. If the man thought he could outrun Rurik, even in Rurik’s current state, he was wrong.

  Rurik pointed to the back porch. “Go shower. I already put toiletries in the front upstairs bathroom. Use that one. The little bit of clothing you packed is laid out on the bed in that front bedroom as well. I’ll go and buy you something else to wear tomorrow. I told you to bring changes of clothes for a week. But no, what did you bring in your bag?”

  Bill pursed his lips. “Some clothes. And then I brought snack food, beer, and weed. All the staples. Oh, and girlie magazines. Vintage ones, man. The good shit. You know, hair where hair should be. You want to look at one? I got one with bodybuilder chicks in it. Hot. I won’t think less of you if you need a few minutes of alone time. Might help get that stick out of your ass if you give the old sput-dick a tug or two.”

  “How is it that no one has killed you yet?” asked Rurik.

  Bill put his hands up, indicating he didn’t know. “Lucky, I guess. So, is that a yes on the magazine?”

  “Go clean up. We need to blend in. Between what you’re wearing and how you smell, there is no chance we’re going to avoid notice,” said Rurik. He’d have lifted the man and carried him in to clean him, but that would mean touching him.

  No thank you.

  With a look that said he wasn’t going to listen in the least, Bill walked toward a tree near the detached garage.

  “Do not even think of it. It’s enough you are dressed like an American welcome wagon,” spat Rurik. “You urinating on a tree will not help us keep a low profile.”

  “But it will let me drain the lizard,” said Bill with a grin. “Question, when the government was handing out big dongs to you guys, did they give you big bladders too? You didn’t need to piss once that whole car ride. Amazing. I went every hour.”

  Rurik rethought killing him.

  Bill proceeded to piss on the tree, making a loud, long noise so anyone within earshot would know the relief he was feeling.

  Growling, Rurik stood there, his bear poking at him from within, ready and willing to make a snack of the small man.

  Bill shook his hips as he took the world’s longest piss. “Oh, that feels so good.”

  “Finish. Then go get cleaned up and changed,” pressed Rurik. “I need to talk Abraham Lincoln out of the SUV.”

  “Hey, how is it you know who Abraham Lincoln is?” asked Bill. “Guessing he ain’t talked about much behind the Iron Curtain.”

  Rurik held back a smart remark. “He is on American currency. I was curious. I read a book about him.”

  Bill shrugged.

  Gus was still planted in the passenger seat, refusing to budge.

  Bill shook his head. “He ain’t ready to get out yet. He will when it’s time. And I already told you no about the shower. What’s Russian for ‘clean the shit out of your ears and listen’?”

  Rurik rubbed his brow before shaking his head. He’d gladly pack up and head back to headquarters to submit himself to more physical therapy if it meant he’d be done dealing with Bill. With an annoyed breath, Rurik went for the water spigot. He turned it on and then grabbed the hose that was lying across the driveway. It wasn’t the most ideal way of cleaning the man, but it would work, for now.

  Bill eyed it and then him. “You wouldn’t.”

  “I most certainly would.”

  Bill tried to make a run for it.

  Rurik snatched hold of the man by his jacket, ignoring the stab of pain through his arm, shoulder, and back. Had Rurik been at full strength he could have lifted the man easily with one hand for an indefinite period. That wasn’t the case now. Taking what he could get, Rurik began hosing Bill off.

  “Gus, help! He’s trying to drown me!” shouted Bill, flailing about like a madman.

  “Hardly,” growled Rurik. “I am doing everyone a favor. I only wish I had soap out here.”

  Bill managed to gain momentary freedom and darted forward, to the grassy area where the water had already formed a puddle of mud. One second Bill was upright and the next he was on his ass, in the mud, sending a murderous glare in Rurik’s direction. “Commie bastard!”

  Rurik stepped forward with the h
ose still in hand and grabbed Bill up and off the ground. It hurt like hell, but it would be worth it in the end if it meant the odor was gone. He returned to hosing the man off and Bill went right back to trying to get away.

  Chapter Nine

  “Do you have your bag?” asked Liberty as she rushed through the kitchen, looking for her laptop so she could sign in and finish going through final papers for Dr. Pasternak’s Russian literature class.

  He wanted her to go through each one to be sure it was the required length, proper spacing and font, and included all the major points he’d asked for. In reality, he just wanted her to grade them. Though he seemed to prefer she do as much in his classroom when he worked in his office.

  Since his office was attached to the classroom, that meant she was often left working in his line of sight. More than once she’d looked up to find him staring at her with what felt a lot like disgust. She didn’t voice as much to her friends.

  Isobel would have wanted to kick his butt and Daisy would have insisted he talk about his feelings on the matter.

  Where did I leave my laptop?

  She’d last seen the computer on the dining room table, but it wasn’t there.

  Her gaze slid over to the sink area where a shelf hung. On it was a wicker basket. The only thing in the basket was a bag of pistachios. Her lip curled and she shuddered inwardly, thinking of Dr. Pasternak and his love of them. The bag hadn’t been there the day prior.

  Gross.

  She didn’t know if it was Isobel or Daisy who’d bought the nuts. All she did know was that they’d not been there yesterday.

  “Anyone see my laptop?” she asked, wondering if the loss of control of her curse during her sleeping hours had left her laptop out in a tree or, worse yet, another state. She tensed, worried her curse had somehow managed to make pistachios float from somewhere like Dr. Pasternak’s office at the university. She’d never tried to see how far her curse extended, but with her luck it would reach the office and bring Dr. Pasternak himself to the house.

  Double gross.

  Without hesitation, she went straight to the basket, lifted the bag of nuts, and put them in the trashcan.

  “What?” asked Daisy.

  She stood there in an oversized sweatshirt with a blue devil on it, her hair in a messy bun on top of her head, glasses, and black leggings that had one of the legs partially up and the other down. It was clear she’d not bothered to do more than yank them on. She looked as tired as Liberty felt.

  They’d talked for another hour while they were in bed before falling asleep.

  Unfortunately, Daisy and Isobel had left their phones in their rooms, hence leaving the only alarms that were set to get Daisy to the airport on time in other rooms as well. Thankfully, the sound of a car door opening and closing a number of times from near the demon house had woken them or they’d have slept for hours more.

  Isobel was at the coffee maker, watching it brew the pot as if staring at it would speed it up.

  Daisy was in a zombie-like state, making her way around the house in slow motion and on autopilot.

  Liberty was the only one concerned with Daisy possibly missing her flight. When Daisy was more awake, she’d worry too. Right now, they’d all be lucky if Daisy remembered her own name.

  “Daisy, your suitcase,” said Liberty loudly, slightly concerned she’d somehow made it float away as well. “Where is it?”

  “My who?” asked Daisy, confirming Liberty’s suspicion that if asked, she’d get her own name wrong.

  Isobel moved the pot from under the steady drip of coffee and shoved a mug in its place. The mug began collecting the fresh-brewed goodness. She then poured part of the liquid from the coffeepot into another mug. She thrust that mug at Daisy without looking away from the coffeemaker. “Fuel. Drink.”

  “Thank you,” said Daisy, taking the mug and sipping it. She made a face, indicating she didn’t like it before shoving it back at Isobel. “Ohmygod, did you just try to poison me? How much coffee did you put in the filter?”

  “Not intentionally, and I don’t know how much coffee is in it,” said Isobel with a shrug. “I didn’t measure. I dumped it straight from the bag into the filter. Figured more is better. I considered eating the grounds straight from the bag. Still kind of considering doing that if I’m being honest.”

  Daisy mulled it over before nodding. “Fine. More is better. I need sugar.”

  Isobel retrieved the small bowl of sugar and handed it to Daisy.

  The blonde dumped a bunch into the mug and stirred it with her finger, showing no signs of it burning her. She took another sip, made a face that said it was still disgusting, but then continued drinking. “Do we even know if my flight is still on time?” asked Daisy, glancing up from her finger-stirred coffee, looking stoned. “I kind of hate that our house is a black hole of cell reception lately and our internet has been about as reliable as a guy when he says ‘just the tip.’”

  “So not reliable at all, got it,” said Liberty.

  Isobel continued to face the coffeemaker. “The internet people are out front still from last night. Saw them on my way to the sweet-nectar maker.”

  Liberty sighed. “They’ve been working on the issue forever. Not that I’ve actually seen one of them. Just the van, but still. Our luck someone who works for the company moved in down the street and the van is parked there because of that—not because they’re actually working on our internet issues.”

  “If they did, one of us needs to consider blowing them for better internet. I nominate Isobel,” said Daisy before licking her finger clean of coffee.

  Liberty snorted. “I second that.”

  “Both of you can kiss my butt,” said Isobel, still facing the coffeepot. She yawned, adding a big stretch to the mix. “I had the weirdest dreams last night.”

  Liberty perked. “Did they involve an attractive large man with blue eyes?”

  “Who also happened to let you braid his hair?” added Daisy with a partial grin.

  “Brat,” said Liberty.

  Daisy grinned more.

  Isobel shook her head, still facing the counter. “I was little again in the dream.”

  “Were you hacking a government database?” asked Liberty, wanting to keep the tone of the conversation light.

  Isobel lowered her head and tensed. “I was beating the crap out of some other little girl. Whoever she was, I didn’t like her, and she didn’t like me.”

  A gasp came from Daisy. “Did she have blonde hair?”

  Isobel turned slowly, her dark brow lifting. “Yes.”

  Daisy held her cup tighter to her chest. “I might have had the same dream.”

  Isobel looked to Liberty, a question in her gaze.

  Liberty shrugged. “I didn’t dream about her. I dreamt about the guy who helped me again. Did either of you catch a name for the girl? Maybe Isobel could try to search for her on the internet or something.”

  Isobel curled her lip. “Did you miss the part about me not liking her and pretty much body slamming her?”

  “But if she’s like us—”

  Daisy cut her off, still looking as if she was trying to wake up fully. “I want to connect with others like us, but the vibe I got off her in my dream wasn’t a good one, Libs. We don’t need toxic people around us. And everything about her seemed toxic.”

  She was right. Liberty knew as much but couldn’t help but feel like they should at least try to find her. A lot could change about a person in twenty years. She probably wasn’t the same as she’d been back then. And she probably felt totally alone in the world.

  “What if she’s going through what we are? What if she’s developed weird abilities that she can’t talk about with anyone else?” asked Liberty.

  Daisy blinked in a dramatic fashion. “Tough cookies.”

  “I thought you were all about helping people,” argued Liberty.

  “I am, but my gut says she’s bad news,” returned Daisy.

  Isobel nodded. “A
greed. Change of subject needed here, ladies.”

  Daisy eyed Liberty. “Hey, did you ask me about your laptop a little bit ago?”

  “I did,” responded Liberty, pleased that Daisy was finally awake enough to remember snippets of their conversation, even if delayed.

  “It’s on the table in the hall upstairs,” said Daisy.

  Liberty cocked her head to the side. “Really? I didn’t put it there.”

  “I swear it’s there.” Daisy lifted the finger she’d used to stir her coffee and held it in a way that said she was making something close to a pledge.

  “Daisy, since you’re semi-coherent now, where is your suitcase?” asked Liberty, anxious to avoid any possible missed flights.

  “Upstairs,” said Daisy.

  “Great. I’ll grab it along with my laptop,” said Liberty.

  Daisy was normally put together and on top of things. Sleep deprivation had taken its toll on her.

  On all of them actually.

  Liberty left the kitchen and her semi-awake best friends. She was nearly to the staircase when she glanced out the front picture window. The first thing she noticed was the trail of running water leading from the back of the driveway of the demon house across the street. The next was an incredibly fit male holding an elderly man by his jacket as the hot guy took a hose to him.

  The older man’s water-soaked pants were sliding off him. Part of his backside was showing.

  She squeaked loudly, “Ohmygod!”

  “What?” asked Daisy, walking out from the kitchen, yawning as she did. She took another sip of her coffee. “What are we ohmygodding?”

  “Someone is abusing an old man! Look!” Liberty pointed.

  Daisy glanced out the window as she took another sip of coffee. She blinked and then proceeded to spit coffee onto the window. “Ohmygod!”

  Isobel walked out carrying the entire pot of coffee. She had apparently added milk to it and was drinking right from it. “I didn’t sleep long enough to be subjected to this level of ohmygodding. What’s ohmygod worthy? And I’m not cleaning that off the window. Daisy, you sprayed it, you handle it.”