“We don’t need to. She’s probably telling him her escape plans.”
“Escape? And we can’t hear it?!”
“Monica,” another of the team quipped. “Bitch probably put her up to it, no doubt.”
“No doubt.” Roberts agreed.
“Then they’ll try to take us, the moment we go after the money. It’s a trap.”
“What do we do?” another asked.
“Relax—gentlemen,” Roberts moved his hand over his chin watching the two young people looking at each other. “We just had a change of plans ourselves.”
* * * * *
The XO slipped out of his thick insulated jacket that kept the bitter cold of the freezer cell from killing any Human that entered it for longer than a few minutes. He hung-up the coat and then unzipped the backs of his thickly insulated leather gloves, the same ones he’d used to threaten and arouse Sinclair with not an hour ago. Jesus the kid was hung like a damned stallion. He’d never seen anyone so huge. Whatever scent he’d smelled from his goddess girlfriend had filled his cock out quickly. Sure, Evenson was fucking hot—he lifted the glove now to his own nose out of curiosity—but she wasn’t that—Mac felt suddenly a little dizzy—huh?
He sniffed the leather again.
“Jesus,” fell out of his mouth quietly.
Mac now drew a long slow breath from the scent that waved up from the leather. His mouth opened slightly while his blood seemed to suddenly tingle with arousal.
He drew another long breath, deeper this time, feeling himself growing, filling out beneath his fatigues with each new breath.
“Ohhhhh,” the Navy Seal exhaled audibly, his pulse taking a sudden jump. He wanted to set the glove down, but, the scent that lifted from it, it was like—nothing he’d ever experienced.
He needed to breath it in again.
It wasn’t long before the lingering scent of her had his own member tall and large under his pants. Her scent still in his nostrils, he gripped his raging spire through the material of his fatigues trying to calm the throb. But it didn’t help, if anything, it made it worse.
Still in his boots, Mac lifted off his black layered shirts and then unzipped his pants, pulling them down to his knees while reclining onto the bunk of his private quarters. He wasn’t stupid. He knew exactly what was happening to him; what her scent was doing to him. He didn’t care. God she smelled incredible! All he knew was that he needed to be fucking her, now, and desperately. But with her in the brig, his own hand sliding over his raging cock was going to be the next best thing.
18
T hey should have been here by now. It’s been over a week.” The newblood military commander in-charge of his own Special Forces walked with Monica through the sparsely forested mountains of Wyoming, around the trails surrounding Devil’s Tower.
“Roberts is patient. He’ll make his move when he feels things have cooled off with the kids. We might be here a month.”
“I don’t like it. Those two could be dead by now.”
“They’re not.”
“What if he doesn’t come for the money? What if he smells the trap?”
Monica’s eyes met his. “Then I’ll go after him.”
* * * * *
Liam woke on his knees again. Their chains weren’t long enough for them to sleep sitting down, let alone laying down. He watched her as she rested against the cold wall. He wished he were warm enough—just for a moment. He’d free her. And then the two of them would be gone. Just like that.
He wondered why none of the guards had come in to question them, or torture them. They had her; and himself. He’d give them the location of the money he’d stashed in Wyoming—all they had to do was let her go.
He heard the door of their cell unseal. He was expecting breakfast, but all they did was drop off one tray in front of her. Another guard began unlocking his shackles. She was awake now. But neither of them said a word.
Liam was escorted under heavy guard to the sun deck of the yacht. His body now warmed quickly and his strength returned.
“Good morning, Mr. Sinclair. I’m sure by now you know who I am—”
“The Dread Pirate Roberts.” His glare showed no humor.
“Cute. Have a seat.”
Liam sat down, still unclothed, at a table half filled with breakfast foods.
“Please. Have something to eat. At least it’s not frozen.”
Liam scowled, but he was hungry. He helped himself to some Danishes and some breakfast meats. A female server poured him a hot cup of coffee and some juice.
“What do you want, Roberts? The money? It’s yours if you let her go. You can have it. All of it. Just let her go.”
“I’m not that stupid, Liam. She didn’t come here without a plan. You’re smart enough to know; that pile of cash is probably booby-trapped by now with a small army of feds. I’m not going anywhere near it.”
Liam said nothing.
Roberts changed the subject, slightly. “Apparently you’re really good at robbing banks. Big banks.”
Liam chewed slowly, listening.
“I’ll let Tori go.”
Now Roberts had his attention.
“Right after you hit New York’s Federal Reserve for me.”
Liam mused the thought. He looked up, his mind racing in several different directions.
“How much do you want?”
Roberts grinned widely. The guards with their automatic weapons chuckled as if he’d just said something stupid.
“You took close to a hundred million out of the Reserve vault in L.A. How did you do it?”
Liam set down his cup. “None of your business. You want me to knock over the bank in New York? Fine. Just tell me how much you want. I’ll have the cash in a few days. No feds attached.”
“Cash?” Roberts chuckled. “Oh, hell no. I wouldn’t be able to spend of dime of that before they traced the bills and nailed my ass. Which, by the way, is exactly how Monica nailed yours.”
Liam chewed more slowly now, a sinking feeling in his gut.
“No, Mr. Sinclair, you are going to steal something much more untraceable—gold.”
“Gold?!”
“You have a problem with that?”
“Do you have any idea how much that stuff weighs?”
“You’re a big strong god. I’m sure it won’t be a problem for someone of your—stellar build.” Roberts was still amazed, if not envious, by not so much the size, but the physique of the kid’s exquisite build. He looked like a god the way he was cut.
Liam frowned. Roberts wasn’t making this easy. “A pallet of bills is one thing; gold bars are—” Liam shook his head.
“A job like this too much for an all-powerful god?”
“I’m not all-powerful, Roberts. I’m just—”
“You’re holding out on me, Liam. Maybe I should send a few of my boys below decks to play doctor with your little girlfriend?”
Liam stood up quickly—and also found several gun barrels pressed into his skin.
“Maybe you should look at the monitor behind you—”
Liam turned slowly to see Tori surrounded by Roberts’ paramilitary thugs as well.
“They’re watching us too, Liam. If you get unruly again—she’ll be dead before you can get to her. I guarantee it.”
Liam glared angrily then sat back down in the chair. “How much do you want?” he groaned.
“Now that’s what I like to see. Cooperation.”
“How much?”
“I see you prefer expediency. That’s good. The Reserve typically stores them on one-ton pallets. I want twenty of those pallets.”
Liam audibly sighed. “You don’t want much, do you?”
“It’s only a ton, Liam. That should be nothing to your, god-like strength.”
“Assuming I can deliver the goods—what’s my guarantee you won’t double-cross me?”
“You don’t get any guarantees, Mr. Sinclair. Once the last pallet is delivered, I’ll make sure she sho
ws up back home, safe and sound. And we’ll be long gone.”
“Safe and sound. Right.” Liam wasn’t buying it one bit. Roberts wasn’t at all being truthful with him. He wasn’t sure what the pirate had planned for Tori, but he was sure it had nothing to do with her being safe or sound, if she was even returned at all. Still, Roberts was stetting him free to make the heist. He’d have plenty of time to think about how to rescue Tori.
“Think whatever you like, Sinclair. You don’t have a choice.”
“No. No, I do have a choice.”
“How’s that?”
“I’ll take your deal.”
“Excellent.”
Then Liam stood up slowly from his chair, leaning over the table, his eyes meeting Roberts’. “But by all that is Ra, Roberts, if you or anyone so much as touches her, again, I will fucking hunt you down and not even the gods of the seas will care about what’s left of you.”
Roberts just stared at the young god—Liam’s empathy diving deep into his feelings. Goosebumps rose on the seasoned sailor’s skin, and for the first time in a very long time, the Special Forces trained Navy Seal turned murderous pirate, felt a shiver of very real fear.
19
D ressed in nice new clothes again, Liam sat at the outdoor table of a Starbucks not far from the Federal Reserve building whose basement vaults held more wealth than likely existed in the whole of Manhattan. He was supposed to be working on a plan to rob the place, but all he could think about at the moment were the monsters who held Tori prisoner out at sea somewhere. His mind worked mostly thinking of ways to rescue her instead of how he was going to remove twenty tons of bullion from what was arguably the most secure building ever constructed. He’d already cased some of it. He had a few ideas about how he might be able to do it, none of which he was actually thinking about at the moment.
An old, slightly overweight cowboy took a seat across from Liam, a latte in his hand that he set onto the small outdoor table. The name ‘Henry’ had been scrawled onto the side of his paper coffee cup.
“Great day to be in New York, Liam. Perfect weather today. Not too hot yet.”
Liam looked at the old man oddly, his Texan accent thick, and his Western attire not exactly those of the people around him. His danger senses weren’t tingling. The old man smiled and the kindness he wore on his face had Liam returning a rare smile as well.
“It is a great day—Henry. Do I know you?”
“You do now.” The old man smiled again and then took a sip from his cup.
“How do you know my name?”
“I know lots of people who don’t know me. Some do; most never will.”
“You feel Human—”
“Can’t always trust what you feel, Liam. Or what you see.”
“Tell me about it.”
“But that don’t mean you should grow cynical over it.”
Liam chuckled.
The old man leaned back into the wrought iron chair looking up into the sky at the building down the street. “Now that’s quite the fortress. Pretty daunting task getting into a place like that.”
“Did Roberts send you—to check on me?” Liam asked, looking a little askance now at the old Texan.
“Nope. Never met him. Not sure I’d ever like to.”
“But you know about me?”
“I know Tori as well. Beautiful. I’d ask her out myself if she wasn’t already dating you.” He chuckled.
“Then you know where she is—?”
“Yep. She’ll be safe enough aboard ship, for now. It’s you I’m actually worried about.”
“Me?!”
“Liam, don’t take this the wrong way, but—youth has its disadvantages.”
“Is that a nice way of saying I’m ‘young and stupid’? Because after the last few weeks, I’m about ready to half agree with you.”
“Good to hear.” Henry smiled and took another sip from his cup. “Age and cunning will always overcome youth and skill. You can bank on that. No pun intended.”
“So I’ve heard.” Liam frowned now.
Henry chuckled.
“What am I going to do, Henry? I need to rescue her.”
“Your problem is, Liam, you trust your feelings way too much.”
Liam thought for a moment. “You’re not really human, then, are you?”
“That’s your brain kicking in. Someone fools your senses, but it’s what’s going on around you that shows more than just what you perceive.”
“Like a magician—”
Henry nodded. “Illusion. Misdirection. Not everything is as it seems. And all of it on purpose. Nature’s way of weeding out the unfit.”
“So what am I not seeing?”
“The magician keeps your eyes focused here,” Henry extended his coffee cup away from himself, “while his other hand does something you’re not paying any attention to.”
Liam watched Henry set his cup back onto the table. Along with Liam’s new wallet, thickly stuffed with his money. Henry smiled. Liam retrieved his billfold from the top of the table. “Nice.”
“I lifted that from your pocket while you were still waiting for your mocha. Things are happening all around you, Liam. Things you don’t think are important—but often are.”
“I think I’m getting the picture, Henry.” He stuffed the long wallet back into his pocket.
“Good. Listen, I know you like old buildings. You should check out Windsor one of these days.”
“Street?”
“Castle.”
“England?!”
Henry nodded. “Nice place. A lot of history there. You’d like it.”
“You’re not serious?”
Henry stood up with his cup.
“Are you going to help me?”
“I just did.”
Liam stood as well.
“Beautiful day, Liam. Enjoy it.” Henry smiled while gripping Liam’s shoulder warmly. Then he adjusted his hat, and disappeared into the crowded sidewalk of people in business suits.
20
Y ou keep watching that screen like it’s a movie.” One of the two heavily armed guards stationed outside of the freezer cell nodded at the monitor that showed the unclothed goddess reading a magazine. “She’s not going anywhere.”
The other guard sighed frustrated, peeling his eyes away from the display. Under his fatigues he was hard as a rock.
“You want to fuck yourself a goddess.”
“Don’t you?”
“What do you think?” The guard shouldered his weapon and opened the front of his fatigues releasing a his long solid member that projected straight out from his pants. He waved it around, spanking himself a few times.
“Put that away.”
“What’s the matter? Never seen one this big before?”
“Sure. On my sister.”
“Your sister’s got cock?”
“No, idiot. She doesn’t and she’s still bigger than you.”
“Sure she is.” The guard put away his prize male and re-zipped his fatigues. “What do you think Roberts is really gonna do with her?”
“Fuck her himself; I’d bet money on it.”
“I heard the XO’s been talking to her. Eveyday. Brings her little gifts—like the magazines.”
“Mac wants her too. We all do.”
“Fucking Siren. She’ll have the whole boat doing her by the time that gold gets here.”
“It ain’t right.”
“What isn’t.”
“This whole mission. Using a god and a goddess against their will.” He shook his head and then looked up at the monitor again. She was stretching, her arms over her head, her ample rounded breasts lightly covered in small patches of frost, her pink nipples tall and thick.
“Damn.”
“I’d totally fuck that.”
“Let’s do her—”
“Jesus, are you serious?”
“No one’s watching the monitors but us right now.”
“Dude, it’s freezing in there
.”
“I don’t care. I’m tougher than a little cold.” The guard began unsealing the door.
* * * * *
Liam had been thinking about the mysterious Texan and what he’d said. He was pretty sure Henry was another awakened, maybe like Louis, but older, probably a lot older. It was pretty clear the old man didn’t want Liam charging into the Reserve building’s vaults and making a clandestine withdrawal. Did they have security he wasn’t aware of? He needed to do a little research.
Now evening, he’d wandered into the New York City Public Library. He wasn’t sure if he had even ever been in a library before. He pulled a half dusty encyclopedia book from the shelf in the reference section and began scanning the pages.
“Wait a minute,” he breathed to himself flash-reading a subsection of an article about Windsor Castle’s history during World War II. To prevent the Nazi’s from looting the Crown Jewels and other British treasures, all of them had been secretly moved and stored in the holds of the old castle. Packed in what looked like furniture crates and other nondescript wooden boxes, a king’s ransom had been moved in broad daylight, then stored for years among other dusty antiques of the fortress. And only a handful of people knew where the treasures were.
Liam was pretty sure Windsor didn’t have half of the security Buckingham Palace had, if it had any at all.
He closed the encyclopedia and returned it to the shelf. So that’s what Henry was talking about. Misdirection. Illusion. Something pretending to be something it wasn’t. Now Liam felt like he was onto something. Somewhere in New York city was another ‘Windsor Castle’, most likely another building somewhere. Sure, there were thousands of buildings in New York. He just needed to find out which one.
* * * * *
Roberts entered the brig quickly with a dozen of his men, their weapons aimed directly at the unclothed goddess. She backed away toward the far wall.
Their clothing and weapons strewn all over the small cell, the two seasoned Special Forces guards both lay shivering and naked on the floor; both men already in the throes of hypothermia.
Siren (Awakened Chronicles Book 1) Page 8
