Wrecked Intel (Immortal Outcasts®): An Immortal Ops® World Novel

by Mandy M. Roth

  Helmuth laughed softly. “Can’t say that has ever happened to me.”

  Gena bit her lower lip. “I should wait in the car. I’m not really the one you want to talk to. Bonnie runs everything and knows the ins and outs. It was nice meeting you, Helmuth.”

  He reached out, coming just shy of touching her. “Stay.”

  It wasn’t phrased as a question, but rather a statement. The push behind the single word made it seem like she didn’t have a choice.

  He eased even closer. “Please. I’ve been looking forward to meeting you since a colleague brought you to my attention.”

  Gena lifted a brow. “Me? Why me?”

  He never missed a beat. “You’ve become a valuable member of the research team in a short period of time. Bonnie has nothing but good things to say about you in her reports. She thinks you have it in you to run your own team sooner rather than later.”

  “She does?” asked Gena, in awe. She idolized Bonnie. If Bonnie thought that about her, it meant a lot.

  He inclined his head. “And I read your thesis paper. You have some rather interesting theories on why it is sharks have been around as long as they have and what a world without them might look like.”

  “You read my paper?” asked Gena, surprised.

  “I did,” said Helmuth. “I have to admit I was curious to learn more about you, so I might have had my people dig up additional information. Well, as much as they could find.”

  She quirked a brow. “You looked into me?”

  He offered what she had to guess he thought was a reassuring smile. “I did. I never make any investment without knowing who and what I’m investing in.”

  “Investment?”

  “Ah, I buried the lede,” he stated. “I’m interested in increasing the funding for the center and possibly expanding the research you’re doing there.”

  “Shut up!” yelled Bonnie from the hallway. “I mean, really?”

  Helmuth glanced over at her. He didn’t seem pleased she was back. If anything, he appeared agitated.

  Ernest was behind Bonnie with a nervous look on his face. “Sorry, sir. She wanted to rejoin her friend.”

  “So I see, Ernest,” said Helmuth, his words as rigid as his posture.

  Flinching, Ernest gave a quick nod.

  Bonnie was all smiles, clearly unaware of the obvious tension in the room. “Thank you so much. We just found out today that a grant we were hoping for didn’t come through. This means so much to us. To the center. To the work we’re doing. Gena, can you believe it?”

  Gena pressed a smile to her face. “It’s amazing.”

  “Dr. Fowler, erm, Bonnie,” corrected Helmuth. “If you don’t mind speaking more with one of the men who work for me, I would appreciate it.”

  He snapped his fingers and a tall, built hunk with long, dark, curly hair and bronzed skin came walking down the hall with a certain swagger about him. He smiled, but it seemed to lack sincerity as well. His gaze slid over Gena, and he faltered in his step slightly, as if she’d somehow put him off his game.

  He recovered quickly.

  Gena exhaled slowly, wondering if the lack of quality sleep was impairing her judgment. Maybe the men were totally nice, ordinary guys who really were interested in making a difference. Maybe she was simply reading too much into it all.

  That had to be it.

  And Bonnie didn’t seem to have any issue with them, so it was more than likely a case of Gena overthinking everything.

  “Kahale, I’d like you to meet Dr. Bonnie Fowler,” said Helmuth to the newcomer.

  Kahale focused on Bonnie. “Ah, I was reading over some of the research data you’ve submitted and can’t wait to pick your brain. Would you like to join me for a walk around the grounds before lunch? We can discuss your work.”

  Bonnie rushed to him. “I would love to.”

  He put an arm out and Bonnie took it, buddying up next to him as if they’d been friends for years. Bonnie wasted no time launching into talk about the research center and the work they’d been doing.

  As Bonnie and Kahale left the room, Gena found herself wanting to run after them. She didn’t. But it was hard to resist.

  Gena once again found herself alone with Helmuth.

  Trying to rise above her lack of sleep, and her misguided issues with the man, she bit her lower lip. Small talk wasn’t really her thing, but the giant silence stretching between them was unnerving. She scrambled for something to fill the void. “You have a very interesting home. I mean big. I mean nice.”

  Pink stole over her cheeks.

  He chuckled, and it sounded legit. The action helped to ease some of her worry. “The word you’re looking for is gaudy. I’m aware. My other homes are not quite like this one. In fact, they aren’t anywhere near this level of tacky. This one is dedicated to certain interests I’ve always had.”

  “Other homes?” asked Gena before thinking better.

  He nodded. “I have a fair number of properties. This is one of many.”

  “Cool,” she said, at a loss for what more she could offer to their small talk.

  She hoped Bonnie’s tour of the grounds and talk with Kahale would end quickly. The less time she was forced to stand there feeling every bit as socially awkward as she knew she could be, the better.

  Her attention went to the shark painting. Slight nuances she’d missed before caught her attention. Like how the tank the shark was in looked to have chains hanging from the back wall of it. If she wasn’t mistaken, there were shackles on the end of each chain. Ones that were made to fit a person.

  There was a mix of rage and desperation in the shark’s large blue gaze. The artist had painted it in such a way that her heart ached for the creature. Then there was the fact that no amount of rationalization was working to explain away the similarities between the shark that had saved her life seventeen years ago and the one depicted in the painting. They were nearly identical.

  Helmuth was much closer than he had been only seconds before. She’d been so engrossed in the painting that she’d never noticed him moving. His arm brushed against her and cold spread through her, racing to her chest, making her breath catch. It felt like she’d just stepped outside in the dead of winter.

  Unable to stop herself, she jerked away slightly, breaking contact with the man.

  He stared at the painting with nothing short of rapture on his face. He looked almost turned on by the scene. That was absurd. No one would get off on the torture of an innocent creature, would they?

  And if they did, what kind of sick monster were they?

  He noticed her watching him and tilted his head a tad. “Magnificent, isn’t it?”

  She said nothing.

  He lifted his hand, weaving it in the air as if he was the one doing the painting. “The way the artist’s every stroke evokes such a visceral response. Just as art should be. Don’t you think?”

  “I don’t call that art,” she said quickly before biting her lower lip to keep from blurting out anything else.

  “You don’t like it?” The slightest hint of amusement hid behind his every word.

  “I think the artist is very talented,” she said. “It’s just the subject matter is disturbing.”

  He shrugged. “To some, yes.”

  Some?

  Everyone she counted as a friend would agree with her.

  Helmuth stared at the painting harder and Gena could have sworn he smiled ever so slightly.

  She took the smallest of steps away from him.

  “You’re wondering why someone such as myself would have a painting like this,” he said, never tearing his gaze from the artwork.

  “Actually, I’m wondering why anyone would have something like that.”

  “Something like what? A shark?” he questioned.

  “A shark being held in a containment tank of some kind, clearly being harmed,” she countered.

  “As a reminder.”

  “Of?” she asked.

  Another o
f the smiles that didn’t reach his eyes appeared on his handsome face. “Of atrocities, of course. I’m sure you’re aware that holding a great white in captivity has never been done with any degree of success. It’s merely a painting to represent all the ugly in the world, and it touches on my interest in science fiction.”

  Some of the tension leaked from Gena at his explanation, but she wasn’t entirely sure she believed him. “You like science fiction?”

  “I do. And mythology. You?”

  “I’ve always enjoyed learning about various cultures and their beliefs and mythos,” said Gena.

  “Did I read that you grew up traveling the world with your parents, who are also scientists?” he asked.

  She nodded. “Yes.”

  “That had to be an interesting upbringing. Full of so much knowledge and culture,” said Helmuth. “Tell me, what was your favorite place?”

  “Costa Rica,” she said without thought, her gaze returning to the painting of the shark that looked identical to the one she remembered saving her life.

  “Costa Rica?” asked Helmuth. “What did you like most about it?”

  “Well, I was young when I was there, but I remember it being beautiful,” answered Gena, still focused on the painting. Absently, she reached up and began to rub the back of her neck. As her fingers brushed over the smooth skin of the scar she had there, her chest warmed with thoughts of being rescued by the most amazing shark she’d ever seen in her life.

  When she looked back at Helmuth, she found him staring at her. He didn’t stop. He just stood there boldly watching her, never even blinking. It felt like forever before he took a deep breath. “My apologies. It’s just…”

  She waited for him to finish what he was going to say. When it became clear he wasn’t going to, she found herself stepping closer to him. “Just what?”

  He returned to staring at her. “Forgive me for saying this, but you remind me of a mermaid. Or rather, what one would look like if they were real.”

  A nervous laugh escaped her as she thought of Bonnie’s desire for her to have a fish tail to secure more funding. “Thanks?”

  He grinned. “If you’ll humor me a moment longer, I’ll show you what I’m talking about.”

  He turned and led her down the hall but stopped at a room on the left. Each step she took behind him left her feeling a lot like she was being led to a spider’s web, one she’d never be able to free herself from, and that the spider himself had escorted her.

  He opened the door and waited.

  Gena followed and drew up short as she entered the room.

  It was filled with mermaid memorabilia. So full in fact, she wondered how someone had managed to not only amass such a collection but fit it into the space. Not that the space was small by any means. The collection was simply that large.

  On the far wall hung another colossal painting. This one was of a mermaid. No surprise there, considering Gena was fast suspecting the guy really did have a thing for chicks with fish tails. The obsession seemed harmless enough.

  What was surprising about the painting was how very much the woman in the painting resembled her.

  “It’s uncanny,” said Helmuth, stealing the thought from her. He also invaded her space, easing up close behind her. “You wouldn’t by chance be a mermaid who is merely pretending to be human, would you?”

  She tensed and then pushed out a laugh, hoping he was joking and not batshit crazy. “Not that I’m aware of.”

  “Interesting,” said Helmuth.

  “What’s interesting?” asked Bonnie, entering the room with Ernest by her side.

  Kahale was nowhere in sight.

  Ernest cleared his throat. “Mr. Kahale received an urgent call regarding our friends in Colorado. He asked that I see Dr. Fowler back to you.”

  Helmuth’s jaw set as a thin smile pressed to his face. “Thank you, Ernest. That will be all.”

  Ernest scurried away.

  Bonnie entered the room more and her eyes widened as she spotted the large painting of the mermaid. “Gena, that’s you!”

  Gena’s cheeks flushed. “Uh, no. It’s not.”

  “Uh, yes, it is,” countered Bonnie before walking closer to the painting. “Wow. The resemblance is uncanny.”

  “It is, isn’t it,” said Helmuth, watching Gena in a way that left her skin crawling.

  Chapter Seven

  “You just had to tell Cody there were leads on Helmuth,” said Car as he shot a hard look over at the passenger seat of the SUV, where Armand sat.

  “He deserved as much,” stated Armand evenly, facing forward. “If you would be so kind as to keep the vehicle on the correct side of the road, that would be great.”

  “Eat me,” Car retorted.

  “Ever the mature one,” mused Armand.

  Car added a hand gesture for effect.

  The pair had been going back and forth for the majority of the trip thus far. It had started on the plane and spilled over upon landing. At some point they’d either come to blows or lose interest in one another.

  At this point, Cody didn’t care who won out, only that the two shut up and cease their nonstop bickering.

  Cody sat in the center row of the large vehicle in one of the captain’s chairs. He was directly behind Car, who was driving. Mac was next to Cody, in the other captain’s chair, while Bill and Gus sat in the back third row, close together, or as Cody liked to think of it—corralled.

  If they were both pinned in to the smaller space, everyone knew where they were, and what they were and were not getting into. Since trouble seemed to follow the pair wherever they went, it was for the best.

  Gus, who was as tall as he was skinny, stared out the side window while he held a football helmet on his lap. In the helmet was a female mannequin head that looked as if it was vintage and had seen better days. Cody suspected it wasn’t actually that old but had already seen a lot in the way of action. It had scuff marks on it. The paint of the eyes was starting to chip away, and there was damage to the right ear area. It didn’t seem to matter to Gus, who treated it as a prized possession.

  Gus carried the head, which was named Mona, as if it were a security blanket or, at the very least, a real person, rather than an inanimate object. Cody wasn’t going to point out the difference to the man. For as out there as Gus seemed to be, he was incredibly intelligent.

  If the smart man wanted a giant doll head around to comfort him, so be it. Whatever it took. Besides, Cody had seen weirder in his lifetime. But Gus did manage to give the strange in Cody’s life a run for its money.

  Gus, while harmless, was a touch on the unnerving side.

  To lend credence to the fact, the man was currently wearing a wetsuit, complete with a snorkel mask, while fins that he’d had to be pried out of before getting in the vehicle sat propped next to him on the floor of the SUV. To add yet another layer to the oddity known as Gus, he wore a pair of bright orange arm floaties, inflated.

  Upon landing at the airport, he’d insisted, by way of Bill, on changing into his current outfit. No amount of reasoning or pointing out they weren’t going snorkeling had talked the man out of it. Finally, everyone involved had given in, but they’d drawn the line when Bill had tried to talk them into letting him break out his swim trunks. Especially since Cody knew how small the trunks were on the guy.

  Bill and Gus were a perfect match. The ying to the other’s yang. But they were very, very odd men.

  Gus’s facemask was on too tight, but he wouldn’t permit anyone to loosen it. Evidently, it was just the way he liked it. All it did was draw attention to the fact he didn’t make eye contact.

  He never appeared to be looking directly at anyone yet somehow managed to see everything. He could communicate via the mental pathways the operatives shared and came off as scarily intelligent, as well as prophetic. It was enough to put any alpha off his game.

  Cody included.

  Gus, who was a good deal younger than Bill, was rarely too far from the older
man’s side. When Cody had first been introduced to them several days back, he’d assumed Bill was Gus’s keeper, for lack of a better term. The more time he spent around the men, the more he got the sense it was the other way around. That it was Gus who kept Bill in line as much as possible, all while having Bill act as his spokesperson when need be and a way to keep others at bay.

  Whatever the dynamic between the men, it worked for them. It was very easy to see they were the best of friends, almost like brothers. And they cared greatly for each other.

  That type of bond lasted a lifetime, and anyone who was lucky enough to have it needed to hold on to it with both hands.

  Bill glanced up in Armand’s direction and curled his lip. He and Armand had been trading jabs for hours. “If you’d stop walking in the way of my grenades, I wouldn’t be in trouble right now. Stupid dead guy doesn’t know how to stay out of the way of an explosive. Don’t they teach you that in Vamp School?”

  Armand began to growl, making Car laugh.

  “Do nae try to eat him again, vampire,” said Car. “I think three times on the flight here was more than enough.”

  Mac turned slightly, focusing on Bill. “Yer still in a no-talking time-out. Or do you nae remember how you behaved on the jet ride here?”

  At the mention of the word jet, Gus began to rock in place and grow visibly agitated. Saying the man wasn’t a fan of flying was an understatement. It had been so bad with Gus on the plane, the men had been left no choice but to restrain him for his own safety.

  Cody had been eager to hear every detail that Armand and the others had discovered about Helmuth while on the plane, but even with as much as he wanted revenge, he didn’t have it in him to leave Gus that upset. Cody had given up a chance at a full briefing, opting instead to sit in the seat nearest Gus and read to him. Cody had started with a magazine one of the twins had brought along, but it became clear rather quickly that Gus had no interest in anything the men’s adult periodical had to say—or the pictures.

  Cody traveled so much that he always had a bag packed, which he didn’t ever really unpack fully. He also kept a book with him at all times. He’d packed Walden, by Thoreau. The second Cody had started to read it out loud, Gus had calmed before finally nodding off briefly.