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

by Mandy M. Roth

  A droll look fell over the Scotsman’s face. “Does he make you tired too? Or am I just showing my age?”

  “He makes me want to sleep for a decade,” returned Cody, meaning every word of it.

  Three days with Bill and Gus were going to be his undoing. If Casey didn’t take his little friends back soon, Cody might be the first op to actually break down and eat them.

  Bill huffed. “Gus says you’d spit us out, Rip Van Sharkie. That your shark side wouldn’t want us for lunch. We’re not as yummy as a sea turtle.”

  Slowly, Cody slid his gaze to Gus once more, wondering just how good the man’s mind-reading gig was.

  So far, it seemed spot on.

  Armand stared back at Gus for another few tense seconds, saying nothing. When next he spoke, his attention moved to Cody. “Meet with Wheeler. If you don’t trust Gus, at least trust me.”

  Cody didn’t like it, but he nodded all the same. “Fine. But first light tomorrow morning, I’m hunting for Helmuth, like it or not.”

  “Understood,” added Armand.

  Bill let out a long, exasperated breath. “Here we go again, Gus. Can’t there be one of them who listens when we tell him something? Why do they always gotta go running around swinging their dicks and shouting about how alpha they are?”

  Cody couldn’t help but laugh. “I hardly call wanting to find an asshole who gets off on torturing people swinging my dick around.”

  Bill raised his shoulders and let them fall quickly. “You say tomato… I say dick swinging.”

  It was painfully clear to Cody that the drama would not stop until he agreed to meet with Wheeler. “I’ll reach out to Wheeler about meeting tonight. But I draw the line at telling him it’s about a mermaid.”

  “Don’t ya want him to have all the facts?” asked Bill. “What kind of soldier are you? Can’t even brief your fellow operatives fully. Geesh. You’re kind of shit at this. It’s amazing anything gets done without me and Gus helping. Elite units my ass.”

  Cody’s fingers curled and his hands burned with the need to shift shapes and choke the man. Ever since his time in captivity, he’d been able to do partial shifts with far more ease than before. That didn’t mean he ran around doing it whenever he got the urge. Giving the shark too many freedoms wasn’t wise. Especially on land. If it thought it could get away with forcing a change, even a partial one, whenever it felt like, Cody would walk around stuck in between forms.

  Mac reached out and put a hand on Cody’s shoulder. “No sharkin’ out and eatin’ the li’l hairy man.”

  Cody fidgeted in his seat, unable to get comfortable. He bounced a foot, hoping to burn off the buildup of energy that had come out of nowhere. He’d need to shift forms and swim it off soon if it continued. It was painfully clear that talk of Helmuth was a trigger that he needed to learn to cope with. If he lost his head, bad things would happen. He’d learned as much in Costa Rica.

  Images of the little girl sinking like a stone in the water beset him. The mental picture was as fresh in his head today as it had been the day it had happened. He could still vividly see her wide brown eyes looking up at him, lacking any fear as blood floated around her from her wounds. He could still taste her blood. The same blind rage and abject terror that had gripped him concerning her being in the water, and her safety, filled him quickly and his hands began to burn with the pending change.

  Cody tried to hide them from the line of sight of the others, but he wasn’t fast enough. Not that there was anywhere to really go.

  Mac snatched Cody’s hand and lifted it higher, examining it with wide-eyed wonderment. “How in the hell do you have claws, Aussie? Yer a shark-shifter and sharks do nae have claws.”

  Armand exhaled loudly and shot Cody a look that said he wasn’t thrilled with the loss of control. “Much changed with him while under Helmuth’s thumb.”

  “So yer saying he’s nae a shark-shifter anymore?” asked Mac, earning him a worried glance in the rearview mirror from his twin.

  Armand faced forward. “He is.”

  “Gus says that ain’t all Sharkie is now. Says Helmet-Head and the Nazi wannabes messed him up real good. Like them things that are popping out of the woodwork all the time anymore that are smelly and rotting,” said Bill.

  The twins gasped at the same time.

  “No,” said Car, swerving slightly before gaining control of the vehicle once more. “He’s nae sayin’ yer a hybrid, is he?”

  “Cody is not what you know a hybrid to be, no,” said Armand, coming to Cody’s rescue. “But he’s not as he once was. Then again, he’s never been as you are—a natural-born shifter. If you’ll recall, his shifter side was brought about from testing. While held by Helmuth, Cody was subjected to more experiments. The kind that even the I-Ops scientists wouldn’t have dreamed of doing to a person. So to answer you, yes, he’s still a shark-shifter, but when fully shifted now, he’s much larger than he once was and there are other side effects.”

  Mac held Cody’s clawed hand up higher, turning it, showing off the grayish color that it now was and the long, dagger-like claws that had emerged where his fingernails once were. “I’d say so. Note to self, do nae be gettin’ captured and tested on by anyone from The Corporation. You do nae know what will pop out the other side.”

  His comment made Cody laugh slightly, helping him gather his control once more. His hand re-formed to human. “Don’t I know it.”

  Mac released his hand. “You’ve my word that if we get any leads on this Hel-butt-munch, I’ll reach out to you. And if I cannae reach you, I’ll rip his head off myself. He’ll nae be allowed to do this to anyone else, Aussie.”

  Cody nodded but said nothing more on the matter.

  Mac snorted. “Now, you’ve got to see a wheel about a mermaid. I cannae wait to see where that leads.”

  “I’m almost afraid to find out,” said Cody, meaning it.

  “Rightly so,” exclaimed Mac. “We saw the two stooges with Gram. Gus knew things. Things he should nae know. And I’m guessin’ yer other Outcast buddies who have mated recently have whispered of this lot as well, no? Did they nae help some of yer Outcast friends with their mates recently?”

  With a hard swallow, Cody nodded. “Y-yes.”

  “Yer lookin’ a little pale,” said Mac. “If you pass out, do you change into a shark? Or a megalodon now that you’ve been amped up? That would be really somethin’ to see. I’ve got some whiskey in a flask in my suitcase. I can pour it on you or somethin’ to keep you wet.”

  Cody barely registered what Mac was saying. He was stuck on the fact Gus seemed sure he needed to meet with Wheeler about a mermaid. Even with all Cody had seen and lived through in his life, that was a stretch. But it was clearly important to Gus that Cody carry on with his normal meeting. And Armand seemed to agree.

  “Gus says you’re overthinking it all again, Sharkie,” said Bill. “Gus ain’t never told anyone to do nothing that wasn’t for a good reason.”

  Mac blinked several times. “That was clear as mud.”

  Armand sighed. “Cody, go. Meet with Wheeler. Allow us to search for additional leads on Helmuth while you are there. We will reach out if we find anything. Gus believes you have to carry on as you normally would for events to line up accordingly. You have to ask yourself if you trust in what he can do or not. If so, go. Meet with Wheeler. Talk as you always do and go for drinks like normal. Gus believes the answers will make themselves known to you.”

  “Can’t he just tell me why? If he knows so much, why not come right out and say it?” demanded Cody. “Why frame it with abstracts?”

  “Because that is how the information is presented to him,” said Armand. “He isn’t shown things in their entirety. He mentally opened fully to me for a fraction of a second and I saw what he does, Cody. I saw you on a park bench with Wheeler and felt it deep down that it was imperative you be there. That you not worry about anything other than that for now.”

  “He tells me I can’t hunt a madman wh
o tortured me and that I have to instead go shoot the shit with a buddy in a park?” asked Cody. “That is one hell of a big ask.”

  “Not if you trust in him and what he can do,” said Armand.

  “Yeah, listen to the dead guy,” said Bill, earning him a growl from Armand.

  “Fine, let the record state I’m not happy about this,” said Cody.

  Mac nodded. “Noted. Now, let’s stop and feed these two knuckleheads.”

  Chapter Eight

  The last thing Cody wanted to do was delay searching for Helmuth, but it was clear his friends, while well-meaning, weren’t planning to give him any peace until he did what Gus wanted him to do—continue with his regular scheduled programming.

  Easier said than done when it came to Helmuth and the atrocities the monster had committed. The man was probably still causing someone pain and finding great joy in it all.

  Cody needed to track down the man and end him. He couldn’t be permitted to continue carrying out his madness. It had to stop, and Cody wanted to be the man who made that happen.

  He’d earned the right.

  More than earned it.

  And his shark needed it.

  So did the human side of Cody.

  He had half a mind to turn around and head into the Paranormal Regulators (Para-Regs) office in the heart of Savannah to use their resources, rather than the “superheroes secret base” where the twins and Armand would be.

  He refrained.

  For now.

  Cody had been meeting Wheeler for their Thursday night ritual since first coming to Savannah. In that time, talk of a mermaid had never come up and he highly doubted it suddenly would. This was a waste of precious time.

  Time that would be better spent hunting down new leads on Helmuth.

  Wheeler would understand. Hell, he’d help search for the bastard.

  “This is asinine.”

  His cell rang.

  He fished it from his pocket, and when he spotted Armand’s number, a smile touched his lips. Good. They’d come to their senses and found something more on Helmuth. “Yeah?”

  Armand sighed. “I’m to tell you that it is most certainly not asinine and for you to stay the course. To discuss the mermaid that you have not spoken of before with Wheeler. A life depends on it.”

  Cody froze and stared at his phone as if Armand might actually pop out of it.

  “Livingston?” asked Armand. “Are you still there?”

  “He can read us from a distance too?” questioned Cody in a voice so low it would be hard for even a supernatural to hear.

  “Gus? The fact I was instructed to make this call should answer that question,” said Armand. “Be a good boy and do as you’re told.”

  Cody flipped him off.

  Armand chuckled. “Nice. Is that an offer, Aussie?”

  “He can see what I’m doing too?” asked Cody, stunned at Gus’s ability. Whatever the government had done to him left him one hell of an asset, or weapon, depending on how one was looking at it.

  “No, he did not tell me what you were just doing. I merely know you well enough to know you are expressing your thoughts on my comments with hand gestures,” said Armand before cursing in French. His voice was muffled a moment before it became apparent that he was speaking to someone other than Cody. “Little hairy man, I will drain you of every last drop of your blood if you do not stop. Now, go sit at the table or I will take your bowl of ice cream away and send you to bed early.”

  “I ain’t scared of nobody who sparkles when the sun shines!” shouted Bill from the background.

  “I do not sparkle. Ever. In the sun or not. Where is it you get your information on vampires? From reading the newspaper’s Sunday funnies?” Armand groaned.

  “Bullshit,” said Bill. “I saw a doco about vampires sparkling when the light hits them. Hey, how is it you’re not blond? The doco showed a lot of blond vampires. Except for the bad guys. You a bad guy? We all already know you got the angsty part down pat. Rest true too? And for your info, Dead-Dude, no one reads a paper anymore. They get their news online. Get a pulse and with the times.”

  “For the hundredth time, documentary would be shortened to doc-u, not o. And I will be considered a bad guy very soon if you keep testing the limits of my patience,” replied Armand, sounding exasperated.

  Cody couldn’t blame the man. Dealing with Bill was draining.

  “That a threat, Frenchie?” asked Bill snidely. “You better check that tone before I shine a flashlight on you and blind you with your own sparkling.”

  Armand let out a long line of curses and hexes in French, all of which were aimed at Bill. After several seconds of continued back-and-forth between the men, Armand grunted loudly into the phone. “Cody, express my condolences to Casey on the soon-to-be loss of his friend. I am going to kill William.”

  “I go by Bill, Count Dick-u-la!” yelled Bill from the background. “The only reason I haven’t staked ya is because Gus likes you. I don’t know what he sees in you. Plain to see his character judgment is flawed.”

  Laughing, Cody hung up. Hearing Armand trying to deal with Bill was just what Cody needed to help curb his yearning to hunt down Helmuth.

  At least for now.

  He’d give his friends a chance to do whatever it was they were planning to do, and he’d carry on with his normal routine, even if it meant talking about mermaids. But the second he got wind of where Helmuth might be, all bets were off. He’d resume his hunt for the bastard.

  Sliding his phone back into his pocket, Cody made his way to the park bench in Johnson Square that seemed reserved only for him and Wheeler. He knew better. Knew the reason the bench was being given a wide berth was because of his friend’s vampire traits. Ones the man was drawing on to keep others at bay and provide them with some semblance of privacy, despite being out in the open.

  Wheeler, who was in a dark blue T-shirt with a faded record cover image from a folk artist who had achieved great fame back in the ’70s, stared out at the people walking by. The area attracted a mix of humans from young to old.

  That was part of the charm.

  Part of what Cody liked about Savannah.

  Cody reached the bench with Wheeler on it in seconds. He took a seat as well.

  A group of males who had apparently hit the local Savannah bar scene early walked toward them. One of the men tried jumping over the small black-chained landscaping fencing that only stood about a foot high. That twelve inches was all it took to send him toppling over it, into the bushes, taking two other men with him in the process.

  “Been a while since we drunk-walked anywhere,” said Wheeler, the smallest of laughs coming from him.

  Cody smirked. “Thank the gods. I don’t miss that.”

  They watched the men getting up, each razzing the other about having had too much to drink. They thankfully made the sound decision to call for a ride home, ending the night early.

  “When is the last time we drank anywhere close to that much? Was it Costa Rica?” questioned Wheeler.

  At the mention of Costa Rica, Cody tensed. It had been seventeen years since he’d set foot there. While it had once been a favorite stopping point on his surfing circuit, the events of long ago had soured him on it all. His last time there had been when his shark had been acting up, and he’d been forced to swim it off, only to happen upon a small drowning child—and Helmuth.

  He gnashed his teeth in frustration at the thought of the man once more. Every fiber of his being said he should be out there, hunting Helmuth, not hanging out, not hunting for mermaids.

  Wheeler reached out and touched his shoulder lightly. “Didn’t mean to dredge it up.”

  Cody let out a shaky breath. “It’s fine. And oddly enough, I was thinking about it all earlier today. I need to face my past demons.”

  “So people keep saying,” added Wheeler. “Not sure I buy into the bullshit. Want to try to get hammered tonight? We can drink until we forget everything—including Costa Rica. It
will take a shit-metric-ton of alcohol, but I’m always up for a good challenge. I’ll admit when you called and said Helmuth surfaced and that he was linked to this area, I thought you’d want me to meet you to track him down.” Wheeler glanced around the park. “Wasn’t expecting you to suggest we keep with the norm. Know what I mean?”

  “Wasn’t my idea,” said Cody. “I’d have gone with hunting the prick.”

  “I know,” added Wheeler. “I was worried about you so I called Armand.”

  “Of course you did,” exclaimed Cody. “I don’t need a babysitter.”

  “That is debatable.” Wheeler shrugged. “He tells me you’re not sleeping right. Something about dreams. They like before? Like Costa Rica?”

  Cody touched his chest lightly. “No. I mean, I don’t think so. They aren’t exactly clear to me and they, um, feel like they might be sexual. Costa Rica wasn’t sexual.”

  Wheeler kept people watching as he spoke. “But like before, you’re not sleeping right. Easily agitated?”

  Frustrated, Cody cast a disgruntled look in his friend’s direction. “Why are you asking me all of this when it’s pretty fucking clear you and Armand already discussed it in detail?”

  “Because you need to learn to open up,” said Wheeler, not the least bit riled by Cody’s behavior. “You’re the guy everyone goes to when they need something. The guy who is always there for everyone. Who is always levelheaded and keeps everyone calm. The guy who doesn’t seem to let anything get to him. Until it comes to you. Then you’re a shit-for-brains idiot who suffers in silence when he could have just opened his mouth and asked for a hand.”

  “You’re kind of an asshole,” said Cody with a sideways smirk.

  “Yeah, I know.” Wheeler grinned. “Doesn’t change the fact I’m right and you know it. So, what’s been eating you lately? And I’m not talking about Helmuth. Armand says you’ve been agitated for days.”

  Cody thought more on it before sighing. “Lack of sleep. And I feel like something is off. But I don’t know what.”