We landed at a tiny airport that Ivar informed us was several kilometers outside Prague—this one at least had an actual paved runway. A new Mercedes-Benz passenger van was waiting, with several men standing around it, each armed with a submachine gun, a larger version of the one Puck had used in the Range Rover, with an actual barrel and stock.
“They are friends of mine,” Ivar reassured Puck, as we descended. “This airport is secure.”
“Secure from Cain?” Puck asked, sounding skeptical.
“Even from him, ja.” Ivar pointed at the control tower, and I could see several figures dressed in black on the roof. “Snipers. Two of them, one with eyes on us, one with eyes on the approach. Another with an RPG, in case of breach.”
Puck seemed impressed. “Red carpet, huh?”
Ivar shrugged. “Precautions.” He gestured at the waiting van. “Bitte.”
“What’s the plan, Ivar?” Puck asked.
“My associate operates in Prague. The plan is simple. We drive to her flat, she removes and deactivates the tracer in Miss Kennedy, and then I deliver you to Mr. Roth.”
“I like simple plans,” Puck said.
Puck climbed in, and I followed and somehow ended up sandwiched between Puck and Layla, the other women behind us, Ivar in the front seat, and two of the armed guards in the very back. Once we were in motion, Layla leaned close to me and whispered in my ear.
“So . . . you and Puck, huh?” she asked, for a third time.
I felt my cheeks redden. “Layla, what you saw—”
“Colbie, if you apologize or say some stupid shit like ‘I don’t do that sort of thing, normally’”—her voice took on a whiny, simpering tone—“I swear to fuck, I’ll punch you, and take away any and all cool points you’ve earned with me up till now.”
I eyed her. “But—”
She put her finger over my lips. “No buts.” Her voice was pitched low enough that only I could hear her. “Puck is a cool guy. Not my type physically, but that doesn’t mean I don’t recognize the fact that he’s sexy. He’s a badass, and I’d bet any money he’ll rock your motherfuckin’ world.”
I snickered, a sound awfully close to a giggle. “He already did.”
“So don’t you dare try to explain that shit or make it seem like you have something to hide.” She bumped me with her shoulder. “Sister, when you decide you like a man, you get to choose what you do about it, and you don’t owe fucking anybody any explanations. So what if you just met him? If you trust him, you decide you want him, then you jump on that dick and ride him like a goddamn rodeo champion. That’s your right as a woman, as a person, and as a responsible adult. And when you’re done, you’re done. That’s it.”
“What if . . .” I wasn’t quite sure if I could even formulate the question out loud.
“What if you don’t wanna be done?” Layla filled in, her voice more normally pitched, and I nodded. “Then go with it. I was scared shitless when I realized Nick and I were a thing. But if what you got feels like it’s worth it, then you hold on and you don’t let go. When it stops being worth it, then you know it’s over. For Nick and me, it won’t ever not be worth it, so I keep holding on.”
“You make it sound simple.”
“Simple, yes. Easy, no.” She laughed. “Nick is an asshole. But he’s my asshole, and I love him, and his qualities far outweigh the fact that he can be a dick, that he’s a little controlling, a lot bossy, and super protective.”
“Controlling, bossy, and protective don’t seem like bad things.”
“When you’re a badass boss chick, it is. You seem a lot like me—independent to a fault, with a hair-trigger temper if anyone tries to make you do something you don’t want to do, or tries to keep you from doing what you want to do.”
I giggled, and yes, this time it was a stupid girly giggle. “You got that right.”
She nodded sagely. “When your man is used to giving orders and being obeyed but you’re the kind of chick who thinks it’s funny to defy orders just for the hell of it . . . things get tricky. And when that same man is bound and determined to make sure you never so much as chip a goddamn nail, much less see any real action, and you’ve developed a bit of an addiction to the thrill of danger and feeling like a badass boss chick . . . it gets even trickier.”
“He didn’t like you wanting to be part of the team?”
“The stupid caveman tried to order me to stay home.”
“What happened?”
“I ran off. Shook the tail he’d put on me, hunted his dumbass down.” She grinned, remembering. “He has an office on the West Coast, doesn’t go there a lot. But the op he was on required him to be in LA and I knew it, so I let myself into his office. Stripped down to my birthday suit and waited till I knew he was about to walk in, and made sure he caught me diddling myself.”
I snorted. “Wow. And that worked, did it?”
She blew a raspberry. “Fuck no, it didn’t work. Backfired completely. I thought I’d tease him until he agreed to let me go on the op with him.”
“But—?”
“But he turned the tables on me. Zip-tied me to his office chair and teased me with his cock until I was begging him to let me have it. I’ve got a weakness—I see his dick, I want his dick. He was all hard and kept putting it in me and touching my lips with it, and I was all hot and wet and shit, and he wouldn’t fucking give it to me. So I ended up agreeing to stay put.”
I couldn’t help laughing. “He must have a magical dick.”
“You have no idea.” She said this deadpan, no hint of irony or sarcasm.
“So you don’t go on ops?”
She shot me a look. “Of course I do. What kind of pussy do you take me for? I had no intention of actually staying home, I just wanted his dick and was willing to say anything to get it into my mouth.”
“Oh.” I wasn’t sure what else to say, because this girl clearly had zero filter, which was equal parts funny and disconcerting.
“Circumstances became such that he didn’t have a choice but to let me go with him, and I ended up proving that I was game—not that he should have needed more proof at that point anyway. I’d fought my way out of a previous situation, but that is a whole other story. Point is, I proved I could handle myself in a shootout and could follow orders when it really counted. And now I’m an active member of Alpha One Security’s core task force.” She leaned forward and glanced at Puck. “Ain’t that right?”
He held out his fist, and they tapped knuckles in front of me. “Hoo-rah, motherfucker.” He winked at me. “This bitch is stone-cold.”
I laughed. “No kidding. I’ve seen her in action.” I shook my head. “I think you’re all a little nuts. You crazy assholes seem like you actually enjoy this shit.”
Puck shrugged. “Eh, I guess we do.”
“Some people like sex, drugs, and rock ’n roll,” Layla said, “well, I prefer sex, guns, and gangsta rap.”
I laughed and shook my head, then turned to look out the window. I’d always wanted to see Prague, and so far I hadn’t seen a single thing, having been caught up in the conversation with Layla. I needed to let her advice and my own thoughts and feelings on the subject percolate a little, so I watched the scenery. We’d entered the city proper already, which meant we were on a narrow two-lane one-way road, with the buildings close by on either side, squat four- or five-story buildings with lots of windows and shops on the street level—the unmistakable look of old-world Europe. We took a twisting, looping series of turns, often doubling back or circling the same block more than once, and I realized the driver—a taciturn older man with salt-and-pepper hair underneath a flat cabbie cap—was making sure no one was following us. Eventually he must have been satisfied we weren’t being tailed, because he made an abrupt left turn and drove straight for half a dozen blocks, then circled another block twice before finally pulling into a parking spot in front of an apartment building. It was four stories, flat gray, squat and square and imposing, and pretty much identical to all the
other buildings I’d seen so far.
Ivar exited the van, opened the sliding side door, and gestured at Temple. “You. Come inside.” He glanced at the men in the back. “Blieb hier. Wenn es irgendwelche Probleme gibt, gehen Sie.”
The men both nodded. “Jawhohl.”
Temple reluctantly, nervously, climbed out, glancing back at us, and Ivar sighed in irritation. “You wish a friend for courage, ja?” Temple nodded, and Lola slid out after her, and the two women held hands. Ivar rolled his eyes. “It will take ten minutes, and you will not even feel it, probably. Like a finger prick, at most. Then done. Chin up, ja?”
Temple nodded again, and took a deep breath, and then lifted her chin high, following Ivar into the apartment building. Puck was standing outside the van, leaning against the frame of the door, and he had the little submachine gun in his hands, although I wasn’t sure where he’d stashed it up until now—certainly not in his pants; I nearly laughed out loud at my own lewd joke.
He must have caught my stifled laugh, because he glanced back at me. “What’s funny?”
I indicated his gun. “I was just wondering where you’d stashed that, and thought, certainly not in your pants.” He blinked at me blankly, not following the joke. “Because I did a rather—ahem—thorough search of that region, if you’ll recall.”
Layla couldn’t stifle a laugh, and a grin spread across Puck’s features.
“Yeah, no gun hiding in these pants,” he said.
I rolled my eyes at him. “You ruined the funny.”
“You wanna check again? Make sure I’m not hiding any more . . . firepower?” He winked at me. “Could be worth double checking.”
I laughed. “Hmm . . . yeah, I’m good. Pretty sure I wouldn’t find anything this soon anyway.”
“Ohh, shots fired,” Layla howled.
Puck just made a droll face. “Sure about that, darlin’? You might find yourself shocked how fast I can reload.”
I felt my face heat up, knowing both Kyrie and Layla were listening, and probably the driver and both guards, though who knew if they spoke English. None of Ivar’s men seemed to be paying attention, one standing near the hood, and the other near the rear end, their big fuck-off machine guns in plain view. Clearly, Ivar wasn’t worried about attention.
“Oh fuck off,” I said, because I didn’t have a better comeback. Mainly because I was pretty sure he’d be ready and raring to go, and I couldn’t deny that I’d sure as hell like to find out.
“Can’t take the heat, don’t dish it out, babe.”
“I can take the heat, asshole.”
He smirked, and I wanted to smack the smirk off his face as much as I wanted to kiss it off. “That’s not all you can take, sweet thing,” he said, with a suggestive wiggle of his eyebrows.
I choked on my own shock, then growled, and slapped him across the cheek, hard enough to count, but not hard enough to really hurt. “You’re a bastard, Puck Lawson.”
He let me hit him, and when I went to smack his arm he caught my wrist and yanked me out of my seat and against his chest. “And don’t you forget it,” he said. But then, more softly, meant just for me, with a thumb grazing over my cheek: “I’m just teasing, Colbie. I didn’t mean anything by it.”
I gave him a lazy smile. “I can take a joke, Puck.”
He laughed. “Well good, because I’ve got jokes.”
“Yeah, just not funny ones.”
“Ooh, now that’s what you call shots fired,” he said, brushing his lips against mine.
Ivar appeared with Temple and Lola in tow. He shot Puck a frown. “Can it not wait? We are on a timeline, you know.”
Puck lifted me into the van. “Hey, I’m ready when you are, bro.”
“Just do not be so distracted you miss important things.”
“Not a problem.”
Ivar nodded. “Now we go to another airport, and this time to a larger aircraft for the journey to the States.”
We were loaded into the van again and winding through Prague. Temple was touching a spot on the back of her head, right at the hairline at the base of her skull; she twisted in the seat and lifted her hair up to show us a small square bandage.
“Get the chip out?” Puck asked.
Temple nodded, held up a corked glass tube; inside the tube was a tiny cylinder not much bigger than a grain of rice. “I felt that bump, too, but I thought it was just a pimple or something.” She shook the tube, making the device rattle inside. “I can’t believe those assholes put a chip in me! If Duke and the boys hadn’t already killed most of them, I’d want them dead.”
“Yeah, well, we’re working on that,” Puck said. “The real culprit is Cain. Those jackasses were just the hired goons.”
“Is that thing deactivated or whatever?” Layla asked.
Temple nodded. “Dr. Emilia wiped it, somehow.”
“Are you sure you shouldn’t toss it, just in case?” Layla said.
“The circuitry was cooked with an electromagnetic pulse.” Ivar put in. “Fried, dead. No chance of it being reactivated.”
“So now we’re finally going home?” This was Kyrie.
“That is the plan, yes,” Ivar said.
“Well, if the tracker is fried, then we should be able to get away without a problem, right?” I asked.
Ivar nodded. “I never make any assumptions. Anything is possible.” He waved a hand in a vague gesture. “They would have traced us here to Prague. If they assume you are trying to return home to the States, there are only so many places where airplanes large enough for a transatlantic flight to take off from. We are not out of the woods yet, as they say.”
I didn’t see much more of Prague except nearly identical roads and buildings. But then, you couldn’t really experience a city properly unless you had at least three days to get out, get lost, and immerse yourself. Thirty minutes in and out didn’t really count as visiting, so I’d still have to leave Prague on my list of places to visit. The airfield we were going to was another two-and-a-half-hour drive outside of Prague, which left a lot of time to think.
But, me being me, that’s exactly what I wouldn’t do. If I started thinking, I’d start overthinking, and then I’d upset myself, and then all the emotional reactions I’ve been suppressing would start springing out and, as Ivar had said, we weren’t out of the woods yet, and I couldn’t afford to give in to thinking or reacting until I was somewhere truly safe.
No thinking.
So I turned to Puck for distraction.
“Do you have a favorite place?” I asked. “Like, a retreat or a secret getaway?”
He wasn’t fazed by the abruptness of the question. He thought for a moment, and then shot me a wink and a grin. “The back seat of that airplane.”
I huffed. “For real, Puck.”
He patted my leg. “Teasin’, babe. My cabin has always been my favorite getaway. Although now that Cain’s people know about it, I’m probably gonna sell it.” He tapped his kneecap with the muzzle of the submachine gun he still had strapped around his chest. “No point to a secret hideaway if Cain’s aware of it.”
“That sucks, huh?”
He sighed. “Yeah, it kinda does. It’s been in my family for going on two hundred years. That was where I went when I needed to get away from everything, you know? Plus, it’s really all I have to remember my family by. I mean, I didn’t have much to begin with, but now I ain’t got shit.”
I frowned at him. “You have no family? None?”
He shook his head. “Nah. Mom’s dead, Dad’s dead, never had brothers or sisters, or aunts or uncles. I think Pops had a brother and a sister at one point, but if they’re still alive, I don’t even know their names. His folks were gone before I was born, and Mom’s folks both passed a while back, and I never met ’em anyway, on account of the fact that when Mom married Pops, her folks disowned her. Said Pops was a no-account gambler, a drifter, and a piece of shit. They weren’t wrong about him, but that didn’t mean they should’ve disowned her.”
“And your mom was an only child too?” I asked.
He shrugged again. “Dunno, and there ain’t no point to finding out. What good is blood family if they’re total strangers? I’m almost fuckin’ forty, and I’ve gotten along fine without ’em so far, so there ain’t no point in digging up them bones.” His southern drawl was strong, for some reason; he didn’t like this topic, I supposed. He glanced at me. “What about you?”
“Favorite place? Or family?”
“Yes.”
“Well, you know about my family—same as you, I don’t have any.” I shrugged. “Only time it really makes a difference is around the holidays. That time of the year gets lonely.”
“Word,” Puck said. “If I’m not on an op, then I’m flat-out wasted during the holidays. I have a tradition, I rent a penthouse in Vegas, order up a shitload of booze, and I stay my ass in that penthouse getting shitfaced until the holidays are over.”
“And you probably also hire company, I’m guessing?” I asked, lifting an eyebrow at him.
He nodded. “Been known to a time or two, yes. Like you said, it gets lonely.”
“But is hired company really any kind of comfort?”
He bobbed his head to one side. “You’d be surprised. Most of those girls don’t have much family themselves, so spending the holidays getting paid to hang out with someone? Not a bad gig.”
“But you’re not paying them to just hang out, though,” I pointed out.
He leveled a reproving glare at me. “There you go with the assumptions again, sweetheart.” He ejected the magazine from the weapon, thumbed out one of the bullets, and toyed with it rather than looking at me. “When I rent out that penthouse, the singular goal is not to remember those two weeks, from before Christmas to after the New Year. So if I book an escort for those two weeks, it’s usually for the purpose of having someone around to make sure I don’t choke on my own fuckin’ puke, or do something monumentally stupid. Sometimes we do the obvious, yeah, but usually, we’d just hang out, talk, drink, and watch movies. Someone to just be there, more than anything. And, like I said, most of those girls are shy on meaningful family their own selves, so they’re grateful to not be sitting around alone. Instead, they have me, which I realize may not be a super amazing value add for them, but it’s a damn sight better than bein’ lonely on Christmas fuckin’ day.”
Puck: Alpha One Security Book 4 Page 16