Monkey See, Monkey Do [Drunk Monkeys 9] (Siren Publishing Ménage Everlasting)

by Tymber Dalton

  Leta watched her two men watching the woman, their hands resting on the butts of the nines on their hips. In fact, Chief stood within feet of Tank, her focus never wavering from the young woman.

  It all made Leta more than a little nervous. She didn’t want any of their group getting hurt, but she also didn’t want any of the students getting hurt, either.

  * * * *

  Uncle watched Tank even as he listened to what Papa was saying. One of the girls who’d been in the truck with Tank, Sylvan, seemed to edge closer to Papa and Alpha. As if seeking comfort.

  And Alpha seemed more than happy to let her.

  Well, now.

  Their CO and first officer were the last “single” pair of guys in their unit. Maybe they’d just picked up their third without even realizing it.

  Although the student didn’t strike him as someone the men would be interested in. She might be computer-smart, but she’d come off a little air-headed in his book from what little he’d spoken to her so far.

  Then again, none of them were at their best right now. Hell, Leta had been dead on her feet when they met her, and look what happened.

  Sylvan smiled up at Alpha and started talking to him, low tones he couldn’t hear from where he stood.

  That’s why it surprised him when Tank stepped over, got between them with a harsh scowl for Alpha, and herded the girl back toward the other students with a final dark look shot at Alpha.

  Hmm.

  When they were getting ready to load up again, Uncle walked over to Alpha, who was watching the four women head for Lima’s SUV.

  “Man, what’d you say to piss Tank off?”

  He shrugged. “Fuck if I know. She’s the one with the gun?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Maybe she’s just in momma bear mode. Can’t say’s I blame her.”

  “That girl, Sylvan, seemed to have eyes for you.”

  Another shrug. “Let’s move out. We can shoot the shit later.”

  Uncle couldn’t help but smile to himself as they returned to the SUV.

  Maybe there’d be one last happily ever after for their group.

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Jerald did his part, making sure a car and a security team were dispatched from the compound to the airfield to collect his idiot boss early Monday afternoon upon the man’s return from Vermont. Of course Hannibal had held the scheduled service that morning, filming it as planned, in addition to two on Sunday.

  Only this time, Jerald didn’t trip over himself, losing sleep to prepare modified messages for the man.

  He let the old man tough it out on his own. Seeing the obvious—to him—difference in Hannibal’s performance Sunday morning made Jerald smile as he lounged on his couch in his pjs and watched on TV with everyone else. Hannibal looked off his game, sounded unsure, unsteady, even. In this case that would work to their advantage, image-wise, but it also told Jerald something.

  Hannibal needed him. Needed him to craft the messages for him. Needed his guidance and input.

  And he’d be damned sure to point that out to the man when they had their come-to-Jesus meeting upon Hannibal’s return.

  Not to mention tithes were down even more than usual from Sunday and Monday’s services.

  Something else Jerald would be sure to rub in the old man’s face. At this juncture, they couldn’t afford any missteps that cost them money.

  If Hannibal wanted to continue his Quixotic quest, he’d have to listen to Jerald.

  Jerald would, of course, neglect to mention his own plans. The hardest part about all of this was keeping up the pretense that he was in it to win it, for the long haul.

  Shouldn’t be too difficult for only a few more weeks, if that. Any earlier opportunity he saw, he’d pounce. Maybe if Hannibal was out of the way Mary would feel safe coming in from the cold, and then he could take her out, too.

  He was at work in his office when Hannibal walked in. On a phone call with the compound out in Washington state, Jerald had simply nodded toward Hannibal without bothering to interrupt his call.

  Fuck him. If Hannibal was going to go off on his own, he could damn well wait a few minutes.

  Hannibal impatiently dropped into one of the chairs in front of Jerald’s desk while Jerald wrapped up his conversation with the man. Jerald hung up and then sat back, waiting.

  The preacher flinched first. He glanced down at his lap before his gaze wandered around Jerald’s sparsely decorated office and then settled somewhere on the desk.

  “Well?” Hannibal asked.

  Jerald let him sweat it out for several more seconds before he quietly spoke. “I don’t know what you want from me.” He was done dancing to the preacher’s tune.

  “Say something.”

  Jerald crossed his arms over his chest. “You done trying to outsmart General Arliss?”

  “What about all of our pl—”

  “No.” Jerald held up a finger to silence the old man. “Your plans, not ours. If they were our plans, you never would have done something as fucking stupid as you did.”

  “But—”

  “I’m not finished, Hannibal.” Jerald stood and rounded the desk, then perched on the edge. “I imagine whoever you talked to is likely dead by now. No doubt the gunmen killed at the CDC are not who the media claims they are. If any two of those men have a direct tie back to your contact, the connection has been made by now.” He glared at Hannibal. “Did you honestly think Arliss wouldn’t have half of a militia stationed at the CDC to protect those scientists and their work?”

  “I figured with the money I was paying that they were experienced enough to know their jobs better than I did.” He pinched the crease in the center of his trousers and snapped it into place.

  “You are a fucking idiot. Seriously, you are.”

  Hannibal glared up at him. “Well, your plans certainly haven’t borne fruit.”

  “Not all of them, no. Some of them have. The ones I didn’t have to fight you on certainly have. Some of them, no, because of outside forces like, oh, your fucking wife up and disappearing.”

  Another baleful glare from Hannibal.

  “And what account did you get the money from?”

  “That’s personal.”

  “Yeah? Well, hand the info over on that one, and any others you’ve been keeping back.”

  “Why should I?”

  “Did you stop to think to look through them when Mary disappeared? Maybe she took more money than we realized. That could have been a valuable clue that might have led to finding her.”

  Hannibal’s jaw snapped shut on whatever he’d been about to say.

  “Exactly,” Jerald said. He stood and returned to his chair. “You’re an idiot. You honestly think I don’t know you have bank accounts and contacts out there? Think again. How do you think I’ve managed to operate so smoothly for you for all these years?” He turned to his computer.

  “How dare—”

  Jerald smacked his desk, making the man flinch. “Don’t even, Hannibal.” He jabbed a finger at him. “We go on, business as usual around here. Doing our public duty, whatever the hell that means. Surviving. You try to make me disappear, though, it’ll be the worst mistake of your life. It’ll bring down a shit-ton of stuff on you you’ll never get out from under.”

  Hannibal sat back.

  “Oh, yes, old man,” Jerald said. “You’re not the only one with an insurance policy out there. So we’ll go on about our business, we’ll tolerate each other, and then, when it’s mutually beneficial, I’ll think about walking away. Only then, in my time. Understand?”

  Hannibal’s gaze narrowed.

  “Or I can drop that bomb now and we all end up dead thanks to General Arliss’ pet Drunk Monkeys. Don’t think I won’t take you with me and burn every last inch of this place to the ground in the process. Metaphorically.”

  The preacher stood as Jerald leaned back and propped his feet on his desk. “The last few months have taught me more than the past several
years with you, Hannibal. I always knew you were a sadist and a sick fuck, but to have the proof of it…let’s just say that I’m willing to keep your secrets for you. I’m willing to help you cover stuff up. But if at any time you even so much as lean the wrong way and I think you’re going to sacrifice me? Buddy, you will really know what hell is then. Guaranteed.”

  Jerald held his breath as Hannibal turned on his heel and left, leaving the office door standing open behind him.

  Breathing out a sigh of relief, Jerald got up and walked over, closing it.

  Asshole.

  He hadn’t been sure the threat would work, but from the way the man’s shoulders had drooped when Jerald threatened him, he knew it had.

  Coming on the heels of one last humiliating defeat, in an operation Jerald had nothing to do with, Hannibal could no longer deny that he needed Jerald.

  Maybe not needed, but Hannibal certainly couldn’t do without him.

  Jerald wouldn’t let him.

  I should have stood up to him a long time ago.

  But that had been before Kite, before all the things he couldn’t take back. Every step just a little farther than the last one, but when he looked back he saw the marathon distance he’d traveled, the morals left bleeding and dying in the dust behind him, discarded.

  Things he’d done before TMFU, they were Karma, as far as he was concerned. People had done things to him all his life, and he’d finally gotten even. Nothing people didn’t deserve.

  Setting up a shell company to buy up mortgages and foreclose at the first violation of the terms.

  Done it.

  Ditto car notes and repo operations.

  A few more scores settled from high school and college.

  Looking up old classmates and finding out where they worked, where their businesses were located, and buying the buildings to evict those businesses. Or, better, buying the business and closing it down.

  Yep.

  Check.

  No more. He would hold Hannibal at this line in the sand, for logical reasons. Hannibal knew he’d fucked up. No telling how much money, gone.

  Wasted.

  Money better in their own pockets or in the church’s coffers.

  And one more target on their backs, putting them squarely in General Arliss’ sights.

  Fucking dumbass.

  He headed back to his desk to get some work done. No more killing himself for the church or for that man.

  Now, it was time to get the rest of his life in order.

  A life without Hannibal Silo.

  * * * *

  Leta sat back and watched the scenery go by. The town quickly gave way to seemingly endless miles of rolling farmland. Then they turned north down a country lane, pausing as a gate rolled open in front of them. In the distance to their right, to the north and east, sat a farmhouse and barn, but the fields lay fallow, snow covering much of them.

  A car pulled in behind them. “Who’s that?”

  “Annie,” they both said.

  She realized there was a lone woman behind the wheel. “Oh. The sniper?”

  “Yep,” they said.

  “I don’t see a base,” she said.

  “You’re not supposed to,” Uncle said. “Just wait.”

  They drove past the house and barn and over another hill. Around them, except for another barn, lay nothing but empty fields, including some cows grazing in one of them.

  They headed for the barn. Leta thought Papa would stop when he pulled up to the large door, but he drove through it without slowing. And as the vehicles followed him into the dark interior, she realized they didn’t have to stop.

  They were now driving down a steep ramp and into a well-lit underground garage area. Once all the vehicles were inside, a hatch slowly lowered into place behind them, sealing them in.

  Several armed men, all dressed in black fatigues, showed them where to park.

  “I’m guessing we’re here?” Leta asked.

  “We’re here,” Uncle said.

  They got out and gathered around Papa. “They’ll get a couple of carts up here to unload.” He focused on Tank, who’d taken a position in front of the other students. “We have a few hours before we leave again. Anything that’s not important gets left behind. We’ll be providing you shelter and food, so take only clothes, your computers, the essentials. Weight’s at a premium. You can leave everything else here and it’ll get brought later.”

  “I want to clarify one thing,” Tank said. “We’re safe now, right? Immunity?”

  “Safe, yes. You aren’t going to be allowed to get online from here, though. You’ll find even your sat-link signals jammed. No offense, it’s for security purposes. Once we’re at our final destination, you’ll be debriefed and instructed on how to securely access the Internet so you don’t give away your location. As far as ‘immunity,’ that’s above my pay grade. My instructions are to get you safely to our final destination so you can get back to work.”

  Apparently that was good enough for Tank. She nodded. “Thanks.”

  “No problem. And before you ask, the personnel stationed here is not standard military. Their direct orders are to keep you safe.”

  “I take it Leavenworth still doesn’t know this place exists?”

  Papa frowned, but shook his head. “No. It’s totally black ops.” He addressed the rest of the students. “You’ll have time to shower and eat before we go. Our unit’s QM will get you some cold-weather gear to take with us. Anything else we’ll have to have brought in after arrival.”

  Sylvan seemed to have taken a definite shine to Alpha. She tried to walk around Tank to speak to him, but Tank grabbed her by the upper arm and pulled her back.

  “We stay together,” Tank told her, glaring at her.

  The girl blanched but finally nodded.

  Alpha apparently had enough of that nonsense. “She’s safe here. She won’t be allowed to go off-limits, but—”

  “We stay together. That’s how we’ve stayed alive.” Tank defiantly stared up at Alpha until he finally blinked first.

  He shrugged. “Suit yourself, lady.” He turned away to speak to Lima.

  Leta leaned in to whisper in Uncle’s ear. “Wow. She doesn’t like Alpha, does she?”

  “Apparently not.”

  The base’s crew got their gear moved. Leta left her car keys on the dash of her SUV, feeling more than a little reluctant to say good-bye to it again.

  They’d assured her it’d be safe until she came back for it.

  Given the events of the morning, and of Saturday, she hoped she’d be coming back for it.

  She helped her guys get their stuff moved, and then she lost track of the student group. Their unit had been given a small wing two floors down, complete with bunk beds and showers, while the students had been taken elsewhere.

  Leta took a moment to seek Chief out. “What’s up with that girl, Tank?”

  “Who knows? Sylvan, Torphin, and Malyern were asking us questions on the drive here. When it came up about us all pairing up with the guys, Sylvan seemed to get really interested in that and then Tank shut her down. I guess one of the two guys who was killed, Gatsby, he was sort of their leader and Sylvan really had a crush on him. It would appear Tank is their de facto leader now, and I think she’s just really scared and doesn’t want Sylvan latching onto any of our guys. Not that I blame her. Tank, I mean.”

  “She didn’t act very scared when she was pointing a gun at my head.”

  Chief laughed. “I did get her to talk about that. Military brat. Her dad did survival training drills with her all the time while she was growing up. She apologized, said she was just scared for herself and her friends, and her training sort of took over.”

  “Oh.”

  “Yeah, right? I asked her if she was a cop, and that’s how we got on the subject.”

  “Is that how she killed the guys?”

  Chief shook her head. “The other women seemed too shaken to remember the details. The team chased
them down and the other car died. Tank went back for their friends and shot at the attackers, then ran over two of them.”

  “Ran over them?”

  “Yeah. It looks like none of the other kids have any kind of defensive training. If it wasn’t for Tank, they might all be dead. They’re lucky she was with them.”

  “Yeah.” Just like she’d been lucky Clara stayed behind with her at the CDC.

  There wasn’t much time to think about all of that, though. They grabbed showers, ate, and repacked, ready to go as they all laid down for a quick nap. It was after ten o’clock local time that night when they were doing the final loading of what was a huge cargo plane.

  “How’d it get down here?” she asked Uncle. Zed, Victor, and Echo, it appeared, were part of the plane’s “official” crew with Panda, even though Echo and Zed had been up in Georgia when they’d had to make their emergency move from Florida.

  “Same as we did,” Uncle explained. “Sort of. Elevator system. The hatches slide back for the runway and slide in again. Easier to take off and land at night when we can stay hidden better. We’re all fueled up and ready to go now.”

  An RV sat parked inside the plane and had been secured with a number of tie-down straps. “That’s the mobile lab?”

  “Yep. That thing, right there, should end up in the Smithsonian when this is all said and done. Because of that thing, we were able to get the samples across the country from LA.”

  Leta caught sight of the students emerging from a different doorway, laden with their gear. Tank, of course, was in the lead, following one of the base personnel over to the plane.

  She also didn’t miss how Tank seemed to play sheepdog, keeping the students together and separate from the Drunk Monkeys.

  Especially Sylvan, who seemed bound and determined to speak to Alpha any chance she got.

  Leta tugged on Uncle’s shirt to get his attention. He leaned in.

  “Maybe I should distract Tank so Sylvan can talk to Alpha.”

  Uncle smiled. “I wouldn’t. Tank seems determined to keep them apart.”

  Once the gear was secure and they were all strapped in and ready, the rear cargo hatch and side doors were closed and Zed disappeared into the cockpit with the others.