Lycan Legacy - 4 - 5 - 6: Princess - Progeny - Paladin: Book 4 - 5 - 6 in the Lycan Legacy Series

by Veronica Singer

  “Are you ready to pay?”

  I laughed and pointed at my T-shirt clad torso, “Manny, does it look like I have a half-million dollars stuffed into my bra?”

  Manny stared at my breasts, then laughed. “Hell, you’re not even wearing a bra. Let me give you my banking details.”

  “I can’t do a bank transfer now. Everyone thinks Mike and I are dead. Setting up a transfer would set off alarms all over the world.”

  “You expect me to risk my life for the promise of a payoff later? How do I know you won’t screw me?”

  Mike coughed and exchanged a look with Manny. He made a complicated hand gesture I couldn’t decipher.

  “Okay, Mike vouches for you.” He took another sip of his coffee. “Still, the odds are bad, according to you. I’m going to need some kind of guarantee.”

  He was right. If he were the only survivor, how would he get his payoff? I didn’t want to use it, but we had no choice.

  I reached into my invisible bag and pulled out one of the few BITCHCoins I had brought on this mission.

  “You know what this is, right?”

  “I’ve heard of them, but never seen one in real life.” Manny pulled out his phone and said, “Do you mind if I verify this?”

  “Be my guest, Manny.”

  In seconds, he had scanned and verified the coin. Soon thereafter, he started receiving messages with offers.

  “Cash, gold, bitcoin, houses,” murmured Manny as he scrolled. “I’m getting a lot of offers. There’s even some ‘I will make your wishes come true’ messages. What’s that about?”

  “Scammers, Manny,” said Mike. “Stick with real assets.”

  Manny made a sour face. “The highest cash offer here is two hundred grand. That’s not what we agreed on.”

  He put the coin on the table and pushed it back toward me. His fingers shook slightly, and he pulled back quickly to hide his hands. “I’m going to need more.”

  “Consider it a down payment,” I said.

  His involuntary head shake spoke volumes.

  “Don’t you trust me?” I asked, and followed with, “How do I know you won’t run away with a full payment and leave me here?”

  Manny’s face darkened.

  Mike jumped in. “We can trust Manny,” he said, then turned to Manny. “And you can trust Luna.”

  Manny’s face calmed, but he still looked stubborn.

  “If Mike says you can be trusted, I believe him. Tell you what I’ll do,” I said. “I’ll write you a company check.”

  “Company check? You’re going to give me a check from the CIA?”

  “I’m not CIA, Manny. That’s a silly idea.”

  I pulled a notebook and a pen from my purse. Manny watched as I wrote Kuga-san’s name and address in English, followed by instructions in Fae.

  As I wrote, I explained, “Take this document and the BITCHCoin to the person at this address. I’m instructing her to honor the coin and give you the full $500,000 in cash or gold.”

  I paused before putting my signature on the form, struck by a thought. “I can also add instructions to transfer the money to someone else for you.”

  “Why?”

  “Just in case we all d—”

  Mike shook his head violently, and I caught myself. Soldiers don’t like mentioning death before a mission.

  “—don’t manage to regroup after the mission,” I amended. “We might have to leave the country quickly. That way, you can have someone else pick up the money for you.”

  “Maybe your ex?” asked Mike.

  “Hell, no! She dumped me and went back to Thailand,” said Manny. He thought for a moment. “Put my son’s name there. He’s seventeen.”

  “That much money at seventeen will probably ruin him,” said Mike.

  “It’s what Manny wants,” I countered.

  In a few seconds, the document was finished. I signed with a flourish, “Princess Luna the First,” and trickled magic into the signature to make it unique.

  Manny stared at the writing. “I can read the banker’s name, my name, and my son’s name. But I can’t read another word of this. Is this code?”

  “It’s a code that only a few people on Earth can read,” I said. “You’re going to have to trust us that it says what we promised.”

  Manny folded the document up and put it in his shirt pocket. He had a good poker face, but the scent of self-satisfaction came off him in waves.

  Mike chimed in, “Ell Tee, you understand the chain of command here, right?”

  “I’m not your lieutenant anymore,” said Manny. “I’ll have no problem following your orders.”

  Mike shook his head. “No, you won’t be following my orders, you’ll be following Luna’s.”

  Manny looked stubborn. I matched his look. “You have a problem taking orders from women?”

  “No, Ms. Not-CIA,” he said. “As long as you listen to the advice of those of us with actual combat experience.”

  I nodded. “Good point, Manny. I’ll follow your lead, unless I decide I need to make a change.”

  “Agreed.”

  “Now I just need some cash for essentials,” he said.

  I opened my mouth to object, but Mike nodded along. Apparently, half a million dollars wasn’t enough. Well, Manny had mentioned that expenses were separate.

  “How much?”

  “We need night-vision equipment, ammo, some demo. Say, thirty thousand dollars.”

  “Mike and I don’t need night-vision equipment, and I don’t shoot. That should save some money.”

  “Don’t shoot?” asked Manny. “Are you a pacifist? I can’t take a pacifist on a hostage rescue mission.”

  “I’m far from a pacifist, Manny. I don’t shoot because I’m not particularly good at it. I’m better with a bow or blades.” If you count werewolf claws as blades.

  “You’ve really never shot anyone? How do we know you won’t freeze in a firefight?”

  “She won’t freeze,” said Mike.

  At Manny’s scoffing look, he continued, “Luna’s killed more people than both of us put together. And she did it all from arm’s length.”

  “Okay, you’re dangerous up close. So was my ex. What if your enemy is too far away to stab?”

  “I use my feminine wiles to lure him in until I can slash him.”

  Manny laughed in derision. “‘Feminine wiles.’ I’d love to see that.”

  I leaned forward on the table, ensuring my breasts were on prominent display, and placed my right elbow on the wooden surface, arm straight up. “You want to arm-wrestle?”

  Manny’s eyes darted down to my breasts, then he forced them up to look in my eyes. “Arm-wrestle? Why?”

  “You seem to think I can’t pull my own weight here. I want to prove I’m strong enough to lead this mission.”

  I gave him my sincere smile and wiggled my fingers. “Come on, SEAL. Show me how strong you are.”

  Manny grinned, leaned in, and put his arm on the table. When our palms were one inch apart, he jerked back abruptly, putting maximum distance between us.

  “Hey! You’re using your feminine wiles on me. You want to lure me in and put a knife to my throat.”

  I leaned back and laughed. “You’re smarter than you look, Manny.”

  Then I leaned in again and put my arm on the table. “I still want to arm-wrestle you. Country girls are strong, and I want to prove it. Let’s do this. I promise I won’t hurt you.”

  Manny pursed his lips in thought. He shook his head and drawled out, “I don’t think so. I saw you toss that tire around like it was an inflatable pool float. You probably could beat me. You’re stronger than you look.”

  “And you’re a lot smarter than you look,” I said.

  I pulled my half-full cup back and absent-mindedly ran a finger around the rim of the cup, heating the coffee back to drinking temperature.

  Manny stared at the steam rising from my cup, then blinked several times and shook his head as he rejected the evi
dence of real magic.

  I sipped and thought. The back-and-forth with Manny had been tiresome, but necessary. Just as Mike had been tested by the Israeli Special Forces pack, Manny needed to test me, get a feel for what I could do and how I would react.

  “Okay, Manny. Back to our preparations. Mike and I don’t need night-vision equipment or gas masks. I don’t need a weapon. That should cut down on expenses.”

  “Not much. I still need the demolition equipment. Black market C-4 doesn’t come cheap.”

  “Okay.” I gritted my teeth. “Thirty thousand. Is that all?”

  “It should be enough. Are you going to write another check?”

  I pulled a handful of Krugerrands out of my magic handbag. Stacking five rows of five on the table, I asked, “Is this enough for you?”

  Manny’s breath caught for a second. “Where did you get all this gold from?”

  “I own a gold mine, Manny. Can you convert these to local currency and get the stuff we need?”

  “‘Own a gold mine,’” he laughed. “I get it. You’ve got your secrets and I don’t have need-to-know. Sure, I can exchange these for cash and get the stuff and be ready by tonight.”

  14

  Mike and Manny left at two p.m. to meet Manny’s black-market connection. I wanted to come along, but they both vetoed that idea.

  “Luna, we can’t bring a woman to this meeting,” said Mike. “The seller will balk at having you there.”

  “Won’t they balk at having you there?” I countered.

  “They’ll expect me to have an armed backup,” said Manny.

  I had to admit that Manny knew more about this than me. I nodded acceptance.

  Once they left, I was at loose ends. Time for some exercise. I longed to run outside, but had been warned to stay in the house. I had to admit a tall, well-built woman racing around the compound at Olympic-sprinter speeds would probably cause gossip. Better to stay inside.

  I turned off the air-conditioner and slid open the patio door, allowing ambient air to enter, but left the sheer curtains closed. The temperature in the house quickly climbed, perfect for a workout.

  I put my hair in a ponytail with a scrunchy and wrapped a spare towel around my neck. Then I stripped down to panties and a T-shirt.

  With no room to run, I substituted one hundred sprints up and down the stairs for a warm-up.

  I emptied my backpack and slid one of Manny’s spare water bottles inside, adding about twenty kilos of weight to the pack. Not as elegant as the weighted vest I used at home, but it did the trick.

  I strapped it on and ran the stairs for another fifty laps, ending the last descent with shaky legs and covered in sweat.

  I squatted at the foot of the stairs for a sixty count to rest. Then, still wearing the backpack, I started doing a series of frog jumps—jumping to the first stair, then back to ground level, followed by a higher jump to the second stair, then back to ground level, then the third. Up and down, up and down, up and down. I maxed out on the fifth stair, unable to jump higher, so ran the progression in reverse, ending up squatting at the foot of the stairs again.

  “You should be doing better, Luna,” I gasped to myself. Maybe the sloshing water was making it harder?

  I shook off the excuses and lay down for some weighted crunches. The bottom stair had a lip, so I propped my toes under it for support. With the water bottle snuggled to my chest, I started on crunches. My abs were still sore from working on the SUV the night before, but I pushed through the pain and ran through sets of crunches—fifty, then one hundred, then one-fifty. Then the same in reverse.

  The plastic water bottle was molded with a handle in the side, which made it an imperfectly balanced dumbbell. Still, I could use it for working my biceps and triceps.

  It was after four p.m. when I called it quits and put the water bottle away. I wiped down with the towel and went upstairs to shower.

  I almost entered Manny’s room, the room I had used earlier for my nap. He had reclaimed it now that he was recovered.

  My werewolf sent an image of Manny arriving to find me freshly showered and napping naked in his bed. “Yeah, bad idea,” I said. Staying in here would send the wrong message. My inner wolf makes a good chaperon.

  I showered in the bathroom at the end of the hallway. Dressing was another problem. I didn’t want to wear the T-shirt and camo pants around the house. At home, I would just wear panties. Werewolves are indifferent to skin.

  I decided to wear the black abaya over my panties. That should give enough coverage to avoid offending my host and still be comfortable.

  Was there anything else I could take care of while waiting? Yeah, clean up my mess and wash my soiled clothes.

  I put Manny’s washer and dryer to good use, then spent a half-hour cleaning up all the downstairs. Just a touch of magic made cleaning quick and easy.

  I made another pot of coffee and sat at the now-spotless dining room table to sip. My phone pinged with a message from Mike.

  Headed back now. 30 min. Followed a few seconds later by: Should we pick up dinner?

  I texted a quick Yes! I’m starved.

  OK, 1 hour.

  My tension rose in anticipation of the upcoming mission. Too keyed up to rest, I searched for something else to do in preparation.

  Just enough time to check out my pack and equipment. I inventoried the backpack, and deemed most of its contents surplus. I removed the extra MREs, the canteen, and other tools, leaving lots of space for any demo equipment we might have to take.

  Then I checked out the contents of my invisible handbag. Not much in there. I hadn’t brought any potent magical items, aside from my moonstone amulet. That left my iron-knuckled gloves, good-luck charm/lockpick, passports, ID cards, etc.

  All the Krugerrands and my last activated BITCHCoin had been turned over to Manny. I still had three BITCHCoins that I could activate, but that would be a last resort. Those and a few more magic hood ornaments were the last of my assets.

  Under my probing hand, something slithered against my palm. I jerked back abruptly. Had some desert snake crawled in while we had traipsed through the desert? And why hadn’t my wolf alerted me?

  I held the top of the bag closed and sniffed. No scent of reptile. What could it be?

  Holding the bag away from myself, I inverted it and dumped the contents to the floor. No snake—just my bedraggled silk climbing rope: fifty feet of line with a baseball-sized knotted end.

  Then the rope twisted and contracted, raising its knotted head into the air like a cobra.

  Joy flashed through my heart. “Silkworm! You’re alive!”

  The ball gave a tiny head shake. “Okay,” I corrected myself, “not alive. But you’re back and I’m happy to see you.”

  Silkworm gave an emphatic nod, then slithered up to my feet and rose to waist-height. I petted her head and she rubbed against my palm like a puppy.

  “Give me a hug,” I invited. She wrapped around my wrist, stuck her head under my sleeve and coiled her way up my arm to my shoulder to lay against my neck. The length of her rope body coiled loosely around my torso inside the abaya.

  “I thought I’d lost you forever,” I whispered.

  Silkworm had saved my life when I had fought a time-warping Fae assassin by cocooning the murderer and locking him in place. The assassin had burned out his life force trying to escape Silkworm and had nearly destroyed her, leaving only frayed remains with scant signs of life.

  I had probed Silkworm with both werewolf and magician senses, but found no scent of magic, no reaction to my probes. To all appearances, Silkworm was a simple silk rope with a knotted ball at one end.

  I chattered away as I gathered all my items and returned them to my bag.

  “You’ve missed so much. The twins were born six months ago.”

  A slight tightening of her coils stopped me.

  “Oh, don’t be jealous of the babies. I’ll always make time for you.”

  A gentler hug of reassurance.
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  “Thanks. Then Mason was injured while saving us from a demon attack. He’s recovering in Fae, but it will be several months before he can come home.”

  Another squeeze. “Oh, yes! I miss him so much! But keeping up with the babies, my career, and running the pack has kept me so busy that I barely have time to think.”

  The knot pulled away from my neck and poised itself in front of my head. The rope twisted into a question mark shape.

  “What are we doing here? Well, Logan’s daughter ran away from home and came here. Logan had the hare-brained idea that he should rescue her by himself. Her friends were ready for a werewolf and trapped him in chains of silver. I felt his pain through our pack link and—here we are.” I was leaving out a ton of detail, but that imparted the essentials.

  Another question mark. “Of course we’re going to rescue him! He was my first packmate. But if we get out of this alive, I’m going to have strict words with him.”

  The knot nodded again.

  “You want to help with the rescue? I would love your help. Are you sure you’re up to it?”

  A slightly less emphatic nod, followed by a lowered head.

  “I’m sure you’ll do your best. I’ll be grateful for any help you can give us.”

  The sound of Manny’s SUV pulling up came from the front of the house.

  “I think you should get back in the bag now. I have no idea how Manny will react to seeing you.”

  A nod, then the head closed in and nuzzled my cheek gently. In just a few seconds, Silkworm was back in my bag, apparently inert.

  Manny entered, carrying a stuffed duffel bag in one hand and a smaller canvas bag in the other. He dumped the large bag unceremoniously on the floor but took great care to gently place the small bag far away from the large bag.

  Manny looked at me, staring so intently that I looked down. Damn! Silkworm had loosened my buttons while cuddling, exposing my breasts. I buttoned up quickly.

  Manny kept staring. It irked both my wolf side and my woman side.

  “You sure know how to welcome a guy back,” he said with a grin.

  “What?” I asked sharply. I suddenly preferred the old, grumpy Manny. Maybe I had overdone his cure?