Blown Away

by L. J. Vickery

  “Fine.”

  Ishkur didn’t wait to hear any more. The last thing he needed was to get caught in this woman’s kitchen, feeding her little girl. Can you say pedophile? She’d call the cops on him before he could imagine how to explain.

  He quickly made his way to the back door, eased it open, and didn’t breathe a sigh of relief until one hundred yards away where he disappeared.

  He stopped and willed his racing heart to still. Ishkur certainly hadn’t expected this. Only one thing stood out clearly. He was gobs too old for Dunsky’s sister to be his Chosen, and now that he had a chance to analyze things, the resemblance of Maity to his long-ago daughter made sense. Holy hell. His bloodlines had just surfaced.

  Chapter Thirteen

  “She’s got some big ass motherfucker with her.” Stave had not been anxious to give the news to his boss. Sal’s interest in Candy went beyond revenge. The explosion was just what he expected.

  “Fucking hell.” Sal slammed his fist down on his desk and everything on it jumped from the impact. “Who is he? I assume you took pictures.” Sal glowered and Stave squirmed.

  “We did.” Stave skated a pile of grainy black and whites across the desk that he’d taken of the couple walking. He still couldn’t get the hang of using his cell phone for surveillance. He’d gone the old-fashioned route with a telephoto and high-speed film. Anything to avoid those little fucking phone buttons, against which he stood no chance without his old-guy glasses.

  Stave continued for Sal. “The guy doesn’t ID anywhere. No matches with any government employees, no rap sheets, we’ve checked all the normal avenues. Hell, we even caught some audio, and she called him some fucked up name that sounds like N-Leel. Could be a hip-hop artist she’s hooked up with, or a drug dealer from the East Coast she’s trying to break. We have intel that she came in yesterday on a flight from Boston, and I’ve got some guys working on the passenger list to see if he flew with her.”

  Sal picked up the pictures and his face turned cold. Stave understood why. The man in the photos was everything Sal wasn’t. The N-Leel person was young, tall, and well-built. The only thing that would bring Sal any comfort? Candy, in each of the pictures, kept a good foot of distance between herself and the man. No hand holding, no rubbing against each other, and no mooning eye contact.

  “Did you follow him after he dropped her at her apartment?” Sal withdrew a particularly good close-up of Candy from the pile and stared down at her face.

  Stave swallowed. “Uh. The guy went in with her, boss.” He cleared his throat and looked at his shoes briefly. “And he hasn’t come back out. I’ve still got some guys watching.”

  Sal looked up at the clock. Nearly midnight. He glared at the picture then crumpled it fiercely. Stave got that it burned the boss’s balls to think of some asshole fucking Candy right now.

  “Take him out, Stave.” Sal’s voice shook with anger.

  Stave blinked. What? He had to raise the question. “What about your no-collateral-damage rule, boss?”

  Sal lived and breathed his edict that no innocent relative or bystander would be killed or used against a person he targeted. It was one of the things Stave had always respected about his boss.

  Sal growled, clearly battling with himself and losing. “Fine. I’ll give you one week to get me everything about the guy. I want to know his name, where he comes from, and dammit…” His eyes turned dark. “If he’s fucking her, he’s no longer considered innocent. Anything carnal between them and I want his balls on my desk, do you understand?”

  Stave acknowledged the order, slowly backing away from his boss and nodding agreement.

  “And, Stave,” Sal’s words stopped his egress. “I want pictures from inside her bedroom. I need to see if she’s giving him anything.” Anything she didn’t give to me, were his unspoken words, and Stave understood. The boss had worked for months, patiently trying to get into Candy’s pants without success, and if she let this blond giant so much as fingerfuck her, he was a dead man. As was Candy, but not until Sal had banged her sweet cunt over and over while she begged for mercy. Stave grimaced at the picture. Damn. This smelled of trouble, and he kinda liked Candy.

  ****

  Enlil wasn’t happy with the new arrangement, but then again, nothing Candy decreed made him overjoyed. He believed he’d been making progress with her, but on the way back from her mother’s house, she’d gotten a whole new stick up her ass. Far from the hot babe who’d nearly banged him in the shower, Candy had reverted to her old aggressive self. What the fuck had he done?

  “Just because my mother likes you, doesn’t mean a frigging thing to me,” she told him. “When we get back to my place, you can throw the pull-out mattress on the floor, because you sure as shit aren’t sleeping in my bed. Do I make myself clear?” Her violet eyes skewered him in the dark, and he wondered if maybe she didn’t hate him. Maybe she just didn’t trust herself. Either way, time at good old Mom’s had certainly given the spitfire agent back her attitude. Dammit. They’d been slowly approaching the finish-line-to-fucking―even though the virginal turn of events had decelerated the pace. Now he’d have to start from square one.

  Virgins were a tricky business, and even if she was his Chosen, with this new revelation, he might need the help of either the collar or the chains back at the compound. Those two items were leftovers from when their queen, Ereshkigal, had sent them to Earth’s surface in the 1600s. Any god or goddess encompassed by the enchanted metal had no choice but to obey orders.

  The god Anshar had used the collar to great success, having his Chosen, Lenore, put it on him. She’d ordered him not to turn into his big old scary serpent for their first few sexual encounters until the feisty Lenore decided she liked Anshar’s scaly bits. The collar, successfully accomplishing that job, had gone back into storage. It had been used effectively, subsequent to that with other gods.

  If Enlil could get Candy to use it on him, he wouldn’t turn into his bull and risk having an enormous hard-on. Maybe she’d thought it over, had second thoughts, and the collar would be a one-two punch. It would ease his mind, and keep Candy from being hit with full-on bovine love.

  Enlil sighed. If that meant sleeping on the thin mattress on the floor for another week, he guessed he could suck it up. He’d get Candy back to the Blue Hills after Christmas, procure the collar, and finish consummation there.

  Once he lit up, the amulet ceremony could be performed, and the two of them could ignore the shit out of each other for the rest of eternity. That should make her happy.

  Enlil would have his freedom and powers back, and Candy wouldn’t end up with a shitty deal either. She’d be a goddess, and her powers would allow her to kick any mortal’s ass to the curb. Not much made the agent happy, but if anything could, that would be it.

  On the other hand, if Candy relegated him to the floor because she didn’t trust herself, even better. If she couldn’t resist him already, it would make her seduction that much easier.

  It hadn’t taken long for them to get into her apartment and get ready for bed. He’d put on his best pout for Candy, but she hadn’t relented. He now lay on the floor.

  Enlil punched his pillow and tried to get comfortable. He briefly wondered where Ishkur had disappeared to, although “disappear” wasn’t quite the right choice of wording for Ishkur the always invisible.

  Ishkur, my man? Enlil sent out the connection. Are you awake and prowling?

  Awake. What can I do for you? Hmm. Ishkur sounded curt. Something must not be going his way.

  Some internal combustion engine turn you down? Enlil joked about Ishkur’s love of cars. I know it can’t be woman problems because you have no viable crankshaft.

  Hey, listen. Ishkur completely ignored Enlil’s attempt at humor. I’m going to be off the grid for a couple of days, okay?

  Problem, my friend? Enlil, all joking aside, became instantly alert.

  Well… He could feel the hesitation from Ishkur. Marduk asked if I’d look in on D
unsky’s sister, who’s staying at his house due to an asshole husband problem. I need some time to dig into things a little deeper.

  Enlil’s impulse was to drop everything and help Ishkur, but his friend must have sensed that, quickly cutting him off. There’s no problem yet, Ishkur assured. I just a need to ferret out some information. I’ll let you know if and when I need backup.

  All right, if you’re sure. Enlil settled back down. Something wasn’t quite right, but he trusted Ishkur enough to let him run his own show.

  Yeah, and don’t say anything to Candy or the rest of the agents. Apparently, only Jake knows of Dunsky’s and his sister’s arrangement and he wants to keep it that way.

  Do you mind if I give Jake a heads up? It might be good to have some corporeal intervention if we need it. Was that a snort he got from Ishkur? What the fuck did that mean?

  Talk to Jake if you want, Ishkur relayed back. But I think this is something I can handle on my own.

  If you say so. Enlil had an uneasy feeling. Just keep in touch, will you? The last thing we need right now―being on the West Coast and with holidays and baby births closing in―is more drama. Now he really did get a full-fledged snort from Ishkur.

  Haven’t you figured that one out yet? Our lives are completely about the drama. Some fucking uber-god somewhere is really playing with our heads.

  Enlil would have agreed, but Ishkur cut their connection. His brow furrowed. None of what just played out was typical of Ishkur. The god had always been known for his practical approach to problems. Never did he do secretive or hesitate to ask for help, be it with a wrench or a demon.

  Enlil looked at the clock. Shit. Too late to contact Marduk now. The poor guy already didn’t get enough sleep due to his near-to-bursting wife. Enlil would not wake him up. First thing in the morning, he would contact him for a little head-talk. He needed to see if Ishkur’s vagary was anything to worry about, or if he was reading shit into it due to his own situation with Candy.

  Sleep still eluded Enlil. After tossing and turning for another hour, he finally decided to go out and get some air. He donned jeans but didn’t bother with a shirt. The night seemed unseasonably warm and he wouldn’t be corporeal very long anyway. As soon as he walked a block away, he’d mist off into the night. Maybe a nice trip to the bay would quiet him down.

  He emerged onto the sidewalk and took a deep cleansing breath. It was after two on a weeknight and the street lay dead quiet. LA was nice, but it would be much nicer if it could always be this silent. Having been used to the peacefulness of the Blue Hills, Enlil couldn’t say getting assaulted aurally by the incessant traffic and emergency vehicle noises had been pleasant.

  He turned west from Candy’s apartment and started walking. He stopped twice, thinking he heard a sound to his back, but turned to find nothing. Were his ears playing tricks on him? He did have ultrasensitive hearing, and this was a city, after all.

  Just before gaining the distance from Candy that would render him invisible, he paused as if to scrape shit off his bare toes, and waited. Not his imagination. He’d definitely heard it; stealthy footsteps following. It must be someone intent on mugging him. No matter. Whoever it was, Enlil could handle him.

  He paused at the corner and put his hands in his pockets, looking upward as if contemplating the sky. He waited for an attack but it didn’t come. The footsteps came no closer, and no moves were made against him.

  Huh. Was he under surveillance? Had Jake stuck someone on him to make sure he didn’t go rogue and screw him and his agents? It was the most likely scenario, but it irked Enlil. He called out, grumpily.

  “Gramps? Flick? Is that you guys?” When no answer came back, Enlil got pissed. “Hey, you know better than to make me mad. I’m going to count to three and then you’re in trouble.”

  Maybe they just wanted a little fun. He’d been told things had been slow for the team since their last big drug bust. The Christmas season seemed to have put a damper on illicit activity this year, which was strange, because usually the holidays brought out the worst in the criminal element. Enlil strode farther from Candy’s apartment. He counted to himself, four, three, two, one. Bingo. Invisible. Now to await his stalkers.

  He stood in the middle of the sidewalk, unseen by any eyes, and observed as two shadowy figures emerged.

  “Where the hell did he go?” one voice questioned.

  “Maybe he turned the corner,” another answered.

  Huh? Enlil drew his brows together. These weren’t the agents he knew. These voices were unfamiliar. What the hell? They strolled closer and he took a good look. Both were average age, average size, and dressed in dark clothing. They didn’t look like typical drugged-out muggers, but what did Enlil know. He wasn’t a city boy, unless you counted ancient Babylon, and that had been a really long time ago.

  One of the men carried a camera with a long lens, but other than that, he couldn’t see that they…oh, yes they were. Guns were just being drawn out from under jackets. Well, how about that. Maybe the assholes were looking to score some valuables. Although if they’d had a good look at Enlil, they would have noticed the no-shirt, no-shoes, no-money attire.

  They also should have noticed he wasn’t exactly push-over size, but with guns, they might not be as worried. Hell. If they wanted some fun, they’d come to the right guy.

  Enlil circled back around them until he become corporeal again. “You looking for someone?” he asked. The pair spun in place.

  “What the fuck?” the taller of the two swore.

  “I could ask the same thing,” Enlil said calmly. “Why would a pair of not-so-down-and-out thugs be dogging me down the street?”

  He scoffed when they raised their guns and growled. “I wouldn’t do that if I were you.” Enlil didn’t budge an inch, and his assured stance seemed to give pause to his pursuers.

  He could see the indecision on their faces. “To shoot or not to shoot, that is the question,” Enlil taunted. Their heads came together, but their guns didn’t waggle an inch. Clearly they discussed strategy. Or a way out.

  “We can’t kill him,” one of them whispered to the other.

  “I know,” answered the other, “but if he comes at us, we have no choice.”

  “I’d rather face this guy than the boss. If we botch the job, it will be our fault, and you know what that means.”

  The first guy nodded his agreement. “You’re right. Fuck that shit. Follow my lead.”

  “Hey, man,” he called out to Enlil. “Sorry. We thought you were somebody else.” The pair lowered their guns. “We were looking for a rat by the name of Tommy.”

  Enlil hid a snicker, amused. These two must be petty criminals, working for some higher up of whom they were clearly afraid. Still, here he stood, half naked, and ripe for the picking…or so they would think. Maybe they were looking for a dude named Tommy.

  “Just be glad you didn’t jump me, or you’d be a distant memory by now,” Enlil quipped. “Put the guns away and beat it before I change my mind and teach you both some manners.”

  “Just leaving,” one called, and shuffled backward, followed by the other. “We have no beef with you.”

  Enlil chuckled. That’s exactly what they would have had if he’d had cause to let out his bull. The pair wouldn’t have known what hit them. He waited until they stepped away into the night and yawned. Perhaps he could get some sleep now. The little confrontation had cleared his head.

  He turned back toward Candy’s.

  Chapter Fourteen

  “It’s a festival,” Candy informed him. “Don’t be an asshole. You’ll like it.” Enlil wondered what they would do for their third day in Los Angeles, and he’d been given his answer. Things were quiet at Candy’s office, and Jake had granted them the day off. Candy decided to show Enlil the city. Okay by him. He just didn’t know if he wanted to go to a fair. It had never been his thing, not even back in the day when the parades and worshiping had been all about him.

  “The food alone is wo
rth it.” Clearly Candy would not be put off by his attitude. “It’s been a long time since I’ve been to this festival, and I heard it’s morphed from a street fair, into a full-fledged carnival with high-wire acts and fire-eaters. I’ll be damned if I miss it just because you’re a fucking spoilsport.” She poked a finger into his chest. “Get your frigging sneakers on. We’re going.”

  She didn’t stop to hear him grumble, but walked out the door and waited for him on the front steps. He joined her, reluctantly. But damn, it was a perfect sixty-degree winter day, and with Christmas right around the corner, he should be happy Candy was in a rare, festive mood.

  “You really like this shit, don’t you?” He quirked a brow.

  “Yup. And just an FYI. This fair means lots of good food, and I’m ready to eat myself silly.”

  They approached a tiny motorcycle with which Enlil was unfamiliar. “This is yours?”

  At her proud nod, he eyed the small bike with uncertainty. “What the hell is it?” Although puzzled, he was also intrigued with its stripped-down look.

  “It’s a very rare, foreign model,” Candy smirked. “They’re not available for sale in the U.S. I picked this one up off that ship we busted. It was headed for auction, but I made an offer and got lucky.” She obviously felt quite proud of the bike. “It’s got a 248cc four stroke, it’s liquid cooled, and it’s fuel injected.” She bragged. “Eighty-five miles per gallon and it loves city driving.”

  “Yeah. Great. But I’m not getting on the back of it.” Enlil took in the petite thing. The seat reached no higher than two and a half feet off the ground, and if he tried to use the rear pegs, his knees would be up around his waist.

  Candy eyeballed Enlil’s big body, and as much as it seemed to pain her, she understood. She sighed and handed him the keys. “Be nice,” she said.

  He grinned and straddled her baby.

  Candy positioned herself behind Enlil. The fit was certainly tight, but he couldn’t say he didn’t like the warmth of being between her thighs.