Liberty and Daisy pointed at the demon house.
Isobel approached. She calmly glanced at the scene taking place across the street and tilted her head somewhat. “Am I still asleep? Is this a dream? Because I don’t know about the rest of you, but I’m looking at a guy with a great backside and hair to die for, holding Uncle Sam while he sprays Uncle Sam’s butt with a hose. Also, is that Abraham Lincoln in the SUV? I’d like to wake up now. Uncle Sam’s ass is giving me nightmares.”
With that, Isobel turned and started toward the stairs, shaking her head. “Weirdest dream I’ve ever had. I almost prefer dreaming about cages and messed-up experiments. They were less horrifying than Uncle Sam’s ass.”
“You’re not dreaming,” said Liberty. “Should we call the police?”
Isobel glanced at her as she drank from the coffeepot again. “And say what? A hot guy is giving Uncle Sam an enema to end all enemas? And that I’m pretty sure Abraham Lincoln is involved somehow? Yeah, then Daisy’s coworkers will reserve a special padded room just for me.”
“She’s not wrong,” said Daisy, touching her upper chest. “Two weeks ago, we had to deal with some guy who was positive he saw a man turn into a bear near campus. A big polar bear apparently. No amount of reasoning was going to talk him off that point. That earned him an extended inpatient stay. Think what Isobel would tell them would go off any better?”
“We have to do something,” said Liberty, rushing to the front door. She went to unlock it, only to find it wasn’t locked to start with. That was odd. Isobel had been the last one in, but normally she was good about making sure the house was secured before heading to bed.
A flash of worry raced through Liberty at the realization that she might have had another round of moving items while asleep but didn’t recall doing so. Was she the reason why the door was undone? It was something she’d bring up to the girls later, but for now, she had an old man to save.
Liberty raced out front, unconcerned with the fact she was braless in a thin blue T-shirt and sweatpants that had the school mascot on them. She hurried down the steps of the front porch, her bare feet protesting instantly as she stepped on one of many loose pebbles. Ignoring the bite of pain, she kept going, running across the street, only remembering to look for cars after she was already in the road.
Thankfully there weren’t any. The only parked vehicle in the area now was the telecommunications van. The windows were tinted to the point it was impossible to see if anyone was in it and, just like always, there were no workmen wandering around the area.
She set her sights on the hot guy hosing off the older man.
“What in the hell do you think you’re doing?” she demanded, her voice coming out in a shrill screech rather than anything close to even-keeled.
At the same second, several of the pebbles were launched into the air, past her in the direction of the source of her ire. With a quick gasp of breath, Liberty managed to gather enough control of her emotions to divert the pebbles in midstream. They struck a willow tree at the end of the driveway.
Do not flatten the house. Do not flatten the SUV. She faltered in her step but recovered quickly, setting her sights back on the situation at hand. Possibly flatten the guy with the hose.
The exceedingly tall and built man spun around, still holding the elderly male and still spraying the hose. Although he was no longer spraying the older man with it. He was spraying Liberty—in the face and upper chest.
She tossed her hands up in an attempt to stop the blast of cold that was soaking her and rethought hurling pebbles at him. She turned her head, making her wet hair fall into her face and stick to her cheek. “Stop!”
He did.
“Way to go, dumbass,” said the elderly man as he cupped his groin, blocking most of it from view. Sadly, there were still some things that weren’t left to the imagination. She did her utmost best to pretend otherwise.
The older man had on what looked to be a fake white beard that was dripping wet and falling down his chin.
Isobel had been right. He was dressed like Uncle Sam.
Liberty stood there, too stunned and too wet to think of anything remotely intelligent to say. As her gaze slid to the guilty party, her breath caught.
She didn’t want to find a man who would do such a thing to another person attractive, but she did. In fact, attractive didn’t do the man justice. Mouthwatering came to mind.
He was well over six feet tall, wearing a pair of what looked to be military boots, giving him additional height. He was imposing, and while everything about him said he could do some damage if he wanted, she didn’t fear him in the least.
The jeans he had on weren’t too loose or too tight. They were the Goldilocks of the jean world.
Just right.
If only I could make those jeans float away, she thought before focusing.
The black shirt that the man wore tugged at his muscular chest and upper arms, drawing attention to both areas.
With great difficulty, she dragged her gaze upward, over the man’s squared jawline. Dark stubble covered it, with slightly more appearing just under a pair of full lips, leaving him with a hint of a soul patch.
Her breathing increased as she pulled her gaze higher.
Royal-blue eyes greeted her. They were the kind of blue that didn’t seem natural. They were too intense. They were also oddly familiar. Like the man she had vague memories of from when she was little.
When she did finally get around to saying something, it wasn’t what she’d planned.
“Jackass!” she blurted, only barely managing to keep from adding the name Boris.
Chapter Ten
Liberty stood there, seething mad at the man with the hose. She was a little shocked that she’d called him a jackass, but she wasn’t about to take it back. Especially when it seemed more than warranted.
Uncle Sam continued to cup his groin as the man held him by his jacket. “Ha! Looks like your reputation precedes you, Russia. News travels fast.”
The hot guy released the hose but not Uncle Sam. His gaze locked on Liberty and descended. It widened a moment before he let go of Uncle Sam hastily.
The older man stumbled before falling to the driveway. He rolled onto his side, facing away from Liberty, all while still cupping himself. His red and white striped pants were halfway down his excessively hairy backside and dripping wet. A rather unsightly brown area was on the back of his pants, making her wonder if the older man had sat in dirt or something worse.
The older man jerked his head back, his sights set firmly on the hot guy. “She’s right, Commie. You’re a jackass.”
Liberty ran for the older man, fretting over him as she bent. “Are you okay? Do you want me to call the authorities? Do you need medical attention?”
Uncle Sam rolled onto his back with an audible creak. “Nah. The fuzz will just come and try to take my stash. They always do. They got it out for me. I’m on lists. Some people say I’m paranoid. You know what they say about that.”
Did she know what people said about that? She wasn’t so sure she did, not that he gave her a chance to think on it much.
“Plus, Jackass over here is technically the authorities,” he said, pointing with one finger while still cupping his groin. “Least that’s what folks tell me. I’m pretty sure he’s a spy sent to bring down our great nation, but no one listens to me.”
“I’m sorry, but what?” she asked, having difficulty following his train of logic. It seemed as if the train had jumped the track a while back.
A mischievous smile slid over his face. “Hi, I’m Wild Bill, but most just call me Bill. Who are you?”
“Liberty,” she said, looking him over for signs of injury, doing her best to ignore the fact his pants were still down.
“And justice for all,” he finished, lifting a hand and extending it to her. With only one hand covering his groin, not much was left to the imagination.
Liberty averted her gaze, trying to think of a way to avoid
touching his hand, especially since it had only just been on his groin. “Uh, um…”
“Libs?” asked Daisy, sprinting down the driveaway. Halfway to Liberty, Daisy changed directions, going to the spigot instead. She turned off the water before moving rapidly to Liberty. “Is he okay? Oh my. Um, sir, your bits and pieces are showing.”
“Sorry, ladies,” said Bill, his smile growing wider. “I’ve been caught with my pants down. Not the first time. The last time was with a hot little number in Reno. She didn’t tell me she was shacking up with the head of the local biker gang there. Man, those biker guys sure do like to swing their bits and pieces around to prove how macho they are. Word to the wise, don’t get caught sticking it to one of their old ladies. They’re kind of relentless.”
Liberty glanced back at Daisy, giving her friend a wide-eyed stare, wondering if Bill was certifiable. “Bill, meet my friend Daisy.”
Daisy pushed her glasses up on her nose and pressed a pleasant smile to her face. “Bill, I heard you mention thinking someone was a spy. Did you mean that?”
“Of course I did,” he said, squirming around on the ground and pulling up his pants—mostly. “Only crazy conspiracy theorists walk around claiming people are spies when they ain’t. There are no conspiracy theories here. Nope. They’re all proven facts.”
“Here, let me help you stand,” said Liberty, bending more to get him off the ground.
The hot guy tried to help.
Liberty shot him a hard look. “No.”
Daisy was quick to assist in the man’s place. “Are you hurt anywhere, Bill?”
“Just my pride,” said Bill. “Can’t believe I was captured by a Russian. Damn commies.”
“You think he’s a Russian spy?” asked Daisy, clearly stuck in her default setting of analyzing.
Liberty picked then to look at Jackass. “You ought to be ashamed of yourself. What were you thinking?”
“Yeah, what were you thinking?” echoed Bill with a smirk.
“Well?” demanded Liberty as the man continued to stare at her.
She and Daisy finally managed to get Bill to his feet just as Isobel approached.
Isobel had brought the entire pot of coffee with her and had put on shoes. She was certainly winning over Liberty and Daisy. She took a look around and shook her head. “No way am I awake. If I am, Uncle Sam looks like he shat his pants, there is a super-hot guy looking like he’s about to tackle one of my best friends in a carnal way, and Abraham Lincoln is carrying around a head in a football helmet. Seriously hoping that’s dirt on Uncle Sam’s pants and not a fart gone wild.”
“For a minute there…uh, it’s dirt,” said Bill. “Fucking commie bastard’s fault.”
Daisy gasped. “Oh he does look like he’s thinking of tackling her.”
“Tackling who?” asked Liberty, worried about Bill.
Bill nudged her lightly. “You. They’re saying Jackass wants you in a how-you-doing kind of way.”
As she registered what he’d said, her gaze snapped back to the hot guy. He was staring at her all right, but she didn’t think he had a look that said he wanted her in a carnal way—did he?
To her, he came off as perplexed with a hefty dose of stunned. It was an odd combination. What was even more bizarre was how she wasn’t so sure she’d protest being tackled by him. And for some reason, every bone in her body was telling her to trust the man. The same man she’d only just raced across the street to confront.
Evidently, she was in need of sleep.
Bill stayed close to her. “Insider tip here, Liberty Bell. I’ve seen what the government has done to him and his buddies’ whoo-hoos, if you catch my drift. While I don’t go for that kind of thing myself, I don’t think too many women would complain. He’s a jackass but he could be worth a roll in the hay. You should give him a go.”
Liberty didn’t respond. She also did her best to pretend she’d not heard Bill. Then she thought harder about what Isobel had said. Something about Lincoln and a head.
“Hold on… Lincoln is doing what with a what?” asked Liberty.
She turned slightly to find a very tall man dressed as Abraham Lincoln standing near the bumper of the SUV, holding a football helmet with a mannequin head in it. She stared harder, making sure she was seeing it right and that she wasn’t a candidate for an extended stay with the guy who’d claimed he saw a man turn into a bear.
“There is some freaky shit in my dream,” said Isobel flatly.
“I once had a dream with a giant talking mushroom that was sitting on a caterpillar,” said Bill.
Liberty tipped her head. “Do you mean Alice in Wonderland and the talking caterpillar on the mushroom?”
Bill shook his head, a look of confusion on his face. “I’m talking about my dream of a huge talking mushroom on a caterpillar. You have dreams with talking caterpillars in them? Liberty Bell, I don’t know how to break it to you, but you might want to speak to a professional about that.”
“Oh, I’m for sure dreaming,” said Isobel, still in the same spot as before.
Daisy sighed. “You’re awake, Isobel.”
“It’s true, you are,” added Liberty. She then leveled another hard look at the good-looking man.
Daisy followed her lead. “The super-hot guy is about to explain why he was manhandling the elderly.”
“Yeah,” said Bill. “Wait. Am I the elderly or the super-hot guy in this scenario? Because I gotta tell you, between Jackass and me, I’m the young one, not to mention, I’m hot. Ask around.”
Liberty gathered her string of thought and concentrated on Jackass. “I can’t believe you’d hurt him like that.”
Bill touched her arm lightly. “I may not like him, but I’m honest as Abe is over there—unless we’re at the airport and they ask about drugs. I lie like there is no tomorrow then. Tip, don’t let them bag checkers see you sweat or offer them any special gummies. Bastards are big into entrapment. Anyway, Jackass didn’t hurt me.”
“It certainly came off like he was hurting you,” returned Liberty.
Bill groaned. “He wasn’t. He wanted me to go in and shower. I’m not big on being told what to do. He’s not big on patience. But you probably picked up on that tidbit by just looking at him.”
“So he hosed you down?” asked Daisy. “Seems extreme.”
Liberty put a hand on her hip, glaring at Jackass. “Yes. It does.”
Jackass shrugged, as if it wasn’t as bad as they were making it out to be.
Bill squirmed a bit. “Desperate times…guess I gotta go in and take a shower. It’s gonna break my streak. I was going on day eleven without one.”
Liberty tensed. “Eleven days without a shower?”
He nodded, appearing very proud of his lack of hygiene.
She eyed the hose.
“Thinking of giving me a sponge bath?” asked Bill, sounding hopeful as he raised his bushy brows up and down quickly.
A squeak came from her and she stepped in the direction Jackass was still standing.
Bill glanced at Jackass, smiled wide, and straightened the wet fake beard he was wearing. “I might be getting a sponge bath. Jealous?”
“Uh, no, you’re not getting a sponge anything,” said Liberty quickly. “But I can help you get to a shower and find you something else to put on since your…who is he? Is he your son?”
Bill stared harder at Jackass and then cackled boisterously, patting his gut as he did. “Yep. Totally my kid. I should have spanked him more as a child.”
“Stop talking,” said Jackass, his accent very clearly Russian and nothing like Bill’s voice. Actually, not only did Jackass’s eyes make her think of the nice man from her past, but his voice did too.
Weird.
It also made her think about her Russian literature class and how much Tolstoy was getting on her nerves. As much as she wanted to take her annoyance out on the hot guy for that, she resisted.
For now.
“Uh, he doesn’t sound like he’s your s
on,” said Liberty, pointing out what had to be painfully obvious to all present.
Bill squared his shoulders and tugged at the lapels on his jacket. “He’s the result of a weekend I spent in Russia, on shore leave,” he looked Jackass up and down, “some thirty or so years ago. Good times. Not long back, he showed up out of the blue, announcing I was his daddy. Damn love children. They’ll get ya every time.”
For a second, Bill looked pained, as if the subject was touchier than he was presenting it to be.
“Is he your son too?” asked Daisy, nodding at Abraham Lincoln.
“He’s my best buddy,” said Bill. “That’s Gus and his girl Mona. She’s not a talker. Come to think of it, neither is Gus. And between us, Mona is going through some body issues. Mainly, the fact she ain’t got one. She’s still got it in for me because I decapitated her. Like it’s my fault the damn weregorilla didn’t get a safe house with wider hallways.”
“Were what?” asked Liberty. “Did you say gorilla?”
Gus turned to the side, avoiding anything in the way of eye contact or more introductions.
Somehow, the day had managed to get even stranger. Considering she’d once tossed around a trailer like it weighed nothing and Isobel set a huge fire with her mind, the fact Liberty found this off was saying something.
Bill stared at him for a few moments and then smiled. “Gus says it’s real nice to meet you all and that we’re all gonna be great friends.”
“We will?” asked Liberty.
Bill nodded. “Yeah. I gotta get cleaned up and find Jackass the perfect girlie mag. Brought a bunch of them with me. They’re vintage. Tried to offer him one before. Even explained that if he took some time to choke the kuritsa he might not be such a jackass.”
“I’m for sure dreaming,” said Isobel. “This can’t be happening. No way does anyone choke a—whatever in the hell he just said.”
Bill looked at her. “Russian for chicken. Maybe. Or maybe I just insulted his maternal grandmother. I don’t know. And by choke, I mean—”
“We know what you mean,” said Liberty fast, cutting him off in hopes he’d stop speaking and avoid elaborating further.
Act of Surveillance: Paranormal Security and Intelligence® an Immortal Ops® World Novel (PSI-Ops/Immortal Ops Book 7) Page 10