16. Hellena

16

HELLENA

" G oing somewhere?"

"To the bathroom. You want to watch?" I hammer Mannie with a glare.

"Sorry. Sing just said we need to keep you in sight all the time."

"I promise not to sneak out the bathroom window. Besides, it's late. I'm going to bed."

"Yes, ma'am. See you in the morning."

"I may sleep in. So feel free to have a few tonight with the guys. Just make sure the watch is set."

"Affirmative." He salutes casually, hiding a smile.

Perks and favors.

Seasoned with a firm hand.

Changes everything. Guys that I was absolutely terrified of just a few weeks ago are in my court.

Turns out, even hardened badasses aren't immune to someone taking an interest in their lives. Just have to be careful not to give anyone the wrong idea.

Wording is everything.

Like the phrase, "I promise not to sneak out the bathroom window," for example.

Very specific.

Very accurate.

Or, it can be very ambiguous, like "I may sleep in."

I have no intention of doing either.

Before first light, I'm dressed and crouched outside my bedroom window on the strip of roof that runs around this wing of the house above the larger lower floor. It's very conveniently the only spot you can get to the ivy coated trellis running down the side of the building.

Which gives me a way down.

The tricky part is the timing.

Fortunately, I have eyes in the sky, so to speak.

A faint glimmer in the dark off toward the south-west corner of the grounds tells me to make my move.

Cautiously, carefully, I let myself down, finding foot and handholds before lowering to the next rung. Halfway down, I hear two distinctly timed hoots.

Freeze.

Press myself against the wall.

Be. The. Ivy.

Germain passes right under me, less than a yard away.

Turns the corner.

No signal needed this time.

I hit the ground as softly as I can and rush toward the bushes lining the walk. Ten paces. Hold.

Enrique pauses at the fountain, cursing as he loses the cherry on his cigarette. He sets down his gun, fumbling in his pocket for a lighter.

Come on… hurry the fuck up!

Maybe I'm getting too lax on them…

Making a snap decision, I scurry to my left, tensing my whole body.

The leap over the hedge would make Evan so damned proud. It's a perfect roll, landing without a sound, and I'm dashing on all fours for the cover of the tree-lined wall.

After catching my breath and letting my thundering pulse quiet, I creep down the ditch beneath the brick enclosure.

Where the hell…

It should be right here…

There!

A gap, hastily shored up with stones, gapes in the masonry. Someone must have undone the repairs my guys made a few days ago…

Someone waiting for me just on the other side of the wall in the water runoff between the adjoining property.

"That was smooth," Gavin rumbles.

"My middle name," I whisper, slapping his ass and hustling past.

A short jog takes us around the back of another manor, through the gardens and into a spacious garage that we cased a few days ago for a functional car with fuel. Too many of the wealthy members of Sanctum took their prized possessions with them when they abandoned the town.

Or, they've already been ransacked.

Fortunately, proximity to the mayor's mansion and the army of security I brought with me sets a radius around this block that keeps things quiet.

"I left the back gate unlocked when I went running yesterday."

"Nice. Use the old ‘stretching on the gate' maneuver?"

"What?" I give him a look as he starts the car.

"Uh, yeah. You used it on me when we used to run on the trails near my place. Conveniently right before every footrace we tried to have…"

"I wanted to make sure my shoes were tied and I was stretched out."

"And that I was distracted by ass cheeks peeking out of your shorts right before you bolted and got a head start."

"Didn't hear you complaining."

"I still won."

"We both won in the shower after."

Gavin huffs a rumbling sigh as he winds us out through a back road and up into the hills. It's the first, and likely the only, chance we'll get to slip out unnoticed to scope out my dad's old place.

"We should have sent Tell and Sing."

"I can't trust that Sing won't tell Marco about where our base was." I chew my lip, watching out the window. Not that there's much to see. Pitch black. Trees.

"Or maybe you just can't leave it to anyone else."

"Are you saying I'm a control freak?"

"No. Just a brat."

"You're about to see how much of a brat I can be if you keep snapping at me, Mr. Rorshak."

"Oof. I hate that." He makes a face.

"Yeah. Me too." I stifle a laugh, covering my mouth. "Truce?"

"If by truce, you mean a quickie in the back of this car…"

"There's not going to be anything quick about it." I moan softly, reaching over to palm him through his jeans.

"I suppose it depends on how quickly we get done at the safe house."

"I can always make you finish quickly."

"Is that a dare?"

"Not even a challenge," I sing, shifting in my seat to bend over the console.

He's bulging through his zipper as I unbuckle his belt, unbutton his pants. The massive rod of his manhood strains through his shorts as I drag the lip of his boxers down.

"Mmm… you're so fucking big."

"And you're fucking hot," he breathes as I lick the base of him.

One of his powerful and agile hands slips down my back, into my pants, cupping my ass as I prop myself up on my knees. Thank goodness I wore stretchy joggers…

My fingers curl around his shaft, stroking so softly.

Teasing.

Making him arch off the seat.

" Fuck …"

"Clutch," I moan, squeezing his balls, "Ready for me to put you in gear?"

"Stick shift jokes?" He chuckles, his voice husky.

"I do love driving you nuts," I hum,right before I plunge his massive cock into my mouth, cupping the flat of my tongue around him and swallowing him to the hilt.

His growl is all the encouragement I need.

But the hand playing down my ass crack doesn't hurt anything. Neither does the finger teasing my opening, slipping into my entrance. Or the thumb that makes me clench as he toys with my other entrance.

I just moan to make sure he knows how much I want it.

That I'm ready for whatever he wants to give me. And boy, he does.

I start slurping him up and down as hard and fast as I can.

Because he doesn't stand a chance against me.

Even if the feeling of his fingers slipping into me both ways makes my legs start to shake. And I fucking love the way he feels throbbing against the back of my throat, all the way out to the tip where I lick the thread of sticky, hot honey beading from his arousal. Then back in, hard and deep, making my eyes water just slightly.

Turns out, dealing with this dangerous organization and faking a hardcore bitch every hour of every day has grown my tastes for rough sex. For a little punishment.

Whether it's punishing him or myself.

It's all... amazing.

"We're almost there," he gasps, practically writhing in his seat.

The car bucks erratically as his foot twitches on the gas pedal. Which means he's closer than we are to arriving.

Given over completely to the task of making him come undone, I suck my way back to the top, twirl around the head of his slick, glistening column, savoring the sensations, the shivers that might be the rumble of the car or him. Sucking harder, I pump my fist up and down, as fast as I can.

"Hell," he grunts, his grip squeaking on the steering wheel.

Right on cue, I suck him in, opening my throat to the fullest, clamping my lips around the base of his cock and shaking my head back and forth slightly.

Game. Set. Match.

"Fuck!" he shouts, gripping his thumb and forefinger tightly inside me, making me shower the inside of my underwear with a mild but oh, so satisfying climax.

All while nearly being overwhelmed by the sheer volume of his unburdening.

His head hits the headrest on the seat, and he moans softly, chills shivering through his core as I take every drop, savoring the taste of my lover. And savoring the torture of that oversensitivity in the aftermath.

The car slows, then stops.

And before he can try to pursue another round, I'm dropping back, bouncing out of the car, never once looking away from him as I drag my fingers around my lips and suck them clean.

"You're—"

"I know," I holler back in reply, cutting through the foliage. Gavin parked us out of view from the main road.

A short hike has us at the old, overgrown gate to the abandoned community development that my dad used as cover for his safe house and main base of operations. At least I think that's what this place was meant to be.

The cabin in the woods seemed more lived in.

Like he spent more time in hiding there, outside the general vicinity of Sanctum proper.

Signs of the floods passing are noticeable immediately. Branches, mud, murky pools all along the drive.

Only when I reach the turn leading to the house's driveway do I really see how bad it is.

Where the unfinished houses received a battering and a fair share of water, the glass front of the partially hidden building is shattered.

The place was built cleverly into the side of a mountain, sheltering it from any satellite or aerial view. The one thing it was not built for was millions of gallons of white-water rapids slamming down through the ravine that conceals it.

The whole bottom floor is still flooded. Waist deep, maybe more.

It's the way the foundation was built, seating the main room below the level of the driveway that caused the water to have nowhere to go. And fuck me if I have any clue how to go about draining the place out.

"Damn. Gonna need a water pump and some fans."

"Or dynamite," I grumble, pouting at the disaster. "Blow the whole place up and forget about it."

I really liked this place.

Wanted to be able to call it my own.

"It's not unsalvageable."

"It's not something I want to think about right now, either."

"Still."

He's thinking ahead, to a time when we will be able to settle down. Have a life together, the four… no, the three of us.

But I can't imagine that, hope for that.

Not yet.

Not ever. Marco is still breathing. The Seven might still have agents working against us.

It's a long shot, but a possibility.

Just like winning against Marco is a long shot for us.

"Ready to get wet?" I smirk, giving him the side eye.

Gavin grins wolfishly, kissing the tip of one finger. The one I soaked in the car just now.

"Looks like we're about to get dirty and wet."

"My favorite."

Fortunately, we both brought a change of clothes, shoes, the works. All just in case this place was, well, like it is.

"Gross." My lip curls as I feel the squish of mud under my old sneakers.

It's not nearly as bad as the freezing cold water that sloshes into my socks a second later.

Better to rip off the Band-Aid, so to speak.

Lunging forward, we both slog into the drink, our breath catching to the shock of cold on…

parts.

"You take the rooms, I'll take the office?" I rattle off, standing in the darkened, vacant doorway.

"Great. Send me into the darkest part of the house."

"Don't tell me I sucked all the courage out of you?"

"I'll give you some courage," he rumbles, sending tingles through my body. He could say anything in that tone and make me lose it.

Clicking on our flashlights, I lead the way, taking the first step into the remnants of our brief life here. Across the rippling black, I see the remains of our last meal here that night. Clothing.

Weeks gone, the smell of the rotting leftovers isn't as bad as I thought it would be.

But the stench of stagnant water makes my stomach turn.

Not to mention the murky depths that could be hiding any number of awful horrors.

"There's nothing in the water, nothing in the water…"

Scenes from every scary movie flicker through my mind.

"At least it's not a trash compactor?" Gavin mumbles, covering a laugh.

"Smells like one. There aren't alligators in the PNW, right?"

"Nah, just snakes."

"Not helping!"

"Good luck! I'll sweep the rooms. I don't think much was back there, but I'll see what I can salvage."

"You're the damned devil, Gavin." I slosh my way across the living room, around the couch. "The computer in the office is probably shot, but I'll check the safe."

"Copy that."

"So. Uncomfortable." I keep talking to comfort myself. "This fucking place was built with a shelter to withstand a freaking bomb, but did Dad think to protect it from flooding? No, why would he?"

Slopping up a T-shirt floating near me, I use it to wipe the hints of our old plans off the white board on the back wall. No sense leaving any clues in case someone finds this place.

The laptops are next. Smashing what's left of the waterlogged computers is only mildly satisfying and upsetting at the same time. Sinking them into the bottom of the murk, I wade over to the wall, sliding back the panel to reveal the safe. Sealed and sound.

Not that there is a huge trove of info.

Just the journal my father left.

With the extremely vague clues to where the actual Sanctum trove of intel is.

Should I take it? Try to put those pieces together?

"No fucking way. Not yet, anyway." I sigh, but something makes me punch in the code. Open the door.

To find the damned thing empty.

A sliver of panic runs up my arms and down my back. Who could have taken it?

My mind races back through the night of the flood. Evan and Gavin left to go stop the bombs.

Tell and I ran out without grabbing much of anything.

Ora and Alaya were on crowd control, trying to get back to the Block.

Closing the door, the possibilities of who had the code to the safe leave me stumped. Unless someone came back after. In the weeks since.

I debate asking Gavin as I turn back to head up toward the upstairs bedroom.

I can't risk any information falling into Marco's hands. Not my dad's journal, not any of Evan's old files.

Getting out of the water is a mixed bag of relief and a new kind of discomfort. Followed by the distraction of seeing my old bedroom. The master, with its ridiculously massive bed that I had such high hopes for…

Stop it.

Not the time.

Still, the ache in my heart distracts me temporarily from the mystery of our missing intel.

Shoving down those emotions, I snatch up my old backpack, stuffing a few odds and ends into it. Finally, I can have a few things I actually want to wear. A couple of favorite T-shirts.

I'm about to leave, to turn my back on the rest of my things that I can't take, when I see the glint of metal on the nightstand.

Something I completely forgot about.

The crimson red-gold ring we found at my dad's cabin in an old photo frame.

"Another mystery." Aside from the clever ring-shaped lock in that same cabin, maybe that's all it was for.

Slipping it onto my finger, I head back down the steps.

"You okay?" Gavin's waiting at the bottom, staring up at me.

"Yeah. No. Thanks for waiting."

"Figured you might need a minute," he murmurs, smiling sadly.

Our exit is quiet, aside from the sloshing water and the pattern of dripping muck as we tromp down the driveway. I'm still lost in thought, about to ask about the safe, when Gavin grunts, signaling me to stop, to look up.

There's a car sitting at the main gate.

"Shit," he growls. "We've got company."