Grease Monkey [Drunk Monkeys 4] (Siren Publishing Ménage Everlasting) Read online

  Another shift to lose Mark. She’d just gotten to know and rely on him. She felt cheated.

  Like she’d almost had a father again, and then had him cruelly yanked away once more.

  And now another shift. She needed to step up and be part of the team, haul her own weight, and make sure she gave a thousand percent to help keep the team safe, together, and on the move, ahead of the wave of humanity which would eventually drown them if they weren’t careful.

  She knew what she had to do. What she wanted to do.

  What needed to be done if she was to live with herself in the future.

  She heard someone open the door of the house and walk outside, coming to a stop a few feet away from her.

  “Can I join you?” Ak softly asked.

  She nodded, making room on the rock.

  Ak sat on her right, slinging her arm around Dolce’s shoulders.

  Not speaking.

  Which, to be honest, Dolce preferred at that moment.

  When the door opened again, she heard two people walking over, and suspected it was Pandora and Clara.

  Sure enough, it was.

  There was just room enough for all four of them on the rock together, their arms around each other as they stared toward the west.

  “How’s Doc?” Dolce finally asked.

  “Still improving. He’s pissed off he can’t go on the rescue mission.”

  Dolce nodded.

  They sat there as the light slowly changed, shadows lengthening.

  “This Silo guy is batcrap crazy, isn’t he?” Dolce finally asked.

  “Yep,” the other three women said.

  “Is it just me, or does the fucker need to die?”

  “Yep,” they echoed.

  “We’ve got to get Omega and Echo back.”

  “We will,” Clara said. “That’s our priority, don’t worry.”

  “They’re sending out the extraction team shortly,” Pandora said. “Tango told me.”

  “They need a sniper,” Dolce said. “To run backup.”

  The other women didn’t reply.

  “Don’t you guys think so?”

  “Are you really ready for that?” Clara asked.

  “Yep. I want to do what I can. Pull my weight.”

  “Papa’s inside,” Pandora said. “He’s almost done packing and was planning the run with Alpha and the others.”

  Dolce took a deep breath and let it out before standing and turning to look at her friends.

  Her sisters. “Well, I need to see a man about a gun,” she said.

  The other women stood, and they embraced each other in a group hug.

  “We’ll get them back,” Clara said. “Believe me, failure is not an option.”

  “Not at all,” Pandora agreed.

  “Yeah, well, I have a code name to live up to,” Dolce said. “So failure isn’t in my vocabulary at this point, either.” She headed for the house, turning before she was halfway there. “You think you all can not beat my boyfriend’s brain out while I’m gone?” she teased.

  Pandora snorted. “I make no such promises, girlfriend. Roscoe has a habit of pissing me off.”

  “He has his good points.”

  “I would hope so,” Pandora said. “Otherwise, I might have Q and Sin checking you out for brain damage.”

  Dolce walked into the house and found Papa in the kitchen making coffee.

  He glanced up as he was measuring grounds into the basket. “Wanted one more pot for the road. No offense, but I’m surprised to see you up and around.”

  “Sir, I want to go with the extraction team.”

  He stopped what he was doing and looked at her. “Did you just call me ‘sir’?”

  She nodded.

  “You’re not reenlisting, are you?”

  “Not exactly. Please?”

  He seemed to consider it, finally nodding before finishing up with the coffeemaker. “I take it you want to go as a sniper?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  His sigh sounded tired. “No need for the sir. You don’t work for me.”

  “I want to work with the team.”

  “And you will. But right now, we’re equals. I don’t give a shit what rank I have, we’re all in this together until Arliss rescinds the OTG order.”

  “Why wouldn’t he? We got Macaletto.”

  “We don’t know if he was the only one.”

  A bad feeling crept over her. “What aren’t you telling me?”

  “Bubba bugged out earlier today. Lima received a message from him a little bit ago that he’ll be out of contact for a while. He’s got a safe house, and he’s heading there, but he had a dead body in his apartment he had to deal with.”

  “Sir? I mean, sorry?”

  “He interrogated the guy before liquidating him. Bubba thinks the guy was maybe sent on behalf of Reverend Silo to find out what Bubba knew about Pandora’s current whereabouts.”

  “Meaning the Drunk Monkeys’ current whereabouts.”

  He nodded.

  “What about her sister’s family? Does Pandora know yet?”

  “Not yet. Bubba had already moved them a couple of days ago, apparently. He’s not going to stay with them in case they track him down again. But I’m going to talk to her shortly and tell her.”

  “So I can go?”

  He nodded. “I wasn’t planning on sending Roscoe and Niner. I want them here helping to protect the convoy.”

  “I’m okay with that.”

  “I don’t know how okay with that they will be.”

  “You’re their CO.”

  “True. But I also don’t want two pissed-off and distracted men. You talk to them.” He smiled and pushed the button on the machine to start the coffee brewing. “They’re your packages.”

  She laughed. “Thanks, Papa. I’m happy with them.”

  “Good, because I don’t think anyone else would want them. Well, not want Roscoe, at least.”

  * * * *

  Twenty minutes later, they were ready to go, Dolce heading out with them. Besides her, their group was Alpha, Lima, Foxtrot, Kilo, Yankee, and Oscar. The last two men going along just in case they had to resort to blowing something up, the twins being the unit’s demolition experts.

  They assured her that would be a last resort, but one they wanted in case it proved necessary.

  She was geared up, all her buckles taped down, the sniper rifle loaded and ready, as was the nine in the holster strapped to her thigh, and an AR-269.

  Roscoe and Niner looked unhappy with this, but they wouldn’t buck orders.

  They each gave her a last hug and a kiss before she turned to get into the car.

  “Be careful,” Niner said. “Love you.”

  “Love you, too.”

  Roscoe reached out and caught her hand. “Love you, baby.”

  She grinned. “Love you, too, asshole.”

  He laughed. “But I’m your asshole and you’re stuck with me.”

  “Yes, I am,” she agreed.

  “And you’d better get your sweet ass back here to us in one piece,” Niner told her.

  “I’ll do my damnedest.”

  Papa stepped forward. “You know the routine,” he said to Alpha. In and out. If you can’t get them out, regroup and return.”

  “Oh, we will get them back,” she said. “They don’t know it yet, but those people have just unleashed a whole farking barrel full of monkeys on themselves.”

  Papa nodded, smiling. “Fair enough.”

  They would meet in twenty-four hours at a predetermined rendezvous point south of Santa Clarita. As soon as the extraction team left, Papa and Uncle would order the rest of them to load up and move out. Where they met up again would depend on how far the larger convoy could get in twenty-four hours. They didn’t want to go through Santa Clarita and risk the RV and its precious cargo, or the lives of the three scientists, if it wasn’t safe there. If it meant making a side trip and driving a longer route to the west through Ojai, they would.
They would stay on the north side of Sylmar and hug the foothills west toward Simi Valley.

  At some point, they would liberate themselves a large truck and trailer, and a front-end loader for emergency road repairs and slide clearance in the hills. Bubba had already digitally scouted out a couple of places along the convoy’s way where they might be able to acquire one. Ak would likely be able to hot-wire it for them, if they couldn’t find keys.

  As they pulled out and headed northwest, Dolce looked out the window. There were very few people walking around today, hardly any vehicles on the roads in their area. It seemed the military’s evacuation logistics had been working.

  She’d ended up riding with Alpha and Lima, and had been equipped with a two-way radio to stay in touch with everyone.

  “Welcome to the team,” Lima said from the front seat where he was bent over his sat-linked laptop. “Hope you don’t get sick of us.”

  She smiled. “Why would I get sick of you guys? You’re family.”

  Alpha snorted. “I hope I’m lucky enough to find a woman like you one day.”

  “At the rate y’all are going, you probably will.”

  “I don’t know,” Alpha said. “Looks like everyone else is getting the good ones.” From his tone she knew he was joking.

  “You and Papa will find a woman who will totally take you out at the knees. And then what are the bunch of us going to do?” she teased. “We’ll need ten group weddings.”

  “Think Silo will do it for us?” Lima snarked. “Give us a group rate?”

  She laughed. “I think if we haven’t killed him before then, he’s going to wish he’d never been born.” Her smile faded. “He’s my new hobby. I want to fuck up his everlovin’ existence.”

  “We already told Ak she could castrate him,” Alpha said. “So she’s kind of got dibs.”

  “I’m good with that.” Dolce’s focus returned to the decaying urban landscape outside her window. “As long as I get to help.”

  “By the time she gets done with him,” Alpha noted, “I don’t know if there will be enough pieces left to help with.”

  Dolce smiled. “The more pieces, the better I’ll like it.”

  Chapter Thirty-One

  Mary Silo stood in the restroom of her hairdresser’s salon, hands almost violently shaking as she withdrew the hidden phone from her pocket. She made sure the volume was turned down before opening the voice recorder app and hitting play.

  She smiled, relieved nearly to the point of tears as her husband’s voice oozed from the small speaker, the snippet she’d recorded between him and Jerald just that morning.

  “Son, I want to know why those volunteers haven’t spread Kite around. My contacts at the CDC feed me regular updates. There have been no new reported Kite infections in any of the places we sent them. There should have at least been the volunteers falling ill, correct? What the hell happened to them?”

  She hit stop.

  Holding the phone to her chest, she closed her eyes. This was worth it. Worth the humiliation and abuse she’d been suffering at her husband’s hands all these years.

  Worth preventing anyone else from suffering the way she’d suffered.

  She’d been flushing the pills every day, figuring out she could simply palm them and drop them into the toilet bowl when she went to the bathroom. Since Hannibal hadn’t put a stop to it, obviously her ruse was working.

  Now she just needed the strength to keep it up. She knew she couldn’t go to the police. They would laugh her off and Hannibal would punish her even worse than he already was.

  It was bad enough her ass was sore from his repeated fuckings. She didn’t need to see what else he could devise in that twisted, warped, devil’s brain of his.

  Thank you, God. Please give me the strength to do what I need to do to bring that evil man down. I’m really going to need it. Amen.

  THE END

  WWW.TYMBERDALTON.COM

  ABOUT THE AUTHOR

  Tymber Dalton lives in the Tampa Bay region of Florida with her husband (aka “The World’s Best Husband™”) and too many pets. Active in the BDSM lifestyle, the two-time EPIC winner is also the bestselling author of over sixty books, including The Reluctant Dom, The Denim Dom, Cardinal’s Rule, the Suncoast Society series, the Love Slave for Two series, the Triple Trouble series, the Coffeeshop Coven series, the Good Will Ghost Hunting series, and many more.

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