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  “I’m hoping the last of the scientists will want to come in once the announcement goes out. Might need their help with that. I’m going to point all the other SOTIF teams at Topeka for right now and hold them there in case we need any of them to deliver samples to other labs.”

  “You’re serious about spreading that, right?”

  “Absolutely. If everyone has the vaccine samples and can start culturing it, that only speeds the process along. No way in hell am I letting any of the Big Pharm assholes gain a monopoly on it.”

  “What about China and them?”

  “Yeah, that’s still a problem. SOTIF9 took a tiptoe through there. Ghost towns. Beijing’s nearly deserted. Some gangs hanging around. No military to speak of anymore. We’re going to need to mop that shit up, and fast. They’re not the only one, either.”

  “Don’t hold out on me, Joe.”

  “Some of the leaders from China asked for a deal. They’ll hand over what they know for US help in getting this handled and salvaging what’s left of their country.”

  “What’s in it for us?”

  “How about the fifty-first state?”

  Bubba processed that. “You’re shitting me?”

  “I shit you not.”

  Bubba let out a low whistle. “No shit?”

  “No shit. US oversight and everything.”

  “Wow.”

  “Tell me about it. But that was brought to me directly by the VP, courtesy of the UN ambassador. So we need to make the other part happen first. I’m going to make sure they start getting vaccine shipments. Red Cross and WHO will coordinate those.”

  “And everything’s coming up roses.”

  “There’s going to be a cabinet position opening fairly soon, Mike. More than one. You interested?”

  “Not sure. Let me think about it. I might be more of a ‘special attaché’ kind of guy.”

  “Give it serious thought. You could be in charge of China.”

  They said their good-byes and Mike ended the call. After one more swirl and sniff of his booze, he finished it off and tossed the cup.

  The world sure was changing.

  Fast.

  Thank god I didn’t kill myself that night.

  * * * *

  With Gatsby and Connell dead, and as they became more and more sure they weren’t going to die, everyone looked to Noel Tanaka to take over the leadership role. Well, she’d gotten them out of the US and kept them alive.

  Most of them alive.

  That was something, although she’d forever feel guilty about Gatsby and Connell for reasons none of the others would ever—could ever know.

  At least, they couldn’t know until the danger had passed.

  Meaning not until the world was in a better place than it currently stood.

  It also meant that, even though she had to step into the leadership role, it wasn’t one she wanted. It risked exposing her in ways she couldn’t afford yet. No one seemed willing to challenge her for it, either. Whether that was out of fear because they’d seen what she was capable of, or because none of them wanted the job, she supposed it really didn’t matter.

  She was now their leader, and lead she would.

  They’d been given a larger dorm room. Slightly tight quarters, but it was warm, clean, and they had unlimited access to full bathrooms and the mess hall.

  In other words, compared to the last couple of months spent on the run and in hiding, it was like they’d landed smack into a five-star luxury hotel.

  A few hours after their initial debriefing and being given ID badges, they were all in the common room where their secure Internet connection had been set up. Tank knew she couldn’t put this off any longer and saw her opening.

  She closed her laptop, shoved it into her bag, and stood. “Don’t talk to any of them while I’m gone.” She nodded toward the various Drunk Monkey personnel on the other side of the common room. “I’ll be back in a while.”

  “Where are you going?” Sylvan nervously asked. Whereas the girl had been pissy at first about Tank interfering with her cozying up to Alpha, once Tank explained to the group exactly who these men were, what they had done, and what they were capable of doing, that seemed to quell much of Sylvan’s ardor.

  Especially when Tank talked about killing people, the fight for survival at the Atlanta CDC.

  Sylvan’s idea of a death battle was fighting over the last tube of her favorite lipstick during a two-for-one sale at the cosmetics counter, not killing people.

  Tank shouldered her bag. “I’m going to go talk to the head monkey of this outfit,” she said. “Find out what the long-term arrangements are and if they’ve confirmed our immunity yet.”

  “Why can’t we talk to them?” Torphin asked.

  “Because we don’t know if we have full immunity yet. The less we reveal, the less contact with them, the safer it is for us.”

  “Oh.”

  That settled, Noel headed for the door. One thing her compatriots knew about her was that her parents were military. Active military. Officers. She’d been raised a military brat all over the world, even though they didn’t know the whole truth about her. They only knew what they’d found out Googling her, the “public records” laid out for anyone to find.

  In reality, her mom was currently alive in Germany. Noel knew that much for sure.

  Well, she hoped. She was a lt. colonel assigned to an air wing there and stationed in a securely buttoned-up base that wasn’t getting unsealed without direct word from DC.

  Her dad…

  They still didn’t know where he was, or his current status. He’d been stationed in Manila.

  And Manila no longer belonged to the US. At least, not to the non-Kite-infected US. Last sat pics she pulled up days ago showed desolation and burning ruins.

  But there were things her group didn’t know about her.

  A lot of things.

  The first thing being her real name.

  She was pleasantly shocked when the airman standing guard at the door leading to the administration offices area not only allowed her to pass, but actually gave her directions when she told him where she wanted to go and who she needed to talk to.

  “Sorry I’m so rude,” she blurted out, feeling a desperate need to apologize to the more than polite soldier and still needing to play the role she’d been tasked with. “I’m just really…upset and on edge.”

  “No problem, ma’am.” He smiled. “Glad to help.”

  She headed past him and down a hallway.

  Damn, even in an apocalypse the Canadians are still a metric fuck-ton more polite than the rest of us.

  She found the office door and instead of bursting in, she took a deep breath, squared herself away, and politely knocked.

  “Come.”

  Papa, Alpha, and three men in RCAF uniforms—brass, from the looks of it—were going over a display table of data.

  The head Canadian who appeared to be in charge hit a button and the display darkened. “Yes? Can we help you?”

  She pointed at Papa. “I know it’s bad timing, but…can we please speak in private? It’s…urgent. Just you. Won’t take but a minute.”

  He frowned and shared a glance with Alpha—double yum, in her book—but he nodded. “Excuse me for a moment, General.”

  The General, also the man who’d killed the display, nodded. “You can use the conference room directly across the hall.”

  “Thanks.”

  Papa led the way, waiting until the door was closed behind them to speak. “What is it?”

  She set her messenger bag on the table. “First of all, thank you. A serious, no-bullshit thank-you that I’m giving you as the representative of the group, from all of them.”

  “You’re welcome, but no offense, that could have waited.”

  “That’s not all. What I say next needs to stay between us.”

  “I can’t promise you that.”

  “I don’t mean a secret from your brass. I mean my people can’t
find out. Not right now, at least. Not until…after.”

  “After what?”

  “After this is over.”

  He perched on the edge of the table, his brow furrowed. “Okay?”

  She hoped she wouldn’t regret this. “First of all, I’m not twenty-two years old. I’m thirty-four.”

  One eyebrow deliciously arched. “Again, no offense, but while that might mean a lot to you I don’t exactly understand the need for secrecy about that fact, or why you had to interrupt my meeting over it.”

  She reached into her back pocket and pulled out her wallet. Withdrawing the ID she kept tucked in a secret flap, she handed it to him. “Tanaka isn’t my real name. My name’s Major Fiji Noel Tanakasawa, US Military Intelligence, retired. Medical retirement, if you peruse my official jacket. Got gutshot during a mission in Shanghai and I had the option of going back or going home. I opted for home, but it doesn’t mean I’m really retired.”

  Now both eyebrows went up.

  Damn, he was a fine hunk of man.

  He studied her military ID card for a long, silent moment. “While that certainly changes things and puts them into a very…interesting context, why, exactly, are you telling me this now?”

  She took a deep breath. “Because I need to know if you can tell me the way to Hive 15.”

  Almost immediately, and with great relief on her part, he responded, “It’s a whiskey-sour honeypot.”

  “And I’m a worker bee needing in from the cold. Foxtrot Tango Whiskey Deuce Niner Trey Alpha.”

  He stared at her for another long moment, appraising her before returning her ID card. This time when he spoke, his tone was officer to officer, not officer to clueless civvie. “Welcome back, Major Tanakasawa.”

  She slid the card into her wallet and returned it to her pocket. “There’s one more thing,” she said, hoping her nerve didn’t flee and that she wasn’t being a completely dumbass idiot. It was something that had pecked at her brain ever since hearing Chief talk about the Drunk Monkeys’ unusual OTG personnel arrangement.

  And after she’d gotten a look at the unit’s decidedly hunky CO and first officer.

  “What’s that?”

  Before he could react, she grabbed him by his jacket lapels, pulled him in, and kissed him, hard, overjoyed when he relaxed into it and wrapped his arms around her.

  “If I don’t get laid soon,” she whispered, “someone’s gonna get hurt in a really bad way. And no way in hell am I letting any of those damn teenyboppers I’ve got to corral have a crack at you and Alpha before I get a chance to make my case that I should be the one warming your rack.”

  He took over the kiss this time, crushing his lips onto hers for a long, soul-sucking moment before he lifted his mouth from hers and stared down into her eyes.

  “I think I can arrange for the three of us to have a private sit-down later tonight, after I’m done talking with the brass. But I’m a little confused. I thought you hated Alpha, from the way you’ve been acting around him.”

  “I don’t hate Alpha. I hated that I saw him making googly eyes at Sylvan, and her at him. She just turned twenty. Two months ago. She’s a farking kid who can’t even legally drink yet. If you two have no interest in me at all, fair enough, but I at least want a shot. I think I’ve earned the right of first refusal.”

  One arm dropped to her ass and pulled her tightly against him. She felt the outline of a very hard and well-proportioned cock rubbing against her through his trousers and hers.

  “I’d say there’s definitely interest. I just didn’t realize you were interested.”

  “Try me and see. I’ve been in deep cover with this bunch of kids for over two years now. A girl can only take so much before she’s ready for some fun with adults.”

  He grinned. “Do you enjoy practical jokes, Major?”

  “Tank,” she said. “Or Noel. And sometimes. Why?”

  His grin widened, dampening her panties. “Because I’m going to need you to play along with me later.”

  THE END

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  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 ninety 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, the Drunk Monkeys series, and many more.

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