Chapter 9 ARTEMIS
I was finally being given some freedom. I didn’t realize I was going to be quite so under Donovan’s thumb when I decided to stay here—I wanted to make a change in the world, and the only way I knew to do that was with a gun—or a knife, I was still testing the waters on the best way to take someone out.
I knew for certain, it probably wasn’t going to be my fists.
They ached a lot, but with the cream from the med bay, you wouldn’t know how bruised they’d been.
After a night in my bed with my teddy crushed up in my arms, I woke to my alarm and headed straight to the bathroom to shower.
My body almost told me to be on my hands and knees and wait for Donovan to come scrub my body with soap—but it passed, I was somewhat free of that, even if I really enjoyed the way he touched me.
I was at Donovan’s door just before six. I managed to get completely ready before the supposed time he told me to be up for. His door swung open and that smug face appeared, dropping like all of his dreams of banging on my door had gone to shit. “You’re here,” he grumbled. “Where’s the file?”
With the hand behind my back, as if I was going to present a bouquet of flowers, I revealed the file. “This file?” I asked. “It’s right here.”
“Good, good. Well, we let’s go get outfitted,” he said.
You couldn’t wipe the smile off my face. I was proving him wrong. I knew it. “Are we gonna be in some killer suits?” I asked. “They haven’t taken my measurements or anything, but I assume the fairies probably took them when I wasn’t looking.”
At one of the elevators, Donovan turned to me. “Jesus, no,” he said. “You said you read the file. You think two of us driving a dry cleaning van in suits isn’t going to raise suspicions.”
My eye twitched. “Right, yeah. I just—”
“Just what?” he asked, patting me on the shoulder. “Need to give it a second thought.”
The elevator dinged. “It would still be fun.”
“As much as I’d love to see you in a suit, you haven’t trained to fight in one. They’re a bit constricting,” he said.
Another punch to my gut, telling me I was unprepared and I was, sure, but this was the first job—disregarding the one I did as my personal vendetta. “So what are we wearing?”
The armory had tailors who perfected looks that would fit all types of secret compartments. I didn’t think the look they’d be putting me in today was going to be so, pedestrian. It made sense though. I had to fit in, not stand out.
We were put in soft armor, with some weight over the shoulders, but if we were shot, it would absorb the impact, and it wasn’t clunky looking, especially not under the baggy t-shirts and zip through hoodies.
We were in cargos, already had plenty of pockets, another baggy option, perfect for concealing the compact 9mm Glock, spare mags, and a knife.
I was under strict instruction from Donovan not to even reach for them as he see me stroking the handle of the Glock in it’s holster.
Standing on two plinths across from each other. We were practically mirror images of each other, except his clothes were deeper and darker blues, and our assault tool belt was fixed on the same for each—not quite a mirror.
“It all feels—”
“Heavy?” he asked.
“Fixed,” I said, rolling my shoulders against the body armor.
One of the workers looked up at me as they lifted my t-shirt up and their warm hands reached around for the side of the armor. “Is it too snug?” he asked me.
Donovan’s eyes were heat rays int he back of his head. I couldn’t help but hold back my laughter. “I think it could be tighter, actually,” I said.
“Don’t,” Donovan said. “He’s not used to it. Just leave it how it is.” Almost snapping at the worker.
“As you wish, Mr. Kurt,” the worker said, letting go of me and walking off
I felt official, even if totally unremarkable—I suppose that was the entire point. “You know,” I said, stepping off the plinth. “I look good. Is it possible to say I’ve gotten a tan since being down here?”
“It is possible,” Donovan grumbled. “Now, we can’t leave through the front since we’ve been given weapons, we’ve got to leave through the rear.”
“I do love a rear,” I giggled.
Donovan’s glare returned. “Take it seriously, Art, or I leave you behind.”
“Ugh, come on, I haven’t even had breakfast yet,” I told him. “How am I supposed to do anything without it?”
“It’s in the plan,” he said.
“What?”
“There’s a breakfast food truck out front, and we’re gonna need all the energy because we’ve got to make sure the van has exactly 2.8 million in it before we leave the port.”
Maybe I wanted to stay behind now. I didn’t want to count 2.8 million—although seeing it in person was going to be a huge bonus. “Can I get my phone back since we’re going outside?” I asked.
He laughed. “Nope. You’re still training. You’re not out in the world. You’re still here.”
“And how long do you think it’ll be until I’m not longer under you.”
Donovan licked his lip lightly, almost suppressing a smile.
I’d said it with intention, and that intention was received.
“That’s Mercy’s call, not mine.” He stepped in front of me.
“How does the vest feel?” His hand reach up my t-shirt to feel the sides strapped in snug.
“This thing will save your live is bullets come.”
“And they’re not going to,” I said, trying to reiterate what he said, and what the file indicated. “We’re just doing a simple drive and drop.”
“A delivery,” he said.
“Drive and drop just have a better mouth feel to it,” I said, trying to break his straight-stone faced smile. “Go on, try it.”
He glanced to his wristwatch. “Now we’re running late.”
It was my first time breathing fresh air and feeling the morning cold on my face in—what felt like forever, and I wasn’t sure if it hadn’t actually been forever since I could see my breath and the cars in the port were all being de-iced by workers.
Our van was marked for us with a parking ticket taped under the windshield wiper.
Donovan shooed me away almost as he opened it up, and I took actual freedom steps towards the food truck.
There were a couple of workers around in large coats—I didn’t know if they worked for Sanctum or were just working at the port.
I joined the line, looking at the posterboard menu when I realized I had no cash.
Frisking myself, I dipped a hand into my pocket, brushed past the gun and the slight adrenaline spike of feeling it thrilled me—to find a light-weight wallet in my pocket.
It wasn’t mine. I opened it to see my face on someone else’s ID.
Jonathan Briar. I glanced back at the dry cleaning van and saw the name.
Briar’s Dry Cleaning. I snorted back a laugh as I opened the wallet further and discovered a hundred bucks all fresh, like it was flat ironed.
“What can I getcha?” the man behind the counter of the truck asked. “I ain’t got all day.”
“Two black coffees and two breakfast sandwiches,” I said, only briefly looking at what they included, but they had breakfast in the name. I didn’t ask Donovan what he wanted, but I assumed the same as me, it was better than going back over and have him turn this into a lesson of sorts.
I grabbed sugar and little pots of creamer—in case, I was having mine black.
Donovan was a different guy to the one I’d been with—or at least this version of him was.
It was the Sagittarius in him, it made him unable to pin down.
With breakfast, I headed back to Donovan in the van.
He was sat in the driver’s seat with a black box on his lap.
He’d been staring at me through the wing mirror.
“I got you breakfast,” I told him.
“Get in the van,” he said.
“Front or—”
“Obviously the front.”
I sat in the front, securing the two coffees in the center console as the bag with the wrapped breakfast sandwich warmed my lap.
From the front, there was a hatch to look into the back.
There were hangers from the roof, towards us in the front there were briefcases, but from the back, it there were actual suits on hangers, obscuring the view.
I was staring for too long it seemed because Donovan grabbed me by the chin and pulled my focus back to him.
“Comms,” he said, flipping the black box. “We’re going to be in communications with Jinksy while we run the job. We can also hear each other when we’re more than five feet away through them.”
It was excited to put one back in my ear. It felt funny because of the voices of all the people, but it meant when you were alone—you weren’t actually alone because others were there. “Hello,” I said.
Jinksy’s voice came through. “Hey, hope you’re ready. I’ll be your eye in the sky, and on the ground. I’m probably mostly on traffic watch, the I-95 might get a little congested on the drive, but don’t you guys worry, you’ll be there and back within the day.”
I looked at Donovan with a smile. “Maybe we could make it a night,” I said.
He rustled through the bag on my lap, his hand going directly to my crotch it seemed. “Or not,” he grumbled. “It’s an afternoon job at most. We’re back here before night.”
“Of course,” I said, turning my head to roll my eyes, and there he was, watching me from the other wing mirror. There was no escaping this man’s gaze. “You know, one thing that makes me feel better is that they’re not lying about the time in there. The morning really is the morning.”
“A lot of the recruited ones who are in Sanctum for a while start to think the same,” Donovan said.
“I still do,” Jinksy added to the conversation. “But then I visit security, watch some of the operational cameras, and then it kinda goes away.”
“Operational cameras?” I asked.
Donovan was mid-bite, his mouth trying to unhinge itself as he took a bite. He nodded to the rear view mirror and above it there was a dot I might never have noticed, a very slight flashing red dot appeared.
“Yes, we’re watching it all,” he said. “Especially since it’s your first job, Artemis. Mercy might also be watching too, so make an impression.”
A throat clearing crackle came through the earpiece.
“Thanks, Jinksy,” Mercy’s voice. “Pretend I’m not here, not watching.
Have the two of you counted the cash yet?
They’re in briefcases. Six of them. Five contain five-hundred thousand, the other contains three.
Make sure it’s all there before you leave.
Or you’re both on the hook.” There was a pause, a murmur of laughter. “Or just you Donovan.”
After swallowing, Donovan cleared his name, telling everyone who could hear that he wasn’t going to leave without every dollar accounted for and how Mercy should know better than to think he would.
I wondered if they somewhat hated each other, or whether it was all just playful. There was no clear answer.
Breakfast was delicious. I wanted to be up here every morning getting it from the truck. The coffee was a little burned, but that was also fine with a nice amount of sugar—something they’d been restricting me on down there—wherever down was.
In the back of van, it was all easily counted since everything came in stacks of twenty-five thousand.
There was a nice heft to them. I felt like I was in some fancy music video where cash was about to be shot out of one of those plastic guns.
The dream if you ask me. Obviously, I was professional about the entire thing.
None of the cash was taken from the bundles, and I would have to live that dream another time.
It took me back for a single moment to the morning when I woke up, Donovan had left with his pathetic note and about a hundred thousand in crisp notes.
“All clear,” Donovan said.
In my ear, and his, Jinksy was counting through all the things we had to do before setting off. Donovan rolled his eyes and his hand over in gesture, as if Jinksy could see—and I think he really could. It felt like a whole lot of work just to transport money.
“Is there like procedure depending on how much?” I asked.
Jinksy laughed in my ears. “There is, how did you know that?” he said. “But it looks like everything is prepared, and I’ve got my eye in the sky, reading and watching to make sure of a safe journey ahead.”
We were about thirty minutes into it. Donovan had rarely said a word other than no music and check the back through the window slot. He’d gone to the annoying stage now—when was he going to come back around to being unattainable but mine.
“Trouble up ahead,” Jinksy said, sparking both of our bodies straight. Donovan immediately reached his non-dominant hand to his gun—he was quick with it. I rested mine on the grip of my gun. “Three navy vans, they’ve created a roadblock just now.”
We were driving right toward it—in the distance, they were there.