26. Sister Wives
Chapter 26
Sister Wives
Taz
We didn’t sleep. The three of us shot the shit until first light, when the sky turned pink over the Catskills.
Despite Sierra’s insane amount of energy, and her flippant views on everything from the right cuticle bed treatment to the most fun way to kill an enemy, I liked that she worked with Griff. He was safe with her. She knew her job, and did it well. The way she looked at him made me think she’d take a bullet for him too. Not in a romantic way, but like… like he was her family.
“Wifey,” she said, as she giggled over her vodka, “I have to help you plan your wedding.”
I snorted so hard the beer burned out my nostril.
“What?”
“Oh, please, let me plan your wedding!” she whined. “I’m an orphan, and I don’t know where my sister is. No one will ever marry my insane ass, so you must let me plan your wedding! Don’t let all this good taste go to waste.”
She gestured to her hair, outfit, and the designer bags.
“Plus, he’s rich, so budget would be no problem!” She looked up at the sky, her hand over her heart. “It would be a dream come true.”
She reached out and grabbed my hand, scraping my bracelet across the linoleum breakfast table. She looked at the silver jewelry, tilted her head and grinned.
“Oh! I see he took out the clasp! So, you’re serious!” She started bouncing in her seat in excitement. “Wifey! We’re going to be so happy together, I promise.”
I balked, looked at Griff, and deadpanned, “Is this like a polycule thing.”
Griff’s face soured, he wrinkled his nose, and then shook his head. “Fuck no.”
“Please!” Sierra - or Daria - said, throwing up a hand. “I am his work wife; you are his actual wife. This makes us sister wives, but without the messy squishy parts.”
“Squishy… parts?” I said, trying to hold in a laugh. I looked at the two of them and smiled. “I get this pairing, and why it works.”
“What do you mean?” Griff asked, wrapping an arm around my shoulder and pulling me in close.
“She’s the way VD used to be before the incident,” I said, idly, then instantly regretting bringing it up.
“You mean when he fucked my wife?” Griff’s words… stung.
He still thought of Kristin as his wife.
That knowledge sent a jolt through me, sinking my heart into my feet, as I flushed. I was mortified that I had let myself get so caught up in the bracelet, the wedding talk, and… everything.
“Okay, broken record,” Sierra rolled her eyes. “You don’t even give a shit that it happened anymore.”
“Of course I do!” Griff scowled.
I slid down the seat, trying to get a little space to breathe. I didn’t want him to notice the way my heart broke. I turned away from him, a little, to hide the sudden water that pooled at my lower lash line, as I fought the jealousy and sorrow that made me reframe the last few hours.
That made me re-consider the bracelet on my wrist.
It wasn’t what I thought it was. He had probably done something like this before, with someone else.
Griff noticed me pulling away, and his features darkened even more, as he grabbed me by the waist, and slid me back across the bench, into his side. I tried not to react to it, because any response could be catastrophic, and embarrassing for me.
“Oh? You’d rather you were still married to Kristin, right now? Instead of…” Sierra tipped her head to me.
I swallowed.
I couldn’t look at him. I knew the answer – it was obvious. I knew it all along, but I let myself think that this was real. That something was happening… but…
“That’s what I thought,” Sierra said, slamming her hand on her knee.
I stared at some kind of stain on the table. It looked like a bit of dried egg yolk. I took my nail and began to scratch it off the surface.
“Taz?” Kai said, quietly.
Unable to look at either of them, I set out to diligently clean all the little water spots on my kitchen table, and wondered if it would be strange to pull out cleaning products.
“Hmm?” I responded, after he called my name again.
“She’s right, baby,” Kai said.
I stared at the fraying edge of the label on the beer bottle. I started to pull it off, wondering if it would peel off perfectly. I could reuse the bottle for something. Maybe I could put a light in it? Turn it into a light bulb? It’d be cool to string up a line of them around the fire pit.
Kai’s finger traced over my temple, and I flinched away. He didn’t let me go far, because he grabbed a strand of my hair and tucked it behind my ear, before cupping the nape of my neck.
I kept on working on the label.
“I don’t care,” he said, cryptically.
“About what?”
“I don’t care that Kristin and VD fucked. I don’t feel anything about it anymore.” I felt his fingers massaging the back of my neck, sending a warm relaxation into the base of my skull. “It doesn’t bother me now. I’m happy exactly where I am.”
I stumbled on liberating the label from the bottle but got back to work. How many would I need to make a string of lights for the little fire pit I had?
“I’m happy coming home to you,” Kai said, leaning into me, and placing a large palm over my hand, stopping me from completing my task.
A pounding knock on the door had us all on high alert. Sierra pulled a pistol from her designer bag. I held the gun from my lower back. Griff pulled his out of an ankle holster.
He went to the door and gave us one look. We gave him a nod, letting him know we were ready.
“Don’t fucking shoot, it’s just me!” Noam’s voice came through the flimsy door. “Brett doesn’t want you to kill his men, so he’s sending me in as a sacrifice.”
We all relaxed, placing our weapons on safe, before Griff opened the door.
Noam was there, looking a little more disheveled than before. “Fucking tiring. That’s what Brett Bradley is. The man is a fucking piece of wor—”
He cut off mid-word when he saw Sierra.
His eyes widened, and languidly glided down her body, as she pulled back her shoulders, placing her elbows on the backrest, thrusting her breasts out, and showing off her figure. She liked his attention.
“Well, hello,” she said, with all the sex appeal of a true femme fatale.
Her painted, red lips pulled back in a smile so fake, it was practically plastic.
“Hello,” Noam said, clearing his throat. “I didn’t know there was a third in this arrangement.”
He played with the salt and pepper stubble on his roughened beard.
“Yes,” she said with a crystal laugh. “We’re Sister Wives.”
Noam blinked, and he looked at me as if I had grown a second head.
“She’s joking,” I said, coming to my feet and grabbing my bag. I wanted to stand up and introduce them, but I knew better than to introduce a man to a spy without knowing what name she should use.
“We’re all going to have a nice sleepover in your safe house, I take it?” Sierra had gone from that rushed, energetic movement to slow, sensual grace. Her body was always angled perfectly, with her waist cinched in, and her face that perfect combination of mystery and amusement. “Will you be my escort?”
Noam cleared his throat and nodded.
“Follow me, young lady.” He extended a hand to Sierra.
I almost snorted, because it was very, very clear that Noam was now trying not to look at her like she was sex on a stick.
Outside was an SUV, black, no markings, with government plates.
“Fancy,” Sierra said, as she slid in, holding Noam’s hand.
“She’s trouble,” Griff said, coming in beside me. “We got thrown into a Serbian Prison on an ill-fated mission, and by the end of it, she had made the guards fall in love with her so much that they were dying to help her escape.”
“If I had her legs, I’d weaponize it too,” I jabbed Griff in the ribs, placing my head on his shoulder.
He wrapped an arm around me, pulling me close. “I like yours better.”
He leaned down and kissed me.
“You better,” I said against his lips.
Noam drove the SUV, which made me wonder how the hell he got government plates. Was it his? Was it Brett’s? I had no idea.
“You armed?” Noam asked, tilting his head over his shoulder, catching a glimpse of Sierra in all her glory.
“Of course,” she said, “We all are.”
Noam turned back around and stared at the road, his fists clenched.
“Why?” I asked, dread seeping into my pores.
“I got a bad feeling, is all,” Noam said as his eyes darted up and down the side of the road. His hypervigilance made me uneasy.
“Tell me what happened,” I said, just as his phone came on the blue tooth.
He tapped the car’s screen to answer it.
“Open line,” he said, declaring to whoever was on the other side that there were people around listening in.
“Bravo team has been found, and they’re out.” That was Brett’s lightly accented Russian on the other end.
“Fuck,” Noam said. “Any clues how they did it?”
“No,” Brett said. “But that means you’re flying solo.
“I’ve got a really, really bad feeling about this.”
“I’m in route now,” Brett said, and there was shuffling and movement on the other end. “I’ve spun up our Emergency team, and one agent is on stand by near you.”
“He’s going to kill me. He’s gonna suffocate me with a squid like he did the guy in Monaco, then he’s gonna chop me up, and serve me on a bed of pilaf rice.” Noam’s voice remained even, but all of us in the back seat exchanged surprised and slightly worried glances.
“Yeah, probably,” Brett quipped. “We should have brought the kid in sooner.”
“No shit,” Noam punched the call off, as his eyes darted up and down the road.
“You want to fill us in?” I asked. “Squid?”
Noam let out a small groan, his wrinkled eyes seeming more tired today than they were the last time I saw him.
“I came in because we didn’t hear from one of our night teams that were watching over you,” Noam said. “Another team was already found dead. Their throats were slit.”
“Shit,” Griff said through his teeth, as his arm tightened around me.
“Shit indeed,” Noam agreed.
“And… the Squid?” Sierra asked, leaning forward in her chair until her arms wrapped around the front passenger side head rest.
“Ghost is an adept and creative killer,” Noam grumbled. “He’s never used the same method twice, or so the rumors say.”
We all waited with baited breath as Noam sighed.
“I was there when he killed a target by sticking a live squid on his face and suffocating him to death.”
“Ew,” I said.
“Thats…” Kai started but never finished.
Sierra had hearts in her eyes as she grinned, “Daddy is hot!”
“Yeah, if you like them insane, he once won a gun fight with a plastic spork.” Noam leaned forward in his seat, looking at the sides of the road.
“Is he single?” Sierra asked.
He didn’t answer Sierra’s question, but instead repeated, “I’ve got a bad feeling about this.”
So did I. I had had it for days now. The unflappable feeling that something was going to go wrong. But I didn’t say anything. Feelings did no good in this world.
But my resolve didn’t stop bad omens. Not when my phone started ringing, and my mother’s face flashed on the screen.
Griff and Sierra, the spies that they were, didn’t hide their snooping.
“Who’s the pretty lady?” Sierra asked, in her quaint little accent. “Mom?”
I stared at the screen until it went to voicemail.
My mother was very pretty. It was something that had bothered me over the years, the fact that I hadn’t inherited her looks had been a source of disappointment for me, and her. I looked like my father. Long face, square jaw, small eyes, thin lips, and long, stringy hair. I would have been a handsome man, if I’d had the good sense to be the other gender. Alas, my preconceived self didn't wait for the right kind of sperm, and I came out a disappointment from birth.
“Yes,” I said, sadly.
“We don’t talk to her?” Sierra pried.
“Knock it off,” Griff said, tightening his arm over my shoulder.
“Is this a tender spot for Wifey?” Sierra said with absolutely no remorse whatsoever. “Do we not like our mother?”
“ Our mother?” I said, looking at Griff with a lifted brow. “My family is communal property?”
“Yup!” Sierra said, perking up. “Just call me Lenin, and get used to it, Wifey.”
There was clearly no logic to any of this. But there was no time to consider it, as an explosion knocked the wind right out of me.
“Rollover! Rollover! Rollover!” Sierra screamed, and I instinctively braced on anything that I could.
Noam and Griff echoed Sierra’s words as the front of the car flipped up into the air, and we were all knocked, feet over ass, as a bomb exploded beneath the engine.
Dust, dirt, particles, and debris flew through the air as the flip made my guts fall to somewhere into my ass, before settling in my throat.
“Fuck,” Griff said, as we were belted into our seats, upside down, the roof crunching below us.
I kicked my legs kicked forward, I placed my hands on the roof in an awkward, graceless, yoga-like handstand.
“Sierra?” Griff said, as his hand went out to me. “You okay?”
“They fucked up my shoes,” she said, pulling her leg towards her, and taking off a heel with a broken stiletto.
“So obviously near death,” Griff said, as he unbuckled his seat belt and twisted himself right side up. He put a hand on my shoulders and helped me down.
“They will be if I ever get my hands on them,” Sierra grumbled. “These were real Louboutins, damnit!”
“Noam?” I asked.
He didn’t answer, his head limp, his gray and black hair hanging towards the roof.
“Noam!”
I rushed to the place between us, as Sierra kicked open a passenger door.
I crawled beneath the center console, just as the sound of gunfire erupted all around us.