17. Killian
Any tell of nerves or stress was trained out of me years ago by my father and then reinforced with the CIA. Or I thought it was, at least. Apparently, when Millie was involved, everything I assumed was second nature wasn’t even a thought. Because here I was, sitting in the butter-soft leather seat of the jet, leg bouncing in quick repetition and palms so sweaty you’d think I just washed my fucking hands.
For the first time, I was so fucking nervous about an assignment I couldn’t sit still or really focus.
“I’ve never seen you like this, Coop,” Hunter said beside me as he flipped through the few papers sitting on the table between us. His gaze flicked up and landed on Millie. “It seems you two made up. Thank fuck.”
“Yeah, something like that,” I grumbled and shifted to watch Millie walk from the small service area back to our grouping of seats. Her soft pink hair threw me off every time it caught my eye. It was fucking hot as hell, but it was not my Millie. Though she seemed to love it, so maybe it was Millie, the one she kept hidden away from everyone but me. “Nothing can happen to her.”
“That’s why I’m here,” he said, hitching his chin in acknowledgment as she settled into the seat beside me. “I won’t leave her side.”
“How are we spinning the extra security?” Millie asked after getting comfortable, taking a sip of the steaming tea in her hand.
“They actually didn’t question it, per Charlie, when he filled out the information for the classes. But if anyone asks, I’ll tell them Hunter here is more of a handler than anything. He’s there to make sure you stay out of trouble.”
Her lips twitched in a smile around the rim of the disposable cup. “Because I’ve been known to do so much of that.”
“As Marla Morgan, yes. You’ve been in and out of rehab for alcohol and prescription drug abuse, been caught with your panties down more than once with a man who wasn’t me, had a minor scandal with the law that we kept out of the media?—”
“Because it never happened,” Millie interjected, cutting me off.
“It did now. It’s on the internet about you, so it must be true.” I shot her a wink, making her chuckle.
“Why do you get to be the trust fund guy who also has a successful business, and I’m the problem of our rocky marriage?” Setting the cup down on the table, she pulled one paper free from the stack in front of Hunter. “Also, why in the hell did Charlie choose a multimillion-dollar vegan meal delivery service as your business?”
Instead of responding, Hunter just waved his hand toward my long hair that I had tied back in a sloppy knot and then to her cotton-candy pink hair.
“Example A.” I snorted and shook my head at Hunter’s smirk. “You two look the part of a socially conscious and wealthy couple. It’s a little stereotypical, but it’s not like we had a shit ton of time to come up with something better.”
I shifted and gave Millie a slow once-over. Ankle length, multi-color hemp skirt, soft cotton T-shirt, with an array of long necklaces with various pendants, she looked the part we were trying for her identity; a free spirit that got caught up in the money and fame of her husband’s successful company.
“I think I like the sexy-as-fuck professor look more,” I teased.
Millie looked more ready to visit a farmer’s market after she made a dozen soy candles in her craft cabin while I looked like I just stepped out of a GQ magazine. Apparently, my fake identity, Kurt Morgan, only made his wife dress in the all-natural fabrics while he wore fine Italian suits. But that was the backwards way the fucked-up group we were infiltrating thought. She needed to play the soft, submissive one with me, the dominant, arrogant asshole who sought the classes to keep his wife in line.
It made my stomach churn every time I thought about the person I needed to play once the plane touched down. Reaching over, I grabbed her hand and threaded my fingers through hers. Big brown eyes met mine, flicking between the two as if reading my thoughts.
“I’ll be fine. I promise. Nothing you say while playing Kurt Morgan will change how I see you, Killian. I know what they expect from you, what they will expect from me.”
Hunter cleared his throat, breaking the moment. “Looks like you’re booked in a couple’s cabin somewhere on their massive property while I’m bunking with their full-time staff.”
“That’s perfect,” Millie stated with conviction. “Only followers make up the staff, including their security team. Maybe that extra time will help them open up to you.” She paused and frowned. “I’m not sure if they’ll let you attend the wives-only classes with me.”
“I don’t give a fuck if they push back. He will stay with you no matter what,” I snapped before inhaling deep to calm down. “I don’t want you going anywhere without me or Hunter attached to your hip.”
“We’ll see,” she muttered.
My fingers gripped her chin in a firm but gentle hold. “No ‘we’ll see.’ This is a hard rule, Millie. If you can’t agree to that, then I’ll tell the pilot to turn this fucking jet around.” Her brown eyes seemed to darken more at my dominant tone. The tip of her tongue popped out and ran along her lower lip. A groan escaped as I leaned in close, desperate to seal my lips to hers.
Hunter’s pointed cough stopped me. I shot him a glare, ready to punch the fucker out for interrupting.
“Don’t forget, you two are going to these classes and seminars because your marriage is not great, so I’d lay off the eye fucking and intense obvious attraction that’s going on here.”
Before I could say anything, Millie tugged her chin from my hold.
“I will try to stay with Hunter, but if I see an opportunity to sneak away to do a little snooping, I’m taking it. I promise I’ll stay safe, but we’re here for a reason, and I won’t waste an opportunity because you’re hell-bent on keeping me in this safe little bubble.”
“She has a point.” I snarled at my friend, who only smiled back. “There will be places she can go that we can’t. They won’t see her as a threat because she’s a woman.”
The plane dipped as we started our descent. I stared at Millie, stomach flipping with unfamiliar nerves. Nothing about our plan felt right, but it was too late to back out now. We’d get in, get the information we needed and the girl, and then get out.
Fuck, if only it were really that simple.
A shiftin the air was the first indication we crossed onto The Union of Blessed Souls property. I’d been to enough places around the world to know it was never a good sign when the evil soaked into the atmosphere surrounding a place to where those perceptive enough could feel the impact. We knew going in that this group was corrupt, but the shiver down my spine, as we traveled along the long drive headed toward the massive mansion in the distance, said we didn’t have a fucking clue how deeply depraved this place and these people really were.
Millie was slouched in the seat beside me, gaze locked out the window, taking in everything we passed and no doubt cataloging it away in case we needed that information later. Schooling my features to a bored look, I slid my hand across the gap between us and stroked my pinkie finger along hers in soft, reassuring strokes.
She didn’t turn, keeping with the annoyed wife persona, instead, wrapped her bite-size finger around mine in silent support. I eyed the driver, making sure his attention was out on the road ahead and not focused on us, only to meet his gaze in the rearview.
“Almost there, sir.”
I nodded and shifted to pull out my phone, which had advanced level security protection. Everything I sent to Rhyan and Charlie was encrypted to look like business emails required for my company. Every time I read the dumb marketing slogan Charlie made up for the vegan meal service business, I had to stifle a laugh. But what pissed me off the most was the food rule. Even though my clothes were not in line with the fake company’s mission statement, I was told to fall in line with the stance around the food.
Fuck. My. Life.
I wasn’t even allowed to smuggle jerky sticks in my bag. Just thinking about food had my stomach grumbling, threatening to eat itself before the sun came up tomorrow if I didn’t find some meat. I was a growing boy, plus these new, inconvenient nerves made me even more ravenous for unhealthy snacks. On top of only bringing plant-based snacks, I couldn’t bring my normal stash of weapons. Apparently, a duffle full of guns, ammo, and knives would’ve raised some red flags. So here I sat, about to meet the leader of this fucking group, starving and with only a small hunting knife strapped to my calf.
Again.
Fuck. My. Life.
Hunter turned to look over his shoulder as the car rolled to a stop in front of the historic mansion. Two stories, tall white columns along the front with a long porch, it gave off a rich yet homey feel. Hunter gave a subtle nod before shoving open the passenger door and stepping out into the crisp, early evening air. When he adjusted his sidearm, I eyed the weapon with envy. The small, sharp-as-hell blade pressed against my calf wasn’t as great as the Glock Hunter was allowed, but it offered some comfort. Neither he nor Millie knew I snuck it past them while they went over the plan a final time on the plane, but what they didn’t know wouldn’t hurt anyone.
I hoped. Because there was no way I’d walk into this fucked-up compound with my Millie and not be armed.
My door swung open at the same time Millie’s did. With a curt nod to the driver, I folded out of the Mercedes. My fingers worked to button my jacket as I took in the crisp white mansion with a bored expression secured over my features.
Even knowing Hunter had Millie’s safety covered, it still took effort to turn my back on them both. Without thanking or acknowledging the driver, I moved around where he stood, still holding the door open. The heels of my thousand-dollar shoes clicked along the wide set of marble steps that led to the double, blood-red doors. All senses on alert, I tracked Millie’s soft steps and Hunter’s heavier ones without turning. To the right, in the thick grouping of trees that surrounded the house, slight movement caught my eyes, warning me of the security moving along the perimeter.
Before I reached the massive set of doors, both opened with a flourish. A man dressed in a navy suit, almost as nice as mine, and a crisp white dress shirt strode out, smiling like he was in on a big secret. I immediately recognized him from the information Millie had gathered on the leadership team. He slowed to a stop and raised a hand between us.
“Simon Chase. It’s a pleasure to meet you, Kurt.” I took the bastard’s hand and squeezed hard, which he returned. Fuck my life and this subtle pissing contest. We could save time if we just whipped out our dicks and measured. Then he’d know mine was bigger.
Obviously.
But sadly, unzipping the pressed slacks and whipping out my elephant trunk-like cock wasn’t an option. Instead, I’d have to play nice in the cult sandbox and let this fucker think he was the alpha male between the two of us.
I was benevolent like that, letting others believe in their crazy little fantasies.
“Welcome, come on in. Pastor had to step out for a few minutes just before you arrived, so dinner will wait until his return.” With a smile that didn’t reach his dark, beady eyes, he gestured into the house.
Not letting on I was seconds from snapping his neck, I followed him into the mansion’s foyer, resisting the insistent urge to check on Millie and Hunter. I knew without a doubt my friend would take care of her. And if he didn’t, if anything happened to her, then I’d kill him. Hunter understood my expectations that I explicitly lined out when I asked him to help with this assignment.
It was simple: Keep her safe and live.
Don’t and die.
Easy peasy.
The Simon fucker led us down the pristine hall, past the expensive artwork hanging on the walls, and into a massive library. I had to school the smile that wanted to appear, knowing Millie was no doubt swooning at the floor-to-ceiling built-in bookcases stuffed full of various books. This was her paradise, minus it being inside a murderous cult.
To my right was a wall of tall windows that allowed natural light to stream through the spotless glass, while to the left was a massive fireplace surrounded by a comfortable-looking leather couch and several leather club-style chairs.
Cozy. Wonder if that was where they plotted out their world domination goals.
A tall, blonde woman gracefully stood from the couch and smiled, clasping both hands in front of her skintight pencil skirt. Her high heels barely made a sound on the expensive Oriental rug as she made her way to stand just behind Simon.
“Hello, welcome.”
I had the sudden urge to poke her in the cheek to see if she was real or just real-looking AI. Though like with the dick measuring, poking a woman I didn’t know would probably be frowned upon. Though by the way the Simon guy watched me study the woman… maybe not.
“This is my wife, Georgiana.” He gestured to her but kept his gaze locked on mine.
Well, well, well. Wasn’t this a fun, also known as fucked-up, turn of events. I expected murder and evil from this place, maybe some soul snatching and virgin sacrifices, not captain douche-nozzle acting like he wanted me to find his wife attractive. It was the dark and lustful glint in the fucker’s eyes that filled in important gaps Millie’s research unknowingly had.
Holy fuck.
This assignment just became more complicated than any of us expected.