Chapter 34
Just as Hoot had brought her down and was about to work another orgasm out of her, the table groaned ominously. Before he could even process what was happening, the legs gave way, and he heard a small “umph” from her as he landed squarely on top of her.
They lay there in silence, both too stunned to register what had just happened. Then she erupted in laughter. “Damn you, Murphy,” Lark cursed.
“That did not just happen,” he groaned, burying his face in her neck.
“Of course it did. What else did you think was gonna happen?”
“I wasn’t done with my meal,” he whined.
She laughed again. “Poor baby,” she crooned, running a hand over his scalp. “You still hungry?”
“Famished,” he said before quickly rising to his feet, then picking her up bridal style.
“Cormac,” she protested. “Your shoulder.”
“What shoulder?” he asked, taking the stairs two at a time and rushing into his room.
“You’re impossible.”
He threw her on the bed, and she bounced once with a giggle. “Impossibly horney,” he retorted. “Now spread those beautiful legs for me. I wasn’t done with my meal.”
“Oh, God,” she moaned just as he trailed a hand down her side to her hip. He followed the seam and found her core. She was slick with desire. Hot and wet… for him.
His fingers slid through her folds, finding the hardened knot. He smoothed his thumb over it and applied pressure as he moved it back and forth. She arched and gasped his name.
“I want you inside me,” she pleaded. “Don’t make me beg.”
“You never have to beg for my cock, little bird.” With rapid speed, he rolled off the bed and stripped his clothes off. Then he opened the bedside drawer where his stash of condoms lived, noting he’d have to get more soon. Having several rounds of sex daily could deplete a supply quickly.
He climbed back over her after rolling the condom on, seeing she had taken her bra off while he’d been contemplating buying more rubbers.
He didn’t waste her efforts, taking a hardened peak between his teeth and biting down gently.
She made a sound that didn’t seem humanly possible…
he loved it and wanted to hear it again.
Her back arched as he moved his attention to her other tit. Heat built and spread like wildfire. An all-consuming inferno spread through every fiber of his existence, from his cells and nerves to the very molecules that made him up.
“Need…”
“What do you need, little bird?” he asked.
“Kiss me.”
She didn’t have to tell him twice. Her lips were where he’d first found home and would forever draw him back.
Her tongue brushed across his lips, and she made a humming sound as they parted.
He teased it open further and delved inside, caressing her tongue with his.
Thick, hot desire blasted through him, and he couldn’t hold back a moment longer.
He plunged deep, like a man possessed. His thrusts were barbaric.
Passionate. Driven by instinct. She erupted around him, igniting his own climax.
It exploded through him with violent bliss.
He buried his face in her neck, biting down on the sensitive skin there until she was gasping his name once more.
Everything went silent and black for a moment as they rode the pleasure wave together. Eventually, he came back into himself and realized he was probably crushing her with his weight.
He rolled off the bed and took care of the condom. She hadn’t moved a muscle as he returned to her. “You alive?” he asked, climbing back into the bed and gathering her into his arms.
“No,” she uttered faintly.
“Need me to make you come again to bring you back to life?”
“Mercy,” she whined. He decided to have pity on her… for now. Within no time, she was sound asleep in his arms.
Hours later a gasp from her woke him. From the shadows in the room, he guessed it was late afternoon. Lark sat propped up in bed, her head cocked, a look of deep thought on her face as if grasping for a lost memory.
She looked different when she was thinking hard. Her brows drew together, lips slightly parted, and her gaze went distant as though she were trying to pull something from the back of her mind.
He didn’t interrupt. He’d learned that Lark needed a moment sometimes.
After a minute, she turned to look at him. “Cormac?”
“Yeah?”
“I remembered something.”
He immediately became more alert. “What?”
“The crates.”
His stomach tightened. “What about them?”
She pushed herself up against the headboard, dragging the sheet with her. “When I was on the island. Before they caught me. The men were loading them onto the boat.”
Hoot sat up. “You saw the PSG symbol.”
“Yes.” She frowned. “But that wasn’t all.”
“What else?”
“Numbers.”
He stared at her. “Numbers?”
She nodded slowly. “I remember seeing them stamped underneath the symbol. I didn’t think anything of it at the time. But now...” She squeezed her eyes shut. “They’re there. I can see them.”
Hoot reached for his phone. “Can you remember them?”
Her eyes opened. “I think so.”
“Think carefully.” She rattled off a string of numbers. Hoot typed every digit into his phone.
“Four-seven-three... eight-two-one... zero-six-four...” She paused then nodded. “That’s it.”
“You’re sure?”
“As sure as I can be.”
She looked almost embarrassed. “Numbers have always been easy for me to remember. I don’t know why. I can see them once and they just... stick.”
Hoot stared at her. Killer artistic observation skills and a freakishly good memory. Apparently, he’d underestimated his girl.
He immediately opened his messages and sent the numbers to Flint.
HOOT: Lark remembered numbers stamped on the crates beneath the PSG symbol. 473-821-064. Need Haley/Baker to run them.
The response came less than a minute later.
FLINT: On it.
Hoot looked at Lark. “Now we wait.”
They didn’t wait long. His phone buzzed.
FLINT: Haley has something. Video call. Now.
Hoot was already climbing out of bed.
“Come on.”
Lark blinked. “Now?”
“Now.”
Five minutes later, Hoot was dressed and standing in the home office while Lark followed behind him, pulling her hair into a messy knot.
Haley’s face appeared first, surrounded by the familiar glow of computer monitors. Baker joined from whatever tropical location he’d decided was more comfortable than an actual office, while Flint sat in the Condor’s Overwatch conference room.
Haley looked like she’d been waiting for them. “I ran the numbers through every database I could access.”
Hoot raised an eyebrow. “Every database?”
“Don’t worry about the ones I wasn’t supposed to access.”
“That’s exactly what worries me.”
She ignored him. “I also fed them into SIBYL.”
Lark looked at Hoot. He explained quietly. “SIBYL is Haley’s surveillance and predictive-analysis system. It pulls information from multiple data sources, identifies connections people might miss, and can build patterns from seemingly unrelated pieces of information.”
Haley nodded.
“Basically, SIBYL is very good at finding needles in haystacks.”
“And occasionally setting the haystack on fire,” Voodoo muttered.
“I heard that.”
“Wasn't meant to be subtle.”
Haley rolled her eyes and turned back to her screens. “SIBYL found something.”
Hoot’s attention sharpened.
“What?”
“The numbers aren’t coordinates.” Baker leaned closer to his camera, listening intently. “They’re manifest numbers.”
Hoot’s stomach tightened. “Shipping manifests?”
“Exactly.” Haley brought up a document. “The original manifest corresponds to a shipment that entered the United States several months ago.”
“What was listed as cargo?”
“Industrial equipment. Specialized machinery components.”
Hoot glanced at the list Haley sent. “That’s not what was actually in those crates, was it?”
“No,” Haley said. “And SIBYL agrees.” A new screen appeared where several lines of data were highlighted. “The manifest was altered twice after the shipment entered the country.”
Flint’s expression hardened. “By whom?”
“That’s the problem. “The changes were made using legitimate credentials.”
Flint’s eyes narrowed. “Government or private?”
“Unclear.” Hoot’s jaw tightened. “I’m still digging.”
Baker spoke up. “The interesting part isn’t what the manifest originally said. It’s what happened to it afterward.”
“What do you mean?”
Haley brought up a map. “The original destination was a warehouse outside Norfolk.”
Voodoo mused, “Water access?”
“Directly onto the Elizabeth River.”
Hoot’s mind immediately jumped to the island. “The crates were being moved by water.”
“Exactly,” Baker said.
Haley zoomed in on the map. “But there’s more.” Of course there was. “The shipment didn’t stay in Norfolk.” She traced the route with her finger. “Three containers were transferred to another carrier. Then another. We’ve identified at least four locations.”
“Where?”
“Norfolk. Baltimore. Philadelphia.” She paused. “And one here in Virginia.”
Hoot stared at the map. “Bell Creek?”
“Not quite,” Haley said. “But close enough to make me nervous.”
Flint leaned forward. “How close?”
Haley’s fingers moved across the keyboard. “Twenty-seven miles.”
Silence settled over the room. Lark’s fingers slipped into Hoot’s. He squeezed them and thought of everything they’d uncovered. The crates. PSG. And now a manifest trail leading through waterways and within striking distance of Bell Creek.
It was no longer a theory. They’d stumbled onto part of something much bigger.
Haley wasn’t finished. “SIBYL found another interesting pattern.” She brought up a series of dates. “Every six months, the company listed on the shipping records goes dark for several weeks. No normal transactions. No employee activity. No shipments.”
“Just like Calloway,” Voodoo remarked. “Can’t be a coincidence.”
“And then?” Flint asked.
“Everything resumes.”
“That’s not suspicious at all,” Jeeves said with a sarcastic scoff.
“Very.” Baker nodded.
“We think the company is being used as a front. Weapons, classified technology, possibly intelligence materials. The shipments disappear during those blackout periods and reappear under different manifests.”