Chapter 20
Dungar
We spent the next few hours setting things up, then returned to the jailhouse to review security footage from the cameras we’d installed near the maintenance shed earlier, carefully combing through grainy shots that yielded nothing. No one had approached the building.
“Maybe they know we’re watching,” Riley said as we locked up the jail for the night.
“Possibly.” I frowned, disliking the implications. “Let’s check if the cage is still there.”
The maintenance shed was exactly as we’d left it. The specialized transport cage remained hidden beneath the tarp, undisturbed according to the dust patterns I’d memorized.
We made our way to where I’d pastured Treelee, and rode her out of town to give the impression we’d left for the night.
Once giving the sorhox some grain and putting her in her stall for the night, we took a back trail to town, creeping up the low ridge behind the luminook pens, hunkering down and getting out our night vision goggles to survey the area below.
The night wrapped around us. Crickets chirped in the tall grass, and the luminooks’ soft humming drifted through the darkness. The hidden structure we’d set up was barely large enough for one person, let alone an orc my size and Riley.
I was hyperaware of every point where her body touched mine. Her hip against my thigh. Her elbow occasionally brushing my ribs. The faint scent of her shampoo mixing with the night air.
“Your brothers are in position?” She kept her voice low, though we were far enough from the pens that normal conversation wouldn’t carry.
I nodded, tapping my radio earpiece once. “Ruugar’s covering the north access. Tark and Becken have the perimeter. Greel’s monitoring communications from the saloon.”
“And we have the best view.” She shifted, her movement pressing her more firmly against my side. “Sorry for the close quarters.”
“I don’t mind.”
She glanced up at me, her eyes catching the moonlight. For a breathless moment, I considered abandoning the mission entirely and kissing her. Then the radio in my ear crackled.
“Movement at the north access road,” Ruugar’s voice came through. “Vehicle approaching.”
I tensed, switching my focus to the dirt road leading to the maintenance area. “We see it.”
Riley stared in that direction. “Black sedan. Can’t make out the plates yet.”
The car moved slowly along the access road. It stopped approximately fifty yards from the luminook pens, far enough away to avoid triggering the motion sensors we’d installed, but close enough for someone to reach the pens on foot.
“They’re staying outside our primary security zone,” I said.
“But well within our observation range. They don’t know about the extended perimeter.”
I focused on the vehicle. “Someone’s getting out of the driver’s side.”
A tall figure emerged, dressed in dark clothing, their face obscured by the angle and distance. Male? I wasn’t quite sure. He stood beside the vehicle, scanning the area.
“Wait, is that—” Riley shifted forward slightly. “Mary’s truck.”
The maintenance worker’s pickup pulled up beside the sedan, its engine cutting off when it came to a stop. Mary stepped out.
The man from the sedan opened his trunk, removing three medium-sized boxes. He and Mary exchanged words we couldn’t hear, and she took the boxes, one by one, loading them into the back of her truck.
I took photos with the long-range camera I’d positioned on a tripod, the soft click of the shutter the only sound besides our breathing.
“What do you think is in those boxes?” Riley whispered.
“Hard to say.”
We watched as Mary handed the man an envelope. He checked the contents, nodded, and returned to his vehicle. The entire exchange took less than five minutes.
“This could be related to whatever Joyce meant,” Riley said.
I nodded, continuing to document the interaction.
Mary returned to her truck and drove away, heading back toward town.
The sedan followed a different route, turning toward the main highway.
I relayed the information to my brothers, instructing Tark to follow the sedan at a safe distance while Ruugar tracked Mary’s return to town.
He’d try to get to the boxes if he could and let us know if he discovered anything about the contents.
For the next three hours, we maintained our vigil over the luminook pens, but no one approached them.
Mary parked her truck inside her locked garage, so Tark returned to his surveillance spot.
The sedan continued toward the next state over, and he didn’t follow.
The penned luminooks seemed more agitated than usual, their humming showing an erratic quality that made the hair on the back of my neck stand up.
“They know something’s wrong,” I said.
Riley nodded. “They’re sensitive to changes in their environment. They can probably sense the increased human activity around them.”
Even us.
“Or they’re picking up on pheromones we can’t detect.” I shifted, trying to find a more comfortable position without disturbing our careful arrangement. “In the orc kingdom, luminooks would often hum warnings before earthquakes or cave instabilities.”
“Early warning systems,” she mused. “That could be valuable to researchers.”
When Sel and Holly arrived to relieve us around midnight, I was reluctant to leave. Not because I didn’t trust my brother and his mate, but because I wasn’t ready to end this time with Riley. Despite the cramped quarters and the tension of surveillance, it felt good having her beside me.
“Mary met with an unidentified male, exchanged boxes for an envelope, but no one approached the pens,” I told them.
“We’ll keep watch.” Sel said, his gaze flicking to Riley. “Everything else alright?”
“Yes,” I said. “Everything is…good.”
Sel smiled, nudging my shoulder with his knuckles. “Excellent.”
Riley and I didn’t say anything as we took the long trail home.
“Drink?” I asked, unlocking the back door.
“Something strong, if you have it.”
We went to the living room, where I strode to the cabinet where I kept the special reserve of orcish spirits my brothers and I had brought from the orc kingdom. The bottle gleamed in the low light as I removed it.
“Crushoon liquor,” I said, pouring two fingers into each glass. “It’s similar to your tequila and made from fermented rock-dwelling plants found only in the deepest caverns.”
Riley accepted the glass, her fingertips brushing mine. “Sounds delicious. I’m in.”
I settled beside her on the sofa close enough to feel her presence but far enough away to respect her boundaries. She took a tentative sip, her eyes widening as the liquid hit the back of her throat.
“Wow.” She coughed once. “That’s…intense.”
“Too much?”
“No.” She took another sip, more prepared this time. “It’s good. Like tequila, as you said, but with hints of… Is that cinnamon?”
“Spices that grow only in the crystal caverns.” I sipped my own drink, the familiar burn coating my tongue. “My mother infuses the raw spirit with them for three full cycles of the underground calendar.”
“Tell me more about where you grew up.” Riley tucked her legs beneath her, turning to face me.
The genuine interest in her voice loosened something in my chest. I shared stories of my childhood in a way I hadn’t with any other human.
I told her about the vast caverns illuminated by bioluminescent crystals, about swimming in underground lakes where blind fish nibbled at our toes, about the elaborate family compounds in our region, the buildings carved into the rock walls.
“Seventeen siblings must’ve been wild,” she said, her second drink half-gone, her eyes soft in the lamplight.
“It was amazing.” I smiled at the memory.
“And how did your OCD fit into all that?”
“My systems helped me navigate it, actually. I kept the family calendar and organized supplies. My siblings teased me sometimes, but they relied on me too.”
“They still do. They trust your judgment completely.”
“And I trust theirs.” I swirled the remaining liquid in my glass. “What about you? What was your childhood like? Before…”
Riley was quiet for a moment, staring into her glass.
“We lived in an apartment in Chicago. My dad was an accountant. I guess that’s where I got my head for numbers.
Mom taught third grade.” Her voice took on a wistful quality.
“We didn’t have much money, but they made everything special.
Dad would create elaborate treasure hunts in the park for my birthday.
Mom sewed my Halloween costumes by hand. ”
“They sound wonderful,” I said.
“They were.” She met my eyes. “They taught me the importance of doing what’s right, even when it’s hard. Dad always said, ‘The easy path and the right path rarely look the same.’“
“Wise words.”
“Yeah.” She drained the last of her drink. “Sometimes I wonder what they’d think of me now. On the run, hiding who I am.”
“They’d be proud. You stood up against corruption that most people would’ve ignored. You risked everything for justice.”
“You really believe that?”
“I do.” I set my glass down on the coffee table. “What you did was brave, Riley. Don’t ever think otherwise.”
She placed her empty glass beside mine and leaned toward me.
“Thank you,” she whispered, rising onto her knees and cupping my shoulders. “I appreciate hearing that.”
She pressed her lips to mine. The kiss tasted of orcish spirits and something uniquely Riley, sweet and intoxicating. I slid a hand around her waist, drawing her closer as she melted against me.
When she pulled back, her eyes had darkened, the pupils expanded. “I’ve been wanting to do that all night.”
“Only all night?” I brushed my thumb across her lower lip. “I’ve been wanting to do that forever.”
Her laugh came out soft, breathless. “That long?”
“Longer, maybe. I was waiting for you before I even knew you existed.”
She smiled. Then she kissed me again, more deeply this time, her fingers sliding through my hair.
I eased her back onto the sofa, following her down, careful to support my weight on my forearms. Her body fit perfectly beneath mine, soft where I was hard, yielding where I was firm.
The contrast between us, human and orc, small and large, only heightened the sense that we were two halves of something that belonged together.
“Dungar,” she sighed against my lips, her body arching up to meet mine. “I want all of you.”