Page 110 of Eyes in the Shadows
Our performance is clunky, but apparently our cop buys it.“Whoa,”we hear him mutter.“Scumbag…”
“It’s so weird that we can hear him but he can’t hear us,” Eleanor observes a bit breathlessly, holding her cheek. “I keep thinking I have to whisper.”
“Turn away from me,” I instruct, then address her comment, “I know, it used to make me really nervous that something would go wrong and they’d be able to hear us, too. Wes explained to me that those bugs aren’t made with a speaker, only a mic.”
“That does make me feel a little bit better.”
“Okay, now we’re going to make up.” I walk to her, lay my hand on her shoulder, and press into her when she turns. My body instantly responds, not caring that we’re acting. Blood fills my cock at the instant heat in her gaze and rapid intake of breath. I slide my hand into her hair and hold her head in place.
She moans a little against my lips and her hands slide up my arms.
“Jesus, if you’re going to do that, at least mute yourselves,”Wes complains into our ear.
“Even the scumbag’s rakin’ ‘em in. I can’t catch a fuckin’ break…”McCloskey thinks he remarks tohimself with a sigh.
“I think we’re good at this,” she says with a little smile.
I lift my brows at her. “Are you having fun?”
“Depends how far we can go to convince him we’re making up,” she says, a little mischievous sparkle in her eye.
I kiss her again, not caring that Wes and Dimitri are getting an earful of my tongue in her mouth, and back her up towards the bed.
“Fuck this,”McCloskey says.
We all hear his car start up.
“He’s on the move,”Wes informs us all.
39
Wesley
I really hate having my hands tied like this.
I lock the chain around the fence door and climb back into the van’s driver seat, just as the cold rain starts falling. It would look too suspicious for the vehicle to be on the side of the road, or anywhere else nearby, so I park in the rear of the warehouse. The fields around are flat, and other than a patch of trees on the opposite side of the road, the nearest tall thing is a house, only just visible half a mile away from its lit windows in the dark.
If anyone does manage to get through the fence, hopefully I’ve arrived early enough for the engine to cool. It’s got bulletproof glass, so at least that isn’t a concern. Any light in the back can be shut off at a second’s notice, and I won’t be making any noise so I should avoid attention. This rain is perfect, in fact, creating a dry spot that sells the image of an abandoned van in the back of a warehouse parking lot.
The warehouse itself is only about 20,000 square feet, small for this kind of thing in America, I’ve gathered. And it’s in a state of disrepair that makes it nondescript—it’s not shiny new, but the roof is intact and the rust staining the paint on the cinderblocks hasn’t eaten through any key features. The windows are high, giving a good illusion of privacy, and the rolling door in the front was big enough to drive that lorry straight through.
After a quick walk-through of the building, confirming that the lorry—truck, Mac is always saying,truck—is exactly where we left it, I settle into the back of the van and open up my laptop. We have video visuals inside the warehouse already, something I set up before we left half a billion dollars of high-grade weaponry in a low-security warehouse in New Jersey. Because it’s so dark in there, the nighttime vision upgrade wascritical.
The picture casts a greenish light into the back of the van and I settle into my seat. I reach into the bin under the makeshift desk and produce a bag of jerky that Mac forgot about.
A message pops up in my secure Internet Relay Chat, or IRC. Normally I ignore it when I’m on a job, but it is going to take McCloskey at least a quarter hour to get here from the hotel.
mermaidav: heard you’re looking for info on a certain mayor
I grin and type back. This could tie up nicely.
SpyderMan: Fresh meat. Who gave you my contact?
mermaidav: vinny
SpyderMan: Send it.
mermaidav: no freebies
