The Cardinal Bird - Book 1: Reverse Harem Series (The Cardinal Series) Page 10

  "On the times I remember my dreams, I dream that I'm back in the tank. I'll wake up when my lungs start to burn. Sometimes it's not about the tank. I don't know. Like I said, I don't remember all my dreams."

  "Those aren't dreams, dušo, those are night terrors."

  "I can't control it, and I haven't died from it, so it's not really anything to worry about."

  Only silence met my response once more, but the air was tense like they disagreed with me but weren't going to say anything. For now.

  I frowned at the thought. I figured that Brock at least would put up a bigger fight than that. Then, I caught the shifty eyes. Everyone was glancing up at Karl, and they looked guilty.

  "What's going on?" I asked carefully.

  "Now, don't get upset," Karl said carefully. "But we've called ahead at the airport where our jet is waiting. We don't have permission to take off until tomorrow."

  No problem. We could always drive around until it was time to take off. It would maybe be okay.

  Only, apparently, that was not what had been decided because Karl continued. "We've rented a room at a hotel for the night."

  It wasn't a hotel.

  It was a hostel, advertised proudly in big, peeling letters across a dingy sign that had seen better days. I didn't get out much, but I definitely knew the difference between a hotel and a hostel. Maybe Karl didn't.

  "This is a hostel," I pointed out. Karl started to get unbuckled without acknowledging what I'd said. I went to sit up, but two large hands pushed me back down, one on my shoulder and one on my thigh. Apparently, I wasn't allowed to get up yet.

  "You, we will sneak in," Brock said, patting my thigh when he was sure I wasn't going to try to sit up again.

  I frowned. "How? You need ID to get rooms, don't you?"

  "Yes," Karl said from the front though I couldn't sit up to see him, especially since Brock still hadn't removed the hand from my shoulder. "Usually you need to leave your passport at the desk with reception, or at the very least to check-in with. Speaking of which..."

  The front door opened and shut as Karl left.

  "So how are we going to be staying here then?" I asked.

  I felt the van shift a little. Possibly Brock had shrugged? Were his shoulders so massive that he would rock the van with a simple shrug? I glanced up at him. His rather intimidating size was even more intimidating from my point of view down on the bench, especially coupled with his dark aura and permanent scowl.

  "Karl's going to pay them off," he said, nonchalantly.

  Alarm raced down my spine. I didn't even try to sit up though the urge was strong. I knew I wouldn't get far with Brock’s hand. "Won't that tip people off?"

  "Yeah," Jace replied. "But, if Ivanov sends anyone back to that base to check, and the switch doesn't work, he's going to know you're alive. He'll probably assume a government or someone official had to intervene since it would've been hard to get you out of there otherwise. He already knew you had tipped someone off, right?"

  I bit my lip, wincing at the taste. I needed a new habit. "Yes, he found out that I tipped people off, but only after the fact. He didn't seem too upset about it either."

  There was a soft curse from above me.

  The van shifted again as Jace’s head edged around the seat so that he was looking at me. It was dark and his space filled the small gap between the front seats. His face was cast in shadow, but it was easy to feel his gaze as he studied my face. "If you weren't put in that tank to die for tipping us off, then what were you put in there for?"

  I shrugged my shoulders but didn't give an answer.

  "Anyway," Brock said, rubbing at one of the shoulders I'd just shrugged. "It's our hope that if he finds out, he'll try to trace us by checking hotels. Most officials wouldn't check into a hostel."

  I prayed that they were right, but I feared Nikolai's reach was just too far spread. Paying off a hostel was bound to draw attention. If someone wanted to gain favor from the Great Nikolai Ivanov, they would be jumping at the bit to mention any unlawful, unusual, and suspicious behavior.

  The front door opened, interrupting the tension, and Karl's face appeared over the driver's seat. "We've got a few dorms for us. There's a shared shower and one room with a private shower, so I just rented out the entire floor. I was even able to rent out a couple of the other floors for a little bit more safety. They said they’d be able to re-room the small number of people already checked in to one of the lower levels. Anyway, we're going to go in small groups up to the right floor. We'll already stick out like a sore thumb. I mean, I certainly don't look 18 anymore. I had to pay them off extra to let me stay."

  "I thought most hostels don't care anymore about age," Jace said.

  "Well," Karl said, shuffling some papers. "I guess they just smelled easy money since I was already paying them off for the passports and to get three floors."

  "That sounds reassuring," Jace added.

  Brock snorted at Jace’s sarcasm.

  I groaned, wiping a hand down my face. "It'd be just my luck if they're in Nik--Ivanov's back pocket."

  I wondered what he would do if he caught me. He wouldn't put me back in the tank, surely. Would he be so mad that he'd end it quickly? Probably not. He wasn't one to let emotions rule him, after all. He'd probably drag it out, make it a learning exercise for others. He liked things that had multiple purposes.

  The back of the van was opened from the outside. It was CJ. Even if I hadn’t just been talking to Jace, I’d be able to tell it was him from the way his eyes were brighter, illuminated in a golden glow. He didn’t have a reserved look about him. He seemed like the type to wear his heart on his sleeve.

  CJ was no longer just wearing the black fatigues. He had changed into a blue button-up shirt with a logo on the front in French. It was paired with black slacks. He tossed a bag into the back of the van. It landed with a heavy thud. "Aleks picked these up at the gas station when we stopped. All our clothes are at the hotel in Russia, and we can’t exactly all go in looking like an illegal version of SWAT. So, change into these clothes. We're going in as two separate groups. For you guys, it'd be best to help hide Callie over there. She looks like she's been cycled one too many times through a coffee grinder."

  Despite the tense situation, his comment registered as playful.

  It was childish, but I couldn't help it. It was something about CJ’s personality. I stuck my tongue out at him.

  A deep, husky laugh sounded from over his shoulder.

  "You better be careful, malyshka. Do not put your tongue out unless you plan to use it,” a deep, boisterous voice said in Russian, making the remark seem all that more dangerous.

  That made my tongue tuck tail and disappear faster than a calculator computing: 2+2.

  I cleared my throat. "Malyshka?"

  Aleks' only response was to grin, obviously not planning to give up on calling me a little girl any time soon. He took half a step back and suddenly disappeared as the black night swallowed up his massive form. It sent chills up my arms. He was such an intimidating and imposing person--both in personality and his physical body. I hadn't known he was standing there--silent until he'd laughed. I hadn't seen him until he stepped forward. I wanted to blame it on the exhaustion, but I couldn't, not entirely. If he had been watching me as I talked to CJ, all without my knowledge, it was probably just because he was that good.

  CJ shuffled items around in the bag, pulling out a button-up shirt similar to what he was wearing. He tossed it to Brock who snagged it out of the air.

  "Since Aleks forgot that we would need girl clothes, Callie gets to wear Karl's extra shirt since, oddly enough, he's the closest to her size."

  "Hey! What's that supposed to mean: Oddly enough?"

  "Well, sir," CJ said with a small smile. "It's just that you're the oldest and yet--"

  "Okay, okay, okay," Karl cut him off, a look of distaste on his face. He groaned and rubbed at his face. "I get it. Jeez, CJ. Jeez. No one can get mad at you. You say things so innocently." He mumbled something under his breath about Jace being a saint for keeping his teammates in line, whatever that meant, before he ran his hand through his hair. "Alright, Tate team, start moving out. We're on the third floor. You get to clear the way."

  Brock held the button-up shirt, clear skepticism on his face. "Do you have any pants?"

  A pair of brown slacks hit him in the face, the legs wrapping around to the back of his head like a handsy octopus. There was complete silence.

  Chapter 9

  My mouth was catching flies it was open so wide. I’d only known the guys for a few hours, and I could tell that Brock was not someone that you messed with. Not if you wanted to live to tell the story.

  The silence stretched out.

  Then, Aleks burst out into loud, boisterous laughter that was as unapologetic as it was unafraid. If there was anyone that would be brave enough to do something like that to Brock, it had to be Aleks.

  So, so very slowly, Brock reached his massive hand up to grab the offending article of clothing. I gulped. His face was slowly revealed, and it was as...glorious...as it was stone-cold scary. His winter-gray eyes zeroed in on something in the darkness beyond the van doors. At first, I thought it was CJ, but then I heard a dark chuckle.

  "You’re lucky we’re busy right now. You'd better sleep with your eyes open, Alexa," Brock said, calm as can be. “I’ll be getting you back for that later.”

  Aleks didn’t respond. He just headed into the building with the rest of his team as Karl had said before. If my understanding was correct, that meant that Aleks and the twins made up the Tate team. And also, Brock had his own team, back in Norfolk, Virginia. At least, I assumed it was in Virginia. It wouldn’t be that far away from D.C. where a lot of government agencies had their headquarters. I assumed that whatever agency these guys and their teams worked for, it would be near there.

  Brock turned to me, and my breath caught in my throat. Even knowing his anger wasn't directed at me, I was scared on Aleks’ behalf for half a second before Brock’s face relaxed. He slammed the door behind him without looking back. "Let's get you changed," Brock grumbled.

  Without a word, Karl opened his door, got out, and leaned back against the window with his arms folded across his chest as he scanned the surroundings.

  Brock helped me sit up on the bench. The wounds didn't hurt as much as they had before, and I wasn't sure whether to be worried or relieved. Brock’s hands went to the hem of the shirt I was wearing and lifted before I could even process what was happening.

  Cold air hit me, and Brock just froze.

  "What happened to your bra?" Brock growled, sounding strange. I chanced a look up at him. There was just enough time to see a slight pink tint to his ears before the button-up shirt was pulled over my head and blocking my view. By the time my head popped back through, Brock’s face looked like it usually did, so I had to wonder if I had imagined the whole thing.

  "It was wet and cold," I said. "When CJ gave me his shirt to wear, I took it off."

  "I'm sorry," he said. "I didn't know." He buttoned up the top two buttons that had been left undone for my head to fit through. Then, he stopped and glanced up and over my shoulder. He cleared his throat. "Uh, ah, are you wearing anything under the..."

  I shook my head.

  We both silently, unanimously decided that the boxers would be okay for me to wear until we could get inside.

  Brock crouched down at my feet. "Can you lift your leg, or would you like me to help?"

  I lifted my leg just fine. It pulled at my stomach, but I had a higher pain tolerance that had built up over the years. They didn't need to baby me. Although...it was a new experience that I was definitely liking.

  Brock helped me step into the pants, his fingers reaching to button them, and I had to speak up. "It's okay. I've got it."

  "I don't want you to pull anything," he said, going to button them for me anyway. I let him. He was just trying to help, and they had already done so much for me. If we ended up making it out of Europe, I would owe them my life. If he wanted to take care of me, he could help take care of me.

  Brock turned and rapt a couple of times on the back door. Karl was there to open it for us. Between the two of them, I didn't have to do much of anything to get out of the van.

  If I hadn't had to hold the pants from sliding down my hips, I probably would've said something anyway--despite appreciating their care and concern. They were warring with my self-sufficient habits of doing everything for myself.

  They took turns standing outside with me and getting changed in the back of the van. I used the time to look around some more. Other than the sign that was worn down and in serious need of repair, the hostel was actually more antique or ancient than it was decrepit. The facade was a dark gray and smooth with cornices that lead the eye around the layers of the building. The middle of the building came to a gentle and curving eave that had a stone carving of a type of small bird. It was hard to tell exactly what type of bird because the details had been weathered away over time.

  There were four stories above the ground. Each of those stories--except for the top floor--had the soft glow of orange light filtering out. Glancing around behind me, I noted that we were on a back street parked by the curb, not too far off from the main drag if the noise of buses and trams was anything to go by. We were also close enough to the main street to still have a few food vendors spotted here and there along the cobblestone sidewalk. Smells of rye bread and spiced pork permeated through the air. People walking along the sidewalks chatted, using the light from antique sconces and still open storefronts to find their way.

  I had been to Estonia before but only on the way through to another place. It wasn't enough to really begin to take in the culture of the place but being here now and watching locals--and even some backpackers--as they navigated the narrow streets was a good start. I spotted other buildings with a similar bird as the one on the hostel, so I was guessing that the bird was either a national symbol or at least somewhat representative of the city we were in.

  I turned to Karl. "What city are we in?"

  "Tallinn," he said just as the others finished changing and piled out the doors. He looked up from his phone. "Are we ready?"

  Brock nodded.

  "Okay," Karl said. "The Tate team has given us the clear. Alecks and Jace are near the front desk on the first floor. There are some backpackers down there in the lounge area, so they are going to cause a distraction while we head for the stairs. CJ is keeping an eye on the second floor. We rented out the third. The fourth...our floor, should also be cleared. We have the top."

  I looked back over, confused for a moment. It was the floor with all of the lights out. I forgot that the US started with the ground floor as the first floor and the first floor as the second floor. So, whereas I had gotten used to Ground, N° 1, N° 2, N° 3...Karl was calling them 1st, 2nd, 3rd, 4th.

  "Callie," Karl continued. "We'll keep you in the middle of us. There aren't a lot of cameras, and there are none on the stairs. So, when we walk in, keep your head turned to the left. You shouldn't be visible behind Brock, but just in case, we don't want to make any mistakes that could've been avoided. Once we get to the stairs, we're home-free. CJ should've disabled the fourth-floor camera by the time we get up there." He paused a second to let that sink in. "Any questions?"

  I shook my head.

  "Let us know if you need help once we get to the stairs. It's a long way up, and we don't mind carrying you," Brock grumbled out in his deep voice.

  I just gave a nod, doubting I would ask.