Read Online Act of Surrender: An Immortal Ops World Novel (PSI-Ops / Immortal Ops Book 2) by Mandy M. Roth - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Mandy M. Roth
Tags: dpgroup.org, IDS@DPG
Ads: Link
she’d been brought on. Her experiments never harmed anyone, but this one seemed to have some interesting side effects.
They were still better than what had happened to the captain while visiting Mercy’s office. James nearly laughed at the thought of it all. He paused. “You’re not armed are you?”
Striker grunted. “Och, Duke took our weapons before we let his wee slip of a wife inject us. Says we can have ’em back after she’s all done with us.”
Smart.
“I’m not sure you should be mixing alcohol and sedatives, even with your metabolisms. Seems unwise,” added James. He knew if he dared to allow them to leave in their current state they’d unleash pandemonium in the streets of the city. They were trouble on a normal day. Hopped up on Mercy-Juice could only make it worse.
“Bedding those wenches outside the barracks of the English encampment in the late seventeen hundreds was a bad idea,” pushed Striker, swaying more. When he managed to regain his footing, he made motions as if he was pumping into a woman when in reality he was using thin air to prove his point about his prowess. “They were screamers, but totally worth it. Woke the whole damn regiment. Bloody English chased me around when I was in naught more than what I’d been born in.”
James actually cracked a full, real smile at the thought of Striker trying to evade the English army. They’d been friends a very long time and been through quite a bit, including sharing a cell long ago. That was how they’d first met. They’d both been held in the same Scottish prison for a period of time. The place had been a hellhole. Striker had been a handful then and not much had changed.
“And how did that end for you?” asked Boomer.
James knew the answer already. “He spent a fortnight in the stockades before he finally broke free.”
Striker’s gaze found James. “Had me a wee bit of help.”
Boomer smiled. “Dumbass.”
“Och, I’m nae the Asshole of the Week ,” returned Striker, attempting to stand on his own merit but tipping sideways, pulling Boomer with him. “Duke is still holdin’ that title good and tight.”
Duke had gone bat-shit crazy when his mate had been injured during the extraction to break James free. When Duke had seen Mercy there, on the floor, partially on James’s lap, bloody and not moving, he’d lost his shit and allowed the blood lust to take hold. That was a dangerous thing for a shifter to do. Some never bounced back from it. Duke had been stuck in shifter form for days—earning him the Asshole of the Week award.
James leaned on the stool, watching his friends, missing this type of interaction with them more than he’d thought he would. Boomer tried to go left and Striker went right, each still clinging to the other. They ended up bouncing back to the center, knocking heads.
“Bat boy, you got a hard head,” said Striker, rubbing his head slightly. “Like a rock.”
“Bat boy?” echoed Boomer, rubbing his head as well. “What are you talking ’bout, Scot?”
Striker pointed to the man’s leather pants. Boomer seemed to have an endless wardrobe of leather. And most had silver bats on them. The pair of leather pants he currently wore were no exception. “If the leather fits.”
Boomer grinned. “ I’m Batman ,” he said, throwing his voice even deeper than its normal level. “And I am kick ass.”
“Yer a dumbass,” offered Striker.
“I’m that too.” Boomer flashed another wide smile. He put his arms out wide. “I’m Bat-Panther.”
“Aye, and I’m Super-Wolf,” added Striker, lifting his arms into the air and simulating flight. “I need a cape.”
“Nah, your skirt should do the trick,” said Boomer.
“You’re both dumbasses.” James continued to smile.
The men continued to sway and knock into one another. James took note of Boomer’s t-shirt that read Got Sparkle and shook his head, putting it all together. “Let me guess, the Crimson Sentinels
They were still better than what had happened to the captain while visiting Mercy’s office. James nearly laughed at the thought of it all. He paused. “You’re not armed are you?”
Striker grunted. “Och, Duke took our weapons before we let his wee slip of a wife inject us. Says we can have ’em back after she’s all done with us.”
Smart.
“I’m not sure you should be mixing alcohol and sedatives, even with your metabolisms. Seems unwise,” added James. He knew if he dared to allow them to leave in their current state they’d unleash pandemonium in the streets of the city. They were trouble on a normal day. Hopped up on Mercy-Juice could only make it worse.
“Bedding those wenches outside the barracks of the English encampment in the late seventeen hundreds was a bad idea,” pushed Striker, swaying more. When he managed to regain his footing, he made motions as if he was pumping into a woman when in reality he was using thin air to prove his point about his prowess. “They were screamers, but totally worth it. Woke the whole damn regiment. Bloody English chased me around when I was in naught more than what I’d been born in.”
James actually cracked a full, real smile at the thought of Striker trying to evade the English army. They’d been friends a very long time and been through quite a bit, including sharing a cell long ago. That was how they’d first met. They’d both been held in the same Scottish prison for a period of time. The place had been a hellhole. Striker had been a handful then and not much had changed.
“And how did that end for you?” asked Boomer.
James knew the answer already. “He spent a fortnight in the stockades before he finally broke free.”
Striker’s gaze found James. “Had me a wee bit of help.”
Boomer smiled. “Dumbass.”
“Och, I’m nae the Asshole of the Week ,” returned Striker, attempting to stand on his own merit but tipping sideways, pulling Boomer with him. “Duke is still holdin’ that title good and tight.”
Duke had gone bat-shit crazy when his mate had been injured during the extraction to break James free. When Duke had seen Mercy there, on the floor, partially on James’s lap, bloody and not moving, he’d lost his shit and allowed the blood lust to take hold. That was a dangerous thing for a shifter to do. Some never bounced back from it. Duke had been stuck in shifter form for days—earning him the Asshole of the Week award.
James leaned on the stool, watching his friends, missing this type of interaction with them more than he’d thought he would. Boomer tried to go left and Striker went right, each still clinging to the other. They ended up bouncing back to the center, knocking heads.
“Bat boy, you got a hard head,” said Striker, rubbing his head slightly. “Like a rock.”
“Bat boy?” echoed Boomer, rubbing his head as well. “What are you talking ’bout, Scot?”
Striker pointed to the man’s leather pants. Boomer seemed to have an endless wardrobe of leather. And most had silver bats on them. The pair of leather pants he currently wore were no exception. “If the leather fits.”
Boomer grinned. “ I’m Batman ,” he said, throwing his voice even deeper than its normal level. “And I am kick ass.”
“Yer a dumbass,” offered Striker.
“I’m that too.” Boomer flashed another wide smile. He put his arms out wide. “I’m Bat-Panther.”
“Aye, and I’m Super-Wolf,” added Striker, lifting his arms into the air and simulating flight. “I need a cape.”
“Nah, your skirt should do the trick,” said Boomer.
“You’re both dumbasses.” James continued to smile.
The men continued to sway and knock into one another. James took note of Boomer’s t-shirt that read Got Sparkle and shook his head, putting it all together. “Let me guess, the Crimson Sentinels
Similar Books
