The wrong idea, p.15
The Wrong Idea, page 15
“You see they have hot tubs? A hot tub on the balcony overlooking the sea,” I said.
“Nice,” Thor said. “But we’re not the vacationing type.”
“It’s not for a vacation. It’s where we should live,” I said.
They both looked at me as if I’d sprung boing-eyes out of my eye sockets.
“We can’t live there,” Odin said.
“Why not?” I asked.
Thor snorted. “Because.”
“Oh, thanks for clearing that up,” I said.
“We’re visiting vengeance on those who fucking-g betrayed us,” Odin said.
“Haven’t you heard?” I asked. “The best revenge is living well.”
Odin rolled his eyes. “The best revenge is for their skin to melt slowly and painfully in the fucking-g fire of our wrath.”
I didn’t have much of a reply to that, so I continued on. “There’s a free clinic Thor could volunteer at. You could do your art, Odin. Zeus can amuse himself. I’m sure I could find a way to amuse myself. With you guys.”
Thor raised an eyebrow. “Correction. We amuse ourselves with you.”
I gave him a look.
He touched my cheek. “Do you need a demonstration? Of us amusing ourselves with you? Sating ourselves on your body?”
Desire shot down clear through my core. “Be serious.” I took the iPad from Thor and shoved it at Odin, who was again peering through the binoculars. “Look at it. Imagine yourself there.”
“I know what Jerba looks like.” Tunisia wasn’t where he was from originally, but surely he was homesick for the Middle East. The call to prayer. The specific kind of heat. The pop music. The desert. He would speak a different version of Arabic than what they spoke there, but still. It wasn’t the Western world.
“Imagine yourself sitting on that balcony,” I said. “We could retire here.”
“We don’t retire,” Odin said.
“Why?” I asked. “Why can’t we retire? We have so much money. We have just so much.”
“We haven’t delivered enough pain,” Odin said.
“When will we have delivered enough pain?” I asked.
Odin lowered his voice to a snarl. “When ZOX screams like a little girl.”
A.k.a. never.
My heart sank.
Their vengeance was righteous, and it was driven by a burning fire, ever since the secret agency they’d devoted their lives to had betrayed them. Taking down banks, the most public of crimes, was the best fuck you two secret agents and a doctor could devise. Their extreme attitude and their driven-ness was why I loved them, even though we’d never said the words to each other. But as the weeks had turned into months, I’d become uncomfortable with running on pure vengeance. It had seemed beautiful once, but it wasn’t beautiful anymore.
I wanted better for them. Because I loved them.
Loving them was scary because my bank robbers were beautiful and doomed, according to a good number of people. I usually enjoyed scary and doomish things, but the constant threat of losing them was not the type of scary and doomish thing I liked.
“Teller two on her way to a smoke break,” Thor said.
I checked my wig in the mirror. This was my lucky bank robbing wig: blunt-cut blonde hair with bangs—ideal for fitting in with the Beverly Hills clientele. In real life, I’d cut my hair short and dyed it platinum blonde. Before that, on the sheep farm, it was long and red.
Satisfied with my wig, I straightened my necklace. One of the good things about casing this place were the extremely fabulous outfits required to look the part. Today I wore a pink silky shirt dress with gold heels. “One thing’s for sure; living in a vacation paradise would be a hell of a lot more exciting than sitting in this stupid truck doing the most boring thing on the planet.”
“This is boring to you, Isis?” Odin lowered his binoculars. He had a certain gleam in his eye that spelled trouble. “Do we need to make it un-boring? In a perhaps excruciatingly pleasurable manner?”
“Are you going to tell me you wouldn’t rather be lounging in the sun on a tropical island?” I countered.
I had timed my impudence perfectly—I had to be inside the bank in a few minutes. They wouldn’t be able to start anything sexy.
Thor looked sadly over at me. He and Odin were dressed in silky shirts and nice slacks, also disguised as patrons of the Prime. They were going in later. “This is boring you, Isis? Oh, no,” he said. Thor always acted a little sad when I made an infraction for which I’d have to be erotically punished, though I happened to know he was feeling quite the opposite.
I swallowed, feeling a thrill directly between my legs. “You can’t start something. It’s almost eleven. I have to make my deposit and check things out.” My job was to go in there every day at eleven and make sure things were still soft and observe the different ways in which they were soft.
I knew a lot about banks, having worked at one. These two men—Thor and Odin—along with their leader, Zeus, had taken me away from that life three months back.
As their hostage.
Being held hostage by three hunky bank robbers had turned out to be wonderful in many, many ways.
“We can’t start something?” Thor lowered his voice into a sexy rumble. “How is it that we can’t start something? Let me ask you—”
“Stop,” I laughed, knowing what he’d ask.
He rested a commanding hand on the side of my neck. “Let me ask you who in this vehicle must let us use her body for our pleasure whenever we see fit? Who was that?”
“B-but…” I looked at the bank clock. It was nearly time.
“Who in this vehicle is ours to command?” he continued. “Whatever and wherever we want you?” He placed a hand on my thigh and started moving it up just to demonstrate. “Who?”
“But…”
He moved his hand higher. “We will take you wherever and however we please.”
I could feel the wetness increase between my legs. “We can’t do anything until after I make the deposit. You have to pay attention to this retirement idea.”
I felt Odin reach around to grab my hair. “Oh, goddess,” he whispered. “We’re not the ones who started something. By complaining.”
“Unbutton your top,” Thor whispered. “Slowly, the way we like.”
“Excuse me?” But I’d heard, of course.
Odin let me go and pulled a box from the glove compartment.
“Is Odin going to have to put you over his knee?” Thor asked.
My eyes widened at the box. It looked too small for a paddle.
>>Continue reading The Deeper Game
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* * *
Click here to see a complete list of Annika’s books.
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I love reading fun, steamy books, doing yoga, taking pictures of my cats, rocking out to 90’s music, taking long baths, consuming See’s chocolate suckers, mooning over heroes’ hands, and helping animals. I also love connecting with readers and reviewers.
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Annika Martin, The Wrong Idea
