Page 6 of Room Ten: Praise Times Three

I don’t have a strength to answer his dumb ass. Instead, I throw my arms out and show him what I’m wearing.

He turns around and curses the entire way back to his bedroom. “Putting on the tie is going to make me fucking hard.”

I laugh, because yeah.

“Here she is.” Pictures of a much more subdued Epiphany pop on the screen. Graduation photos, sorority pictures, company headshots—nothing that speaks to her personality or experiences.

“Twins?”

“Identical, born seven minutes apart.”

“Parents?”

Soren clicks a few buttons. “Walter Krushner, owner and CEO of Krushner Industries, amongst a few dozen subsidiaries. Widower, forty-eight years old, he never remarried. He’s self-made, mostly. Married his college sweetheart, an affluent woman by the name of Chrissy, who died in a head-on collision a little over ten years ago.”

“Lots of money in play?” I toss back what’s left of my coffee and glance at my watch, realizing we are going to be late.

I’m gonna kill Caiden.

“I’d say so. He’s worth a few billion. Number three hundred eighty-six on Forbes’ top four hundred richest in the world.”

“No shit?”

“What are we doing?” I turn to find Caiden in a suit, adjusting his cock in his pants.

“Seriously, man?”

“You know, putting on a tie gets me hard, just like it does you.”

Soren stands up and shakes his head. “You two are no better than animals.”

“Yeah,” Caiden and I say at the same time.

Caiden walks to the front door, nodding at Soren. “I’ll throw our gear in the truck while you pack up your whiz bang tools.”

Soren types a couple of commands and then undocks his laptop. Sliding it plus a couple other things into a bag, he hoists it up onto his shoulder. “I’m ready.”

The three of us function like a well-oiled machine. We’ve been together for fourteen years, out of the military for three, working for Victor for two. We were PsySpecOps in the Army and met at AIT after they recruited us out of our career fields for the special duty. PsySpecOps soldiers aren’t like other soldiers. Hell, we aren’t even like other special ops units. We’re a cross of special ops, Intel, EXO, Cyber, and psychological warfare, to name a few.

Imagine if Chuck Norris, MacGyver, and B.F. Skinner all jerked off into a test tube and then impregnated Wonder Woman. That’s us.

That’s a joke, but not a far-fetched one. We’re like what you get when you take somebody who has special forces training and then put them through the FBI Quantico behavioral sciences program. It takes eighteen months to graduate training and requires an eight-year commitment. After undergoing multiple psychological and behavioral tests, they place us in groups of three, damn near guaranteed to be compatible in every way.

Caiden, Soren, and I are scarily in tune with each other in our likes, dislikes, and preferences for all things—including sex. And I know we’re not the only ones, because we’ve seen other people from our old unit at our favorite playground—Club Sin. It’s never been confirmed, mostly because we don’t talk about it, but there’s got to be something to the psychological profiles they build on us that correlates to being the kind of guys who like to share the same woman.

I jump into the passenger seat while Soren climbs into the back. Caiden is at the wheel, as usual. “You got our shit?”

Caiden throws the Suburban into gear and nods. “All the basics. We’ll have to go to the garage for the fun shit.”

I glance at the address on my map. “Take 90W to Sutton.”

“Roger that.”

“Did Victor mention who else was going to be on the job?” Soren asks from the backseat.

“Yeah, Lee’s team.”

“I’ll send them what we got now.” Soren pauses as he sends out a mass message to all of our phones, to include Victor. “I’m pinging both of the women’s phones. One is on the property, while the other one is about a mile away on a residential street. We might want to stop when we get close.”

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