Demon Seed by Jianne Carlo Read Free Book Online Page B

for a bit. Fredo had someone fetch all our stuff from the hotel, and he stocked the boat with supplies. If you need anything else, it’ll have to wait a couple of days.”
    “I’d like to know your real name.” She played with the third button of his shirt.
    Crap . “Demon will have to do for now.”
    She dropped her gaze from his. “As you wish.”
    “The boat’s around the back.” Loosening his hold on her warm torso, Demon ordered, “Go. Get on board. I’ll be with you in a few minutes.”
    “Okay.” She shot him a tight-lipped, wan smile, turned around, and walked to the left of the house.
    The second she rounded the porch, Demon went into action. He picked the front door lock and made his way to the “office” where Fredo kept his radio transmitter. The man hadn’t a tidy bone in his body. Stacks polluted the tiny room—sheaves of paper, a three-foot pile of hardcover books that hadn’t seen a twenty-first-century publication date, and heaps of disemboweled weapons.
    Demon switched on the ham radio Fredo had told him about. He found a secure frequency and contacted Satan on the first try. He brought Satan current, outlined the change in plans, and requested backgrounds on Rafael Vilas and Elvira and Jose Genro. He gave Satan the numbers of the two disposable cells he’d purchased earlier and signed off.
    The houseboat proved more habitable than Demon expected. The bow had two wide benches with cup holders and a nailed-down coffee table that doubled as a trunk. He lifted the lid and spied a plastic-encased blanket and a few tools. A small but efficient engine room contained all the necessary equipment for navigation, and the mother lode—a miniature replica of the old-fashioned radio in the house. He tested the radio. It didn’t work.
    Demon had to duck under the archway leading to the kitchen. Again, small but efficient. A gas stove, a minifridge, and a stainless steel percolator. The thought of a strong cup of java had him salivating. He found Jacinta in the last room. Bunk beds lined either side of the narrow chamber. Open shelves half-hidden by a thick plastic curtain covered the far wall.
    Jacinta had used the fifteen minutes of his absence like a pro. She’d unpacked the two burlap sacks containing all their possessions. All his belongings lined the bottom bed on the left; hers had been packed into the shelves. He glanced under the bunk and spied his duffel bag, checked the zipper, and his knotted shoulders relaxed when he saw the small padlock he’d purchased earlier was still attached. The beds were made, and she’d stacked the toothbrushes and paste into an alcove above the corner built-in sink on the far right. Through the open door next to the sink, he spied the head.
    Jacinta removed her earbuds and smiled up at him. She sat cross-legged on a bunk bed—a tattered Archie comic book lay open on her lap—and looked no older than fifteen. The jailbait picture was enhanced by the pink staining her cheeks and her obvious youth and freshness. What a complete prick he was, standing there, thinking of all the ways he wanted to nail her, taste her, fucking eat her up.
    “Why don’t you go ahead and get some sleep. We travel at night from now on.” He did an about-face and hustled out of the claustrophobic room before Demon’s Rape and Pillage became the latest TV reality show. He conked his head on the archway, held back another string of curses, and tripped over his own feet before landing in the engine room.
    The roar of the twin turbines scared a string of bats hanging upside down from a scarred guava tree into flight. Demon eased the boat into the middle of the river and loosed his hold on the wheel. The currents listed the ship to the left bank; he corrected the direction, fixed the wheel in place, slouched in the captain’s chair, propped his boots on the counter, and contemplated the merits of jerking off. His current mood wouldn’t facilitate a quick release, and he couldn’t