Page 12 of A Chip on Her Shoulder

“I did not say anything positive about him there, Darlene.”

“I like electricity, I want to be spoiled, and I wish I could require luxuries to get through the day. A comfortable domain is important. And he has a dungeon.” I smiled at the thought of what I could do to the assholes who’d transformed my brother with an entire dungeon to work with. “Nope. I’m not seeing a problem with this. Anything else I should know about? I don’t want to get offed by some angry woman thinking I’m edging in on her turf.”

“My brother is an eternal bachelor. His succubi are convinced should they be chosen to be his bride, they will find themselves in holy monogamous matrimony until the End of Days. They are not wrong. Some parts of his angelic nature remain. Frankly spoken, he has no loyalty at the moment, but should he give his loyalty, it will be for all eternity.”

“Why does that sound like a warning?”

“Because it is.”

“I’m going down there to browbeat him into helping my brother, not join any succubi in seducing him. I’ve heard incubi are a good time, though.” As I doubted angels had much conception about humans and their preferences, I added, “I’m not into other women.”

“What makes you think my brother lacks the abilities of an incubus?” The amusement in Michael’s tone annoyed me into scowling.

I took a few minutes to think about that. “I really don’t have the time for commitment right now, but hey, I’ll seduce the bastard if it means he’ll hurry up and make with the magic to fix my brother. I’m not above using my feminine charms.” I stood up, took hold of my beautiful tail, and showed it to the archangel. “Look at this beautiful fur. This tail is worth at least one brotherly transformation.”

“If you say so.”

Chapter Three

What sort of asshole names a cargo ship the Attack Goose?

According to the address Michael gave me, some asshole had shipped a child on a fucking industrial cargo ship. My tail puffed, and nothing I did convinced my fur to lie flat. It would have to do, as I couldn’t afford to take the time to go home, take a cold shower, and brush my coat to restore it to order. Unfortunately for me, the address was in a rather secure complex, which would make getting to the little girl interesting.

I’d start with the security gate, and if they gave me a hard time, I’d gain access another way.

With my tail still puffed out and my ears lying flat, I approached the closed steel monstrosity of a gate with its guard post. “Excuse me, but I was given this address. I’ve been tasked with picking up some very important cargo from a ship.” I referred to the slip of paper. “The ship is the...” I stared at the name scribbled on the sheet, blinked, and read, “Attack Goose.”

The guard snickered.

I glared at the paper. “What sort of asshole names a cargo ship the Attack Goose? Come on. Is that even the ship’s name?”

“It is. It’s a privately owned ship out of Canada, and the owner hates geese. The ship is real, and she just arrived. Do you have the docking number for your cargo?”

That explained the long string of numbers and letters on the bottom of my paper, which I handed over to the security guard. He picked up a phone, relayed the number, and after a moment, he hung up. I waited, my ears perking forward as the guard hadn’t turned me away while laughing.

“Okay. Do you have a vehicle?”

My brother’s car, with my idiot rodent brother trapped inside, waited at the street, as I hadn’t been brave enough to drive it to the security gate. I pointed at it. “The sporty one over there.”

“Drive it on in. You’re going to go straight in, go to the third stop sign, and turn left. Follow that street until you see Pier A. Turn right and park wherever your find a spot. Give one of the cargo hands your docking number. They’ll bring you your cargo. You’ll sign off, and then you can come out the same way you came in, and I’ll let you out of the gate.”

“Thanks, man. I really appreciate it.”

“Expected trouble?”

“Well, yes.”

“Don’t worry about it. We usually get a few small item pickups every time a ship comes into port. The owner of the vessel often opens his ships up to smaller freight.”

I opted against notifying the man the cargo was a living, breathing human. As far as I was concerned, taking the little girl to the CDC would put an end to any possibilities of human trafficking, which I appreciated.

It wouldn’t make her life any easier, but I would cross that bridge again later, and if I really didn’t like what the archangel had set up, I’d insert my foot in his ass.

Kicking an archangel’s ass seemed like a pretty good way to go if I were to make an unexpected exit from life. The headline would be amazing.

I retrieved my brother’s car, discovering Jonas had made himself a nest and indulged in a nap in the short time I’d been speaking to the guard. As promised, the guard opened the gate for me, and I followed his directions to Pier A, where a frenzy of activity surrounded a massive cargo ship with Attack Goose proudly painted on her side.

I supposed if the owner could afford such a huge vessel, he could name it whatever he wanted. After a few minutes of figuring out where to park, I moved my brother to the backseat, earning a disgruntled squeak before he returned to his sleep. Armed with my slip of paper and docking number, I found an employee. It took several tries before I found someone who could help me, and he took my paper out of my hand, boarded the ship, and left me waiting like an idiot. I stayed out of the way of the people scurrying around, waiting to unload the freight containers, the kind I expected to be on a train.