Moscow Mule Read online

  Moscow Mule

  Phantom Queen Book 5 - A Temple Verse Series

  Shayne Silvers

  Cameron O’Connell

  Contents

  BOOKS IN THE TEMPLE VERSE

  SHAYNE AND CAMERON

  Quinn is on the warpath to save her bartender…

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Chapter 30

  Chapter 31

  Chapter 32

  Chapter 33

  Chapter 34

  Chapter 35

  Chapter 36

  Chapter 37

  Chapter 38

  Chapter 39

  Chapter 40

  Chapter 41

  Chapter 42

  Chapter 43

  Chapter 44

  Chapter 45

  Chapter 46

  Chapter 47

  Chapter 48

  Chapter 49

  Chapter 50

  TRY: OBSIDIAN SON (NATE TEMPLE #1)

  TRY: UNCHAINED (FEATHERS AND FIRE #1)

  MAKE A DIFFERENCE

  BOOKS IN THE TEMPLE VERSE

  ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

  ABOUT SHAYNE SILVERS

  ABOUT CAMERON O’CONNELL

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events, and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.

  Shayne Silvers & Cameron O’Connell

  Moscow Mule

  The Phantom Queen Diaries Book 5

  A Temple Verse Series

  © 2018, Shayne Silvers / Argento Publishing, LLC / Cameron O’Connell

  [email protected]

  ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. This book contains material protected under International and Federal Copyright Laws and Treaties. Any unauthorized reprint or use of this material is prohibited. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system without express written permission from the author / publisher.

  VIP’s get early access to all sorts of Temple-Verse goodies, including signed copies, private giveaways, and advance notice of future projects. AND A FREE NOVELLA! Click the image or join here: www.shaynesilvers.com/l/219800

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  We respond to all messages, so don’t hesitate to drop either of us a line. Not interacting with readers is the biggest travesty that most authors can make. Let us fix that.

  BOOKS IN THE TEMPLE VERSE

  CHRONOLOGY: All stories in the Temple Verse are shown in chronological order on the following page

  PHANTOM QUEEN DIARIES

  WHISKEY GINGER

  COSMOPOLITAN

  OLD FASHIONED

  DARK AND STORMY

  MOSCOW MULE

  WITCHES BREW - COMING 2018…

  FEATHERS AND FIRE SERIES

  UNCHAINED

  RAGE

  WHISPERS

  ANGEL’S ROAR

  SINNER - COMING OCTOBER 2018…

  NATE TEMPLE SERIES

  FAIRY TALE - FREE prequel novella #0 for my subscribers

  OBSIDIAN SON

  BLOOD DEBTS

  GRIMM

  SILVER TONGUE

  BEAST MASTER

  TINY GODS

  DADDY DUTY (Novella #6.5)

  WILD SIDE

  WAR HAMMER

  NINE SOULS

  HORSEMAN

  LEGEND (TEMPLE #11) - COMING DECEMBER 2018…

  CHRONOLOGICAL ORDER: TEMPLE VERSE

  FAIRY TALE (TEMPLE PREQUEL)

  OBSIDIAN SON (TEMPLE 1)

  BLOOD DEBTS (TEMPLE 2)

  GRIMM (TEMPLE 3)

  SILVER TONGUE (TEMPLE 4)

  BEAST MASTER (TEMPLE 5)

  BEERLYMPIAN (TEMPLE 5.5)

  TINY GODS (TEMPLE 6)

  DADDY DUTY (TEMPLE NOVELLA 6.5)

  UNCHAINED (FEATHERS… 1)

  RAGE (FEATHERS… 2)

  WILD SIDE (TEMPLE 7)

  WAR HAMMER (TEMPLE 8)

  WHISPERS (FEATHERS… 3)

  COLLINS (PHANTOM 0)

  WHISKEY GINGER (PHANTOM… 1)

  NINE SOULS (TEMPLE 9)

  COSMOPOLITAN (PHANTOM… 2)

  ANGEL’S ROAR (FEATHERS… 4)

  MOTHERLUCKER (FEATHERS 4.5, PHANTOM 3.5)

  OLD FASHIONED (PHANTOM…3)

  HORSEMAN (TEMPLE 10)

  DARK AND STORMY (PHANTOM… 4)

  MOSCOW MULE (PHANTOM…5)

  SHAYNE AND CAMERON

  Shayne Silvers, here.

  Cameron O’Connell is one helluva writer, and he’s worked tirelessly to merge a story into the Temple Verse that would provide a different and unique voice, but a complementary tone to my other novels. SOME people might say I’m hard to work with. But certainly, Cameron would never…

  Hey! Pipe down over there, author monkey! Get back to your writing cave and finish the next Phantom Queen Novel!

  Ahem. Now, where was I?

  This is book 5 in the Phantom Queen Diaries, and book 6 - WITCHES BREW - will launch in late 2018. This series ties into the existing Temple Verse with Nate Temple and Callie Penrose. This series could also be read independently if one so chose. Then again, you, the reader, will get SO much more out of my existing books (and this series) by reading them all in tandem.

  But that’s not up to us. It’s up to you, the reader.

  You tell us…

  Quinn is on the warpath to save her bartender…

  Bear-tender. Whatever.

  And it might just break Russia.

  In every person’s life there comes a point where well-meaning people mutter empty Hallmark Card platitudes like “it’s all downhill from here,” or “the only way to go now is up.”

  For Quinn, black magic arms dealer and potential Fae royalty, that time is now.

  Fresh after the death of her sole caretaker at the hands of a once-trusted ally, Quinn must forge new alliances and rekindle old friendships if she’s going to recover and find her place in the world.

  She just didn’t know step one would take her straight to Moscow…and into the ever-pleasant, rolling hills of Siberia. But there's one thing an Irish gal simply cannot do...leave her bartender behind. Even if it means squaring off against ex-special forces shifter bears.

  Chapter 1

  Had I known I was going to end up in a frigid Russian jail cell by day’s end, I’d have worn more layers. But of course, hindsight was a callous bitch with perfect vision, and the two of us had never seen eye-to-eye. To be honest, I still wasn’t sure what I’d done to deserve this shit. I didn’t mean that karmically either; I’d earned consecutive life sentences in that department and knew better than to appeal to fairness.

  Killing people isn’t great for one’s chi.

  Still, the day had started off innocently
enough: a lukewarm cup of coffee, a bagel with cream cheese, and a relatively unremarkable trip to Logan International Airport. I’d met up with the S.I.C.C.O. squad’s off-duty Special Agent Leo Jeffries and his band of Freaky misfits, including their newest would-be recruit, my ex-lover and Boston P.D. Detective, Jimmy Collins.

  “It’s a trial run,” Leo had clarified as we watched Jimmy shuffle through the automatic doors with a slew of black straps strung across his chest, his broad shoulders hardly straining from the weight of the three bulging duffel bags. The size of the bags made me wonder what the hell they’d packed. I knew it wasn’t guns, more’s the pity; airport personnel tend to frown on transporting firearms overseas, not to mention armed passengers. I ached to have my own private arsenal, but all I’d packed were the necessities: boots, tennis shoes, heels, a few mix-and-match outfits, and enough makeup to keep me from looking too much like a vampire. Between my extremely pale skin and bright red hair, it took a bit of work to make me look human, let alone a fresh-faced beauty. Watching Jimmy close the distance, his body looking remarkably fit beneath his button-down shirt and blue jeans, I wished I’d packed more.

  Silly, but true.

  “We needed to see him in action,” Leo was explaining, “but it had to be off the books. If our agency or his department found out what we were up to, we’d have a lot of awkward questions to answer. So here we all are. On…vacation.” Leo adjusted his carry-on bag. The swarthy, middle-aged man wore a pair of faded Levi’s, a plaid button-up, and a pair of hiking boots—nothing like the corporate executive look he’d sported the first time we met. With his boater’s tan, trim physique, and easy smile, he reminded me of a good-natured, highly capable HGTV handyman.

  Personally, I wasn’t thrilled to find out Jimmy was tagging along, no matter what Leo had to say on the subject, but I couldn’t exactly bitch about it now; I was the one who’d suggested Jimmy reach out to Leo in the first place. “It’s fine,” I said, shrugging as if it made no difference to me, my bright Irish brogue at odds with my dismissive tone.

  Leo cocked an eyebrow. “That was a lie.”

  I sighed. “More like a half-truth.”

  “Another lie.”

  “Whatever,” I said, rolling my eyes.

  “Since when can I read you?” Leo asked, sounding legitimately concerned as he searched my face. That was Leo’s thing, his ability—being able to tell when someone was lying. An insanely nifty trick for a federal agent, but a damned annoying trait in a human being. Of course, his current anxiety made sense: he’d never been able to read me before.

  But then, a lot had changed since we last spoke.

  “Hello Quinn,” Jimmy said once he was within speaking distance. Lakota—one of Leo’s subordinates and a self-described seer—trailed behind the notably tall black man, popping bubble gum. She wore baggy, boyish clothes that purposefully obscured her gender, her long, black hair tied back in a thick braid, face lean and makeup-less.

  “Jesus, what the hell happened to you?” Lakota asked, staring wide-eyed at me like I’d caught the plague.

  I glared at the newcomer but said nothing. Honestly, there was nothing I could say. The answer to her question was too daunting to tackle in the crowded airport terminal, and my shoulder was starting to ache from the strap of my own bag.

  “I heard about Dez,” Jimmy interjected, filling the silence. “I just wanted to say I’m really sorry. My gran told me what happened. I was out of town, or I’d have come to the wake.”

  I opened my mouth to reply, then shut it and looked away. For the second time in as many minutes, I was at a loss for words. My aunt Dez, the woman who’d raised me—not to mention a friend of Jimmy’s family—had been murdered almost a month ago. I’d managed to hunt down and irradiate her killer with one of the most powerful magical artifacts in existence, but that hadn’t proved as therapeutic as I’d hoped. In fact, I’d spent the last few weeks doing little else besides watching old movies Dez used to love and working out hard enough to collapse into bed every night. This was the first time I’d bothered putting on real clothes in weeks.

  Basically, I was a hot, fit mess.

  Which Lakota, the seer—whose ability made it possible for her to look directly into someone’s soul—must have immediately realized. Her awed expression told me all I needed to know about how shitty—how emotionally devastated—I looked.

  “Are you sure you’re up for this?” Leo asked, still studying my face.

  “Of course, I am,” I replied, forcefully.

  Leo and Lakota exchanged glances.

  “I invited ye lot to join me,” I said. “Not the other way around. Tag along if ye want. Or don’t. I don’t care.”

  “She cares,” Lakota said.

  “Yeah,” Leo replied.

  I glowered at them both but didn’t respond. There was no point; between the two of them, they’d be able to cut right through my bullshit. I’d seen them in action, dissecting foes and friends alike with their abilities. Besides, Lakota was right. I did care. I needed them. There was no way I could march into Moscow and find my friend Othello—not to mention rescue our mutual friends—all on my own.

  But that didn’t mean I was about to beg them for their help.

  “Listen, Othello has been gone for over a month without a word,” I said, switching gears. “I don’t want to waste any more time. If you’re comin’, let’s go. The plane leaves in a couple hours, and ye can ask me whatever ye like once we’re at our gate.”

  “Will you tell us the truth?” Leo asked.

  “Do I have a choice?” I countered.

  Leo shrugged. “Being able to tell when people are lying isn’t the same as being able to make them tell the truth. People lie to themselves far more often than they do everyone else.”

  I sighed. “I promise I’ll try to be honest.”

  “Good enough for me,” Leo said. “We ready?”

  “Wait, where’s Warren?” I asked, just now realizing the remaining member of Leo’s entourage—the squad’s resident psychic—was conspicuously absent. It was his help I’d really been counting on, especially once we got to Moscow. Tracking missing persons wasn’t exactly my specialty, whereas having Warren along was significantly more efficient, like looking for a needle in a haystack, but with a magnet.

  “He’s…on vacation,” Leo replied.

  I frowned. “Didn’t ye say you’re all on vacation?”

  “His vacation plans differed from ours,” Leo replied, pursing his lips.

  “He’s shacked up with the wizard doctor who brought him out of the coma,” Lakota interjected. “That creepy lady you recruited.”

  “Lisandra?” I asked, jaw hanging open at the thought of the stunning blonde playing patty-cake with the thin, reedy intellectual. “Why? How?” I spluttered.

  “Apparently she finds him fascinating,” Leo said, sardonically.

  Lakota shuddered. “It’s like watching a cat stare at a bug on the wall.”

  I shook my head, cursing my luck. You see, several months back, after an altercation with a unit of highly-trained werebear soldiers, I’d made a deal with Lisandra to revive the injured Warren as penance for getting Leo and his squad involved in my shit. I’d owed them, and I hated owing anyone anything. But Lisandra, a wizard specializing in medical magic and member of the Academy—an institution that raised and trained wizards—had expressed a clinical interest in Warren’s gift early on. An unhealthy interest. These days she reminded me of a sexy, magic-wielding Dr. Moreau.

  Warren had never stood a chance.

  “We will need him,” I said, finally, letting my frustration show. Othello, who had promptly gone radio-silent after looking into the disappearance of my friend Christoff, his kidnapped wife, and Hilde, Leo’s second-in-command, would likely prove incredibly hard to find without Warren’s unique skill set. Even with the FBI and a detective on my side, Russia’s capital city was a disgustingly huge, moldy haystack.

  We needed that magnet, Goddamnit.
>
  “I know,” Leo replied, nodding. “But he insists Lisandra can drop him off whenever we need him. He even offered to have her do the same for us, but I shot that down.”

  “I still think it would have been easier to use the Gateway,” Lakota huffed, referring to the magical doorways that made it possible for Freaks and Fae to defy physics and travel almost instantaneously between one place and another. Freaks, like Leo and his crew, were people— and creatures—with remarkable abilities who often lived on the fringes of society, intermingling with the rest of humanity as necessary. The Fae—my people, I guess you could say, though I still wasn’t sure how I felt about that distinction—were an entirely different race who originated from a realm that joined ours but bled over so infrequently they’d become little more than myth: elves, goblins, trolls, and gremlins. The stuff of dreams and nightmares.

  “And if we get picked up by the Russian police? Without stamped passports? What then?” Leo threw his hands up, clearly reiterating an old argument.

  “You’re just scared of Gateways,” Lakota challenged.