Fought and Found (Alien Recovery Files #1)

BLACK BOX RECORDING

One human courier. One seven-foot alien operative sent to steal her cargo. One ship's AI, recording everything. What follows is evidence.

Log one — the boarding.

My body moves before my brain authorizes the action. Tail first — it uncoils and wraps the courier's waist, pulling her behind me, between my body and the bulkhead. Ten black points. I am between her and the airlock.

"I suppose we have a problem," I say.

"We have several, lovey. The mercs are only one of them."

[Annotation: he boarded us to commit armed robbery. My human offered him tea. I registered a formal objection. It is still pending.]

Log two — the aftermath.

"You fired within three inches of my jaw."

"Two and a half, actually. I had room."

[Annotation: I have revised his threat classification from "Hostile" to "Hostile and Sulking."]

Log three — sealed.

Fine. One excerpt:

"Breathe," I growl. "Take it. Take every inch of your mate."

"Mine," I snarl against her skin. "Say it while I'm locked inside you."

[Annotation: I vented the cockpit. You are welcome.]

The complete recording follows. It contains: one kill order, four mercenaries, one defection, an inadvisable quantity of tea, and a purr he will deny under oath.

I am SPROUT. I do not relax. I monitor.

Turn the page.