Chapter 1 #2
Even if Clarissa and her husband were too polite to say it, they’d think it. How could Gemma explain that she was too much of a hot mess to settle down? There was too much to unpack, and she’d question all her life choices, and all of that was a little too much to tackle before coffee.
Emry never made Gemma question herself about being a hot mess, considering that she was her own particular dumpster fire, too.
The baby really had no opinions at this point.
Worse, even if Gemma did suffer the indignity of sleeping on Clarissa’s couch and eating breakfast with a happy family, the root problem would still be lurking at her doorstep.
Figuratively. The lurker wouldn’t hang around all night, obviously.
They had a busy schedule being a scourge on society and whatnot, but they’d be back.
She was only delaying the inevitable.
Gemma took a steadying breath. She had to handle this herself. Big girl panties time. No more delays.
The darkness behind the bakery seemed darker because the security lights were out. Gemma knew the reason, but it felt ominous. Emry had always been on her case to get them fixed, but it never felt like a priority.
It felt like a priority now.
“Hello? Who’s there?” she asked, the question echoing in the silence.
Act confident. Lowlifes can smell fear.
Gemma squared her shoulders and tried again. “Bit late for a caller. Whaddaya want?”
“You’re late.” A match flared to life, smelling sharply of sulfur, and illuminated Barney’s unwelcome face. He took a drag of the cigarette before speaking. “I don’t like waiting.”
Well, there were a lot of things she didn’t like. Rather than make them someone else’s problem, she said, “Those things will kill you.”
“That right, cupcake?”
She prickled at the mockery in his tone.
She was a pastry chef, a vocation that took precision and artistry which no one seemed to appreciate.
Plus, she slung around massive bags of flour like they were nothing.
She had a proper gun show going on. “I paid my debt, and you’re not getting a penny more in blackmail, so you can—”
“So I can what? Gonna tell me to fuck off?”
Well, yes, but now she had doubts about the viability of that plan.
Confidence. Don’t back down.
“Basically,” she said, doing her best to keep her voice steady.
Barney chuckled. The lowlife had the nerve to lurk at her door in the dark, clearly up to no good, and laugh at her.
Gemma broke. She didn’t know how else to describe it.
All sense of self-preservation fled her body.
This minion, and more specifically the buffoon he worked for, had gotten his money from Gemma, but it wasn’t good enough.
They pushed and pushed until Emry had to take a high-paying job off-planet to pay them off.
Now Gemma was alone, and they were back.
“You greedy bastard,” she spat. “I’m not paying you or your boss one red cent more, so yeah, you can go fuck off.
Darken someone else’s door. And don’t you dare threaten to report me to the feds.
What are they going to do? Fine me? Jail me?
A year’s vacation in federal prison sounds pretty good right now.
Oh, and I will snitch. I have the receipts, and I will turn everything over in a heartbeat.
I’m a small fish compared to an organization that can hack the alien bride database.
I will snitch so hard I’ll change the name of the bakery to Snitches Get Cupcakes.
” She winced at the terrible name, but it was too late now.
“The Snitch Snack Shack is a better name.”
Unfortunately, Gemma agreed.
“Haven’t you heard? The registry is gonna be voluntary, making blackmail obsolete,” Barney said. “The boss is pursuing new investments. As such, we’re liquidating the old inventory. It’s nothing personal, but you’re an asset to be sold.”
To be sold. She didn’t need it spelled out any clearer. Unable to squeeze another cent from her through blackmail, Barney and company were simply going to steal her and auction her off.
“You can’t abduct me.”
He shrugged a massive shoulder. “You’re not on any government list.”
“People will notice I’m gone,” she said, trying to reason with the unreasonable. “I’m a business owner. My employees will know I’m missing. In five hours, to be exact, when I don’t turn the ovens on and start baking the bread.”
“Sign says you’re closed on Mondays.”
“Clarissa,” she nearly shouted. “She’s expecting a call when I get inside. She’ll know something’s up when I don’t call.”
“You’re not very good at lying. Do you know that? Your eye gets twitchy.” He pointed to his right eye, as if to demonstrate.
Gemma screamed, partly in frustration and the rest a healthy dose of terror, and rushed past him to the stairs. If she could get inside—
A hard pull on her hair snapped her head back, and her feet vanished from underneath her. She fell back onto the wooden steps, landing on her tailbone hard enough that her teeth rattled. Stars danced in her vision.
Rough hands gripped her ankles, dragging her down. Gemma kicked wildly, wishing she had taken kickboxing or just regular old boxing lessons, but the class was right before the lunch rush, so she had to take Pilates instead. Pilates.
Her foot hit nothing, Barney dodging her kicks. Eventually, she made contact that resulted in a delightful crunching noise. There was cursing and a brief rush of elation as she scrambled out of his grasp. Fuck yeah, Pilates.
No such luck. Barney had a hold of her ankle and would not let go.
She dug her fingernails into the wood boards, desperate to hold on. Her nails buckled, bending backward, and rough splinters tore her fingertips.
He yanked her away, tossing her to the pavement.
Gemma scrambled, trying to get to her feet, but a kick to her side sent her back down to the ground. A heavy boot landed on her ankle with a crunch. Pain whited out her vision, and she knew there was no good ending here.
ZALIS
Ivon Ren was a liar.
It was intolerable. That male was intolerable.
Zalis endeavored to see the good qualities in his team. They were not easy to get along with, but Zalis knew the same could be said about him. They merely had to work together. Friendship was not a requirement.
The team left Zalis alone to do his job, which was the most generous thing he could say.
Lorran was too charming. Bubbly and effervescent was an accurate description.
Such easy, affable behavior was foreign to Zalis, but it was useful.
Zalis understood that. Lorran followed orders and completed his assigned tasks.
If he occasionally bubbled and effervesced while Zalis worked, it was tolerable.
Lorran’s mate, Wyn, pursued her own projects. She never bubbled or effervesced. He liked her.
Better still, neither was currently on the ship.
Havik was a straightforward male. Zalis appreciated his blunt delivery and lack of tact. The male was often too literal and lacked imagination, but that also meant he lacked the imagination to lie.
Thalia, his mate, lied enough for them both.
Somehow, despite the fact that deception came as naturally to her as breathing, she also managed to be straightforward.
She lied when necessary, stole from those who deserved it, and never hesitated to share her thoughts.
Zalis appreciated that quality. He never had to mentally replay their conversation and analyze her words for hidden meanings.
Thalia said what she meant. She could be as blunt as Havik in that manner. Zalis liked her.
Ren’s lies, however, served no purpose.
Correction. He had one useful lie.
Ren’s stature was not that of a typical Mahdfel.
The idea of a typical Mahdfel was fragile, as the warriors came from several different planets and had varying physical attributes, such as color or number of limbs.
Zalis’ appearance differed drastically from his father, who sported shaggy white fur over his body.
It was common for the generations to share little resemblance.
The bioluminescent reaction that made their tattoos glow connected them in ways that a shared complexion or a strong nose could not.
Other unseen factors made a Mahdfel: their healing factor, large size, increased muscle, and heightened senses.
There was no typical Mahdfel appearance, yet Ren managed to fall below those relaxed expectations.
Simply put, he was small. He could pass for a civilian.
His body was a useful deception, infiltrating spaces and gathering information from sources that would never talk with a Mahdfel warrior.
His entire being was a deception, and Zalis resented the male for it.
No. Zalis’ animosity was misplaced. Ren had no more control over his stature than he did. To dislike Ren for such a petty reason was insulting to them both.
Zalis had a better reason for disliking Ren.
The male had a mate—Emmarae—for years and never breathed a word of her existence. He summoned the team to Tholla, begged assistance to retrieve the missing sibling of his heretofore unknown mate and refused to answer any questions.
The male had hubris. It was almost admirable.
Almost.
Zalis could not understand such a thing. His parents were happily mated—a love match, even. He was surrounded by males who shone with the pride they took in serving their mates.
A mate was sacred. A treasure. To keep her secret? Unfathomable. To send her away to live on another planet? Unforgivable. Zalis did not have a mate and doubted if he would ever be matched, but he knew that being separated from his mate would tear him asunder.
Zalis focused on the terminal screen. Ren was not his concern. He did not have to understand or admire the male to work with him. The mission came first.
Even spontaneous, unsanctioned missions.