Chapter Twenty-Two
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XATHAN PUT THE WALKY-talky that was tuned to the channel he used with Ivy Roche down and stared thoughtfully at the device.
It didn’t surprise him at all to learn Creel Lawson was plotting against him.
If anything, he’d been expecting it. The white supremist and his prepper friends had caused trouble ever since they’d joined the militants in Manhattan.
Over a dozen people of color had been murdered so far.
Phul had shot one of the preppers in the head as a rebuke and the murders had ceased.
It was only a matter of time before they started up again.
“Apparently, Mr. Lawson plans to renew his war against non-whites with me as the next victim,” he said wryly.
He had a full schedule today and he intended to visit some of his minions.
Ivy had become his secretary as well as Governor Giamano’s receptionist. She vetted visitors for both of them and booked their meetings.
Skilled at her job, she was also talented in bed.
He spent several nights a week at her apartment and she also visited him in his office frequently.
They had a mutual attraction that was satisfying for them both.
Xathan tore his thoughts away from Ms. Roche’s smooth, creamy flesh back to the possible assassination attempt that would be made on his life.
His two guards were standing in the hallway, barring anyone from entering who didn’t have an appointment with him.
He knew they would have heard the conversation.
Just as they heard everything that went on in his office with his secretary.
So far, neither of them had gossiped about his relationship.
The soldier checked his schedule to see he had ten minutes before he was supposed to head to the power plant. If someone was going to try to kill him, this would be a good time to flush them out.
Standing up, Xathan left his desk and crossed to the door. His guards were more alert than usual when he stepped into the hallway. “Where do you think the attack will come from?” one asked.
“Up high would be my guess,” Xathan replied.
“Some of the preppers have sniper rifles,” his second guard said. “It makes sense they’ll try to shoot you from afar.”
“Keep your eyes open and be ready to move,” Xathan ordered as they headed for the main exit. “I want the assassin brought to me alive, if possible.”
His guards nodded, flanking him as he stepped outside. All three aliens kept their senses at full strength. “I sense someone on the top of that building,” the soldier on Xathan’s left said, nodding at a building just ahead.
Xathan detected the shooter as well. His eyesight was sharp enough to see a human peering down at them through a scope.
The male aimed and took a deep breath. Xathan darted into a recessed doorway and his guards went on the move a moment before the shot was fired.
The bullet whizzed through the air right where Xathan had been standing.
Shouts of alarm came from some humans who were on patrol. They raced over to form a shield around the bald advisor wearing a pricey suit. “Are you okay, sir?” one of them asked, pointing her gun and looking for a target.
“I’m fine,” Xathan replied, amused that such lesser beings thought he needed their protection.
He sensed his guards had already reached the rooftop and glanced upwards.
The sniper turned to flee, but was trapped.
One of the soldiers snatched his gun from his hand.
The other one ensnared him with mind control.
“I believe the culprit has been apprehended,” Xathan said.
His guards returned at a fast walk, marching the prepper between them. “This is the man who tried to kill you,” a soldier said.
“He’s dressed like one of Mr. Lawson’s crew,” Xathan said, faking his surprise at the human’s camouflage gear. “Why did you try to assassinate me?” he demanded.
“I was following my orders,” the human mumbled.
“Who gave you the order?” Xathan asked, glad they had witnesses for the interrogation. None of these militants had arrived with Creel Lawson’s troops. They’d already been here before the arrival of the racist preppers.
“It was passed on to me by one of my friends,” the captive said woodenly. “I don’t know who told him to tell me to shoot you.”
“Who do you suspect gave the order?” Xathan asked coldly.
“Creel Lawson,” the assassin said, to no one’s surprise.
“As I thought,” Xathan said in satisfaction. “Let’s pay Mr. Lawson a visit, shall we?”
“Will you be okay without us, sir?” one of the militants asked. “I need to report this to my squad leader.”
“Go ahead, we’ll be fine,” Xathan replied, then notified Kelvin Naylor that he would be late for their meeting at the power plant. He led the way with his escorts marching their prisoner between them. They headed straight for the floor where Oliver Giamano and some of his staff were located.
Ivy opened her door slightly and winked at Xathan as he walked past. He gave her a small smile in return, then his expression became icy again. He didn’t bother to knock when he sensed Creel was inside. He opened the door and entered without a word.
Mr. Lawson looked up and froze when he saw his visitors. He glanced at the dazed prepper and paled slightly. “Is there a reason why you’re barging into my office without an appointment?” he demanded belligerently.
“Do you know this man?” Xathan asked, gesturing at his captive.
He could see Creel was debating about lying, then figured it would be too easy to disprove. “Of course I know him,” he said, slouching back in his chair. “Is there a problem?” he asked, raising one ginger eyebrow.
“This prepper just tried to assassinate me,” Xathan said, pinning the slimy racist human with his dark stare. “He said you gave the kill order.”
Creel smirked rather than flinching at the accusation. “Really?” he asked in disbelief. “Were those his exact words?”
“We all know you despise everyone who doesn’t have lily-white skin, Mr. Lawson,” Xathan said, putting his hands on the desk and leaning closer.
“Your cronies have murdered far too many people you think are inferior to you because of their race. I was supposed to be your next victim, but your incompetent friend failed.”
Creel cut a look at his crony that spoke of retribution. “I have no idea what you’re talking about,” he denied. “Now, if you don’t mind, I have a lot of work to do.”
His dismissive tone grated on Xathan’s nerves.
He wasn’t about to let the bigot get away with this without some form of punishment.
Turning away, he crossed to the stupefied prepper and pulled one of his knives from its sheath.
“This is what will happen to you if anyone attempts to assassinate me again,” he said, then swiped the blade across the human’s throat.
Blood gushed from the gaping wound, splashing all over the carpet.
Mr. Lawson leaped to his feet, sending his chair crashing against the wall behind him. “You can’t just murder my people, you savage!” he shouted in rage and reached for his handgun.
Dropping the dead prepper, Xathan’s guards lifted their rifles to their shoulders and aimed them at the human.
“Can’t I?” Xathan asked smugly. “For every person of color you and your cronies murder, two of your prepper friends will pay for it with their lives. If you come after me again, I’ll wipe out your family and come for you last.”
Hatred burned in Creel’s eyes when he realized Xathan wasn’t bluffing. “You can’t blame me for every death of someone from a lesser race,” he spluttered.
“Watch me,” Xathan said with a sneer, then nodded for his guards to follow him into the hallway.
“Wait for me downstairs,” he said to his guards, then entered Ivy’s office.
Color made her cheeks rosier than usual.
Her lips were parted and her eyes were shining with admiration.
Once again, she’d eavesdropped on the conversation.
“It seems thanks are in order, Ms. Roche,” he said as he closed, then locked her door.
“I’m so glad you’re okay, Xathan,” Ivy said breathlessly as he stalked over to her.
He gripped her by her hips and lifted her onto her desk, scattering notebooks and pens to the floor.
His mouth came down on hers as he heard Creel Lawson shouting into his walky-talky, ordering someone to come and collect the dead body from his office.