Джена Шоуолтер - Enslave Me Sweetly

Mris-ste shook off the threat with a nervous laugh. “We will not lose any more. This I swear. I gave the sick to Rose. She will care for them until they are well.”

I knew Rose. Sahara Rose, human. Twenty-six years old. Blond hair. Blue eyes. I’d trailed her for a few days after taking this case. She was a known alien sympathizer and had spent many nights in EenLi’s bed. I knew where she lived, what kind of car she drove, and what brand of vaginal lubricant she secretly used whenever her lover visited. And, of course, I now knew she was hiding some of the missing humans.

“There is no time to find more cattle,” EenLi said. “The portal opens in one day.”

The portals weren’t always open? I’d always assumed aliens traveled through whenever they wanted. Tell me where they are… tell me where they are…

He didn’t.

EenLi soon changed the subject, and the two men actually began discussing how to dress the female slaves. Information I didn’t need.

It was time.

I preferred close kills to shots fired over a long distance. Nothing wrong with enjoying the fruits of my labor up close and personal. Sauntering into the middle of all those men, however, significantly decreased my odds of success. I’d stay here.

My anticipation renewed as I closed one eye, my face mask and powered autoscope narrowing my field of vision. Still locked on target? Check. Disposable silencer in place? Check.

I knew I had one chance to nail him. Just one. Because the moment I fired, everyone below me would whip into action, aiming and firing their own weapons straight at me .

EenLi began to pace in front of Mris-ste as he expounded on the merits of stiletto heels and kristales , jewel stones brought over from Mecca. I kept my barrel still. My pyre-rifle produced heat-sensitive fire bullets, and those would follow him straight into hell.

One. He moved away from Mris-ste.

Two. He turned, facing Mris-ste.

Three. He stepped into my line of fire, and I squeezed the trigger.

A whiz. A scream. The big, bad Mec went down like a de-pressurized hovercraft, his hat rolling off his head like tumbleweed. Only it was the wrong Mec. This one had thick brown hair. I stilled. No. No ! My fire bullet had slammed into Mris-ste. Not EenLi.

When had EenLi given him the hat? When the hell had EenLi given him the hat? I’d watched them. Once I’d locked on target, I hadn’t lost my focus.

Shock bubbled inside me as the men below cursed and shouted, scrambling for their guns. Bullets and blue fire launched in my direction, raining like deadly hail. Remaining calm, focused, I dropped my rifle and grabbed the thick wire beside me, already anchored to a sturdy beam. Then I jumped. I kept one hand clasped to the metal handle that allowed my downward slide, and used the other to whip out the pyre-gun strapped to my waist, dialed to kill.

I started firing.

As I descended, a bullet cut into my left forearm. I didn’t stop, didn’t even slow down. The determination rushing through my veins muted the fiery sensation of being shot to a sharp sting. Oh, I knew I would feel it later—in full force.

I wished I had time to doctor up. The longer the slug remained inside my body, the more damage it would do to me. Earth metals act as a deadly poison to me. To all of my kind. But the mission came first.

I had to finish this. Fast. Maintaining my inner balance, I continued shooting, not taking time to aim, but simply allowing a continuous stream of fire to discharge; the blue beams of molten heat spewing from my gun lit up the warehouse like a nuclear war.

The moment my feet hit the ground, I released the wire and reached for my other gun. With both of my hands armed, I scanned from left to right, taking in every detail.

EenLi was gone. Gone! He must have hit the door running the second Mris-ste fell. I couldn’t chase him down, not pinned in by gunfire like I was. That meant…

I’d failed.

My shock grew, almost freezing me in place, but I kept firing. Kept moving. Bile rose in my throat. I’d truly failed. I’d missed my target and allowed him to stroll from the building as happy as he pleased.

I failed echoed continuously through my mind.

I shook my head in disbelief. All I could do now was get the two women and myself out of here alive.

No, I thought in the next instant. I was taking down any man who’d been stupid enough to stay. My gaze scanned the area again. Five aliens remained inside the warehouse, their bullets and fire spraying all around me. Calculating the distance between them and the chained women, I started running forward. Right at them. I cringed when another bullet struck me. Twenty feet. Not much, but enough to risk what I was about to do.

I dropped one of my weapons and reached for a mini grenade in my side pouch. In one fluid motion, I pulled the firing pin with my teeth, tossed it, and dove to the ground.

Boom !

The impact threw me backward, slamming me into a wall. Air shoved from my lungs. When I was able to breathe, dirt and ash bypassed my mask and filled my nostrils. Instinctively, I covered my face with my hands as fiery wood chips rained. Then, several minutes passed in silence. No return fire. No screams or moans.

When I looked up, all five Mecs were strewn across the ground, lifeless. The human women were bloody and bruised, but alive. They were—No, I realized then. Only one of them was alive. The blonde. The other, the one with curling red hair, had been caught in the crossfire and stared out at the charred warehouse through lifeless eyes.

My eyelids squeezed shut, and I let my head sink into my hands again. The atmosphere was thick, hot, and laden with smoke. I needed to drag in a deep breath, to fill my lungs with oxygen, but didn’t dare.

There was no help for it, no other choice; I had to call my father. With shaky hands, I tugged out my cell unit and said, “Boss,” taking comfort in the sound of the automatic dial.

I trusted this man with my life. He was the one who had found me as a small child, alone and lost on the streets after my parents died. I don’t know why he’d taken me in, and I couldn’t ask him. He stiffened every time I brought up that horrible night. But he’d raised me, loved me, and trained me to be an assassin just like himself.

And I had just let him down.

He answered after two rings. “What happened?” were the first words he spoke, his raspy voice upbeat. He clearly expected me to give him the usual “all went well” report. Over and over he’d advised me not to take this case. When he’d realized he couldn’t talk me out of it, he’d followed me here “just in case I needed him.”

Most important information first. “The target is on the run. I’ve got one human casualty, another wounded.” My self-disgust rang loud and clear in my tone.

“How in the hell,” Michael, my father, said haltingly, “did that happen?”

“I don’t know. I had him locked. I fired, and the next thing I knew, he’d switched places with his partner.”

“How?”

“I don’t know,” I repeated.

“Goddamn it, Eden F.” He only called me that when he was mad, or seriously worried. “I told you not to take this case. I told you to leave it alone.”

“I’m sorry,” I said on a ragged breath. And I was. Because of my failure, a human slaver was even now roaming free. Worse, he knew he was being hunted. He’d be more careful now. I’d just screwed the entire operation. “I think some of the slaves are in cells inside the Pit. It’s a bar on the east side of town.” I opened my mouth to tell him the rest, but my mind went blank. A thick fog covered my thoughts. I blinked, shook my head and beckoned them back. “Some are with a human, Sahara Rose.”