Read the opening below to get a real feel for the characters, voice, and pacing before choosing an edition.
Bad Boy Beast
by Grace Goodwin
Chapter 4
Larkspur
The intruders were huge, well over six feet, with mechanical, robotic parts attached to their bodies. One had a completely metallic arm. One had silver eyes. Half of his face looked like he’d been dipped in liquid mercury the way an ice cream cone was dipped in chocolate. The one closest to me—their leader?—had his silver and black gaze locked onto my face. All three looked like they were wearing body armor. Not just a vest, but head to toe, boots to neck, black and silver armor.
I swallowed. Hard. What the hell were these things? Something escaped from a secret military experiment? Hybrid cyborgs of some kind? Robot soldiers? They weren’t human. At least, if they had been—which I doubted based on the odd orange, bronze and copper skin tones—they weren’t any more.
I could run, but where? I came here regularly. They kept the side door—the only other exit—locked at night. Fire hazard? Sure. But when you’re working with a skeleton crew in the wee hours of the morning, the risk from fellow humans is much greater than the risk of a fire. Maybe there was a door in the kitchen? Would that be locked as well?
No. I couldn’t count on it being open. Which meant the only way out of here was the front door. To get there, I’d have to go through them. “Shit.”
The three weirdos—I couldn’t make myself use the word aliens—stopped, their leader’s thigh aligned with the booth across from where I sat. He towered over me. I lifted my head. Made eye contact. “Larkspur Linton, come with us.”
“No.” Damn it. I should have brought my pistol. I had the damn concealed carry permit. Why did I leave my pistol at home?
Because you’ve been carrying a gun for over a year and never had a need. Because instead of making you feel safe, it made you feel like a target.
Stupid. Stupid. Stupid.
Although, the armor they were wearing, which looked like something out of a sci-fi movie, was probably bulletproof. They were so big my little 9mm handgun would probably just piss them off.
Where was my camera? I had seen these guys before. Well, not exactly these three, but something just like them. In the fight club. Those silver eyes freaked me out, even now. Same silver eyes. Same weird body augmentation, like they were part robot. I’d stared at the fight club photos so much, I had them memorized.
Could I sneak my camera out of the bag and get more pictures? The lighting in here was phenomenal. No blurry images. No shadows. No doubt about what was standing in in the frame. This time, the pictures would be perfect. They’d sell. Absolutely. Talk about a huge payday.
Pictures of aliens, real, scary aliens. Not the beasts everyone raved about being so big and sexy, who were supposedly protecting Earth. No, these guys weren’t pretty at all. They were scary. Ugly. Cyborgs. They were real life, honest to god, cyborgs.
Why were they here? What did they want with me?
“Larkspur Linton, you will come with us now.”
“What do you want?” I should be panicked, right? But then, I never did anything the way I was supposed to. Not normal. So not normal.
I lifted my cell phone, just barely, trying not to draw their attention. With a flip of my thumb I activated the camera and started recording video. I couldn’t get to my real camera, but this would be good enough.
“Come. Now.” The cyborg reached for my upper arm.
I slipped out of the booth and ducked under his outstretched arm. My camera bag bumped against my hip. Not the first time I was thankful for the crossbody strap and the ritual of never taking it off until I had the pictures safely backed up.
The reacher’s two buddies fanned out to block any further movement. Standing now, I realized how huge they truly were. Seven feet tall? Eight? Who could afford to hire muscle like this? Not that stupid state senator. So, who did I piss off now?
“What do you want?” I purposely stayed away from certain topics. Aliens, military operations and weapons technology were off limits. The only reason I’d been in that fight club was to catch our mayor participating in illegal, underground betting schemes with a local loser named Snook who fancied himself a crime lord. I had a hunch he was taking bribes from Snook to keep the cops out of the area on fight nights. Catching the aliens on camera had been a freaking accident of being in the wrong place at the wrong time.
Kind of like right now.
These guys—or things—were definitely military…and weapons…and maybe even some AI, mind-control, super-soldiers with cybernetic attachments or something. I scanned their uniforms, looking for any kind of badge or insignia I recognized. Nothing.
“Larkspur Linton. Come with us.”
“I think you have the wrong woman.” How did they know my name? Even if they were some top-secret, government program, why were they here? I cared more about people in the civilian sector, normal, everyday people just trying to survive. People like me, Lav and our mom. I exposed fraud and political liars, not military black projects. Never, ever military. Our bio-dad died in Spec Ops when I was four. Our piece of shit stepfather formally adopted us, then divorced our mom a year later. Dead soldiers were a raw wound I had no desire to rub with salt. Felt like if I attacked the military, I was attacking my father. I didn’t remember him, but I loved him, or at least the idea of him. Soldiers were sacred ground.
“Our Nexus will explain.”
Nexus? What the hell was a Nexus? I wracked my brain, trying to remember anything I’d ever seen or heard that had anything to do with a Nexus. Came up blank. “I’m sorry. I don’t know you. I don’t want to talk to you or anyone else. I just want to eat my breakfast in peace.”
Sometimes the only way out of a situation was to talk your way out. Each of the three was bigger than a football linebacker. Fighting my way out of here was not an option. I glanced to the older woman behind the counter. “You call the cops?”
She nodded, the move nearly imperceptible, but enough to make me relax a fraction. If I could keep them talking a few more minutes, the police would be here.
The monster in the back lifted one arm and pointed it toward the woman. A flash of light appeared and the woman toppled over. Coffee pot still in her hand, the glass shattered on tile as she hit the floor, dead. An older man wearing a grease-stained apron appeared from the kitchen.
“What the hell is going on out—”
A second flash ended his life before he finished the sentence.
Shit!
As one, the three turned their heads back to face me. Their leader held up his hand. In it, I saw a small button object about the size of a slice of cucumber. He stepped forward, holding the shiny, black object out like he wanted to touch me with it, or put it on me.
What was that? A tracker? Poison? An alien taser?
Shit! Shit! Shit! I backed away slowly, palms out. My mind raced. Somehow, I knew if they got that thing on me, I was toast. Run for it? Go with them? To where? Somewhere they could kill me?
That was the wrong move. Never, ever let yourself be taken to a secondary location. Ever. That was basic knowledge, Paranoia 101.
If they wanted me dead, they could just laser-flashy me like the other two people they just murdered in front of me.
While I was recording video on my cell phone.
Oh, god. I shoved my phone in my back pocket and hoped they wouldn’t know what I’d been doing.
“Larkspur Linton. Come with us.” He took another step forward. I backed away. The three moved like they were all connected. Their leader’s eyes flashed black, then silver, back to black. The skin on his face was a warm bronze, like he spent most of his life in the Bahamas on a beach. But it wasn’t only the eyes that made him look—not human. His nose was a bit too angular, his cheek bones too pronounced. His chin too prominent and pointed. He was too damn big. “Are you an alien?”
“We are Hive. You will come with us.”
Hive? The Hive? The ones the Interstellar Coalition of Planets was supposedly fighting in outer space? The enemy that made the Coalition Fleet demand body counts, ‘volunteers’, in the form of fighters and brides from Earth in exchange for Coalition ‘protection’?
I never believed the hype, thought their existence was a joke. A lie. A way to control humanity and force us to sacrifice women as breeders and soldiers to fight and die in a far-off war that meant nothing to Earth. The Bachelor Beast television show was the icing on the cake, smoking hot aliens sent to show us how caring and protective they were? Bullshit.
“I don’t believe you.”
“We are Hive. Come now.” Why did only one of them talk?
How fast could I unlock the back door in the kitchen? There had to be one. Was there a deadbolt? A window in the bathroom? Could I break a window and climb out before one of these things caught me?
I risked a glance back over my shoulder. Nothing that way but more tables, a wall of windows, and the restrooms. Nothing in front of me but three monsters trying to kidnap me.
If I could lock myself in the bathroom, could I crawl through the ceiling like people did in the movies? Was I strong enough to pull myself up? Maybe there would be something to climb on, like the sink. I could use the sink. I didn’t remember there being a window in there. Maybe I was wrong? How many times had I eaten here and actually used the restroom?
Gah! Should have paid attention.
Should have brought my gun.
Fat lot of good wishful thinking was going to do now.
If they wanted me dead, I’d already be dead. Bottom line. I had to try to escape.
“Larkspur Li—” The cyborg stopped mid-word. The three stiffened and turned on their heels to face the door like synchronized swimmers or something. Creepy. What grabbed their attention?
Who cares?
Taking my chance, I bolted for the restroom. Expecting a hand to land on my shoulder at any moment, I slammed into the door, slipped inside and pushed it closed behind me.
“Yes!” A deadbolt! I slid it into place and turned around, looking for a way out. A window. Anything I could climb on. Anything.
“Shit.” No windows. The ceiling wasn’t made of magical movie tiles I could crawl into and hide behind. No, this stupid building had open ceilings, exposed metal beams and not a single hiding spot. Even the ducts were too small to crawl into.
I just locked myself in a prison cell with no way out.
A roar unlike anything I’d ever heard had me backing away from the door.
Crashing. A fight. Were they fighting each other?
I backed up until I couldn’t go any farther.
The door flew off its hinges, ripped out of the frame as easily as tearing the door out of a wall made of paper. I screamed. The Hive leader stomped closer, that button held out in front of him like a badge. Silver eyers. Black. They flashed like a strobe light inside his skull.
“No. No. No.” My shoulder blades hit cold brick. Shit.
The cyborg followed. One step. Two.
The exterior wall exploded inward. Arms appeared before the debris hit the floor and grabbed the cyborg. My attacker spun to face the new threat as a massive, dust covered creature broke through the wall to stand between me and the Hive.
Dust rained down. I coughed, the debris making my lungs burn. Pebble sized pieces of concrete and drywall splattered my head and shoulders like rain. Blinking dust out of my eyes, I clamped my teeth together, not wanting to make a sound.
The new, bigger monster was covered in cyborg parts as well. He roared.
I dropped to my knees, hands covering my ears as the two Hive cyborgs charged one another. Their bodies colliding created a boom in the small space. I didn’t dare move. If I got in their way, I’d be dead.
What the hell was going on? Why were the Hive fighting each other?
