Hell to Pay: Book Two of the Harvesters Series

by Luke R. Mitchell

  In the end, Jarek wasn’t sure it really mattered.

  Maybe there was some piece of Alaric’s son left in Mosen. Maybe he was even redeemable. Jarek hoped so for Alaric’s sake.

  But even if that were the case, it didn’t make Mosen any less dangerous right now, and he wasn’t about to pretend otherwise.

  “I’m sorry, Alaric.”

  Alaric fixed him with a grave stare. “I’m not telling you any of this for sympathy, son. I’m telling you because that son of a bitch Golga needs to die.” He stood, gathering up his bowl. “I’m still not sure the rest of his kind shouldn’t join him, but if these rakul are coming … Well, maybe an alliance is the only way. But not with him. When we face him tomorrow, I want you to remember that.”

  “We?”

  “Nelken told me to pass along his thanks if I saw you before he did. And to let you know you have the full support of the Resistance in taking that bastard down. Surprised he didn’t track you down yet. They’re putting together an escort team for you.”

  That was unexpected. He’d mostly been counting on another attempted chastising from Resistance command, complete with phrases like “loose cannon” and “reckless behavior.”

  “And you didn’t think to tell him that’s a terrible idea?”

  “Nope. Just told him I’d lead it. Nice call on high noon, by the way.”

  “What? It’s not enough to send a whole team into a potential trap? They need to send a commander too?”

  Alaric frowned down at him. “I’m no commander.”

  “Are you sure? Because you punched one out and used the words, ‘I’m back now.’ I might need to brush up on Resistance bylaws, but I think you might be a command—Hey!”

  Alaric was already striding off to deposit his bowl in the receptacle by the kitchen. “Get some rest, son,” he called, flicking two fingers over his shoulder in something between a salute and a wave. “Big day tomorrow.”

  “Yes, sir, Commander, sir,” Jarek called. “Good talk, man. Great closure. Yeah, don’t let me keep yo—”

  Alaric disappeared through the doorway.

  “Yep, he’s gone,” he mumbled. “Jesus. For people who question my decisions, they sure are eager to all jump in on the suicide cock fight.”

  “Astounding,” Al agreed. “It’s almost as if they care about you, sir.”

  He huffed a light chuckle. “Rachel, maybe. Alaric probably just wants to make damn sure Golga ends up properly dead tomorrow.” He hesitated, too uncertain about his next words to even speak them to Al at first.

  “Too bad neither of them will be there.”

  Al was silent for a stretch. “You know you don’t have to do this, sir,” he finally said. “There are several alternatives that might feasibly enable us to remove Zar’Golga from the equation.”

  “Got any we can pull off by tomorrow that don’t involve hundreds of innocent people dying?”

  Another silence. Then, “Excluding miracles, sir?”

  He smiled a tired smile. “I sure hope not, buddy. But I guess we’ll find out soon. You pulled Stumpy’s comm info, right?”

  “I did sir, but—”

  “Send the message, Al.” He stood to leave. “Tell that bastard there’s been a change of plans.”

  No one could try to stop him if they didn’t know where he was going or when he’d be there. And if it was time to step up to the plate, he might as well do it right.

  “Tell him I’ll see him bright and early at Yankee Stadium.”

  Twenty-Three

  Rachel took yet another deep breath and reminded herself that it was, in fact, not creepy as all hell that she was sitting here waiting in the dark cabin of Jarek’s ship. It was only practical. Because despite what might have come out of his mouth, Rachel had bought Jarek’s agreement to bring her along to the duel about as readily as she’d have bought a lightly used roll of toilet paper.

  He had no intention of letting her fly into harm’s way with him tomorrow.

  She wasn’t sure about that, of course. It was only a strong hunch. But the fact that Al had unlocked the ship and let her on board with only minimal fuss supported said hunch. Al had actually seemed kind of relieved to see her.

  It had been a little bizarre, talking to Al here at the ship even as he was simultaneously speaking with Jarek in HQ. She’d offered to wait until Al had wrapped up his conversation on the other end, but he’d insisted it wasn’t a problem. One of the perks of being a digital construct, apparently.

  Once she’d gotten on board and settled into Jarek’s raggedy but comfortable brown recliner, though, Al had mostly left her to sit with her own thoughts, which was just as well. She had what felt like a few years’ worth of mental processing to catch up on, and out here, it was dark and quiet and almost peacefu—

  “Here we come, ma’am,” Al said quietly from the cabin speakers.

  Well, it was dark at least.

  Her heart picked up as half a dozen scenarios played through her head. Would he be angry she’d sneaked aboard? Should she even care? If he was, he could shove it. He didn’t get to pull a fast one and then get upset just because she’d seen through his crap. Right?

  Yeah. Assuming he actually was pulling a fast one. She could be getting ahead of herself. And if he wasn’t … Oh god, he was totally going to think she’d come here to see him because of that stupid kiss, wasn’t he? Of course he would. Jarek was probably categorically incapable of comprehending that a female didn’t want him.

  Because she didn’t, right?

  The boarding ramp gave a few clacks and began to descend with a low hum.

  She watched it go, insisting to no avail that her stupid heart get its shit together and slow down.

  The ramp touched down to the pavement outside, and the first two boot steps sounded up its length. It was dark out there, but she could just make out Jarek’s silhouette as he paused near the bottom.

  “Say,” he said quietly, “you have something you forgot to tell me, Mr. Robot?”

  She thought about waiting to see if Al would say something out loud but decided the jig was already up. Knowing what little she did about Fela’s sensors, she wouldn’t be surprised if Jarek had heard her breathing or her heart or something, and he could probably see her sitting in the dark right now if he was using his helmet display.

  “He wanted to tell you you’re an asshole, but I thought I’d take the honor.”

  “Them’s fightin’ words, Goldilocks.” He strode up the ramp and slapped the switch to close it behind him. Once it had closed and locked with a few clicks, he brought the cabin lights on and slid his faceplate open. “Do I at least get to know what I did this time?”

  “It’s more what you’re planning to do. Namely without me.”

  He studied her seriously for several seconds, then closed his eyes and sighed. “What the hell, Al?”

  “I tried to tell her no, sir,” Al said from the cabin speakers. “She just sat down against the ship to wait. I couldn’t let her stay out there!”

  “Oh yeah? You tried, huh?”

  “Well … I didn’t say I tried hard, sir.”

  “Dammit, Al, I—”

  “Don’t blame this on Al,” Rachel said. “He’s the only one in there acting like a responsible adult.”

  Jarek leaned against his dresser and drummed lightly on the edges with armored fingertips as he watched her.

  “What?”

  He opened his mouth, thought better of it, and then went for it again. “I don’t suppose you’d be willing to go back to HQ and just pretend like this didn’t happen?”

  “Seriously?”

  He shrugged.

  “Yeah, sure,” she said. “Just as soon as I get you to sign this I-promise-I-won’t-throw-my-life-away-taking-unnecessary-risks-and trying-to-be-a-hero form I brought.”

  His lip twitched upward. “Did you just call me a hero?”

  She narrowed her eyes. “I said trying.”

  “Right.” He glanced around
the cabin as if checking for additional stowaways. “This coming from the lady who committed light home invasion to put herself in place to do the same thing.”

  “How hypocritical of me. I must be spending too much time around the wrong people.”

  “Uh-huh.” Jarek considered her for another few seconds and shrugged. “Well, if you insist on staying …”

  There was a pop and a series of clicks running down the length of Jarek’s body, and Fela began to unpeel from him, starting at the chest and branching out to the arms and down the torso, which was—it turned out—completely bare. As was the rest of him.

  “Dude.” She averted her gaze as he turned his pasty but well-muscled backside toward her and rooted through the top drawer of his dresser. “What are you doing?

  “Putting on my pajamas. Like a responsible adult.” He paused and shot her a grin over his shoulder. “Unless you’d rather I didn’t.”

  “Yeah, I think I’m all good, thanks. I don’t date albino alopecia patients.”

  He shrugged and tripped his way into a pair of dark sweatpants. “You try keeping tan in there. Or hair.”

  She wrinkled her nose at him. “Ick.”

  In truth, the pastiness didn’t bother her so much, and the relative lack of body hair actually did pretty flattering service to his well-built torso—in the few spots the extensive scars didn’t distract the eyes at least. But she wasn’t about to say that right now. Not when it was just the two of them alone in a small ship in the dark night. And especially not when he’d just tried to sneak out on her.

  At least he hadn’t tried to bullshit her once she’d called his bluff. He got a few points of credit there, but that was trivial next to everything else.

  And he seemed to sense it as he pulled on a forest green t-shirt and settled on the cot a few feet away.

  “I guess you’d probably like an apology,” he said.

  She bit back the Goddamn right, I would and forced a deep breath before speaking. An apology would be nice, sure. And she was definitely still pissed at him. But the more she thought about it, the more she realized she was pissed at herself too. And at Zar’Golga. And Alton Parker.

  When it came down to it, she was pretty much pissed at the whole world. And she was through with not doing anything about it.

  “You’re not doing this on your own,” she said.

  He studied her until she finally looked over to meet his gaze.

  “Okay, Goldilocks. If you’re sure you want in, you’re in.”

  There wasn’t a hint of joking or dishonesty in his face or tone. Unless he was hiding a whole other level of lying skills behind those dark eyes, he really meant it this time.

  “When were you really planning on going?”

  “Al sent a message. Duel’s at dawn. Assuming Golga shows.”

  “Why wait until tomorrow?”

  He rubbed at the back of his head. “You wouldn’t?”

  She shrugged. “I’m asking you.”

  He looked down at his hands. “Well, I guess the honest answer is because fighting him in a dark stadium sounds like pretty much the most pants-shittingest thing I can imagine. Plus, I dunno.” He waved a hand. “Space vampires, sunlight … Couldn’t hurt my chances, right?”

  And there it was. Out here, removed from his suit and his public image and alone but for her, he was ready to admit it. Jarek was every bit as afraid as he should be.

  The remainder of Rachel’s anger bled out of her, and she reached over and took his hand. “Neither could letting someone watch your back with a big stick.” She fixed him with a serious look. “I won’t let it end like that tomorrow. I don’t give a shit what the deal of the duel is. We’re taking Golga down, and then we’re getting the hell out of there. Together.”

  He searched her face as if he were only now truly seeing her for the first time. “I, uh … Thanks, Rache. I’m sorry I tried to leave. I was just—”

  “If you say trying to protect me, so help me, I’ll use the staff.”

  He grinned. “I was gonna say falling back to old habits, but I guess I’m open if you’re into that kind of thing.”

  She tugged her hand free from his and rolled her eyes but failed to keep her mouth from pulling into a smile.

  “Nelken wants to send a team with us,” Jarek said, his expression sobering once more. “Alaric’s planning on leading it.”

  “Maybe we should let him. The more the merrier, right?”

  “Oh, sure. Until they decide to just bomb the stadium with us in it. There’s a reason I was hoping to keep the number of necks risked down to one here. If we’re doing this thing, it’s you and me.”

  She didn’t argue—maybe in part because she didn’t totally disagree, but mostly because she’d already taken the liberty to arrange her own plan B in case things went sideways. Instead, she just nodded. “Fine. You and me.”

  He reached out and brushed a loose strand of hair from her forehead. “You and me.”

  She caught his wrist and gently pushed it away.

  “What?” He sized up her frown. “Are you telling me this isn’t the part where we totally make out?”

  Try as she might, she couldn’t manage to halt the heat flowing into her cheeks. “It so isn’t.”

  She dropped his gaze while she still could, but not before she caught the wolfish grin spreading across his mouth.

  Thankfully, he rose without another word and tromped up toward the cockpit.

  “We’d better get moving, then,” he called over his shoulder.

  “Now?” She stood and followed after him.

  “Might as well get over there and get settled while it’s dark,” he said as she plopped down in the copilot’s chair beside him. “That way Al can watch for funny business through the night.”

  “Both outside and inside the ship, sir,” Al said.

  “Yeah, yeah,” Jarek said. “Just plot the course, will you, Mr. Robot?”

  “Already plotted, sir. Are we all sure about this?”

  Jarek turned a questioning look to Rachel. “There’s still time to bail, Goldilocks. Judgment free. Even by my standards, this is kind of a bold move. If Golga decides to play dirty—”

  “You’ll need someone watching your back,” she finished. “What do you think I’m here for, the good company?”

  “I mean, it’s not bad, right?”

  She broke their gaze and looked out the banged-up windshield to hide her smile. Once she was facing the thick darkness outside rather than Jarek’s infernal grin, though, her smile died quickly enough.

  “I’m not leaving.”

  “All right then,” Jarek said. “You know the drill, Al.”

  “Assuming this thing can still fly,” Rachel muttered as Al powered up the ship’s motors.

  The ship had taken more than its fair share of gunfire that morning.

  Jarek frowned at the beaten windshield. “She’ll hold together.” He winced at the protesting groan that accompanied their liftoff. “Right, Al?”

  “At this point, I don’t know if we would survive a collision with a pigeon,” Al said, yawing the ship around and easing into a careful acceleration, “but yes, sir. The ship is more or less capable of making the trip.”

  Jarek met her dubious stare. “See? Totally golden. As long as we don’t end up needing to make a hasty getaway.”

  She arched an eyebrow. “Yeah. ’Cause when has that ever happened before?”

  Jarek patted the control console. “She’ll hold together. I might need to recruit Pryce for some serious repair work once we make it back. But she’ll hold together.”

  Even with their creeping speed and excessively cautious route, the flight didn’t take long. Thirty minutes later, they were closing in on Yankee Stadium from the northeast. According to the map, at least.

  The only real visual landmark was the glow of Zar’Golga’s New York base of operations several miles to the south. Directly below, though, by the stadium, it was too dark to pick out much other than the o
ccasional light or fire here or there.

  Al brought them to a quiet landing in what the map proclaimed had once been Joyce Kilmer Park and cut the engines. Without the steady hum of the engines and with nothing but darkness outside, the silence pressed in on them extra heavy, right along with the apprehension—at being in enemy territory, at what they were fixing to do tomorrow.

  At being utterly alone in the dark night with Jarek Slater.

  She felt more than saw him watching her. Not that there was much to see. Al had killed the lights in the cockpit and dimmed those in the back cabin enough to keep the cockpit windshield from acting as a well-lit Come kill us here sign.

  “What?” she asked, the heat in her cheeks actually making her grateful for the cover of darkness.

  The Jarek-shaped silhouette shook its head. “Nothing. We should get some sleep. You take the cot, I’ll—”

  “Take your cot.” Rachel gingerly plodded through the dark and laid down on one of the benches at the rear of the cockpit. “The prize fighter needs his beauty sleep. I promise I’ll survive.”

  He hovered nearby for a second, seeming like he’d say something, but then disappeared into the back without a word. There was the padding of bare feet and a few shuffling noises, then a series of faint mechanical whirs and more decisive clicks and snaps.

  Jarek entered the cockpit again, his silhouette enlarged with Fela’s added bulk.

  “What’re you—”

  He bent down and scooped her up into his arms.

  “Hey!” she cried as he maneuvered them into the back cabin.

  “Shh,” he whispered.

  “Might I remind you both that loud noises are currently inadvisable?” Al said quietly from the cabin speakers.

  “See?” Jarek said.

  “Yeah, well maybe you shouldn’t go around snatching people up like Tarzan.”

  The dim lighting in the cabin was just enough for her to make out his face as he stopped at the cot and studied her.

  “You gonna put me down, or do I have to give you a banana or something?”

  He smiled and set her gently down on the cot. “Rewards are welcome but not required.”