Beasts of Byron (Silvers Invasion Book 2)

by Alex Mersey

  Clint made no move to untie Sean, but he didn’t stop her either when she took the task upon herself. He merely patted the pistol at his hip as a warning and took a seat behind his desk.

  Unbound, Sean rolled his shoulders and sent her a grateful look before addressing Clint. “We need to talk.”

  “This should be interesting,” Clint drawled. He slouched a little lower, folded his arms, slung his booted feet up on the table. “Especially the part about where you thought coming here was a good idea.”

  “We’re desperate,” Sean said, and launched into a brief summary of the last twenty four hours.

  Clint didn’t interrupt once, not to ask questions about the town or the army camped outside it. She wanted to hope he was too engrossed in the storytelling, but she feared it was simply from an utter lack of caring.

  “The Silvers are on the ground and they’re taking our people,” Sean said at the end. “We need your help to get them back.”

  “I’m not your fairy fucking godmother.”

  “We have an army tactical vehicle,” Sean said. “It’s yours when this fight is over, along with all the weapons and ammo loaded inside, army issue.”

  A spark of interest lit Clint’s eye. “We’re not paid mercenaries here. We take what we want and don’t pay for it with our lives.”

  “You’re not getting anything until we strike a deal and I have your word,” Sean said evenly.

  “I have you.” Clint unfolded his arms to scratch at his beard. “And I have the means to get you to talk and show. You should have thought of that before—”

  “We did,” Beth assured him. “We walk out of here with a deal or we don’t walk out at all and that’s okay with me. I didn’t come here to barter for my own life.”

  He slid that ice cold look to her and she didn’t even flinch. “I appreciate your commitment,” he said, “but this isn’t our fight.”

  “One day, it will be,” Sean said. “The Silvers are on the ground, Clint. You can isolate yourself, live in the ruins, but surely you don’t really think you’ll never have a run-in with them?”

  “Maybe,” Clint mused. “Doesn’t mean I want to hurry it up.”

  Sean stepped closer, tipped his head, his voice hoarsened in urgency. “We’ve killed one of them. We know how to kill the Silvers.”

  “What the fuck?” Clint’s boots slid off the table.

  “Yeah, that’s valuable information,” Sean said, pressing his advantage now he had the man’s attention. “Hell, consider this assault on one of their damn internment camps as advanced training. Yes, it’s dangerous. Some of us may not survive. But you can’t escape this invasion, it’s coming for you and your men. You can stick your head in the rubble, or you can lead your band of misfits and be prepared.”

  Beth allowed herself a glimmer of hope with Sean’s fresh angle. If you can’t buy off a man, inspire him. And Clint seemed to be considering Sean’s message. He leant forward with his elbows on the table, fingers stroking through his beard, brow fisted as he thought.

  “You chose the wrong currency,” Sean went on. “Weapons and medicinal drugs on their own provide only the illusion of protection. Offer them more, a place that you can keep safe from all enemies, the ability to defend them with a fighting chance.”

  Sean closed the gap between him and Clint, getting all close up and personal with only the desk between them. “Build your kingdom beneath the ruins, and sooner or later your men are going to figure out you’re just hiding and they can do that themselves. Build your kingdom on an army that can conquer and defeat an alien empire. That’s true power.”

  Courage and conviction bloomed in Beth’s chest. She knew this was just a motivational speech to reel Clint in, but it was that good.

  And for a long, tense moment, Clint appeared torn, he really did. But then he fell back in his chair and the light went out of his eyes. “You worry about your people and I’ll worry about mine.”

  “They’ve got Alli,” Beth spoke up. “They’ve got Lynn and Johnnie. Is it really that easy for you to write them off?”

  That dull brown gaze landed on her. “You betrayed me.”

  “You stole my jeep!”

  “You should learn to take better care with your belongings.”

  “I did learn,” she challenged. “You of all people shouldn’t have a problem with that.”

  “This is different,” he said with a shrug. “I didn’t invite you inside under false pretentions and steal from you while you slept.” He inclined his head, studying her. “I gave you safe passage, Beth, and you stabbed me in the back.”

  She opened her mouth to protest, snapped it shut, suddenly not sure that wasn’t the one and only truth. “I didn’t plan for anyone to die.”

  “His name was Dale,” Clint said.

  “I remember.”

  Sean stood back from the table. “You know Beth, she isn’t a killer. Your man’s death was incidental—”

  “I heard what happened,” Clint cut him short, his eyes never leaving her. “I don’t blame you, not for Dale. You crossed me and that’s a personal matter. My men, on the other hand, they don’t see things the same.”

  “But you’re in charge,” Sean said.

  “I’m in charge because I control them and you know how I do that?” He glanced at Sean. “I give them what they want. And you know what they want?” He looked to her again. “They want your blood. They don’t give a damn about Dale, but they’re serious about vengeance.”

  “You bastard.” Sean shifted to move slightly in front of her. “You’re not giving Beth to them.”

  “I haven’t yet decided, but you’ll be the first to know,” Clint said and yelled out, “Samson!”

  Beth’s throat constricted as Leather Vest came through the door. Tick. Tock. Tick. Tock. She couldn’t let them tie her up, lock her away while Clint pondered his options. As dire as that might end for her, it would be worse for Alli.

  Sean turned to her. “It’s going to be okay.”

  Not an empty promise. She saw it in his eyes. In the grim set of his mouth. He’d find a way to make this okay, get them out of here alive.

  But that wasn’t enough for her.

  That wouldn’t save Alli.

  “Clint, wait.” She pushed past Sean to reach him. “Can we talk? Please, just you and me.”

  Sean rammed into position beside her, grabbed her by the arm. “Beth, don’t do anything rash, we’ll find another— Hey,” he shouted as Leather Vest, Samson, ripped him backward.

  “Put him in the shack,” Clint said.

  Samson gave a nod in her direction. “What about that one?”

  “I’ll bring her when we’re done here.”

  “Clint, I swear, if you harm her…” Sean hissed, struggling within Samson’s beefy grip as he was dragged toward the door and out the room before he could finish with that threat.

  Beth watched, regretting the pained look on his face, hated doing that to him, but there was no way he could be in on this conversation.

  Once the door closed again, Clint stretched lower in his chair, his full attention returned to her. “You shouldn’t have come back here, Beth.”

  “You’ll be glad I did,” she told him. “This is your lucky day.”

  His mouth twitched. “Enlighten me.”

  She perched casually on the corner of the desk, swung one knee up as she twisted to face him, nudged her chin high, but the brazen act didn’t really help deep inside where it counted, where she trembled. She’d asked herself what Clint would take from her this time.

  Now she knew.

  He’d take it all.

  “Sean was right, but there’s more to it,” she said. “If you help us, you’ll be the man who raided a Silvers stronghold and won. Word gets around. You’ll be both feared and revered, Clint. That is true power.”

  “You overestimate the size of my ego,” he said with a dry laugh.

  She didn’t think so, but she also knew he needed more to make this ha
ppen.

  “When it’s done, you’ll get your vehicle and a sizeable stash of weapons…” She trailed off, giving herself precious seconds of grace. He could still change his mind and take the deal as it stood. That was a possibility.

  Or not.

  Clint sighed. “I’m not hearing anything new.”

  Her stomach coiled into a ball of lead. “And you get me.”

  To Clint’s credit, his jaw actually sagged in shock. Only for a heartbeat, though, then he pulled it together with a darkly intense expression. His palms slammed down on the desk, pushing the rest of him slowly to his feet. “I get you?”

  Beth swallowed with difficultly. “To do with as you please. Put a chain around my neck and make me cook and scrub the floors. Chop my head off and pike it on a pole.” She tried to keep her voice light, but failed miserably. “Whatever gets your men their vengeance jollies.”

  He ran a hand over his thinning hair, his hooded gaze sheltering his thoughts as he made his way around the desk and came to stand right in front of her, close enough for his thigh to scrape her bended knee.

  Refusing to cower, she tilted her chin up to meet his eyes. Despite knowing better, she searched for signs of softening, found none.

  His gaze dropped to her mouth and, if anything, the creases around his eyes hardened. His hand came up, the pad of his thumb lightly grazing the swollen crack in her lower lip.

  “Let me guess,” he said, that gaze lifting again. “Briar?”

  “You put him up to it?”

  Clint shook his head. “But I know my men.” His thumb fell away as he put some space between them. “Hell, I know men, period.”

  She clamped her jaw on a rise of bitter anger. “And yet you still left him alone with me?”

  “Consider it a valuable lesson,” Clint said. “If you wrong a man, make sure he can’t come back to make you regret it.”

  “I don’t understand.” No, that wasn’t true. She understood what Clint meant, she just didn’t understand the man, not at all. “You’re saying we should’ve killed George Briar instead of letting him go free.”

  “That would certainly have helped me out with my predicament right now.”

  Her nose crunched. “What predicament?”

  “You,” he said bluntly.

  “I’m not a predicament, Clint, I’m the solution,” she said. “And you get me guilt-free and conscience-clear. I’m offering myself of my own free will and I know exactly what I’m doing.”

  “What are you doing, Beth?”

  “Saving Alli.” She straightened her shoulders and stuck her hand out, feeling bolder than she probably had any right to. “I’m saving Alli.”

  He looked at her, his gaze sinking deep.

  Too many moments stretched into that look.

  Too many beats hammering inside her chest.

  This was it, the last offer. She had nothing more to give.

  Clint brought his hand up to hers in a solid grasp, didn’t shake and let go, instead left that look on her to simmer and sink deeper still.

  “There’s one condition.” Beth worked saliva into her mouth. “Sean can’t know, not until it’s over and Alli is safe.”

  “And if she isn’t?” asked Clint, dead serious. “You have considered we may not bring her back alive, haven’t you?”

  No, she hadn’t. That was absolutely the one thing she could not do.

  Clint, bless his hardened soul, didn’t force her to confront the possibility.

  “Okay,” he said, squeezing her hand lightly before letting go. “I guess we have ourselves a deal.”

  - 18 -

  Chris

  Chris came to consciousness like a drowned man floating to the surface. His lids pressed heavy on his eyes, his mind too bloated to absorb the how, when and why. He knew he was lying on the hard floor, suffocating warmth packed around him, but the last thing he remembered….

  The Silvers coming for them.

  Williams choking him.

  He lifted his head, struggled up onto his elbows, then pushed into a sitting position as he forced his eyes open. The room was washed in a haze of neon green. It took another moment for his vision to adjust, to see the sea of bodies he’d been dumped amongst. That explained the warmth.

  “Chris, it’s okay.” Williams bent over him, extending a hand. “You’ll be fine.”

  He accepted the helping hand to haul himself up from the floor, because no matter what he remembered, he trusted the man to a fault. “What did you do?”

  Williams hesitated.

  Chris’s gaze swept over the sleeping bodies at his feet and the pieces fell into place. “You choked me until I lost unconsciousness and hid me amongst the red-tags.”

  “My technique’s more scientific than that,” Williams murmured, “I restricted the blood flow to your carotid artery.”

  Great, that makes it so much more acceptable! He didn’t need to ask how long he’d been out for. Long enough for the sun to sink. The strange green haze wasn’t moonlight filtering in, though, didn’t come from any source he could see. It was just all around them, like fluorescent dust particles providing ambient light.

  “You knew I didn’t want this,” Chris said. He curled a hand behind his neck, rolled out the stiffness. “I told you I wouldn’t hide like a coward and leave someone else to take my place.”

  “Look around you, Chris, does it look like anyone thinks you’re a coward? Does it look like anyone blames me for possibly saving a kid’s life?”

  Chris looked, saw the clusters of men talking in low voices or gazing into nothing, passing time between the Silvers’ visits. Bran caught his eye. Jake stood with him. They’re okay, that’s something. Another man nodded as Chris’ gaze moved over him, and Williams wasn’t wrong, no one stared back at him with malice or resentment.

  “It’s not their opinion that counts,” Chris said, his scowl returning to Williams. “You took control from me. You’re just like the damn Silvers.”

  “I’m sorry.”

  “No, you’re not sorry.”

  “I am,” Williams said, his tone grave with sincerity. “I’d do it again if I have to, and I’d be sorry again. I know you don’t think it’s fair, that you hate the special treatment. But I will do whatever it takes to keep you safe and you don’t get a say in it. I don’t need your approval, and I don’t need you to like me for it.”

  Chris drew in an irritable breath, released it on a noisy sigh. Based on that logic, it was difficult to stay mad at the man. “I didn’t mean what I said, about you being like the Silvers.”

  “I know.”

  “That doesn’t mean I forgive you.”

  Williams cocked his head, his rigid mouth ghosting traces of a smile. “I know.”

  With all that said, Chris didn’t feel a whole lot better. He didn’t have a death wish and he appreciated Williams looking out for him—but not at the expense of others. That special treatment made him feel less than…less than normal, less than deserving.

  “They brought water and food,” Williams said, nudging a look over Chris’ shoulder. “You should keep your strength up.”

  The mention of water made him aware of how parched his throat was. Chris nodded, made his way over to the pallet of bottled water and grabbed a bottle. He was twisting the cap off when Bran joined him.

  “You are please to replenish your energy,” Bran mimicked the Silvers’ robotic tone as he plucked an orange from the wooden crate.

  Chris took a long slug of the lukewarm water, wiped a hand across his mouth, waiting for Bran to say what was on his mind.

  “I heard what went down between you and your man,” Bran said, tossing the orange from hand to hand. “If it makes you feel any better, he saved my life, too.”

  Chris had just taken another drink and almost spat it back out. “Williams choked you unconscious?”

  “Hell, no, but that was one bad-ass move,” Bran said, clearly impressed.

  “You can take my turn next time,” Chris sai
d dryly.

  “Yeah, about that, the Silver selected me in the last round.” Bran stopped tossing and lifted the hem of his shirt above the puckered line of reddish skin and black stitches. “Williams showed them this and gave them some story about wasting a strong specimen if they didn’t give me a couple of days to heal.”

  “It worked?”

  Bran smirked. “I’m still here.” He dropped his shirt and lost the smirk. “Listen, I was all for beating the shit out of the bastards, but when that Silver looked at me and I knew my number had come up…”

  He trailed off and Chris didn’t press him to finish that thought.

  Instead he peeled himself an orange, his gaze scanning the room for missing faces as he broke off a segment and popped it into his mouth.

  He wasn’t searching for anyone in particular, though, and didn’t immediately spot the gaps. “Who did they take?”

  Bran mentioned two unfamiliar names, then he said, “And the mayor, but he was happy to go. The idiot puffed himself up like a peacock and said he was going to have a word with whoever’s in charge and sort this mess out.”

  A thud, thud, thud pounded the roof above them. Chris’ eyes turned up to the ceiling, but the vibrations dampened and then there was nothing.

  Williams came striding up. “Something’s happening,” he said urgently and kept going, heading for the window.

  “No shit,” muttered Bran and then hell broke loose one deafening, crippling piece at a time.

  Explosive bursts of gunfire ripped the air, somewhere outside, somewhere close. Inside, the room buzzed with panic and excitement.

  “Get down!” shouted Williams, his eyes glued to the window.

  Men ran in every direction, to crouch in corners, to huddle against the walls, to bang on the bars and yell to be let out.

  An elbow bashed Chris in the back and he went stumbling forward into someone else. He should get somewhere, do something, but he couldn’t seem to hold a thought. Continuous gunfire would have been bad enough, but the sporadic outbursts were worse. Each brief interval between was a false lull that ended in a fresh electric shock that cracked his nerves.

  He hadn’t even realized he’d migrated closer to the window, to Williams, when the glass shattered in a shower of shards. At the same time, thundering bursts and flashes of light sparked from the depths of the passage. The battlefield had moved inside.