“I’ll be fine as long as I have decent water and I know my pretzels are coming.” Chris continued his withering glare at Selena. “I can tolerate the mustard, begrudgingly. I’m reasonable. It’s not like I expect her to make it herself. Not that she could.” He cocked his head to the side and laughed. “That’s what I should have stuck in my rider. There’s always next time.”
It was in that moment Selena appreciated her self-control. If she lacked self-control, she would have flipped off the pompous bastard right then and there or climbed over the table to strangle him. What kind of fake butt self-absorbed bastard thought the words coming out of that mouth were remotely reasonable?
Selena took slow, even breaths to calm her raging heart and kept repeating her new mantra in her thoughts.
Don’t strangle the talent. Don’t strangle the talent. Don’t strangle the talent.
I miss discussing editing of meerkat documentaries.
This job was supposed to be her big chance. A recommendation got her a gig working as a production assistant on the commercial after her post-school years of toiling as a PA on low-budget documentaries. She thought this would be her opportunity to bust into true success. It still could be if she survived the idiots without murdering them.
“Do we understand each other?” Chris asked, enunciating each word carefully. “Or do I need to write it down for you in crayon?”
“Yes, I understand your needs.” Selena offered her best smile to Chris. “I’ll do my best to make sure they’re satisfied.”
Not every director was a freak and not every actor a self-absorbed idiot. This was a commercial, not a show. All Selena needed to do was tolerate some annoyance for a short time, and she would be well-positioned for better opportunities in the future. This was just another test in a difficult industry.
“Your best?” Chris snorted. “I guess I’ll just make do without my pretzels then. It might affect my motivation, though. I hope you understand.”
Bill glared at Selena. “Make sure he gets his damned pretzels. We’re already operating at an artistic disadvantage as is. I can’t believe you’re sabotaging my shoot! Are you doing this on purpose?”
“I’ll get the pretzels,” Selena managed to get out without shouting. “Just give me the time I need, unless you want to blow the whole budget of the shoot on emergency chartering a private jet to deliver a box of pretzels.”
She looked around the table for support from the other staff, but they all avoided her eyes. One loser ducked underneath the table. Who did that?
“As long as I get them before the end of the shoot,” Chris muttered. “They’ll taste better with the seasoning of the anticipation of a job well done.”
Bill clapped once. “Good, we’ve got that settled. We need to go back to the commercial, and…” He frowned as his phone rang. He yanked it from his belt. “Rick, I told you I was going to be… What? You’re sure?” He glared at Selena. “Understood. I’m not surprised. I’ll take care of it.”
The director tossed his phone on the table and continued to frown at Selena.
“Is there a problem, Bill?” she asked calmly.
“Rick was double-checking on the permits before renting a truck to move the gear,” Bill said, his voice filled with hostility. “And according to Rick, our permit’s been revoked.”
Selena’s eyes widened. “What the hell? They just approved it this morning! That was only a few hours ago.”
“I bet you showed them the same respect you showed me.” Chris laughed. “You’re going to need to learn to be a people person, Sabrina, or you won’t last long in this industry.”
“I was nothing but professional, and my name is Selena.”
Chris rolled his eyes. “Whatever.”
“I don’t care what happened,” Bill bellowed. “I want this shit cleaned up yesterday.”
Everyone but Selena ducked low this time, even Chris.
“I’ll handle it, Bill,” Selena said. “There’s obviously been a mix-up.”
“Yes, there’s been a mix-up.” Bill’s face twitched. “And you better get it cleaned up if you don’t want me to fire your ass and make sure you never, ever get a job near a production again.”
“I-I’ll get it figured out.” Selena hopped up, some of her fire fading. “Right away.”
“Good. The clock is ticking.” Bill tapped his watch.
“And make sure I get my pretzels,” Chris added with a cheerful wave.
Selena narrowed her eyes. She’d been wrong. Chris didn’t need a punch to the face. He needed a kick to the crotch.
Chapter Three
Scratching his beard, Maximus looked around the cramped motel room filled with his team. Small hybrids were rare, and there wasn’t anyone among the twelve remaining members of Alpha Squad who met that description. The one-room briefing sounded like a better idea before they’d all arrived.
Many of the hybrids, like Maximus, were larger than normal hybrids, which meant they were all but giants compared to humans. Cassius, whom they called CJ, was lithe compared to Maximus, but that didn’t mean he was the kind of man who was going to feel comfortable in a compact car.
Maximus dismissed the concern. This was a special mission, and these twelve, including himself, as the affected, deserved to be here more than anything. Whatever was happening to them was related to something the Phoenix Corps did. They could get their revenge on Quinen for trying to take hope away from them.
After a survey of the room, Maximus nodded to himself. Everyone was ready for the mission. They always were. Since they’d gained their freedom with the help of the Luna Lodge hybrids, the Alpha Squad hybrids hadn’t been able to rest for long. They’d been eager to apply their training to strike back against the men who had imprisoned them. The created weapon was now pointed at the last straggling forces of their corrupt creators.
Maximus tried to imagine what the hybrids would do once the Corps was finished. He didn’t know, but it didn’t matter. The mission would come first, and then he would worry about the future. He tried to ignore the hanging fear they would not be able to find their mates.
Everyone in the room wore brown contacts to cover their natural amber-colored hybrid eyes. Ironically, the revelations about the corruption in the US government and the persecution of the hybrids had made it easier for many to blend in when they did mix in human society. While the hybrids couldn’t do much about their size, some humans had taken to wearing amber-colored contacts as both a fashion and solidarity statement with the hybrids. Maximus had no problem taking advantage of the human fad to further hide his men in the field, but he wasn’t going to rely on it.
His concern faded, and he chuckled at cramming his twelve men into one motel room. It might be suspicious to some, but he doubted anyone in that neighborhood wanted to knock on their door and ask what they were up to. Any curious neighbors would likely assume they were a group of toughs up to no good. As long as they kept it down, no one would have a reason to call the police.
Naturally, they weren’t all staying in the one room, but Maximus wanted to go over things as a team. They weren’t in Hawaii on a vacation. Someday they might have to return for that, but that would be long after they defeated their enemies and their futures were secured by their own hands.
He frowned. A couple men were flipping through tourism pamphlets. It was time to focus his squad and make them understand the importance of the mission. Not only was destroying the final remnants of the Phoenix Corps important for the hybrids’ safety, if they could collect any intel from the survivors or take Quinen alive, they might be able to reverse whatever was happening to the twelve men in that room. Even if it was only the loss of their ability to smell their Vestals, that was too much. It meant they had no future.
Their superior senses, training, strength, and speed made them better than humans in many ways, but every hybrid felt it in their soul, something that made them more vulnerable than humans. Something was missing. They weren’t complete, and the
y couldn’t rely on dates and swiping on apps to deal with that. Their soulmates were a lot more literal. They needed their Vestals, or they would be forever trapped with a longing they couldn’t suppress, never satisfied with their existence.
It was one thing when they held out some hope for the future, but with the loss of ability to scent out the Vestals, they stood at the dark precipice of hopelessness. The men were putting on a brave face, but he knew they all felt it as keenly as him.
Maximus didn’t care what Titus and Rachel said. He knew his new, smaller Alpha Squad would need to leave the other hybrids to make sure their problem wasn’t contagious and maintain morale, but for now, they needed to prepare for the mission.
He nodded to CJ and Tiberius. The latter was his second-in-command, and CJ was one of his best men, despite being younger than the rest. A third hybrid, Cornelius, rounded out Maximus’s main lieutenants. Cornelius’s light beard and handsome face made him seem more like a human model than a genetically engineered supersoldier. They had used that to their advantage on missions. If only Cornelius had a friendlier personality, he would have been perfect for social engineering jobs. No man, even a hybrid, could be perfect.
“We all know why we’re here,” Maximus said. He resisted the urge to bark out his speech in command mode. They’d rented out all the adjacent rooms, but they couldn’t be sure someone might not be walking by and think an out-of-control party was going on. “The intel from the Luna hybrids appears solid. With the Horatius Group destroyed and the Phoenix Corps now all but destroyed, we’ll have to assume that whoever is left will be far more likely to lash out.” He bared his teeth and let out a light growl, eliciting matching growls from most of his men. “And we know what it means to be wounded animals and how dangerous that can be.”
Tiberius leaned against a wall, his fingers laced behind his head as if they were just chilling and waiting for a luau and not preparing to hunt down dangerous enemies. Maximus was always surprised how the hybrids could all have such different personalities despite being created and trained in the same facility. Their creators never mentioned any genetic manipulation to ensure that, and if they could do something like that, it’d make more sense to make them loyal and placid rather than give the hybrids diverse attitudes that could lead to them questioning their masters.
“The intel might be solid, but it might also be old,” Tiberius said. “These bastards are trying to avoid not only hybrids but a lot of governments. It’s like you told us the other day. Every country is eager to prove they weren’t totally involved in screwing hybrids over. We could sit back and do nothing, and I bet within a year there wouldn’t be anyone left who can threaten us.”
“Humans screwed us over to begin with. We can’t rely on humans to protect us.” Maximus grunted and rounded on the other hybrid. “Setting that aside, you’re saying you think this is a waste of time?” he asked, injected stern challenge into his voice.
Tiberius shook his head. “No way.” He grinned. “If we nail even one of those bastards, it’s worth it. Just pointing out some of the options.” He motioned toward a window. The curtain was drawn. “Worst-case scenario is there’s no one here, and we spend a few days in Hawaii. Not a problem for me. If we get to take out some Corps bastards, it’s a nice bonus.”
Other hybrids frowned at him, but no one challenged him. Tiberius might be laid back, but he could take almost anyone in Alpha Squad. There was a reason he was one of Maximus’s lieutenants.
Cornelius, standing across the room, folded his arms and shook his head. “I wouldn’t get too comfortable, and I don’t believe the intel is old. If anything, I think we should assume the enemy is still here and entrenching themselves because of their losses elsewhere. We need to follow this up quickly before they can finish preparing for raids.”
Maximus nodded his agreement. “I’ve already got a meeting scheduled with a local informant, but it’s not until this evening. I’ll take CJ as backup.”
CJ chuckled. “Sounds fun. Is this going to involve a lot of questions or lot of threats?”
“Depends on the informant, but this is a good lead.” Maximus swept the rest of the room with his commanding gaze. “Until we confirm the Phoenix Corps isn’t here, we’ll presume they are. So, no, we’re not going to enjoy our time here. We’re going to assume they’re keeping an eye out for hybrids and government agents.” He frowned at Tiberius who shrugged his shoulders and didn’t stop smiling. “The rest of you need to get to prepping and checking our gear. I want the smaller drones and cameras set up in the area to monitor all paths to our rooms and the parking lot. If the Corps is here, it’s not impossible they discovered we’re coming, and we don’t want to get caught with our pants down. We don’t want a van full of mercs showing up and gunning us all down while we’re asleep.”
“It’s a seedy motel,” Tiberius said. “I think this is exactly the kind of place we’d get caught with our pants down.”
Maximus stared him down. It wasn’t the time for jokes. “Everyone has their orders. And keep your contacts in at all times. I don’t care if you see humans with amber contacts.”
“If we’re that worried about being on the defense, shouldn’t we keep them out and rely on sunglasses, so we can drop them quickly?” Cornelius asked, gesturing to his eyes. “Even if they take down our gear, we have our senses, and we’re losing some of that advantage with those contacts.”
“This isn’t like most of our missions,” Maximus said. “It’s going to require a little more... finesse. You have your orders. Inventory your gear, and get the surveillance equipment ready. I’m sure you all can set things up without getting spotted, and if not, then whatever’s left of the Phoenix Corps is going to be disappointed in their former tools.”
* * *
Stepping into the darkened bar, Maximus wrinkled his nose as the intermingling stink of men who needed showers and acrid half-burned food laid siege to his sensitive nostrils. The stench had assaulted him in the parking lot, but it was now almost overwhelming. It was a cosmic joke that the twelve Alpha Squad hybrids could no longer depend on their noses to lead them to their destined mates, but their enhanced smell would subject them to every other unpleasant scent in the world.
CJ snickered at half-burned out neon lights behind the bar. “This place has seen better days. I think those days were fifty years ago, but…”
Maximus surveyed the bar. Even with his contacts in, the dim light presented no challenge. It might as well have been noon on a cloudless day. His gaze lingered on a smiling, greasy man in a loud Aloha shirt in the corner. The man matched the description of the informant. Anywhere else the bright yellow shirt might have been the opposite of stealth, but many men in the bar, even the ones with jagged scars on their faces and arms, were in similar attire.
Glints of steel from knives and guns poked out from jackets or waistbands. Maximus took mental note of the positions of the tables and chairs in case he needed to throw them later. He never underestimated the usefulness of pieces of furniture as projectiles. They’d saved his life more than once, and it could be fun to crack a table over a man’s head.
With a grunt, Maximus nodded to CJ. “Stay outside and keep an eye out.”
“You sure?” CJ asked, looking dubious.
“If I can’t take one asshole in a bar, I might as well give up.”
“You sure this isn’t a Corps trap?” CJ raised an eyebrow.
“No, but it’s not like you’re on another island.” Maximus grinned. “If you think there’s trouble, come back in and start throwing people through windows. If it is them, they’ll probably show up with big numbers from outside and force their way in, not sit there and risk us sniffing something out suspicious.”
“I don’t know if I can hear anything with all this music, but your call,” CJ mumbled. He shrugged and headed outside.
Maximus maneuvered through the bar toward the informant’s table, his movements slow, almost menacing. The room was filled with tough-looking me
n and women covered in tattoos and large muscles, but no one spared him more than the briefest of glances. Some people turned their heads to ensure they didn’t appear to be challenging him. He wasn’t there for a fight, but on some level, they understood there was an alpha predator in their midst. It was like he told the mugger. There was always someone higher on the food chain.
He arrived at the table and nodded to the man. “You’re Ken?”
The man at the table picked up his drink, a dark brown-colored liquor, and took a sip. “I’m not going to bother asking who you are. I think you all overestimate how well you blend in, Mr. Wolf Man. I might have cut you a discount if you were honest about who you were.”
Maximus dropped into a seat, satisfied with the implicit confirmation. He wasn’t bothered by Ken knowing he was a hybrid. If CJ was right, and it was a trap, he’d make sure Ken paid first. All Maximus needed for the moment was information. The other man might pass his presence on to someone else, but if the hybrids acted quickly, it wouldn’t matter.
Maximus locked eyes with Ken, not caring enough to try and lie about being a hybrid. “Wolves can both stand out and blend in with their environment as needed, but it’s also a good thing not to screw with them.” He lifted his hands and cracked his knuckles. “You never know if they’ll tear your throat out to defend themselves.”
“Sure, sure.” Ken raised his glass, a playful smile on his face. “Don’t get me wrong. I always figure it’s good to be on the right side of certain kinds of people, and I’m a big fan of your kind. It’s like I said, brother, I would have offered you a discount if I’d known. I’m serious about that.”
“I don’t give a shit about if you like us or not,” Maximus growled. “You were wired money for info, and I’m here to get that info. If you know half as much about my kind as you’re implying, then you should know not to mess with me.”
Maximus: #1 (Luna Lodge: Alpha Squad) Page 3