Mesmerized by the Alien Mercenary

by Ashlyn Hawkes

  Is there a way to make everyone happy? A way for me to get the money but for Sophia to live?

  It’s interesting to hear that she’s a bounty hunter. I’m sure she has a fair number of enemies given her line of work. I wondered why that silver-haired man wanted her dead. My guess is that she collected a bounty on someone he cares about. Or maybe the silver-haired man has a bounty out on him, and he wants to take her out before she can take him out. Nah. The first is more likely because honestly, if there’s a bounty on him, he would have to have every single bounty hunter killed in order to feel safe, and even then, I’m sure that inexperienced persons would be willing to go after him if the price was right.

  So it wouldn’t be enough to just deal with the silver-haired man. Besides, he claimed he’s watching, that he’ll know when the deed is done.

  What if he thinks the deed is done but it's not? What if we can fake her death?

  It would have to be we. A combined effort. We would have to discuss this in a way that I can make sure the silver-haired man doesn’t find out about it.

  But yes, if I can convince her that this is for the best, I can get the house, and we can move in, and we can be happy…

  What the fuck. What is wrong with me? I don’t even know her, and I’m already hoping we’ll have kids. I’ve never been like this about a woman, but she’s not just any woman. She’s so fucking hot that just looking at her makes me want to cream my pants, but talking to her is a treat too. She’s fun and funny, and grappling… I want to grapple with her again, multiple rounds. Hmm, maybe we can make a game of it. The loser has to remove an article of clothing, and I wouldn't mind letting her win, although I probably wouldn't have to let her. She could win outright. I could smell alcohol on her breath. Faint, not too much, but if she had been on her A game, she might've been able to last longer against me. Hell, she might've won.

  Ovian, I'm hard again. Just thinking about the way she rubbed her ass against me… How did she not feel my hard cock? Maybe she noticed, but she ignored it. She was intent on grappling and proving her worth.

  Does she know her worth? Because it’s more than that silver-haired fucker is offering.

  Fuck. I’m in deep.

  Her ass, her hands, her lithe body… The thought of us grappling again, of us rolling around on a bed…

  Why didn’t I follow her? I should’ve. I should’ve walked her to wherever she was going. Not that she would’ve needed me for protection, but…

  It wasn’t just dumb luck that I found her. I’ve been asking around about her, trying to find out where she lives, and I was pointed in this direction. I still don’t know where precisely she lives, but it’s clear enough to me that she had been walking to her place. Maybe because she had been drinking some. I know that alcohol can make Earthlings act a bit strange. It slows their reaction times, so if I thought Sophia was fast before, she’s even faster.

  And if she’s fast, just imagine how fast she could stroke my cock…

  I'm stroking myself as fast and as hard as I can, trying to bring myself that blissful release, but I don't want my hand. I don't even want her hand. I just want to hold her again, to hug her, to embrace her, and it not be because we're trying to establish dominance over one another. A simple hug.

  But that’s not what I have, not what I get. It’s just my hand right now, and it’s enough to get me to climax, but it’s not my strongest ever.

  Again, I clean up, and I scowl in the direction she had walked in. What the fuck is she doing to me? I'm a mercenary. I don't need this kind of nonsense. After all, a job's a job. I don't know much of anything at all about Sophia. So what if she's hot? So what if she's a capable fighter? That she's a bounty hunter doesn't matter.

  But I didn’t even want to take that one job because I thought the wife would flip out and kill her husband if he was cheating on her. Now, I’ve gone and accepted a job to kill someone.

  If the job had been to kill anyone else, would I have accepted it? Would I be willing to do it?

  I don’t know. I honestly don’t know.

  The whole point of being an ovian mercenary is to do what needs to be done, morals be damned.

  But as much as I want that house, I don’t want blood money. And if that silver-haired man buys that house for me, it’ll be a blood house.

  I won’t be able to live with myself if I live there because I killed someone, least of all Sophia.

  I’m so utterly fucked. I’ve gone and fucked up, and I don’t know what to do. What should I do?

  I need to think things through with a clearer head. Maybe things will be clearer in the morning. Right now, I’m too… I don’t even know what I am. I’m lost. I’m confused, but most of all, I’m annoyed.

  Annoyed that the silver-haired man wants Sophia dead.

  Annoyed that I accepted the job.

  Annoyed that Sophia did something to warrant a mercenary being hired to take her out.

  As if this is her fault. It’s not.

  Head down, I march away from there and don't stop until I reach my office. I've built a desk inside for it, and I'm working on adding another room for a bed. It would be nice to have a bathroom as well, so I wouldn't have to go into restaurants to use theirs. There's a nearby lake I use to wash up in. I don't do plumbing, though, and if I get the house, I can just convert one of the rooms to my office.

  Nah. I’m not sure I want to mix business with pleasure.

  Isn’t that exactly what I’m doing with Sophia, though? Mixing business with pleasure?

  “Ovian,” I mumble, curling my fingers into fists.

  My fingers tap my ear to activate my chip, and I call around the various Kurians who came to Earth before me. The first three don’t answer, but then Strol does.

  “What is it, Tox?” Strol asks.

  “Busy?” I ask.

  “Isabella’s taking a shower, and I was thinking of joining her, so yeah, a little busy.”

  “Go ahead,” I mumble.

  “What is it?” he asks. “I answered for a reason.”

  “What was it like when you met Isabella?” I blurt out, feeling like a fool.

  “Where the ovian are you?” Strol demands, sounding very much like his overlord father.

  “On Earth.”

  “You met a woman, huh?”

  “Yes. I can’t get her out of my mind.”

  Strol laughs. “It seems to me that us Kurians know almost immediately when we find the one we’re to be with.”

  “But I don’t even know her,” I protest.

  “So get to know her. Let her know you. That’s more important because you already know enough about her.”

  “But what if it’s just lust?”

  “Is it?” Strol asks.

  “How the fuck should I know? I don’t even ovian know her! I told you that!”

  “And I told you to get to know her,” he reminds me.

  “Have you always been this condescending?”

  “I’m not being condescending. You’re freaking the fuck out because you met her, and you want her, but deep down, you know you want her for more than just your bed.”

  “Yes,” I whisper.

  “So go do something about it. Talk to her. Abduct her. Whatever you gotta do, but just know that Brock and the others, they didn’t fuck things up, so there’s a good chance that even if you did fuck up, you can make things right.”

  And he disconnects the call.

  Yeah, okay. I would glower at the Kurian if he were standing in front of me. So much easier said than done, and I might’ve fucked things up.

  But maybe Strol’s advice isn’t all bad. I can make things right. I can fix this.

  All I have to do is talk to Sophia without the silver-hair man knowing what I’m up to.

  That would be a whole lot easier if I knew how that man was tracking me. Maybe he isn’t. Maybe he just said that to try to scare me.

  Well, he is scaring me, and there’s a time crunch hanging over my head. Not just for the h
ouse, either. I have a feeling that silver-haired man won’t stop anytime soon, and if I take too long, he’s liable to send someone else after Sophia.

  I’ll save her, and then I’ll win her heart.

  If I have to abduct her, I will, but I have a feeling it won’t come to that.

  8

  Sophia

  It’s lonely at my place.

  That’s not something I’ve felt in a long time. Normally, I just do what I want, enjoying that I don’t have to answer to anyone. I keep the place tidy because I want to, not because I have a lot of company. I do things for me and no one else.

  Maybe it’s the alcohol making me feel the need to be around someone. Maybe it’s because I did feel Tox’s cock start to stir against my ass before I threw him.

  Maybe it's because I left him behind, and I regret that.

  Do I, though? Do I regret it? I'm not sure, to be honest. I'm not sure about a lot of things.

  My cell rings, and I answer without looking to see who’s calling.

  “Hello?”

  “Soph! Why haven’t you been returning my texts?”

  I hold the phone away from me and check. “Ines, there aren’t any missed texts.”

  “Bull. You never got your phone checked out to see why you can only send and not receive, am I right?”

  “Sorry.”

  “It should be on your to-do list,” my best friend gripes. “What if a client tries to text you?”

  “I tell them to call.”

  “For being an introvert, you like talking on the phone too much.”

  “Better than face-to-face—”

  "Unless it's payday," she finishes for me.

  We both laugh.

  “I’m sorry I didn’t get your texts. What’s up?” I settle on my couch, crossing my ankles and placing my heels on my coffee table.

  “It’s Jason.”

  “What did he do now?”

  Jason is Ines’ twelve-year-old.

  “He won’t stop backtalking. He rolls his eyes constantly, and—”

  “Rolls his eyes?” I murmur.

  I know she must be rolling hers right now. “Why did you repeat me?” she demands.

  “I don’t know.”

  "Mmm, hmm. You know why."

  “Did you just roll your eyes at me?” I accuse.

  “I did not!”

  "Mmm, hmm," I return, mimicking her.

  “You know what?”

  “No, you know what? Jason is every bit your son. You backtalked to your parents all the time!”

  “Not like this. The level of disrespect is terrible, and I just can’t handle it anymore. Josh is no help either!”

  Josh is her husband. They’ve been together for over two decades. Ines and I are both thirty-three.

  “I don’t know. What do you want from me?” I ask.

  “For you to be my sounding board.”

  “All right. I’m listening. Sounding board awaying.”

  She huffs a sigh but says nothing.”

  “Ines, you there?”

  “Yes.”

  “Well, then?”

  “I guess that’s it. I just wanted to gripe a bit.”

  “That’s fine, but do you want some advice?”

  “Do you have any?”

  “Not really, no.”

  “When you have kids—”

  “I’m two years away from advanced maternal age,” I remind her.

  “All you have to do is find a guy in a few months and get pregnant a few months later. So long as you have the first before you turn thirty-five, you’ll be fine. It’s more of an issue if it’s your first over thirty-five.”

  “Is that so? I thought you were a beautician, not a doctor.”

  “Trust me. I know what I’m talking about, and you would make a great mom.”

  “I don’t know about that, but first, I would need a guy, and I don’t know any.”

  “You know plenty of guys.”

  I groan. “Not any who understand me.”

  “You can’t think of one?”

  “No.”

  But my thoughts stray toward a certain alien mercenary. I'm not mesmerized by him, but I'm sure a lot of women are. He's hot. Even I'll say that. He never wears a shirt, not that establishments care about the whole no shirt policy when it comes to the aliens. For whatever reason, Kurians and Novans don't bother to wear clothes on their upper halves.

  He's strong, solid, built like a bull. He could probably bench press three of me. I might be five foot even, but I weight one-hundred and twenty pounds. I'm not fat, though. I'm mostly muscle, more muscular than most. It took me a lot of time in the gym lifting heavy weights to put on this much muscle. It's all natural, so I don't look that muscular. I just weigh more than I look because of the muscle. Even if women lift heavy like I do, we don't bulk up. It's not possible. Not unless you take supplements.

  “I’m hoping your silence is because someone has crossed your mind,” Ines says softly.

  “Nope,” I lie.

  “Why not? You’re too damn picky. You want a guy who gets you, right?”

  I wince. Ines knows me a little bit too well. We grew up next-door neighbors, and we actually hated each other in grade school, but then a bully picked on her the first day of high school. I stood up to him, and we became friends ever since.

  Well, saying we hated each other isn't quite right. She talked all the time. Never shut up. I was super quiet in grade school, as in I didn't talk unless spoken to. She didn't understand that at all, and I think my quietness unsettled her. It bothered her, so she went her way, and I went mine.

  But basically, in high school, she adopted me. That’s what extroverts do. They adopt introverts.

  “How can I guy get you unless you let the poor guy in?” Ines asks. “You have to give a guy a chance, Soph! Otherwise, you’re going to be alone all of your life, and you might like being alone at times, but no one, not even you, wants to be alone all of the time.”

  “You’re right,” I mumble.

  “What was that?” she teases. “I couldn’t quite hear you.”

  “You’re—”

  Another call comes in.

  “I have to go.”

  “Sophia, that’s not right,” she scolds. “Don’t you—”

  “It’s another call.”

  She hangs up for me. Ines is a talker, yes, but she’s good like that. When I do have to go for a job, a client, anything, she’ll let me go immediately, no questions asked, even though I’m sure she would’ve loved to have heard “You’re right” one more time.

  Shaking my head, I answer the call. “General Janius Jackson, what can I do for you?”

  “I’m not calling with another job, if that’s what you’re hoping for,” she says.

  I sit up straight and lower my feet from the coffee table. Something in her voice tells me that this isn’t a pleasant call.

  “What’s going on?” I ask.

  “I learned some troubling news, and I thought you would want to know about it.”

  “It doesn’t concern Ali Khan and all of that, does it?”

  “I almost wish it does, but no. Although I suppose it could, possibly. I don’t know. We don’t have very many details about this.”

  “What is this?”

  “Someone’s taken out a hit on you.”

  “Ah.”

  “You don’t sound surprised.”

  The general doesn’t sound surprised that I don’t sound surprised.

  I shrug. "I've always known it was a possibility. After all…"

  “Yes, I know,” she says softly.

  Dan Terry. I used to work with a partner from time to time because some of the bounties were for people that you needed two in order to get close to the target. Sometimes, you have to infiltrate into gangs or office buildings, and you can only pass as a maid or janitor so many times before you have to try another avenue.

  But working with a partner can also be more dangerous, and Dan isn’t my
partner anymore, not by choice but because our line of work got to him.

  There's a reason why you don't see many bounty hunters in their forties, and none in their fifties. They either get out of the profession long before then, or else they're buried six feet under.

  “You don’t know who put out the hit?” I ask.

  “Unfortunately not. I plan on trying to uncover who unless you don’t want me to.”

  “You can. Thanks. I appreciate the head’s up.”

  “You’re welcome. Stay vigilant, Sophia. You have a talent for your job, and I think we have many, many more jobs for you in the future.”

  “I don’t have dying on my to-do list,” I inform her.

  “I didn’t think so. I’ll call back once I know more.”

  She hangs up, and I head to the kitchen. Although I consider grabbing the bottle of chilled wine in the fridge, I opt for the ice cream in my freezer instead. I check all of the windows and doors to make sure they’re locked—they are—and then I settle back on the couch and call Ines back.

  “Everything all right?” she asks.

  “You really think I can find someone?”

  “Of course I do! I still think you should try a blind date with one of Josh’s friends. You remember the guy I told you about? His name is—”

  “The same guy you told me about on New Year’s?” I interrupt.

  “Yes.”

  “That was two years ago,” I inform her. “He hasn’t been able to find anyone in two years?”

  “Don’t be so judgy. You haven’t found anyone either.”

  “Maybe I have,” I murmur.

  “What? Who?”

  “I don’t know. I’m not sure I want to say.”

  “Why?” she asks suspiciously. “He’s not a felon, is he? I know you know some shady characters—”

  I burst out laughing. “Some of the stuff I’ve done, I should be considered a felon. No, nothing like that. I just don’t know if I should try for a relationship right now.”

  “Why not? Now is the perfect time!”

  “Maybe because I don’t know how much longer I have,” I say quietly.

  “I’ve been begging you to switch to another safer profession for years now. Why are you worried? What’s going on?”

  “I just need to know if having a relationship for a few days is worthwhile. Or maybe I should just not pursue it because it’s not fair to him if I end up dying a few days later.”