by Anthology
The guy eyed him. “No.”
Rhykar frowned. “Who then?”
“Mr. Jones. Area Fifty-One.” He tossed him the pulsegun and holstered his own. “I drove Selea Val’keer to this hotel. Just saw her leave with a guy who most definitely wasn’t you.”
Rhykar clutched his weapon, trying to discern whether the man was friend or foe. “Yeah. I was going after them.”
Jones nodded. “I’m going with you.”
“The frick you are.”
Jones stared at him. “Mr. Evierse, I’m an eraser. Ms. Val’keer is my assignment, along with ensuring that every trace of alien visitation to this planet is removed. You can either assist me—” In a blur, he drew his gun and aimed it at Rhykar. “—or you can be part of the clean-up.”
He jolted. Scret, the bastard was fast. Better to have him on the side intent on rescuing Selea. He gritted his teeth. “Make it quick.”
Jones grabbed the bonds from the bed and tossed them to Rhykar. “Who was the guy?”
“No idea.” He tucked the restraints into his jacket. “She called him Gelloh.”
“From your planet?” Jones removed a slim cylinder from his pocket and pressed a button. A six-inch, gold wand extended, emanating a low hum. He brandished it over the bed and headboard, over the bedside table and the carpet where the bastard had held Selea. With the main room complete, he moved into the bathroom and reemerged a moment later. “Know where they might be headed?”
“It was clear he knew her, so I’d say yes, he’s from Vitrion. But I have no idea where he’s taking her.”
Jones pointed the cylinder tip toward the ceiling. A high-pitched, triple beep issued from the mechanism.
Rhykar frowned. Gods, Selea was slipping farther away while this odd man waved his magic wand. “What are you doing anyway?”
“Cleaning molecular and vibrational residue.” Jones glanced at him. “The last twenty-four hours have now been removed from this room, including trace molecules and sound waves.”
He stared at the cylinder. “You mean you just sucked everything up into that wand, even what was spoken?”
Jones nodded and strode to the door. “We need to hit it before other hunters arrive. Sun’s almost up.”
Glancing one last time around the room, he followed the eraser. At the elevators, Jones removed his cap and handed it to Rhykar.
“Tuck your hair up. Pull the brim low.”
They stepped into the elevator, and Jones arced the cylinder through the air. Another triple beep, and he tucked the device into his pocket.
“Keep your head down through the lobby.”
He complied, striding to the hotel exit and out into the dusky morning. In the parking lot, he caught sight of a woman staring at him. Another hunter?
“This way.” Jones led him to a sleek vehicle.
Rhykar slid inside and shut the door behind him. Through the darkened window, he spotted the woman approaching. Pulling his weapon, he prepared for a confrontation, but Jones dropped into the seat next to his and engaged the engine, maneuvering them away from the curb. In the mirror, he caught sight of the woman, speaking into some type of communications device.
“Where’s your ship?” Jones kept his gaze on the road.
“North. Near Reno.” He slipped his pistol back into his holster.
They drove onto a road that he recognized as the same one he’d used to get to Las Vegas. Jones jabbed a button and a heavy beat filled the interior, joined by other instruments. He increased the vehicle’s speed, the desert and craggy terrain flying by outside the window.
The pulsing rhythm thrummed through Rhykar while he dwelled on Selea. Images of the first time he’d seen her, pointing a pulsegun at his face, her indigo eyes flashing. Oh yeah, he’d fallen for her right then. Her fierceness had dug into his soul, and from that moment, he’d manipulated circumstances so he could be near her again. But then Graiton had derailed, threatening all of Vitrion, and he had been forced to expose him. And the evil Vast Innovations founder had brought Selea and him together one last time, allowing him to take her for his own. But now, some asshole had stolen her away, doing gods knew what to her. Anger and fear twisted his stomach, and he rounded on Jones.
“That cleaning device. You have some way to access its contents?”
Jones glanced over at him. “Why?”
“Selea wouldn’t have gone willingly. She would’ve grilled the bastard, planned an exit strategy.”
Jones retrieved the cylinder from his pocket, handed it to him, and leaning forward, poked another button on the vehicle’s console. “I believe you’re already familiar with our computers. Insert the rear of the device into the slot on the side of the keyboard. From there, you can narrow it to Selea and Gelloh’s interaction.”
He did as instructed, hit a few keys, and her voice filtered into the cabin.
“You didn’t have to hurt him.” Anger laced her words, and the sound comforted Rhykar. She wouldn’t quit.
Gelloh laughed. “Ah, well, don’ wantcha distracted.”
“I kicked your ass into a cell. How the frick did a hustler like you ever track me?”
“Aw, luvie, couldn’t live without ya. Sos, I tapped ya afore ya hauled me in.”
“You put a tracer on me?” Her voice rose.
“On the neck o’ yore jacket while we struggled wit’ da bonds.” He snickered. “Ya got soft hair, ya do.”
Rhykar gritted his teeth.
“You can’t afford a tracer. That’s high tech.” A muted bell chimed behind her words. “Someone hired you.”
The elevator doors ground open.
Gelloh grunted. “Ya best snap it, luvie. Ya be standin’ afore Vitrion’s savior soon enough. Then I’ll have my turn wit’ ya.”
Anger burned in Rhykar’s gut, and he shut the computer off. “Mertan Graiton.”
Jones reached for the cylinder, but he blocked him. “I need to borrow this. Evidence.”
“Sure.” Jones returned his hand to the controls. “You know where she is?”
“That bastard is taking her to Vast Innovations,” he growled and tucked the cylinder into his pocket. “To the founder of evil himself.”
“We’re about an hour from Reno. We’ll get you to your ship.”
Rhykar looked out the window. “That close?”
The computer slipped back into the console, and Jones nodded.
“It took me a lot longer going south.” He glanced at the man piloting the vehicle. “That tech you used to clean the hotel room, I haven’t seen anything like it. You create that here?”
“Nope.”
“You get that from Vitrion?”
Jones smirked. “There’s more than just Earth and Vitrion out there, Mr. Evierse. Much more.”
Rhykar knew other worlds existed. Vitrion’s government had set up agreements with over a dozen of them. But Jones seemed to allude to a number much greater. “What did we give your world?”
“I believe it was fabrics that stick together. We call it Velcro.”
He nodded, familiar with the material. “What did you give us?”
“The cure for yersinia pestis bacterium.” Jones shot him a glance. “We know it as the Black Death or the Black Pl—”
“Plague.” He twisted to face Jones. “Your government gave us the cure to the Great Plague of Vitrion?”
“So the reports say.”
Rhykar sat back in his seat, hate for Mertan Graiton seething in his veins. The man had taken full credit for saving their world, garnering the title savior. He would rescue Selea and then expose the VI founder for the maniacal bastard he was.
Sixty minutes later, Jones veered onto a dirt road. Passing over two rises, a dust trail in their wake, Jones stopped the vehicle near Rhykar’s ship, the matte-textured hull absorbing the bright sun’s rays. The eraser strode across the sand to stand near the craft.
“Nice ride.”
“It’ll get us there.” He opened the ship’s entry.
�
��Not us. You.”
Rhykar turned to face Jones. “I thought you said you were coming with me, that Selea was your assignment.”
“Selea has left Earth, and my superiors have reassigned me.”
“A new mission?” He eyed the eraser, unable to remember him being contacted on the ride here.
Jones nodded toward the ship. “I trust you have a way to approach Vast Innovations undetected?”
“Yes.” He’d slipped through VI’s security on many occasions, knew the system’s weak points, and figured Graiton would be too arrogant to see him as a threat.
“To your success, then.” Jones stepped toward him and held out a card. “My contact.”
The name Mr. Jones was printed in dark letters and below that a string of numbers and letters.
“If you ever find yourself on Earth and in need of assistance,” he said, “type that into any Earth computer.”
Rhykar tucked the card into his pocket. Removing the cap, he tossed it to Jones and boarded his ship. As the craft lifted from its sandy bed, he stared at the view screen, instinct whispering his path would cross with the Area 51 eraser again one day—he hoped as allies. Mr. Jones would make for a fierce adversary.
A few taps on the console and the ship shot into the sky, passing through Earth’s outer atmosphere moments later. Rhykar set a course for home, his mind grinding together a rescue plan, his heart longing to save the woman he loved.
Chapter Seven
“Remove these bonds,” Mertan Graiton commanded. “We’re not brutish thugs.”
Gelloh’s meaty paws brushed over Selea’s skin, and she shivered. Scret, the hustler was deplorable. Stank, too.
“Kinda like ya all knotted up tight,” he murmured. His fat fingers lingered over the genetic encoder.
“Really?” The bonds released, and she rubbed her wrists. “I’d’ve thought your natural charm would’ve had women lining up.”
He grinned. “Chucked ’em all for ya, luvie.”
Gelloh lumbered to the side, dropping the engetic bonds on the table. Graiton approached, a twisted smile on his lips.
“Welcome, Ms. Val’keer.” He gestured toward a chair.
She sucked in a breath, and lowered onto the cushion. Drek, she’d left her nasal filter on her ship back on Earth. Her lungs struggled to process the rancid air.
Graiton tilted his head, his brow furrowing. “Difficult time breathing? Here.”
He picked up a box from his desk and opened the lid. Inside laid dozens of filters. She took one and inserted it into her nostrils, the clip fitting snug against the septum. She inhaled, filling her lungs with fresh, sweet air.
He closed the box and set it on his desk. Returning his dark gaze to her, he said, “Better?”
She nodded. Oxygen infused her blood, and a light euphoria swept over her—an O2 high. She hadn’t realized how depleted she’d become while transporting from the ship port to the Vast Innovations building.
Gelloh leaned against the far edge of the desk, his beady eyes scrutinizing her and an odd smirk on his face. He reminded her of a hungry varmint. But more, he appeared expectant, as though awaiting a meal scrap.
Graiton cleared his throat, calling her attention. “I suppose first I should thank you for your assistance, though it wasn’t with your knowledge.”
Selea frowned. “You gave Gelloh the tracer.”
“Very perceptive.”
“No, he blabbed.” Her gaze flicked to the hustler she’d recently captured. “And here I thought the gods crossed our paths so I could collect an easy bounty.” Shifting her focus back to Graiton, she said, “So, what was the point of this exercise?”
“Evierse.”
At the mention of his name, her heart gave a heavy thud. Forcing herself to remain calm, she lifted an eyebrow and eyed the VI founder. “Some underground hack who makes up lies about VI?”
“An underground hack who’s getting a little too close to the truth.” Graiton crossed his arms over his chest. “A hack who is very fond of you, Ms. Val’keer. I knew it was only a matter of time before he contacted you. After that, we set your fellow bounty hunters on his trail.”
Selea gritted her teeth. Oh frick, everything he told me was true. An image of Rhykar, unconscious and bleeding on the bed where they’d made love, bolted into her mind. Her chest tightened at the realization that although she’d been used as bait, she’d ultimately been responsible for whatever happened to him. She should never have met him.
“I’m sure da hunters done got ’im.” Gelloh licked his fat lips. “Prolly collecting their bounty on what’s left o’ ’im, right ’bout now.”
“Yes,” Graiton said. “Keeping my hands completely clean of the situation.”
Thoughts jumbled in her head, and she rubbed her temples. Seemed the extra oxygen had transitioned from a high to headache. Too much.
She shook her head and glared at Mertan Graiton. “Wait. You said too close to the truth. You mean, he was…he was….”
“A threat to my plans for Vitrion,” Graiton finished.
Her vision blurred, cleared. “But then, he didn’t really kill….”
“Kalo Dorvis?” He grimaced. “No, VI’s chief scientist was too smart for his own good. I took care of that myself and then set the scene for Evierse’s guilt.”
Her thoughts swirled. Not the savior of Vitrion. A fraud. Just like Rhykar said. His promise of truth. Could he love me? Selea blinked, narrowed her gaze on Graiton, the lying bastard. “The mind con…control…?”
“Yes, the mind control scheme. Well, I suppose I should thank you again for your assistance.”
His words jumbled in her head, his voice rang in her ears. “What?”
He gestured toward her. “The nasal filter. Laced with nanite tech. Why don’t I demonstrate? Please stand.”
She rose to her feet. Startled, she lifted her gaze to his. Why had she done as he’d said?
“Slap yourself, please.”
She raised her hand and slammed it across her cheek, a sharp smack resounding in her ears. Frick! What is wrong with me?
Gelloh chuckled. “Oh, Mr. Graiton. I’m likin’ this.”
Fear trembled down to her bones as she realized Rhykar’s story about Graiton wanting to rule all of Vitrion through mind control hadn’t been a paranoid tale after all. The proclaimed savior of their world was insane.
“You may test of the limitations of the system, Gelloh. Press her as far as you want.” Graiton turned his evil gaze to her. “And you, Selea Val-keer, will do whatever Gelloh commands you to do.”
A lascivious grin warped the hustler’s nasty face. “Let’s go somewheres private, my chowda-twa. We’s gonna have us a bit o’ fun.”
She wanted to tell him to frick off, but the words jammed in the back of her throat. Oh, how she wanted to kick his ass. But she couldn’t stop herself. She followed the bastard out of Mertan Graiton’s office and down the hall as he’d commanded.
He opened a door. “Inside, luvie.”
Fear danced along her nerves, and she bit her lower lip until she tasted blood in an effort to keep horror from overrunning her. She needed to remain alert, to discover a way to unravel what seemed an unbreakable harness on her will.
Though her mind screamed for her to run, she did as she’d been told and entered the room. She knew what Gelloh intended to do to her, what he would command she do to him, and that knowledge sent terror skittering to her soul. Her only consolation was that she’d found love in the arms of a man who’d dared to reveal the truth to the world, no matter the consequences.
The door slid shut, and she faced Gelloh.
“Lemme see what’s under dem clothes.”
Selea shrugged out of her jacket, letting it crumple on the floor at her feet.
Chapter Eight
Rhykar jerked the goggles off his head, rage burning through his veins. He’d slipped into Vast Innovations without incident and the tech had helped him locate Selea in Graiton’s office. He’d wond
ered how the devious man had planned to rein control over the Vitrion population. Nasal filters were a necessity.
He flipped the goggles over and wrenched the cover off, revealing the electronics below. If he wanted to save Selea from that bastard, Gelloh, he would have to work fast. Dislodging the goggles’ ground, he rewired the system to overload and emit an electromagnetic pulse when powered up, destroying the nanites inside her as well as any within an arm’s length radius of wherever she happened to be standing when it went off.
He pulled his pulsegun and swiped his other hand over the door release. A low bleep sounded, announcing the door was locked. Anticipating as much, he knocked.
“Yeh, room’s taken,” Gelloh’s voice rumbled from the other side.
Rhykar knocked again.
“Frick off.”
“Graiton wants to see you,” he said.
“Inna bit.”
He raised his pistol, tightening his fingers around the grip. “He says now.”
Gelloh muttered a string of curses. The door slid open. Rhykar aimed and squeezed the trigger.
Whump.
The beady-eyed bastard flew backward, the sonic pulse slamming his massive body into the opposite wall. Gelloh slid to the floor, unconscious. Minor satisfaction filled Rhykar. Slimy hustler dared to touch Selea? Frick that!
He strode into the room, intent on beating the ever-living scret out of the fiend, and staggered to a stop, his gaze landing on Selea. She stared at him, nothing but string and scant patches of blue lace clinging to her delicious curves. Oh, how he wanted to wipe away whatever horrors the beast might have done and replace them with tender kisses and gentle caresses. Unfortunately, now was not the time. He needed to get them out in one piece.
“You need to get dressed.” He tossed the rigged goggles to her. “Put those on.”
Kneeling, he removed the engetic bonds from his jacket and snugged them around Gelloh’s thick wrists. A ripple of satisfaction filled him, knowing his thumbprint rendered the asshole powerless. He touched the genetic encoder, and the bands snicked into place.
Turning away from Gelloh, he found Selea clothed and had donned the goggles as he’d told her.
“Power them on,” he said.