Last Kiss Goodnight (Otherworld Assassin) (4 page)

He was Allorian—a race the humans knew nothing about—and because of the power of the guardian given to him by his biological parents, he healed quickly.

He forced his eyelids to part, grimacing as tender flesh pulled. He blinked once, twice, then again and again. Someone had flipped on a too-bright lamp and was shining it directly into his eyes, blistering his corneas.
He could make out nothing but blinding white and gold.

He closed his eyes again. Sounds penetrated his ultra-sensitive ears. The rattle of metal against metal. A moan of pain. Multiple sets of footsteps. The slosh of something being dumped into a bucket.

His still-burning nose twitched as smells assaulted him. Dirt, grass, old oats, body odor, stale perfume, even the tang of corroded copper. Blood.

No longer caring about the damage from the light, he opened his eyes and kept them open. Gradually the stinging ceased, for which he was thankful. He looked around, only to realize no one had turned on a lamp. He was outside, the sun responsible for the high beams now spotlighting him.

And . . . he was inside a cage.

The knowledge hit him with the electrical power of a lightning bolt, and he jerked upright. Dizziness set up camp in his mind, but he didn’t allow himself to react. He’d experienced worse a thousand times before, and with the life he led, he would experience worse a thousand times more.

All around him, men and women were locked in cages similar to his own: big, with thick bars, a red roof on top and four wheels on the bottom. The men wore loincloths and nothing else, and the females wore some type of transparent fabric over their breasts and around their hips.

“It wakes,” someone said.

Snickers of “it” reverberated.

He knew they were talking about him. He’d been
referred to as “it” for most of his life. Usually, a person only made that mistake once.

He scanned the cages a second time, his mind processing several details at once. There were ten cages in total, forming a wide circle with an opening at the east and an opening at the west, allowing freemen to enter the clearing without hindrance. Not a single cage was empty. There were five males, including himself, and five females.

Each person was an otherworlder of some sort, and none were of the same species. There was a Teran, he thought, but he could only see the back of the woman’s tawny hair and couldn’t be sure. There was a female Delensean, with blue skin and six arms. A male Mec, with an oddly shaped baldhead and skin that would change color according to his mood. Right now he was clear, almost transparent, as though he had no emotions at all.

Next was a male Ell Rollie, with a big physique and, as with the rest of his race, probably less going on upstairs than a one-story house. A female Morevv, one of the most beautiful species ever to walk the earth, with silver skin and silver eyes. A female Rakan, with a more radiant golden sheen than even John No Last Name. A male Targon. A male Bree Lian. A female Cortaz.

Each wore thick metal cuffs around their wrists. Solo lifted his too-heavy arms. The same cuffs squeezed
his
wrists. He frowned. The skin around the metal was a darker bronze than usual, with an underlay of red, as if he verged on the edge of morphing into his other form. When he wiggled his fingers, sharp pains shot through
his arms all the way to his shoulders. He’d had pins drilled into his bones before, and recognized the sensation. But why pin him if not to heal bone? To limit his range of motion, perhaps?

But why limit his range of motion as well as cage him?

Calm
.

“Do not be afraid.”

Recognizing the voice, he glanced to his right.

About the size of Solo’s index finger, X had silver hair that had once been an inky black, and dull eyes that had once been a vibrant blue-green. A torn and dirty robe draped his emaciated frame. Skin that had once been luminous, glowing with all the colors of the rainbow, had become pallid and paper-thin over the years.

X. His guardian.

The being always looked undernourished, but when he fed Solo what little strength he still possessed, like he must have done after the explosion, he looked like death walking.

Solo was the only one who could see X, the only one who could hear him. He just hoped Dr. Evil, his other companion, maintained radio silence today.

Dr. Evil. His tormentor.

Dr. E hadn’t been given to him, he had just shown up and refused to leave.

“I’m not afraid,” he finally replied. He wasn’t sure what was going on.

He remembered X telling him to stay away from the meeting with Michael. Remembered ignoring him and
stomping inside Michael’s office. Remembered . . . the explosion. Yes, that’s right. Blue had opened the door, and a bomb had gone off. Solo had been thrown across the room and had instantly blacked out. After that, he remembered . . . what?

“You should be very afraid,” another voice spoke out.

Dr. Evil. His hopes were slashed and burned.

Solo looked to his left. Where X had become aged and worn down over the years, Dr. E had thrived. He had thick blond hair, and eyes of the palest jade. His skin was tanned, unlined, and blazed with health. He, too, wore a robe, but his gleamed a brilliant white.

E—short for Laevus.

X—short for Adiutrix.

Solo had been too young to pronounce such complicated names. He had also been somewhat freaked out. But the pair had kept popping in and out, arguing, offering advice, and he’d eventually gotten used to them.

“You will find a way out,” X said now, always the optimist. Not once had he ever believed Solo would fail in any regard, which always wrought crushing disappointment when Solo did, in fact, fail.

“Will he? Really?” Dr. E retorted. “Because I seriously doubt he can chew through the bars. No matter how big his teeth are!”

Solo looked beyond the cages, taking stock of his options. More humans walked about now than before, hurrying in one direction or another, while some were practicing on different apparatus. There was a barbed trapeze, with spikes protruding from a thin bar. A man
climbed on top of a life-size cannonball seemingly made of glass, with snapping fish swimming through its walls. A woman performed flips on a trampoline, careful to avoid randomly placed rings of fire.

. . . 
sell him to the same circus we sold the AIR agent to
 . . .

The words reverberated in Solo’s head.

. . . 
sell him
 . . . 
circus
 . . .

Star, a man who had abducted and maybe even killed sixteen people, had loomed over him and said those words.

Sell him to the same circus we sold the AIR agent to. He’ll fetch a decent price.

The truth hit him with the force of a sledgehammer. Star had directed those words to an employee, about Solo. And then the two had done it, he realized. They had sold him to a circus.
This
circus.

Dread flooded him, a corrosive acid that scorched and ruined. This was—should have been—
impossible
. Star could not have known where the black ops agents tasked with his capture would be meeting, when the agents themselves hadn’t known until an hour beforehand. More than that, there was no one on this planet who possessed the skill to bypass Michael’s security. A system
Solo
had set up.

But okay. Star had known, and Star had somehow bypassed. As many years as Solo had worked for Michael, he’d learned to search for a solution the moment he realized there was a problem. Star could be dealt with later. Right now, only escape mattered.

And it should be easy. He was in a cage, yes, but
there were no armed guards posted at the door. The bars were metal, yes, but they lacked—he reached out—an electric charge. Good.

One of the captives scoffed and muttered, “Dummy. You’ll never get free.”

He would have to remember that there would be witnesses to his every deed. If only John and Blue were here. They would be—

Finish ashing him. As fried as he is, there’s no way he’ll survive transport anywhere else, and that way, there will be nothing left of him for anyone to find. A shame, though. I kind of liked him.

And this last one?

Do nothing. I’m keeping him.

The conversation played through Solo’s mind, and he ground his molars. Whatever Star and his employee had said, John and Blue were alive. Michael, too. Solo would believe nothing less. His friends were strong, wily, and resourceful. Death didn’t stand a chance.

As soon as he blew this circus, Solo would hunt the males down. Then they would complete their mission and destroy Star.

Wait. Their mission.

Sell him to the same circus we sold the AIR agent to.

“The AIR agent,” Star had said. One of the missing.

Solo studied the captives one more time. His gaze snared on the Teran, who had finally twisted to face him. Her. She was the agent. He’d seen her photo on the wall of Michael’s office.

Her name was Kitten, and she was with New Chicago’s Alien Investigation and Removal team, trained
to kill with her bare hands, to withstand the worst of torture, and, if necessary, to “catnip the hell out of someone,” whatever that meant.

Her tangled hair belonged to a tabby cat, shades of gold, brown, black, and even streaks of flax intermingling. Her ears were tipped into sharp little points, and far cuter than his when he was angry. She had uptilted eyes of amber, high cheekbones, and lips curved into a deep frown. She was pretty in a very feminine, mischievous way—or would have been, with a little weight added to her body. Had she been starved?

Probably. But even still, a flicker of relief sparked inside his chest. To find and save this agent’s life, he would have been willing to endure another explosion. He wouldn’t leave without her.

As he adjusted his plan of escape to include two, she hissed at him. “What are you staring at, newbie? I will gut you!”

Dr. E puffed up with anger. “She won’t be able to gut you if you remove her hands!”

“Search for understanding as for hidden treasure,” X said. “She has been hurt, and so in turn she hurts others to try and protect herself from further abuse.”

Solo forced himself to look away from the ungrateful Teran before he allowed his temper to overtake him. If he did, Kitten would kill herself just to save herself from being killed by him. And she’d be smart to do so!

He would still escape with her, but now he doubted he’d be nice about it. He didn’t care whether she’d been hurt or not.

Fine. He did. Whatever.

A man who had to be on stilts crossed his path. And yet, the male’s legs were covered by pants, and he looked to be balanced on bare feet rather than wooden posts. But . . . that couldn’t be right. He was too tall, those legs too thin.

A female no more than three feet high waddled behind him. At least, Solo assumed she was female. She had large breasts and wore a pink tank and glittery micro-miniskirt, but she also had a long, thick beard, with beads interwoven throughout the dark locks of hair—

No, not hair. Couldn’t be. The strands moved and hissed and bared tiny white fangs. Snakes, he realized. Her beard was comprised of hundreds of tiny snakes, their eyes red and glowing.

Another female trailed behind her, spraying fire from her mouth without any help from a torch. She laughed as the otherworlders in the cages scrambled backward to avoid being burned, but that laughter died the moment her gaze landed on Solo. She stopped midstep, her gaze sweeping over him.

“Well, well. What do we have here?”

He studied her in turn. Young, with a definite muscle tone someone of Solo’s size and strength needed in a female. Otherwise he could accidentally snap her spine in two.

She was attractive, with bold features, green eyes that would have been pretty if they had not been glazed with inflated pride, and a slick fall of dark, shoulder-length hair streaked with pink. There were three spiders
tattooed on each of her arms, each of a different size.

“Rebuke her,” X commanded, surprising him. X was the lover, not the fighter. “Send her away.”

“Don’t rebuke her. Look at her. She likes it naughty, guaranteed,” Dr. E replied.

X growled low in his throat. “Evil spreads, and we must not catch hers.”

Dr. E rubbed his hands together with glee. “Hello! I’m willing for Solo to catch whatever she’s got.”

Yeah. Dr. E wouldn’t mind if
Solo
caught something nasty, just as long as the little hell-raiser could watch him catch it.

X snapped, “Beauty often hides a beast.”

Dr. E hummed his approval. “Good point. Let’s get her clothes off and make sure.”

They could go on all day.

Solo lifted his chin, gripped the bars in front of him, and shook the entire enclosure. He hoped to scare the woman and assert his dominance, but also to stealthily check the lock on the door. With only a glance, he could tell it was new, meant to open only when the proper fingerprint was scanned. Unfortunately, it was also titanium and held steady.

Unfazed by his outburst, she sauntered closer to him. “Did you see my new talent? Spraying fire? I just acquired it, and already I’m quite good.”

She spoke as though it would have been just as easy to acquire a new shirt.

“But enough about me and my magnificence,” she continued. “Jecis finally took my advice and brought in
an attraction the masses will fear. You’re as big as a bear and as fierce as a lion, aren’t you? I am pleased.”

Solo reached through the bars, determined to grab her. Grinning, she jumped out of reach.

“Uh, uh, uh. None of that, or I’ll be forced to punish my tasty new toy.”

He had been called many things in his life, but never that.

“I want her more with every second that passes,” Dr. E said with a dreamy sigh.

X shook his head, saying, “She’s not the woman for you, Solo.”

“Ohhhh, what a shocker. X doesn’t want to throw a party in your pants. Well, guess what? I do! It’s been too long.”

“Silence,” Solo growled, and the female began to sputter with indignation. Dr. E wanted every woman Solo encountered, and X wanted none. But Solo wasn’t a slave to his desires. The handful of times he had taken a lover, he’d walked away feeling dirty and disgusting. Because—shame fought to overtake him—if the females did not leave broken and bloody, they did not leave happy.