Mack 'n' Me: The Wolves of Alpha 9 by C.M. Simpson (top ebook reader txt) 📕

what I needed to hear from Stepyan, or, maybe I did. Either way, I was grateful for the distraction, even if his mention of Mack and his likes had me blushing redder than a blood beet. I was even more grateful for his next words.

“Tell him Hammer says to keep his prying to himself, or he’ll be next, no commission required.”

I froze, the blood draining from my face as Stepyan’s words hit home. It took a second for me to realize my mouth was hanging open, and then I closed it, darting a nervous glance at Varian.

“What is it you don’t want me to know?”

So, it was going to be like that, was it? Well, in that case...

“Hammer says to keep your prying to yourself or you’ll be next, no commission required,” and then I clapped both hands over my mouth, but Stepyan wasn’t finished.

“Tell him this interrogation is over if he wants to live—and nothing had better happen to the feed from your implant, or I’ll come down there and go looking for him myself.”

“I can’t,” I whispered, squeezing my eyes tight shut, and hunching over my knees.

“Tell him!” roared through my skull, and my mouth complied.

When I was done, I raised my head, and studied Varian’s face. The others in the room were staring at me, and Varian was glowering. I guess he didn’t like being threatened by a renowned assassin. I raised an eyebrow, and pushed to my feet.

My intention had been to walk my way out of there, just as casual as you please, but you know about intentions, right? Mine ended when my ankle gave way and I ended up landing, face first, on the floor.

“Oh, for pity’s sake!”

I knew that voice. I rolled, just in time for the woman with the auto-injector to plant her foot firmly in the middle of my chest. She caught my panicked glance, and held up empty hands.

“I need to strap your ankle,” she said, catching my eye. “Okay?”

“Okay?” she repeated, when I continued to stare, bouncing her foot.

“Okay. Okay.”

“Good.” She took her foot off my chest. “Now, stay right there.”

I propped myself up on my elbows and watched her walk back around the table to the cabinet built into the wall, and then I caught sight of someone standing above me. I looked up, and met Varian’s eyes.

“You heard the lady,” he said, and I rolled my eyes.

“And for Pete’s sake, Varian. Put the stars-be-damned blaster away.”

I held out my hand, and he shook his head.

“Not an ice cube’s chance in...”

He stopped, abruptly.

“Hell,” he finished, after a brief pause, but I got the distinct impression that hadn’t been the first word he’d wanted to say.

“Why not?” I challenged, pushing the tiny piece of strangeness aside, and hoping it wouldn’t come back to haunt me, later. “It’s not like I need to shoot you. You’ve made a bargain with an assassin, and he’s said to leave me alone, so you’re not exactly a threat, are you?”

He glared at me, as three voices made their annoyance known.

“I guess the pentosdial works really well on you,” he said, and I closed my eyes, listening to my know-it-all mouth drop me in the shit, again.

“Sure it does, and so do most of the others.” I closed my eyes. “I hate you. I hate this shit and I ha—”

The sentence ended in a yelp, as the woman returned and wrapped firm hands around my ankle and boot.

“Looks like I might need to cut these off,” she began, which only brought me protesting upright.

“Don’t,” I stopped. “Let me try to take my foot out of it first.”

“How about we just leave it on and strap over the top of it?” Varian suggested. “There’s a few miles to walk to base, and we don’t have time for nanites.”

These guys had nanites?

My eyes widened, and I searched the woman for any sign of another injector, my leg going tense in her grip. She glared at Varian, and slapped me on the thigh.

“You,” she said, stabbing a finger in his direction, “need to call ahead and let them know we’re coming, and you,” she added, pointing her finger at me, “need to calm right down. Pentosdial. I’m not injecting you with anything, just strapping your leg. See?”

And she held up a roll of bandages. I nodded. I did see. I just didn’t believe her. She looked like she knew her way around doctoring, just as good as Doc—and Doc was full of tricks, when it came to sticking me with the shots we both knew I needed. The man was a trypanophobic’s nightmare—and I figured this woman wasn’t far behind him.

“What’s your name?” I asked, as she smoothed the leg of my combat fatigues down flat, and started wrapping.

“Judith,” she said.

“You been a medic long?”

She smiled, a small, tight smile acknowledging what I was doing.

“I think I’ve been doctoring since the time you were in diapers.”

I frowned.

“How old...” I let my voice trail off, as she shook her head.

“Don’t make me hurt you.”

Well, fine, then.

She caught the look on my face and laughed.

“I stopped counting when I hit fifty-six.”

“Why...” but her smile faded, and she shook her head, and I caught the looks of concern that flitted across the faces of the people standing around us. “Nev—Ow!”

“How are you intending on getting the bracelet off Celia’s wrist?” Judith asked, easing the bandage she’d just pulled tight.

“Tens?” I asked, calling him through the comms.

“I’ve found a way to reverse the locking mechanism in the absence of Barangail’s thumb-print.”

I relayed that to Judith, the rebels listening with interest.

“I’d like to speak with your Tens, one day,” Varian said, and I dodged an outright no.

“That’ll be up to him,” I said, wincing as Tens snapped his refusal.

“Oh, Hell to the Hells, no!”

It was something I didn’t relay.

15—Ant Honey

I was guessing the pentosdial had worn off by the time Varian signaled we were approaching the outpost where Celia was sheltering. The painkillers were also wearing off, and my leg felt like