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

Damn! If I hadn’t seen him laugh that hard, before, I’d have sworn he was in pain.

5—...As a Lady Does

I spent the trip down the beanstalk with my eyes closed, and my hand gripping Mack’s so hard my knuckles were white. It wasn’t the height, so much—although that didn’t help—but looking out at the stars with even less than an airlock between us was having a much worse effect on me than I’d thought.

I’d been down beanstalks before—okay, I’d been down one beanstalk, before—and it hadn’t bothered me. Maybe it was the height combined with the airlock-tight confines of the car, since this was the first stalk I’d gone down since jumping off way too many high places, while relying on Tens to teleport me back home.

And wasn’t that the funniest thing. The Shady Marie being home. I didn’t think I’d ever really had one of those before. Not one I wanted to come back to. The car slowed, coming to a halt, but it was Mack’s voice in my ear that made me open my eyes.

“We’re here.”

He used his other hand to peel my grip loose of the one I’d been holding, and then tucked my arm through his, pulling me to my feet when he stood. I might have protested at that, but I was a lot shakier than I’d realized. Made me wish I didn’t have to go back up the same way.

“You’d rather have to leap over a cliff and have Tens catch you, again?” Mack teased, in the privacy of our heads.

“At least, I’m used to that,” I snapped back, and I’m sure my feelings showed on my face.

Targil’s expression shifted from welcoming to concerned.

“Is everything okay?” he asked, but his eyes were on Mack, and not on me.

I’d have been annoyed if that hadn’t been the effect we’d been working for.

“She doesn’t travel well,” Mack said, and Targil looked even more concerned.

I glared at my erstwhile captain and supposed partner, and he gave me a sharp look of reprimand. It reminded me of my role, and I looked away and down, moving my expression from angry to anxious, like a lap dog that had been kicked.

“Nice work,” Case murmured, as Mack moved to reassure the captain.

“Anything with heights that doesn’t involve a luxury cabin blocking out the stars,” he amended. “I’m glad you brought ground transport. What is it? A skimmer?”

The captain relaxed.

“Oh, no. A shuttle.” His anxiety returned. “I hope the lady...”

“She’s fine with shuttles.” Mack hastened to reassure him. “As long as they stay close to the ground.”

“This one will be travelling at street level,” the captain assured us. “Shall we?” And he led the way from the umbilical.

His men had already headed out, and were set up like an honor guard outside the elevator—or so it seemed at first glance. When I looked, again, I noticed that not all of his men were set up like that. Some were scattered throughout the ground floor, and they weren’t alone.

There was another half dozen, wearing the same uniform, positioned by the doors, and on the pavement beyond. If I hadn’t known any better, I’d have said they were securing a perimeter.

“My thoughts, exactly,” Mack agreed, and I found it easy to lay my free hand over his forearm and turn an anxious look towards him. It was better than surveying the area myself, and looking like I knew what I was seeing.

Mack did that for me, turning his head, and feeding the visuals direct from his implant to mine. Well, that made it easy to keep a blank face. I took a moment to study the input, knowing he’d guide me forward while I lost contact with the world outside the implant.

Even so, I missed the small group of shooters that opened fire as soon as we were midway between the beanstalk concourse and the waiting shuttles. Barangail’s were big, black monstrosities, polished to within an inch of their lives, autocannons mounted on swivel turrets close to the mid-point on either side.

“Time to be the lady,” Mack said, inside my head, and I sighed.

It was like coming in for a hard landing, because the first shooter opened fire from the corner of the concourse as I got back to the real. Several of the lord’s guard went down, and I was glad Mack was wearing his armor. He pulled me behind him, even as the captain bolted for the central shuttle, shouting for them to open up and warm up.

The household escort returned fire, and then a second shooter opened up from the other corner.

So much for these boys securing the perimeter.

I caught sight of the shooter, and decided the boys hadn’t really stood a chance. It also gave me an idea of just how well funded the enemy was. I hadn’t seen a blend suit used in any of the major encounters I’d had on the Shady Marie. Not when we were going up against the arach, or even when we were working with a reclusive lord’s private forces.

I’d only ever heard of them being used by solo operatives like myself—and I didn’t have one. I watched as the shooter melded out of the concourse wall, and took out the three guards closest, and then blended back in, again, only to reappear three meters from their first position and take out another two. One of those suckers would come in really handy.

“I’ll buy you one for your birthday,” Mack said, doing the possessive brute thing and dragging me in front so he could lift me off my feet.

At least this time he remembered to tuck my skirts around me so my feet and legs didn’t stick out—or not for long, anyway. I hoped Targil and his men had other things they needed to focus on, because I was pretty sure the armored leggings I was wearing under my dress were even more unladylike than the dressed up combat boots I had on my feet.

The boots kind of