RAZAR
Jorkan Protocal Mates: Book Two
Ava York
Starr Huntress
Contents
Alicia
Razar
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Alicia
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Epilogue: Alicia
Are you a STARR HUNTRESS?
Zotar Sneak Peek
Rogue Mate
Alicia
“It’s time, Ben.” I dropped the rack of glasses onto the counter, the loud clatter stirring Ben from his sleep. Awkwardly, he raised his head from the crook of his elbow and looked at me as if he had never seen me before. His eyes were red, but then again, so were his cheeks.
“What time is it?” he mumbled, raking one hand over his face. Looking down at the non-existent watch on his wrist, he pushed himself off his seat. He kept both hands on the counter to steady himself, but that didn’t stop him from swaying like a drunken pirate during a thunderstorm.
“It’s time for you to head home,” I replied, collecting the half-empty beer in front of him.
He watched me, still rocking back and forth on his heels, then started ambling toward the door. I followed after him, just in case he fell back, but that didn’t happen. Ben was a professional drunkard, one of those men capable of drinking their own bodyweight in alcohol every single day, and he was pretty damn good at it. I had never seen him fall, throw up, or start a fight.
Maybe that was why I didn’t mind him. Small bars like The Golden Crown which was nothing more than a cramped watering hole in a forgotten alleyway, tended to attract the worst kind of binge-drinkers, and quiet patrons like Ben were a rare sight.
“Be safe,” I said, waving Ben goodbye as I watched him get into a taxi.
Sighing, I ran one hand through my hair and turned around, ready to lock the place down. My hand was already on the door when two men in dark suits approached. They were tall and clean-shaven, with the appearance of mild-mannered professionals, and they didn’t stink of cheap booze. What they were doing here, I had no idea.
“Can we still get a drink?” the taller of them asked, and flashed me a toothy grin. “I know you’re about to close up, but we promise we won’t linger. One drink and we’ll be on our way.”
I hesitated.
Usually, I didn’t allow any patrons in while I closed up, but these two didn’t seem like trouble. Smiling back, I gave them a quick nod and stepped aside to let them in.
“One quick drink,” I said. “Just while I mop up the floor.”
“You got it.”
Orderly, they marched inside the bar and I locked the door behind them. While I was feeling kind enough to serve two final drinks, I sure as hell wasn’t dumb enough to leave the door open—that would just be an open invitation for strays.
“Two whiskeys, neat,” the taller man said, and I dutifully poured two fingers of Jameson into lowball glasses. They perched themselves on the stools by the bar, and I returned to the mop. I had already turned the chairs and placed them on top of the tables, and now I just had to handle the floor.
Grunt work, but it had to be done.
As I pushed and pulled on the mop, tracing steady circles with the wet brush, I suddenly realized that the two men weren’t talking. They were just sitting there, quietly sipping on their whiskeys. The TV wasn’t on, either, so they definitely weren’t distracted by it. That was weird. More than just that, I felt as if they were observing me despite the fact that they had their backs turned to me.
Stop being paranoid, Alicia, I admonished myself.
I had never liked working the night shift by myself, but after almost a year of it, I had already outgrown most of my fears. I could handle the rowdiest of patrons, and I wasn’t above kicking assholes in the nuts. Sure, I preferred being kind and graceful, but a year and a half of living in New York had been enough for me to learn that kindness doesn’t really pay.
It still annoyed me to think of how naive I had been when I’d decided to leave home and head to New York. My parents were against it, especially since it meant I was dropping out of college, but I didn’t wanna hear it. I was confident that I’d be able to secure a decent-paying job here, something that’d allow me to send some money back to my parents and lead an exciting city life, and no one could stop me.
Suffice to say, that didn’t work out.
“You’re not from around here, are you?” the shorter man finally spoke up, derailing my train of thought. He twisted on his stool so that he was facing me, and his friend did the same. A shiver ran up my spine, my recently acquired bartender senses tingling.
“Can’t say that I am,” I replied, then lowered my gaze and continued mopping up the floor. The less I talked with them, the better.
“Why did you come to New York?” he continued, his tone even and controlled. There was nothing menacing about his demeanor, but I still felt a sharp stab of anxiety. “You like traveling?”
“I, uh, came here looking for work.” By now, the mop was moving across the floor at the speed of light. I wrung it one last time, then set the bucket aside. “Right, I’m all done. Time’s up.”
“Do you like being a bartender?” he continued, ignoring what I had just said.
“Can’t say that I do, but it pays the bills.”
Or, really, it helped paying the bills.
After arriving in the city, I had struggled to find a job and, after months of nonstop searching, I eventually settled on working three part-time jobs: grocery store cashier, bartender, and waitress. Yeah, the city had turned me into a real Renaissance woman.
It was hard, but it wasn’t like I had much of a choice—even though my parents lived in a small town, deep in the heart of rural America, they were still counting on me to help. Sure, they would’ve been happier if I had finished college, but I knew that wasn’t the path I needed to take. I either went to college and racked up debt, or joined the workforce and started helping out my parents—in the end, it was an easy choice to make.
“Right, it’s time for you to go,” I insisted, but I was about to be ignored one more time.
“Would you say you’re an adventurous person?” he now asked me, doing his best impression of an unwanted Facebook quiz.
When I didn’t reply, he exchanged a knowing glance with his colleague, then reached for something inside his jacket. He held up some kind of badge, the dim lights bouncing off its golden surface, but put it away just as quickly. “You don’t need to worry. We’re federal agents. I’m Agent Starmer, and this is Agent Krasinski.”
I wasn’t exactly a worldly girl who had seen it all, but if there was something that I knew for sure, it was that the sentences ‘you don’t need to worry’ and ‘we’re federal agents’ don’t really make for a comforting announcement.
“Federal agents?” I repeated, pulling the mop’s handle against my chest. “What’s this about?”
“Nothing much,” Starmer said. “We just have a couple of questions we need to ask you, then we’ll be on our way.” Smiling, he grabbed his glass and finished what was left of his drink. He put the glass down gently, then offered me his undivided attention. “So, Alicia Harper, do you consider yourself an adventuro
us person?”
“How do you know my name?” I took a couple of steps back and ended up hitting one of the tables behind me. The chair I had propped up on top of it wobbled for a moment, then it clattered to the floor. “What the hell is going on here?”
“Right, let’s try something else,” the one called Krasinski said. He smoothed out the wrinkles in his pants, and rose from his seat. “Do you have any allergies, Ms. Harper? Any health conditions we should know about? Please, this is important. Answer truthfully.”
“What? No, I don’t have any allergies or health conditions. I’m just a regular girl. I don’t know what you’re here for, but I can assure you that you have the wrong girl.”
“You’re Alicia Harper, right?” He listed my phone number, address, Social Security number, and blood type. “Yeah, judging by the look on your face, I’d say you’re exactly who we’re looking for.” Still with that creepy smile on his face, Krasinski started walking toward me. “Now, Ms. Harper, come with us and—”
I didn’t let him finish.
The moment he came within reach, my instincts kicked in and I used the mop as if it were a spear. I hit Krasinski straight in the face, messing up his perfect haircut with dirty water and soap, then spun around and slapped the handle against Starmer’s head.
“Get away from me,” I cried out, frantically backing away from them. While before I only had suspicions, now I was pretty certain that I was dealing with psychopathic stalkers. I mean, there was absolutely no way two federal agents would be interested in a random woman like me—these two guys had to be stalkers.
“Damnit, Starmer, you’ve done it again,” Krasinski cried, clutching his nose. “You always freak people out with your questions.”
“Me? You’re the one that started asking about her health right away.”
“Oh, so now it’s my fault?”
“I’m just saying, we gotta work on these questions, or else we—”
“Get the hell out,” I interrupted them, “or I’m calling the cops.”
They stopped and exchanged a glance. They weren’t particularly concerned with the cops, that much I could tell. Krasinski held his hands up, smiled, then made the mistake of walking toward me again. I retreated, making sure that I always kept a table between the two of us, and quickly found myself behind the bar.
“Not a step further,” I exclaimed, but they didn’t seem like they were listening.
“C’mon, Ms. Harper, just come with us,” Starmer tried. “We promise that—”
Moving fast, I grabbed anything I could put my hands on, and started hurling bottles and glasses at the two stalkers. My improvised projectiles exploded against the wall behind them over and over again, and soon enough I found myself short of things I could throw.
“Fine,” Krasinski sighed, and reached inside his jacket. From his inner pocket, he fished out a kind of metallic rod with a bright bulb at the end. It seemed like some kind of futuristic pen. “I didn’t want to use this on you, Ms. Harper, but you’re leaving me no choice.”
“Leave me alone, or I…”
I didn’t get to finish my sentence.
Krasinski held up his metallic pen, pressed a button, and my field of vision was inundated by bright red. I felt the light seep into my brain, and soon enough, my thoughts were nothing but tatters. My body grew so light I could almost believe I was floating but, at the same time, my eyelids became as heavy as concrete.
Don’t pass out, Alicia, my inner voice struggled to say, don’t pass out.
Next thing I knew, I was passing out.
Razar
I wasn’t being paid enough.
I’d never been the kind of guy to bitch and moan about my duties, but things were starting to get out of hand. Strippers and escorts marched down the hallway, offering me little smiles as they slipped into the room behind me, and I could do nothing but smile in return.
Here I was, head of security for one of the wealthiest Jorkan this side of the galaxy, and I was guarding his quarters as if I were nothing but a low-paid sentry. Yeah, it sucked, but the worst part was that I was already getting used to it. Varon wasn’t exactly the kind of guy to respect the hierarchy—he knew he was at the top, and to him, that meant everyone else was below him. Simple enough, and it meant he could boss people around without caring if their title was head of security, bodyguard slash babysitter, or all-purpose butler.
From inside the room came the sound of laughter and feminine voices chattering loudly. Glasses clinked amidst more laughter and the occasional moan. Varon was living the life, no doubt. Not that I was jealous. Unlike him, I didn’t need to shell out enough credits to buy a small moon just so I could get my rocks off.
Sighing, I shifted my weight from one foot to the other, trying to find a comfortable position that would get me through the long shift ahead of me. Judging by the amount of Aurvelian strippers in his room—enough to crew a small artillery ship—it was pretty obvious that Varon was about to embark on one of his legendary all-night benders. Alcohol was going to flow like a raging river, synthetic drugs would be used like cheap candy, and his suite was going to be completely trashed.
I’ve never considered myself a judgmental prick, but Varon’s behavior was a damn embarrassment. His father had been one of the most respectable Jorkans I had ever met, and it seemed like his son was hell-bent on destroying his inheritance. Varon’s father, Alovan, had only died six months ago, and the conglomerate’s financials were already in a sorry state. Instead of attending board meetings, Varon preferred hopping around the galaxy on his private cruise ship, collecting strippers and expensive booze like a kid collecting bugs and rocks.
It was too bad for me that on his deathbed, Alovan had asked me to promise him that I’d look after his only son. No matter what I thought of Varon, I had to agree to the dying man’s request.
Honor tied with my respect for Alovan compelled me.
Just like honor compelled me now not to break it. I told myself that Varon might be a whoring, drunkard idiot, but at least he wasn’t actively hurting anyone. Which left me in a situation where I had to uphold my promise.
That, of course, was reflected in the company’s deteriorating financials.
“I need a new job,” I muttered under my breath, loud music booming from inside the room. Alovan had been a respectable and honorable Jorkan, and he had offered me this position when I was fresh out of the military. I’d kept him safe until he passed away, and he had trusted me. He’d had my unwavering loyalty, and so I had stuck around after his passing.
Now, I wondered if my loyalty to Varon’s father really should extend to him, as well. Part of me wanted to headbutt the spoiled little prick and tell him to go fuck himself, but I simply couldn’t walk away and let Alovan’s legacy go to shit.
“What the…?”
Straightening my back, I perked up my ears as I heard screams coming from inside the room. Instinctively, my hand dropped to my waist and I tightened my fingers around the grip of my gun. Once I was certain I recognized Varon’s voice, I spun around and pulled my gun from its holster.
I punched the access code into the panel mounted beside me and, as soon as the doors slid back, burst into the room with my gun held high. I scanned my surroundings in a fraction of a second, taking in all the empty bottles and broken glasses littering the floor, then honed in on Varon.
“Come on,” I muttered under my breath, “what the fuck?”
“What the fuck do you think you’re doing, Razar?” he screeched, the purple scales covering his naked shoulders darkening. One of the strippers, a voluptuous Aurvelian that was naked from the waist up, had handcuffed Varon to a lounge chair, and there was a whip in her hands. Varon’s tail whipped around aimlessly, and that was everything I needed to know—whatever was happening here, the bastard was enjoying it. “Get outta here, damn it!”
“Yes, sir,” I replied, trying to sound as indifferent as possible. In truth, I felt everything but indifference. The sight of Varon�
��s naked body made me nauseous, but the fact that an Aurvelian stripper was whipping him up while the other women just partied around him made me want to laugh. In the end, though, I was a professional. “Sorry, sir.”
I holstered my gun and headed out. I had barely taken a couple of steps when one of the women, a petite Aurvelian with deep pink skin, grabbed me by the arm. She pulled me toward her, dragging her teeth across her purplish lips, then offered me an inviting smile.
“Aren’t you tired of standing out there?” she asked, her voice mellifluous. “Why don’t you join us for a drink? I mean, your boss is pretty busy right now, and we wouldn’t mind having someone else join our party...especially if that someone else looks like you.” Her gaze roamed from my mouth to my feet, and could I feel her undressing me with her eyes.
“Sorry,” I said. “No partying when I’m on the clock.”
I smiled politely and tore myself away from her. Aurvelians were dangerous creatures—lower your guard around them, and soon enough you’ll be drowning in a sea of invisible pheromones.
Once outside the room, I locked the door behind me. Sighing, I raked one hand over my face, doing my best to erase what I had seen from my mind. The last thing I wanted was for Varon’s naked body to come and haunt me in my sleep.
“How’s it going down there?” the ship’s communications officer asked through the comms unit hanging from my belt. “Any dead hookers we need to dump in an asteroid belt?”
“Really fucking funny,” I replied, not happy with that imaginary scenario. If something like that happened, I wouldn’t help Varon cover it up. Instead, I’d beat his sorry little ass and drag him to the closest military outpost I could find. “No dead hookers to report. Everything’s calm down here. Or, well, you know...as calm as usual.”
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