The Bad Company™ Boxed Set (Books 1-4)

by Martelle, Craig

  Ramses sat on the other end of the couch. “How does the dog get the best spot on the couch?”

  Dokken turned his head and dog-smiled at the man.

  “Shh. He can hear you,” Cory cautioned while she scratched behind the German Shepherd’s ears and cooed to him.

  “I know, and he can understand, too. He’s sentient. He knows exactly what he’s doing.” Ramses wanted to sulk, but couldn’t. “You know that I only want what makes you happy.”

  They smiled at each other. “If you didn’t, I think my dad would have some choice words for you.” Cory leaned down and kissed Dokken on his furry dog head. “Do you want to come dancing with us, boy?”

  I thought you’d never ask, Dokken replied. It’d be my pleasure as long as I don’t get stepped on. How many drunk people will be there?

  “Ooh…” Cory grimaced. “All of them?”

  Chapter Three

  “Is it always this loud in here?” Timmons asked the large man with the crossed arms blocking the front door.

  “Maybe this isn’t the club for you, old guy,” the man rasped. He leaned back to look down his nose at the group.

  Timmons rocked back on his heels as if punched. “Old guy?” he asked, a shocked expression on his face. Sue started to laugh.

  “We’re having a party in here. We’re from the Bad Company. Maybe you’ve heard of us?” Sue said, giving the man a furtive smile.

  He looked at her sideways. “What’s that supposed to mean to me? You look like a bunch of troublemakers, think you’re better than the good, hard-working people of this station. Go in, but don’t be surprised if your dumb asses are the first ones I throw out.”

  Sue leaned close, her blonde hair reflecting the flashing Seymour Heine sign. “I don’t think that’ll happen, but if you feel the need to throw us out, come on in and give it your best shot,” she said coldly as the others brushed past her on their way in. Timmons glared at the man over Sue’s shoulder.

  The bouncer blew a kiss at Timmons. Sue stopped her mate before he could go full werewolf on the man. She grabbed Timmons’s shirt and pulled him after her.

  Merrit and Shonna were already buying drinks for a small group of people occupying a large table. After a brief exchange, they shook hands as they gave up their seats.

  Aaron and Yanmei stood to the side. “I don’t think I want to get into a bar fight.” Aaron frowned. Yanmei wore a tiny black dress, the same as Shonna and Sue.

  “You won’t fight for my honor?” Yanmei said, baiting her husband.

  “Always, but there is no honor to be had in a bar fight. We will leave before fists fly, and I know you can defend yourself because you’re faster than me,” Aaron replied evenly.

  “Honor isn’t necessarily about who can beat whom. It’s about who stands up for whom, whether they know they can win the fight or not,” Yanmei replied.

  “You’re starting to sound like Terry Henry Walton.” Aaron raised one eyebrow as he looked at his wife. She was Chinese, lithe and tall, a weretiger like him. He had been changed into a weretiger during his time in China as an English teacher. After the fall, he found himself in the United States, fighting over scraps until the native nation took him in.

  But they turned him over to Colonel Walton when he passed through with his fledgling Force de Guerre. The weretiger had joined Char’s pack, not that he’d had a choice, but it suited him. He had always been opposed to fighting, so he tutored the children, watching them when the rest of the pack left to fight the battles that defined the rebuilding of civilization.

  “Would I fight for my wife?” he asked her, holding her gaze without blinking. “Ten times out of ten, because you’re worth it.”

  Yanmei smiled and gripped his hand tightly.

  “Screaming Buki Holes all the way around!” Timmons shouted at a fleeing form. “And two Slippery Nipples.”

  “It’s going to be that kind of night, isn’t it?” Sue asked, rocking with the music. “If I remember correctly what that is like. It’s only been what?A hundred and fifty years.”

  “Fucking A!” Merrit screamed into the cacophony, thrusting his fist into the air. They tapped their feet to the booming music as they waited for their drinks. The server quickly returned with a tray full of glasses, maneuvering expertly through the crowded area.

  Shonna chased people away who were trying to take the empty chairs at their table.

  The drinks were deposited, and the server scanned Timmons’s face for payment.

  “Is that how you do it? How much did that just cost me?” Timmons wondered, sliding back into his New Yorker accent.

  “You shouldn’t worry about those kinds of things. It’ll ruin your evening. Go dance!” the server suggested. “It’ll take your mind off how many weeks you’ll have to work to pay off this tab.”

  She bolted before he could reply.

  Sue started to laugh. The Walton children and their spouses magically appeared from the crowd, securing the empty seats. Marcie, Kim, Kae, Auburn, Ramses, and Cory looked grossly out of place, even though they were dressed up as the werewolves had directed. The club was loud and crowded.

  “Is it always this loud in here?” Cory yelled as she held her hands over her wolf ears.

  “Yes!” Sue yelled back. “Isn’t it magnificent?”

  “That’s not the word I’d use,” Marcie replied as Cory continued to wince.

  There was a commotion at the doorway and the group turned to see Terry Henry Walton holding the bouncer in the air, and then he slammed the man into the wall.

  “He had it coming,” Timmons said.

  Cory and Ramses jumped up and forced their way through the crowd to get to the front door just as Felicity and Ted arrived.

  “Put that man down!” Felicity demanded.

  “This fucking skid-mark would be scrubbing decks using his toothbrush if he worked for me!” Terry declared.

  “Good thing he doesn’t work for you,” Felicity said in a measured tone. “Now put him down.”

  Terry jammed the bouncer downward. He landed heavily and tottered on unsteady feet. Char grabbed Terry’s arm and held it firmly.

  “You’re not getting out of this by starting a fight!” she snarled. Terry’s eyes dropped. He hated seeing Char angry. He nodded and they walked inside.

  Felicity held her hands up. “Well?” she bellowed.

  Terry and Char both turned. Felicity pointed to the bouncer.

  “Fuck that guy. He’s a total douchebag. You can have a gatekeeper who isn’t an asshole, unlike that bonehead who’s drunk on the little power he has. So fuck him. I’m not apologizing.”

  Char nodded and tipped her head, signaling to Terry that it was time to join the party.

  Felicity looked to Ted. He looked back in the hopes that the evening was over, and he’d be able to return to his lab.

  “No,” she told him. “And you,” she said to the bouncer, “stop being a dick.”

  Cory led her parents into the dance bar called Seymour Heine. “Nice entrance, Dad,” Cory yelled over her shoulder. The way ahead cleared for Terry. He walked proudly in his gigolo shoes.

  “I should have known,” Char lamented.

  Terry started greeting everyone until Char stopped him.

  “We’ll be on the dance floor,” she told the group. The pack oohed and aahed at Terry’s expense. But he felt worlds better after beating up the bouncer.

  He even felt like dancing.

  Felicity was making a circuit around the floor, shaking hands as if running for office. In a way, she was.

  * * *

  “Smedley, what’s the status of the repairs to the starboard main?” Micky asked as his eyes darted from one screen to the next. The bridge was empty, because the crew was tasked to work with the structural teams to expedite repairs.

  “The same as it was five minutes ago,” Smedley replied gently over the bridge’s speaker system.

  “Has it only been five minutes?”

  “It has. Maybe you
should consider getting some sleep. Remaining on the bridge is counterproductive,” Smedley said. “I will watch it closely in your absence, which isn’t all that profound, really. It is self-serving in that if anything happens to the ship, it happens to me. I don’t want anything to happen to me since the consciousness of the universe is starting to peel back the veil. I like what I see and want more of it.”

  “I know you’ll take good care of the Axe, Smedley. It’s not that. I am reviewing the start to finish process of our last engagement, and I’m afraid that I put Terry and all his people at excess risk. We provided no air cover once the extent of the ground forces was revealed. He took significant damage because we did not insist on getting the gravitic shields repaired before deploying. What kind of one-stop war machine are we if we can’t defend ourselves or our people on the ground?” Micky intoned before putting his head in his hands.

  He started to shake from the stress he was putting himself under.

  “I wondered when the self-recrimination phase would begin. I can’t say it’s okay, because it wasn’t. I will say that it was amazing what was accomplished with both teams having one hand tied behind their backs. Your attack took into account the shortcomings you knew of. The colonel’s execution was flawless. He expected to fight company-sized actions based on the contract and so-called intelligence he was given. He fought multiple major land forces with barely more than a platoon. He lost one person owing to the attack by the dreadnought battle tank burning through all their power. With better equipment, how would your tactics have been challenged and evolved?”

  “The question is, do we need to be challenged? I would prefer whipping in, winning according to the contract, and heading back out with minimal fuss.”

  “Humanity cannot exist without challenge. Without it, you’d be beating up on the little kids, losing the respect of potential clients. The Bad Company would become a tool for despots only, where beating up on the weak is the preferred way of doing business. With the Crenellian contract, you built credibility and put despots on notice. You also put yourself in a position to manage Crenellian arms contracts. That will be lucrative in its own right, but will also limit surprises like the Bad Company encountered on Tissikinnon Four.”

  “Damn, Smedley. I feel like I should be on a couch. Where did you learn so much about humanity?”

  “There are a number of humans on board the ship, and I am constantly studying. I doubt I will ever figure them out in entirety, but they are truly fascinating!”

  “Uh huh,” Micky replied, doubting the veracity of Smedley’s claim that he learned about humanity by watching. “You are right in that I need to sleep. You have the conn, Smedley.”

  Micky stood up and stretched, wondering if he’d catch the good king Wenceslaus sleeping on his bed.

  “Smedley, since you are so good at watching everything that happens on this ship, why can’t you tell me how that cat keeps getting in my quarters?” Micky hesitated before he left the bridge, wondering if Smedley would give him a straight answer.

  “Once the repairs are completed, I shall devote additional resources to solving that mystery, Captain. Sleep well.”

  As the captain dragged his feet, with his head hung low while leaving the bridge, Smedley started opening and closing the door to the captain’s quarters. Wenceslaus uncurled himself from the captain’s pillow, yawning fully as he stretched his orange body. He hopped down, jogged across the captain’s quarters, and waited until Smedley opened the door again. He trotted out, leaving a cloud of floating orange cat hair behind him.

  * * *

  “Mind if we dance with your dates?” a wiry man with calloused hands asked. His six friends waited nervously behind him.

  The werewolves were already on the dance floor, but none of the others were.

  “Sure!” Marcie bellowed as she prodded Kimber, Cory, and Yanmei to join her. Kaeden looked put out, but she shook her head and leaned down to whisper in his ear. “I sense a good fight coming, be ready.”

  Kae started to laugh. He felt naked without a mech suit wrapped around him, but he wouldn’t be deterred. He reached under the table and cracked his knuckles.

  Cory rolled her eyes, beckoning Ramses to join her, but Marcie forced him back into his seat. The four women walked around the table and headed for the dance floor, not caring which men followed.

  Marcie started moving to the music with exaggerated motions. She moved past some who dodged away to avoid getting clocked. She worked her way close to Terry and Char.

  “I’m appalled!” Terry declared. Char looked shocked.

  “Did no one ever teach you any moves?” Char wondered.

  Marcie started running through a few martial arts routines, settling in with the music. The men bounced and gyrated nearby as they tried to get face-time with the women.

  Terry gave Marcie an approving look. Char looked back and forth between the two, but it was too late.

  Marcie did a pirouette, backhanding one of the men and sending him flying. One of his friends tried to catch him but failed, and both men tumbled to the floor.

  “I’m so sorry,” Marcie cried and helped the men to their feet. She noticed that Kae was standing, but she tipped her chin and he sat down.

  “Nothing. My fault. My clumsiness. I didn’t know you couldn’t dance, so I should have given you more space.”

  “Now that’s just hurtful!” Marcie cried in mock horror. “Maybe you’re the one who can’t dance.”

  The man’s friend brushed off his shirt. “No, it’s you,” he said as he executed a deft move, spinning and sliding a couple feet across the floor. He tucked his arms in and twisted like a cobra.

  Marcie watched, amazed. “Teach me!” she insisted.

  The others joined in as the dance lessons began. Marcie, Cory, Kim, and Yanmei executed moves again and again as the men demonstrated, watched, corrected, and demonstrated again.

  Char saw the disappointment on Terry’s face. “What?” she sneered. “You didn’t expect that there would be decent human beings on Keeg Station? Judging from where they started, our family was sorely lacking in their cultural education, and that includes you. You should probably join them.”

  Terry wanted to roll his eyes, but his wife was having fun. He would have preferred a sparring match, but there was always later, in the privacy of their quarters where he and the purple-eyed werewolf could be alone.

  As he danced his way into the dance lessons, he wondered how he’d ever gotten so lucky.

  “No,” the lead dance instructor said, pointing at Terry. “Only the women.”

  Terry stopped moving to the music.

  “Come on, he’s my father-in-law, and you saw how badly he dances. He could use the help.”

  The man looked at her and shook his head. “Beat it, Pops. We’re making time with the women, now and later, if you get my meaning.”

  Terry made eye contact with Marcie. A smile spread slowly across her face. He nodded to her.

  “Have it your way, dickless. I think you’re going to find out that there’s a different definition of making time. So good luck with that.”

  Terry turned to walk away, but Char stopped him. “Dance off!” she declared, glaring at the man.

  “You got it, hot mama,” the man said and started a short routine, then stopped.

  Char took center stage with a high jump, tucking her knees so her dress didn’t rise above her waist, and landed perfectly balanced. The people moved back, creating a space within the dance floor where the two contestants could work.

  Char ran through a series of hip swings that made the crowd cheer. She stopped and stepped back. The man jumped high, did the splits, touched his toes while he was still in the air, and came down on his knees. He rocked back, then bounced to his feet and swung in a series of circles. He finished his routine with a slide, ending up chest to chest with Charumati. She winked at him.

  He wrapped an arm around her and pulled her close for a kiss.

  She h
ead-butted his nose, splattering it and sending a spray of blood around his head. He stumbled backwards but didn’t fall. Dokken materialized on the dance floor with his hackles up and started barking.

  “You bitch!” the man yelled in a half-gurgle.

  “How did you know?” she asked.

  The man launched himself toward her. She stepped forward, bent, and delivered an uppercut that caught the man under his chin, throwing him up and back. He flopped to the floor unconscious. The movement had been too quick to follow, but his friends became energized seeing their friend on the losing end of a fistfight with a beautiful woman.

  A man standing next to Cory tried to elbow her in the face. Her glowing blue eyes disappeared as she ducked, caught his arm, pulled him around in a circle, and with his arms clasped tightly, body-slammed him face-first into the floor.

  Before Terry could take a single step to get into the action, it was over. Seven men lay on the floor, moaning. He decided to scratch Dokken behind his hairy dog ears instead.

  Felicity waded into the middle of it, hands raised until the music stopped. She looked around to find that Ted had escaped and was no longer in Seymore Heine’s. That made her even angrier.

  “Get out!” she declared, pointing individually at Terry, Char, Marcie, and down the line until she designated every single member of Terry’s family and Char’s pack.

  Char smiled lovingly at her husband. “And that, my big husky hunk of man candy, is how you do it.”

  “And I didn’t think there was any way I could love you more.”

  Chapter Four

  “When the fight starts, we’re on the other side of the floor. I danced the whole night waiting for that,” Timmons complained.

  “Really?” Frost stuck to her words.

  Timmons knew instantly that he’d made a mistake. “Don’t get me wrong. I enjoyed the hell out of dancing. It’s been a while.”

  Too little, too late.

  “Mmhmm,” Sue mumbled.

  “We better get to the gym. Terry has an extra special workout planned,” Timmons offered, waiting, and then headed out the door. He wasn’t going to get anywhere in their quarters. Might as well hit something.