The Alien Reindeer’s Bounty (A Winter Starr Book 6)

by Nancey Cummings

  “I used to get the kind in cans but once Ruby helped herself to ‘Mommy’s special apple juice’ and that was the end of that. We only have bottles that a kid can’t mistake for soda in this house.” Ruby only had a sip before complaining that the soda tasted bad and Odessa caught the mistake. She searched how much apple cider will make a child drunk on her phone and spent the rest of the day terrified that protective services would come knocking.

  “She’s a delight. I like her,” he said.

  “Hmm. Ruby’s reserving her judgment. I think it’s going to hinge on how many ponies you buy her.”

  He laughed, rich and throaty.

  She flipped through the streaming menu on the television. “Anything in particular you want to watch?”

  “Whatever you like.” He leaned forward, elbows on his knees and slowly removed the label on the bottle.

  She started a new episode of a murder mystery. Normally she dug the blue-washed tone and the stark, bleak setting with jaded detectives, but not tonight. She quickly abandoned the show and settled on a bake-off show. The tent on the green lawn, the polite contestants and the pastel colors satisfied an itch. Deep down, she knew she did not have the patience to make the complicated cakes and confections featured on the show, but she loved watching.

  She stretched out on the sofa, head on Mads’ lap. The arrangement came naturally to her, as they had watched hundreds of movies in that exact same position. “Is this weird? Too much?” She should have asked before making herself comfortable, but her body moved before her tired brain had a chance to say no.

  “This is perfect,” he said, his voice low and soothing. He stroked her hair and her eyes fluttered shut. She shouldn’t enjoy being petted like, well, a pet, but it felt too good to stop.

  “I could make a Victoria sponge,” she said, her voice dreamy and relaxed.

  “Odessa, we need to talk about today.”

  “It looks complicated but it’s just a yellow cake with jam and buttercream. That’s basically a strawberry shortcake.”

  “Odessa,” he repeated.

  “Fine. I don’t like your uncle, he scared the crap out of me Friday night, I don’t care if he is a harmless old coot, I think he’s the one who broke in, and I never want to see him again. Happy?”

  He took a moment before responding. “That certainly covered everything.”

  “I hate this feeling.” Odessa wished she could ignore it, push it aside and forget it. She had plenty of practice ignoring her feelings. As a single parent, she sacrificed her social and romantic life. Who had time for socializing? She had to work. Thankfully, she had support. Without her family’s help, she’d have spent a fortune on childcare, but the bills were still a tightrope. Still, Ruby was her priority and every nickel went toward food, shelter, and clothes for Ruby.

  What Odessa wanted for herself—new shoes, a trip to a fancy salon—waited at the bottom of her list of priorities. Maybe one day she could afford to splurge on herself. Maybe.

  As a small business owner, her financial worries were not limited to just her bank account. Her market did well but the new location drained away any hopes of profitability. Real people, people she cared for and considered friends, depended on the stores making payroll every two weeks. She couldn’t mess up. Stress kept her up at night and the last thing she needed was to feel vulnerable in her own home.

  Correction: the last thing she needed was Ruby feeling vulnerable in her own home. Odessa could shove her own anxiety to the side and soldier on, which probably wasn’t the healthiest way to cope, but she was all out of ideas.

  Mads’ hand rested on the back of her neck. He didn’t make promises or try to dismiss her feelings, and that was the perfect response. They watched the baking show in silence.

  Chapter 13

  Odessa

  Monday.

  Neither she nor Ruby slept well. They stumbled through their morning in a zombie-like trance but, somehow, she got Ruby fed, dressed, and to school on time.

  “Have a good day at school. I love you tons,” Odessa said, lavishing a squirming Ruby with a hug and a kiss.

  “Mommy,” she protested, turning away. A passing student, about the same age as Ruby, made exaggerated kissing noises.

  Kids were the worst, teasing Ruby when they needed sloppy hugs and kisses, too.

  “Don’t pay them any attention,” she said, even as Ruby wiped away the kiss on her cheek, all the while making a gagging noise.

  Wonderful. Ruby was too embarrassed to hug her mom in public now.

  Odessa’s heart hurt, realizing that her little goblin was growing up and would soon be too big for hugs and kisses.

  She stopped at the coffee shop to refuel. By the time she got to the market, she felt human again. The security gate was still down in front, but that wasn’t unusual. No one liked to fool around with the gate if they could help it, which meant they left it for the boss.

  “Morning, boss,” the morning shift manager said in a way too chipper voice. Early morning customers already milled about as the staff set up for the day.

  “Where’s Bonnie?”

  “Not in yet. Might be running late.”

  “I’ll handle the deliveries if you want to cover the front until she wanders in,” Odessa said. Bonnie sometimes cut it close, arriving to the store just before her shift started at 8:30, but she had never been late before.

  Handling the daily deliveries took all her attention. She, the driver and the stock guy unloaded fresh produce and fruit from the truck. Physical labor kept her warm, despite the docking bay door being wide open and cold air sweeping into the stock room.

  With the final boxes unloaded, she prioritized moving the most in demand—those sugar pumpkins, still—to the floor. They’d look cute stacked in vintage wooden baskets.

  “Odessa,” Rocco said, snagging her attention.

  “Hey. We got a fresh supply of those clementines you like. And I think chestnuts,” she said, even though chestnuts weren’t exactly an on-the-go snack.

  “Actually, I’m here about Bonnie. Did she come in today?”

  Odessa glanced to the front registers. “No. She’s a no-show today.”

  “Did she call in sick?”

  “I’ll have to check with the shift manager, but not that I know of.” Odessa frowned. Bonnie hardly ever took a sick day and she’d never just not show up for work. “What’s going on?”

  “Is that common for her?”

  “No, not really. She’s not great about being here on time but she’s always here.”

  “When was the last time you saw or spoke to Bonnie?” His stern voice conveyed that at that moment he wasn’t a friendly acquaintance or even a regular customer. He was there in his official capacity as sheriff’s deputy.

  “Rocco, what happened?”

  He sighed. “Bonnie didn’t show up for Sunday dinner at her parent’s place. They reported her missing last night. She’s not at her apartment or answering her phone.”

  “Um, we went out for drinks on Friday night,” Odessa said.

  “When did you last see her?”

  “I dunno. I left early, maybe seven-thirty? I wanted to get home before the snow got too heavy.”

  He nodded. “And you got a flat for your trouble. Any calls or messages from her?”

  “Let me check.” She pulled out her phone from her back pocket. Sure enough, she had an unread message from Bonnie. “She sent a text Friday night. I guess Saturday morning, around one.” She showed the text to Rocco.

  The message read: Going home with my own silver fox! Rawr!

  Oh, Bonnie. What did you do?

  “Mind if I take a screenshot and send that to myself?” Rocco asked.

  “Knock yourself out,” she said.

  “Where did you get drinks?” He took out a notepad and pencil.

  “The Pour House.”

  “Anyone unusual hanging about or giving you a bad feeling?”

  Odessa shook her head. “Not really. Bonnie kep
t trying to get me a hook-up, but I wasn’t interested.” His dark eyes gave her a peculiar look, but she ignored it. “Luz and Alyse were there too.”

  “You mean Liz?”

  “Dang it. Yes, Liz.” She rubbed the back of her neck. “It was loud. I didn’t get her name and I was too embarrassed to ask.”

  Rocco snapped the notebook closed. “I’ll follow up with Liz and Alyse. Don’t worry. I’m sure she got invited to some rich guy’s cabin and decided to take a three-day weekend.”

  “Probably.” Hopefully.

  “Now tell me more about these clementines,” he said, the cop demeanor vanishing and her favorite hungry customer emerging.

  Mads

  Mads rubbed the star-shaped scar at the base of his neck. Taking a circuitous route to Karl’s, he made the odd stop along the way. If his movements were being tracked, he needed to go through the motions of attempting to locate Karl. Fortunately, Karl had moved frequently in the last decade, so Mads knocked on doors and stomped around abandoned houses and pretended to hunt his bounty.

  As soon as he could get the tracker implant removed, the sooner he could be finished with this farce.

  He hoped Karl had figured out how to safely remove the implant. At least, he hoped that’s why Karl had journeyed to his house on Friday. He hadn’t spoken to the older bull since snarling at Karl to leave.

  Today’s visit had two purposes: remove the tracker and warn Karl off from Odessa. Mads couldn’t prove Karl had been the one to break into Odessa’s house, but curiosity always overloaded the old buck’s common sense. Breaking into Odessa’s house, poking around, taking a DNA sample—Karl was perfectly capable of doing all that and thinking nothing amiss.

  The hum of equipment filled the warehouse.

  “Good! Just the bull I need!” Karl enthusiastically grabbed Mads and shoved him into a glass booth. The old bull’s antlers came perilously close to impaling Mads but he leaned to one side.

  “Karl—”

  “Not now. Stay still. This will hurt.”

  The booth sealed shut and gas flooded the chamber with a worrisome hiss. Something sharp pricked him on the back of the neck.

  “Karl!” Mads pounded on the chamber. It rocked but held.

  “Stay. Still. Or I will sedate you.” Karl frowned and turned his attention to a handheld tablet. “Do you want the implant removed or not?”

  Mads took a breath, aware of the odorless and tasteless gas flooding his lungs, but he could discern no ill effects. “Can’t you just cut open the injection scar and remove it?”

  The old bull shook his head. “Calling the device an implant—or even a device—gives the false impression that it is a singular unit. It is actually a nanocluster that grafts onto the coating of your nervous system.” Karl turned the tablet’s screen to Mads, displaying a partial map of a nervous system, presumably his. “It’s grossly inefficient, but that’s the point. Removing the device without careful planning will strip the coating of your nervous system and you’d lose motor control.” He paused. “Unless you’re okay with that, then I can rip it out right now.”

  “I am not okay with that,” Mads snarled, patience at an end.

  “Then be patient and stay still.”

  Mads counted backward and focused on deep, even breaths. He refused to worry about the gas flooding the chamber or the swarm of nanobots latching onto his nervous system.

  One problem at a time.

  “Were you at Odessa’s house yesterday?” he asked.

  “Of course. I needed a DNA sample,” Karl answered. “Oh, stop growling. I only took a toothbrush.”

  A machine beeped and fresh air flooded the chamber. The door slid open.

  “Stay away from Odessa,” Mads warned.

  “Now stand over there. I need an updated scan of your brain,” Karl said, completely ignoring Mads’ warning. He held up a device, which made a series of rattles and clicks. “Good. Good.”

  Frustrated, Mads grabbed the device. “Stay away from Odessa. Your performance Friday night frightened her.”

  Karl blinked. “What was Friday?”

  “The snowstorm. Flat tire.” He had not witnessed Karl’s interaction with Odessa, and she had not shared everything his uncle said or did. He only knew that the encounter left his mate shaken. Karl helping himself to Odessa’s toothbrush—and her genetic material—only increased her distress.

  “Oh, yes. Interesting female but timid, I think. I never cared for timid females.” Karl took the device back and frowned at the screen. He moved to a workbench, grabbed an item, and moved to another table. “You have not mated her yet. What is taking you so long? You find the female attractive, yes?”

  Mads ran a hand through his hair, his fingers brushing against his antler buds. Speaking with his uncle was like standing in a swarm of bees. The male buzzed and hummed, his mind moving in a dozen directions at once. If he grew agitated, he’d sting.

  “That is not your concern,” Mads said.

  “An incomplete bond is exactly my business. Nothing in the sample I procured—”

  “You stole.”

  “Procured from the female,” Karl continued, waving away Mads’ correction. “The sample indicated that she has responded to the bond. Have you given her your genetic material?”

  “My material?” His mind scanned through a very short list of what Karl considered genetic material.

  “I mean your semen. Do not be embarrassed. We are both adults here.”

  “I know what you mean,” he snapped.

  His uncle continued as if Mads had not spoken. “Bond with a human is different than with another reilendeer, for obvious reasons. Without fangs, they cannot bite and draw blood, which leaves seminal fluid as the next best method to complete the bond. You drew her blood?”

  Mads remembered their long-ago kiss, Odessa slipping on the ice, and his accidental bite. He tasted her blood and his body reacted to her genetic information, initiating the mate bond. “Yes. That’s how it happened.”

  “No change on your brain scan. How disappointing.” Karl studied the screen, still moving about the room from workbench to workbench. “Tell me, when you shift, is it with difficulty? Hmm. Perhaps that is the wrong question. Can you shift? Is that why you won’t display your antlers?”

  Irritation flared in Mads. “I’m not a child. I can control my antlers. And yes, I can shift. No, it is not difficult.” Shifting involved flexing a mental muscle, as best as Mads could describe the process. When he was younger, shifting was difficult. Often, he could not control the process and would be stuck between stages. That was one reason his father chose to live in relative isolation with plenty of room for a young shifter to roam. The more he practiced, the more he honed that mental muscle and the easier the process became for his body.

  “Is it true that some reilendeer have lost the ability to shift?” Karl perched on the edge of a table, all his focus on Mads.

  “The four-legged form is not considered fashionable, not fit for polite conversation,” he said. Mads kept to himself but he knew that mentioning shifting was considered impolite at best and barbaric at worst. Shifting had become an entirely private matter on Reilen.

  The first shifts of young calves had always been a familial matter, something the herd handled. These shifts were messy and uncontrolled, as was most of puberty and adolescence. Mads could not say if it had always been shameful and hidden, as his adolescence was spent on Earth, but that shame now encompassed all aspects of what was a natural part of a reilendeer’s life, and he chafed against it.

  “Polite conversation? What nonsense,” Karl muttered. “I suppose nudity is impolite too.”

  “Shifts are considered impolite.” No one spoke of their four-legged form. Reilen had huge swaths of public land, perfect terrain for roaming on either two legs or four, and those parks remained empty. Mads lost himself in the expansive parks and wilderness at every opportunity, and only rarely encountered another reilendeer.

  “The military no
longer includes the four-legged form in combat operations. They say it is inefficient,” Mads said. Early in his military service, he shifted to conduct scouting over rough terrain. When his superior officer found out, Mads had been disciplined. Four legs and antlers had no place in the modern Reilen military.

  “That’s ridiculous. Fluid armor has been used for centuries. Soldiers can shift and not lose their armor.”

  Mads held up his hands in surrender. “I am telling you what I know. I wasn’t privy to the reasoning.”

  “Herds are gone. No one has a bond mate. No one shifts. Everyone wears pants. Are we even reilendeer anymore?” Karl tossed himself down onto a chair. “What are you still doing here? Go.”

  “The tracker?”

  The old bull waved his hand dismissively. “I need time to formulate a compound to neutralize the nanos.”

  “My handler is growing impatient. He wants results.” Mads could only wander around Earth and fail to locate his target for so long before he would be replaced. The tracker implant needed to be gone before that happened.

  “Next week. I don’t know. I’m too upset to work now.” Karl turned his attention to the tablet computer and tuned everything out. Mads knew from experience that their visit had concluded.

  Chapter 14

  Odessa

  Another Friday night. A cold front rolled through and temperatures plunged unseasonably low. Frigid air rushed into the market with every customer walking through the doors.

  It had been exactly a week since going out with Bonnie for drinks after work. A week since her employee and friend vanished.

  Bonnie failed to show up Tuesday, or any day that week. Technically, Odessa had grounds to fire her, but she found herself reluctant to do so. Something happened to Bonnie, that much was clear. Until the cops turned up a body—

  Odessa couldn’t bring herself to finish the thought. Bonnie’s job was hers until Odessa learned otherwise.

  In the meantime, she had to cover the gaps in the schedule. Fortunately, Bonnie worked Monday-Friday, which wasn’t as busy as the weekends. Patricia came over from the other store to cover the registers in the mornings and Odessa tapped a few people from the evening shift to come in mid-afternoon to handle the after-work rush. Even with that coverage, Odessa was on her feet all day, running between the registers, handling deliveries, and stocking the shelves for the weekend rush.