Page 44 of Grumpy Alien Bodyguard

CHAPTER 18

VARNOK

Istride through the crystal doors of The Celestial, the most expensive restaurant in Christmasville. The maitre d' steps forward to intercept me, his eyes widening at my size.

"Sir, do you have a reservation?" His voice quivers slightly.

I flash my teeth in what humans call a smile. "I'm joining a friend."

Before he can protest, I spot Kallus at a corner table, surrounded by Christmasville's elite. His scales gleam under the soft lighting as he raises a glass of amber liquid, basking in his victory.

Perfect.

I move through the dining room, ignoring the hushed whispers that follow me. Vakutans aren't typically seen in establishments like this unless they're providing security. I'm providing something else entirely tonight.

Kallus notices me approaching, his expression shifting from surprise to amusement as I pull out a chair across from him and sit down. The delicate furniture creaks beneath my weight.

"Well, well. The famous Annihilator graces my table." Kallus gestures expansively. "Please, join me. I'm feeling generous tonight."

"I bet you are." I lean back, making myself comfortable. "You got everything you wanted, didn't you?"

Kallus signals a server, who places another glass of the amber liquid before me. "We all got what we wanted, Varnok. The Solari get their compensation, the Coalition avoids embarrassment, and the Alliance maintains its industrial interests." He raises his glass. "A triumph of diplomacy, wouldn't you say?"

I don't touch the drink. "Except the Solari. And me." I lean forward, my voice dropping to a rumble that causes nearby diners to glance nervously in our direction. "There's still the matter of you trying to kill the woman I love."

The smile doesn't leave Kallus's face, but his eyes harden. "I have no idea what you're talking about. Perhaps the Ambassador's ordeal has affected your judgment."

"My judgment is fine." I pull my compad from my belt and place it on the table between us. "Go ahead, Quinn."

Kallus's expression doesn't change, but I notice his hand tightening around his glass.

Suddenly, every holo-display in the restaurant flickers. The soft music cuts out. Then Quinn's voice fills the space, clear and authoritative.

"Citizens of Armstrong, this is Ambassador Quinn Gellar."

Outside, through the crystal windows, I see the massive public displays in Christmasville's main square light up with the same transmission. Pedestrians stop to watch.

The displays show Kallus in a private room, speaking to two Vakutan mercenaries—the same ones who tried to kill Quinn and me.

"I want them both eliminated," recording-Kallus says, sliding a credit chip across the table. "The Ambassador first, then her bodyguard. Make it look like an accident if possible, but I need them gone before the negotiations conclude."

"And if we're caught?" one mercenary asks.

"You won't be. But if the impossible happens..." Recording-Kallus smiles coldly. "You don't know me. You've never met me. And there will be no evidence to suggest otherwise."

The real Kallus lunges to his feet, knocking over his chair. "This is a fabrication! Computer-generated nonsense!"

I remain seated, watching as Armstrong Security officers enter the restaurant, their uniforms crisp and their expressions grim.

"The beauty of QE recording devices," I say casually, "is that they're impossible to detect. Quinn had one installed in her brooch after the first assassination attempt. Seems you got sloppy when you thought you were winning."

Kallus looks around wildly, then makes a break for the kitchen. He doesn't make it three steps before security officers tackle him to the ground.

Quinn appears at my side, her blonde hair gleaming under the restaurant lights. She places a hand on my shoulder as we watch Kallus being cuffed and read his rights.

"Looks like justice to me," she says softly.

I cover her hand with mine, feeling the warmth of her skin against my scales. "His head on a pike would be justice," I grumble. "I'll have to be satisfied with him being imprisoned."

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