Page 17 of Claimed By the Alien Warlord

REILY

W e stride into Boss Hoag’s office like we own the place.

The man himself is perched behind his desk, a mountain of paperwork and cheap bourbon bottles cluttering the surface.

His hairpiece is crooked today, a tuft of synthetic hair flopping to the side like a wounded bird.

He scrambles to his feet, his jowls jiggling as he scurries around the desk with a smile plastered on his face that doesn’t reach his beady eyes.

“Mr. Irons,” he says, his voice dripping with a syrupy fake charm that makes my stomach turn. “What an unexpected pleasure.” His eyes dart to me, and the smile falters for a split second. “And who’s your lovely friend… Reily Dawson?”

Gary doesn’t respond right away, his stance towering and unyielding, his red eyes narrowed. I can feel the tension radiating off him like heat from a forge.

“Boss Hoag,” I say, crossing my arms and leaning slightly against Gary’s side. “Fancy meeting you here.”

Hoag’s eyes flick between us, his confusion turning to something darker as he pieces it together. His grin tightens, but there’s no humor in it now.

“What’s this about, Irons?” he asks, his tone sharp. “Why are you consorting with the enemy? This woman led the protest against the dam project you and I are so heavily invested in.”

“I think you mean that I am so heavily invested in.” He takes a step forward, and Hoag instinctively takes one back, bumping into his desk. “The truth is, I’ve decided to no longer pursue this hydroelectric project. I’m looking into alternative methods to stimulate the local economy instead.”

Hoag’s face turns a shade of red I didn’t think was possible. His hands clench into fists.

“You can’t back out on me now, you long-ass sumbitch!” he spits, his voice rising to a near screech. The charming mask is gone, replaced by raw, unfiltered rage. “This dam project will finally make me mean something!”

I step forward, my own temper flaring. “Make you mean something?” I snap.

“What about the people of Coldwater? The dam would’ve destroyed Silver Creek and Mirror Lake—everything that makes this town what it is.

If you really cared about the people you’re supposed to serve, you never would’ve agreed to the dam in the first place. ”

Hoag’s eyes narrow, and he turns to Gary with a sneer. “The poon tang pie must be really?—”

Before he can finish, Gary moves. He’s on Hoag in an instant, his massive hand grabbing the front of the man’s shirt and lifting him clean off the ground. Hoag’s eyes widen, his legs kicking uselessly in the air.

“Insult Reily again,” Gary growls, his voice so low it’s almost a vibration, “and it will be the last thing you ever do. Threaten me at your peril. The dam is not happening.”

He drops Hoag back into his chair with a thud, and the mayor gasps, clutching at his chest like he’s been sucker-punched.

“That dam is going to happen, Irons!” Hoag shouts as we head for the door, his voice cracking with desperation. “It’s too late to stop it! I’ll find someone else, someone smarter than you to invest!”

Gary doesn’t even bother looking back. He takes my hand in his, his grip firm but gentle, and leads me out of the office. The door slams shut behind us, muffling Hoag’s tirade.

“Let us depart,” Gary says, his tone clipped but calm. “That man makes my scales crawl.”

I can’t help but grin as we walk down the hall, my hand still in his. “Makes mine crawl too,” I say. “But I think you handled that pretty well… Master. ”

He looks down at me, his red eyes glinting with something I can’t quite place. “Don’t push your luck, Reily.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” I say with a wink, and we step out into the sunlight, leaving the chaos of Boss Hoag’s office behind.

Gary’s car pulls into the parking lot of Dick’s Insider Trading Club, the tires crunching over gravel.

The place is lit up like a neon beacon, and I can already hear the faint thrum of classic rock leaking through the walls.

Gary opens my door for me, his hand lingering on my lower back as we step inside.

The air smells like cheap beer, fried food, and wood polish.

Clem and Seabus are already at a corner table, mugs of beer in hand.

Susan’s there too, her laptop open and a notebook sprawled out next to it.

She’s scribbling something furiously, her brow furrowed in concentration.

She looks up as we approach, her face lighting up with a grin that’s half mischief, half relief.

“About time you two showed up,” Susan says, snapping her laptop shut. “We’ve got intel.”

Gary slides into the booth beside me, his massive frame taking up most of the space. Clem raises his beer in a mock toast.

“Took you long enough, Irons. You’ve been holding out on us. Got yourself a new partner in crime here?” Clem’s eyes flick to me, and I roll mine.

“Clem, focus,” I say, leaning forward. “What’s going on with Hoag and those bikers?”

Clem takes a long pull from his beer, smirking like he’s about to drop the juiciest gossip of the century. “You know me, Reily. I’m a man of many talents. One of those talents is poker. And part of poker is not just playing your hand—it’s playing the man across the table.”

Seabus nods enthusiastically, his jowls jiggling. “Clem’s the best damn poker player in Coldwater. Won twenty bucks off me last week.”

“And I let you win that one,” Clem shoots back, winking at Seabus before turning serious.

“Anyway, point is, I had a sit-down with Hoag earlier today. Wanted to see if I could shake some loose change out of his pockets for the protest fund. And guess who was there? That Jack fella, leader of Cold Slither.”

I exchange a glance with Gary, who’s sitting stiffly beside me. His jaw is clenched, his red eyes fixed on Clem. He’s already told me about the Grolgath, but we can’t exactly spill that to everyone just yet.

“What about him?” I ask, keeping my tone neutral.

Clem leans in, lowering his voice like he’s about to reveal state secrets. “The man didn’t blink. Not once. Twenty damn minutes in Hoag’s office, and I’m staring at him the whole time. Not a single blink.”

Seabus frowns, scratching his head. “Maybe you blinked at the same time he did. Like, synchronized or something.”

Clem gives Seabus a look that could melt steel. “Every time? Perfectly synchronized? Did you switch brains with Boris and Barfbag or something?”

Susan snorts, covering her mouth with her hand. “Clem’s not exaggerating. I’ve been digging into Cold Slither, and there’s something off about them. No records, no history. It’s like they just appeared out of thin air.”

Gary’s voice cuts through the chatter like a knife. “They’re dangerous. Whatever they are, they’re not what they seem.”

Clem raises an eyebrow. “You saying they’re aliens or something?”

Gary doesn’t flinch. “I’m saying they’re not human.”

The table falls silent for a moment, the weight of Gary’s words settling over us. Susan’s the first to break the tension. “So, what do we do? Sit around and wait for them to make the next move?”

“No,” Gary says firmly. “We go to them. Their roadhouse is on the outskirts of town. We scout it, gather intel, and figure out what they’re up to.”

Clem slams his beer down on the table. “Count me in. Me and Seabus are hunters. We can sneak up better than anyone.”

Seabus nods, puffing out his chest. “Damn right. We’ll have the element of surprise.”

Gary’s eyes narrow. “This isn’t a hunting trip. These men—whatever they are—are dangerous. I’ll handle it.”

Clem looks at me, his brow furrowing. “He’s not exactly the stealthy type, Reily.”

I reach over and pat Gary’s massive arm, feeling the tension coiled in his muscles. “Trust me, Clem. Gary can handle it.”

Clem looks skeptical, but he doesn’t argue. Susan closes her notebook, her expression thoughtful. “Just be careful, all of you. Whatever’s going on with Cold Slither, it’s bigger than we think.”

Gary nods once, his jaw set. “We’ll find out soon enough.”

"I'll take three orders of buffalo wings," Seabus announces, slapping the table. His grin turns wolfish as he eyes Gary. "Unless our wealthy friend here ain't interested in feeding the troops?"

Gary exhales sharply through his nose, but pulls out a black credit card. "Order whatever you want." His fingers brush against mine under the table, sending a spark up my arm.

"Boss Hoag floated the idea of getting another dam investor," I say, keeping my voice low. The smell of fried grease and whiskey sticks to the air. "What's our play if he does that?"

Gary's grip tightens around his untouched beer, knuckles white. "I have considerable influence in financial sectors. Any investors that Hoag finds will face a thorny path indeed to their dreamed-of riches."

Seabus leans forward, squinting at Gary like he's trying to solve a puzzle. "You talk funny, Irons. Where you from?"

The temperature at our table drops ten degrees. Gary's crimson eyes lock onto Seabus, unblinking. "Lots of different places."

"Will you knock it off?" My boot connects with Seabus' shin under the table. He yelps, rubbing his leg. "Gary is on our side now. He's seen the light, so stop treating him like an enemy."

Susan twirls a pen between her fingers, grinning. "Oh, it's Gary now," she sing-songs. "But Reily's right." She flips her laptop around, showing us a spreadsheet. "I’ve done a little digging into Irons Enterprises. Turns out Mr. Irons is pulling his funding like he promised."

Gary's fingers flex against the table. "You spied on me?"

Susan shrugs. "Wouldn’t you, if you were me?"

For a second, I think he's going to flip the table.

Then his shoulders relax—barely—and his lips twitch.

"I suppose I would." His voice drops into a growl that resonates in my bones.

"But this is more dangerous than any of you—except Reily—realize. You’ve done your part. Now let me handle the heavy lifting."

The way he says it, like he's already planning how to dismantle Hoag’s schemes brick by brick?—

Christ.

I cross my legs, suddenly hyperaware of every shift of his massive frame beside me.

A waitress drops off the wings, and Seabus immediately shoves two in his mouth, sauce dripping down his chin. "So what's step one, boss?" He gestures at Gary with a drumstick. "You gonna buy out the whole town next?"

Gary catches my eye, his smirk doing things to my pulse. "Something like that."