Page 14 of Grumpy Alien Billionaire (Mates of Veritas #2)

CHAPTER 14

LANZ

T he plasma bolt sizzles past the car, close enough to make the air crackle with heat. Gordo lets out a whoop, slapping the dashboard like he’s just won the lottery.

“They missed!” he crows, his voice dripping with triumph.

I grip the wheel tighter, my scales itching under my human disguise. “No, they didn’t.”

The plasma round detonates on the road ahead, a fiery explosion that sends chunks of asphalt flying. The shockwave rattles the car, and for a split second, I’m blinded by the glare.

“Hold on,” I bark, yanking the wheel hard to the left and pulling the handbrake. The tires screech, rubber burning as the car fishtails. I’m aiming for the edge of the crater, hoping to drift around it before the Grolgath catch up.

Gordo’s claws dig into the seat. “You’re gonna kill us before they do!”

“Shut up and let me drive.”

The car slides in a perfect half-circle, skirting the edge of the crater. The heat from the blast sears through the windows, sweat dripping down my back. Behind us, the SUVs slow to a crawl, their drivers hesitating at the gaping hole in the road.

Gordo lets out a low whistle, leaning back in his seat. “Nice driving, Vin Diesel.”

I glare at him, my golden eyes narrowing. “If I’m him, then you must be one of my annoying sidekicks.”

He grins, his human disguise flickering for a moment to reveal his natural Fratvoyan form—furry, with a snout that’s way too long for his face. “Annoying? I’m the comic relief. You’d be lost without me.”

“I’d be quieter without you,” I mutter, flooring the gas. The engine roars, and we shoot down the road, putting distance between us and the SUVs.

Gordo glances over his shoulder, his grin fading. “They’re not giving up, you know. Those Grolgath are like bad habits—hard to shake.”

“I noticed,” I snap, checking the rearview mirror. The SUVs are gaining again, their headlights cutting through the smoke and debris.

“So, what’s the plan? Or are we just winging it?”

“We’re winging it,” I admit, swerving around a parked car. “But if you’ve got any bright ideas, now’s the time.”

The SUVs are closing in, and I can see the Grolgath leaning out the windows, their plasma launchers glowing.

“Buckle up,” I say. “This is about to get messy.”

Gordo grins, his teeth glinting in the dim light. “Wouldn’t have it any other way.”

“Open the glove box,” I bark, my eyes flicking between the road and the rearview mirror. The SUVs are gaining, their headlights like twin suns burning into my retinas. “Hand me the laser pistol inside.”

Gordo fumbles with the latch, his stubby fingers clumsy in his panic. The glove box pops open, and he pulls out the weapon, his eyes widening as he takes in the sleek, alien design. “A Pan Galactic Bargleblaster? It’s a war crime to use one of these!”

I snatch the gun from his fingers, my grip firm. “Only if you use it on a sapient life form.”

I roll down the window, the wind whipping through the car. The cliffside looms on our left, jagged and unforgiving. I aim the Bargleblaster, the barrel steady despite the car’s jolting movements. The weapon hums as I pull the trigger, a beam of energy slicing through the rock. The cliffside groans, then collapses in a cascade of boulders and dust.

The first SUV swerves, narrowly avoiding the rockslide. The second isn’t so lucky. A massive boulder slams into its hood, sending it spinning off the road and tumbling down the steep incline into the valley below. The explosion echoes in the distance, a fiery punctuation to their demise.

“One of them is still on us,” Gordo says, his voice tight. “Use it again!”

I shake my head, my eyes scanning the terrain ahead. “I’m fresh out of cliffside. We’re on level ground now.” I glance at him, my expression grim. “Besides, we’re moving into a populated area. I can’t use alien weaponry around humans.”

Another plasma blast sizzles past the car, close enough to make the air crackle. I jerk the wheel, the tires screeching as we swerve to avoid it. The Grolgath aren’t playing around.

“You want to tell the Ataxians that?” Gordo asks, his tone dripping with sarcasm. He gestures wildly at the rearview mirror, where the remaining SUV is closing in fast. “Because they don’t seem to care about your rules.”

I grit my teeth, my mind racing. The city lights are just ahead, a glittering sprawl of humanity. I can’t risk exposing myself—or them—to the Grolgath’s wrath. But if I don’t do something soon, we’re both dead.

“Hold on,” I say, my voice low. “I’ve got an idea.”

I wrench the wheel hard, yanking up the handbrake. The world spins, tires screaming against asphalt. My stomach lurches as we whip around, the g-forces pressing me back into my seat. The car completes its 180, and now we're staring down the approaching SUV, their headlights blazing like demon eyes.

My foot slams the gas pedal. The engine roars, tires finding purchase. We rocket forward, straight at the oncoming vehicle.

"What are you doing?" Gordo's voice cracks with terror.

"I'm playing Pheasant."

"Playing Chicken, you mean." His claws dig deeper into the seat. "And that's suicide! They're bigger than we are!"

A fierce grin splits my face, my golden eyes reflecting the approaching headlights. "So they are."

"The odds of them turning before we do are slim to none."

I grab the shifter, ramming it into top gear. The engine screams as we hurtle toward certain death. "Never tell me the odds."

I hit the button to release Gordo’s seat belt, the click barely audible over the roar of the engine. The SUV’s headlights are blinding now, filling the car with a harsh, white glare.

“I’m going to miss this car,” I say wistfully, my fingers tightening on the wheel. The leather feels warm under my palms, the scent of polished wood and expensive upholstery filling my nostrils. It’s a shame, really. This car was a masterpiece.

“What are you doing?” Gordo sputters, his voice rising an octave. “Why did you take off my?—”

The impact cuts him off. Metal screams, glass shatters, and the world becomes a blur of violence. The force of the collision slams me into the steering wheel, but my scales absorb the worst of it. Gordo, however, isn’t so lucky—or maybe he is, depending on how you look at it.

He flies through the windshield like a furry cannonball, his human disguise flickering as he crashes into the front seat of the SUV. The Grolgath driver stares at him, stunned, his reptilian frills twitching in confusion. Gordo doesn’t waste any time. He leans over and vomits all over the guy, the acidic stench of his explosive bile filling the air.

I tear myself free from the wreckage, my claws ripping through the twisted metal like it’s paper. The car groans as I push the door open, the hinges protesting with a metallic screech. I grab Gordo by the scruff of his neck and yank him out of the SUV, his fur matted with bile and glass.

“Move!” I bark, dragging him toward the ditch. The heat from the wreck is intense, the flames licking at the edges of my vision. We dive into the ditch just as both cars explode, the fireball lighting up the night sky. The shockwave hits us like a freight train, the force pressing us into the dirt. The heat is unbearable, the air thick with the acrid smell of burning fuel and melted metal.

Gordo rolls onto his back, coughing and sputtering. His fur is singed, and his human disguise is completely gone, revealing his natural Fratvoyan form. He glares at me, his beady eyes narrowing.

“This fucking job better come with a corner office and a nymphomaniac secretary!” he growls, his voice hoarse.

I smirk, brushing dirt off my suit. “You’ll get a desk and a coffee machine. Be grateful.”

He sits up, shaking glass out of his fur. “A coffee machine? That’s it? I just got launched through a windshield, puked on a Grolgath, and nearly got incinerated, and all I get is a damn coffee machine?”

I shrug, my golden eyes glinting in the firelight. “You’re alive, aren’t you? That’s more than I can say for them.” I jerk my head toward the burning wreckage, the flames casting long shadows across the road.

Gordo mutters something under his breath, something that sounds suspiciously like a curse in his native tongue. He stands, brushing himself off, and glares at me again. “Next time, you’re the one flying through the windshield.”

I grin, my sharp teeth gleaming. “Deal.”