Page 15 of Grumpy Alien Billionaire (Mates of Veritas #2)

CHAPTER 15

TYLER

C indy’s voice is a whisper, but it cuts through the dark apartment like a knife. “Get in the pantry. Now.”

I don’t argue. My heart’s already thumping so hard I’m surprised Cindy can’t hear it. The pantry door creaks as I slip inside, the smell of canned soup and stale cereal enveloping me. I grip the hockey stick tight, my palms slick with sweat. The pantry’s tiny, and I’m hunched over, my knees brushing against boxes of rice and pasta.

“Lights off,” Cindy hisses from somewhere in the living room. The room plunges into darkness, and I hear her shuffling across the floor.

“You still there?” I whisper, my voice trembling.

“Shut up, Tyler!” Cindy snaps. “If it’s Bob, we’re jumping him. No questions.”

I press my back against the shelves, the hockey stick held awkwardly in front of me. My breath comes in short, shallow bursts. The pantry’s too warm, too tight. My nightshirt clings to my skin. I keep thinking about Bob’s milky white eyes, how they seemed to pierce right through me. Was he really one of those Grolgath things Lanz mentioned? The thought sends a chill through me.

The sound of the car pulling up outside grows louder, then cuts off. My stomach twists. I strain to listen, but all I can hear is the blood rushing in my ears.

“Do you hear that?” Cindy whispers.

“Hear what?” I mouth the words, barely audible.

“Footsteps.” Her voice is tight, panicked. “Someone’s coming up the stairs.”

My heart skips a beat. I grip the hockey stick tighter, the wood digging into my palms. The pantry door feels flimsy, like it won’t stop anything—let alone an alien.

I’m crouched in the pantry, my heart slamming against my ribs, when the knock comes. My mouth goes dry. Before I can even whisper, “Should we answer?” the door swings open with a creak that makes my skin crawl. A dark shape steps inside, silhouetted against the hallway light. I can’t make out who it is, just the broad shoulders and the way it moves, deliberate and smooth.

“Charge!” Cindy shouts, her voice sharp and wild.

I burst out of the pantry, swinging the hockey stick with everything I’ve got. It connects with a sickening crack, the impact reverberating up my arms and leaving them numb, tingling. The stick splinters in my hands, and I stumble back, clutching the jagged end. Cindy’s standing frozen, her golf club bent like a pretzel, her face pale.

“How rude!” Lanz’s voice cuts through the chaos, his tone light, almost amused.

I blink, my vision finally adjusting to the dim light. There he is, Alonzo Ramone in his cream suit, looking like he just walked off a yacht, not like someone who just took a hockey stick to the head. He’s smiling, but his golden eyes flicker to Cindy, and for a split second, I see it—the realization dawning on him. He’s just shown off his Vakutan durability in front of a human who shouldn’t know he’s anything but a wealthy playboy.

“I mean, ow,” he says suddenly, his voice shifting, his hand flying to his forehead like he’s in a bad soap opera. He winces dramatically, his face contorting in exaggerated pain. “That hurt. I may need medical attention.”

Cindy’s grip on the golf club tightens, her knuckles white. She’s staring at him like he’s grown a second head—which, considering what I know, isn’t far off. “What the hell?” she mutters, her voice shaky. “I hit you with everything I had, and you’re just… standing there.”

Lanz glances at me, his expression softening. “Tyler, darling,” he says, his voice smooth, but there’s a warning in his eyes. “Would you mind explaining to your friend here why I’m not currently unconscious?”

I swallow hard, my mind racing. “Uh… he’s got a really hard head?” I offer weakly, shrugging. “Like, freakishly hard. Maybe he’s part brick.”

Cindy narrows her eyes, her gaze darting between me and Lanz. “Yeah, no. That’s not it. What are you not telling me, Tyler?”

I exchange glances with Lanz. He gives me a slight nod, then turns back to Cindy, a strange glint in his golden eyes. “Are you the type of person who pulls band-aids off quickly, or slowly?” he asks, his voice calm, almost conversational.

Cindy cocks an eyebrow, her grip on the bent golf club loosening slightly. “Quickly,” she says. “Why prolong the agony? But I don’t see what this has to do with?—”

Her voice trails off as Lanz drops his holographic disguise. The air shimmers for a second, and then there he is, seven feet of red-scaled Vakutan, ridges prominent on his face, golden eyes glowing in the dim light. Cindy’s mouth opens and closes a few times, like a fish out of water. Then, she points a shaky finger at him.

“Oh, I get it,” she says, her voice a little higher pitched than usual. “You had one of those weird surgeries that only super-rich people can afford to make yourself capable of living on Mars. Listen, is there a discount program? Because I’d love to have impenetrable scales. I’d never need oven mitts again.”

“Cindy,” I say carefully, trying to keep my voice steady. “Alonzo… Lanz isn’t going to another planet. He’s, um, he’s from another planet.”

Cindy nods slowly, as if this is all perfectly casual, perfectly normal. “Oh, okay. Cool. Which planet?—”

Her eyes roll back in her head, and she crumples to the floor like a discarded marionette. Lanz catches her before she hits the ground, his movements surprisingly gentle for someone his size. He looks down at her unconscious form, a flicker of amusement in his eyes.

“Well, that was easier than I expected.” He glances at me, one eyebrow raised. “Perhaps your friend isn’t quite as quick with the band-aids as she claimed.”

I grab my vanilla-scented candle from the bathroom while Lanz lifts Cindy into the armchair like she weighs nothing. His scales catch the light as he moves, and I still can't believe this is my life now.

I wave the lit candle under Cindy's nose. Her face scrunches up.

"Ugh, I hate vanilla," she mutters, eyes fluttering open.

"I know, but I didn't have any smelling salts." I set the candle aside, watching her face carefully.

Cindy stares at Lanz, her mouth dropping open again. But this time she stays conscious, though her knuckles are white where she grips the chair arms.

"So..." I clear my throat. "Remember those sci-fi movies you always make fun of me for watching? Turns out they weren't so far off. There are aliens - good ones like Lanz here, and bad ones too. The Grolgath are trying to mess up our future, but Lanz and his people are protecting us."

"I get the whole intergalactic war thing, and preserving the sacred timeline," Cindy says, her voice steadier than I expected. "But why pretend to be a billionaire?"

Lanz's golden eyes gleam with amusement. "I don't pretend to be a billionaire. I actually am one. And my chief goal is to fund Veritas. We're not exactly the March of Dimes." His expression shifts to something more serious. "Now...why is it exactly that you attacked me?"

My fingers twist nervously in the hem of my nightshirt. “Lanz, there’s something I need to tell you. Bob came by the groomer’s today. He was… weird. Asked a lot of questions. Like if we were dating, if we’d slept together, if you cared about me. Then he showed up here, talking to Cindy, and warned us to stay away from you. Said it was dangerous.”

Lanz’s golden eyes narrow, the ridges on his face sharpening as his expression hardens. The air in the room feels heavier, like a storm’s about to break. “He asked if we’d slept together for a specific reason,” he says, his voice edged with something I can’t quite place.

“What’s that?” I ask, my stomach twisting.

“Bob knows our disguises are only illusory. Any… intimate relations would, of course, result in the discovery of my scaled skin, by tactile senses if not visual ones,” Lanz explains, his tone matter-of-fact but his eyes still burning with intensity.

Cindy, who’s been sitting quietly in the armchair, perks up. “So, Bob was trying to figure out if we knew you were really an alien?” she asks, her voice tinged with disbelief.

“Yes, Cindy,” Lanz says, his gaze flicking to her. “You catch on quickly.”

Cindy gives him a sarcastic snort and a glare that could melt steel. “I catch on quickly, but you’re pretty dense. I mean, if you want to have sex and hide your scaly skin, you just dress yourself and your date in those full-body latex suits. Problem solved!”

I rub the bridge of my nose, feeling a headache coming on. “Cindy, how would that even work if you’re wearing full-body suits?” I ask, my voice strained.

“Well, there’s these zippers that—” Cindy starts, her hands gesturing wildly as if she’s about to launch into a detailed explanation.

Lanz cuts her off with a sharp wave of his hand. “We’re getting sidetracked from the main point. Cindy, Tyler, you could be in great danger. Bob’s probing means he’s assessing how much you know—and how much of a threat you are to him.”

The room falls silent, the weight of his words settling over us like a heavy blanket. I glance at Cindy, who’s gone pale, her earlier bravado evaporating. My heart pounds in my chest, the reality of the situation crashing down on me. This isn’t just about me and Lanz anymore. Cindy’s involved now, and I can’t let anything happen to her.

I turn to Lanz, my heart pounding. "What are we going to do? If the Grolgath can look like anyone, how can we keep ourselves safe?"

Lanz's golden eyes gleam with determination. "I will contact Veritas immediately and have agents posted for protection detail. They will be disguised, so you'll never even know they're there."

Cindy scoffs, crossing her arms over her chest. "Protection detail, huh? No offense, but I don't want some giant alien following me around and cramping my style."

Lanz fixes her with a steady gaze. "You will never notice they are there, or likely even see them as they will be disguised," he says firmly. "Besides, you have no choice in the matter. Your safety is paramount."

I bite my lip, considering his words. The idea of having protection is reassuring, but Cindy's right - the thought of a hulking Vakutan shadowing us everywhere isn't exactly appealing. "Is there anything else we can do?" I ask. "Something that doesn't involve bodyguards?"

Lanz's lips curve into a sly smile. "As a matter of fact, there is." He pauses, his gaze sweeping over us. "How do you feel about getting a dog?"

Cindy raises an eyebrow. "A dog? What's that going to do?"

"Dogs can detect Grolgath, no matter their disguise," Lanz explains. "Their senses are far more acute than a human's. A canine companion would be an invaluable early warning system."

I nod slowly, warming to the idea. "That could work. But our landlord doesn't allow pets."

Lanz's smile widens. "Not a problem." He steps out into the hallway, pulling out his compad. "Give me a moment."

Cindy and I exchange a puzzled glance as we listen to Lanz's muffled conversation. After a few minutes, he returns, looking pleased with himself.

"There, it's all taken care of," he announces. "I've bought the building, changed the rules about pets, and even reduced your rent to nothing."

Cindy's jaw drops. "You what? How the hell did you manage that?"

Lanz's golden eyes sparkle with amusement. "I have my ways," he says cryptically. "Now, shall we go dog shopping?"

I can't help but smile, the tension in my shoulders easing slightly. Lanz's quick thinking has given us a sense of security, and the prospect of getting a furry protector is strangely comforting. As we head out the door, I glance back at Cindy, who still looks a bit bewildered.

"This is all so crazy," she mutters, shaking her head. "But I guess if we're going to be caught up in an intergalactic war, we might as well do it in style, right?"

I chuckle, linking my arm through hers. "That's the spirit," I say, feeling a newfound sense of determination. Whatever challenges lie ahead, I know Lanz will be there to help us navigate them. And with a loyal canine by our side, maybe we can even give those Grolgath a run for their money.