Page 21 of Grumpy Alien Billionaire (Mates of Veritas #2)
CHAPTER 21
TYLER
I ’m pacing the living room of Lanz’s penthouse, the hardwood floor cool under my bare feet. The city lights outside the floor-to-ceiling windows blur into streaks as I turn sharply, my arms crossed tight over my chest. Lanz sits on the edge of the sleek charcoal sofa, his golden eyes tracking my every move. He’s in his human disguise, but I can still feel the weight of his Vakutan intensity.
“I’m not just going to sit here and do nothing,” I say, stopping mid-pace to face him. “Gordo’s missing, and you’re stuck because the Grolgath can sniff you out. But they don’t know me. Not really.”
Lanz leans forward, his elbows resting on his knees. “They know your face, Tyler. They know you’re with me. It’s too risky.”
“And what, you’re the only one allowed to take risks?” I shoot back, my voice rising. “You’re out there every day, putting yourself in danger, and I’m supposed to just… what? Stay here and look pretty?”
He stands, his towering frame casting a shadow over me. “You’re not just ‘looking pretty.’ You’re safe. That’s what matters.”
“Safe?” I step closer, tilting my head back to meet his gaze. “Safe doesn’t mean anything if I’m just sitting around waiting for something bad to happen. I’m not a damsel in distress, Lanz. I can help.”
His jaw tightens, and I can see the conflict in his eyes. He wants to protect me, but he also knows I’m right. I press my advantage.
“Look, I’m not saying I’m going to storm the cannery or anything. But I can go to the shelters, ask around. Disguise myself. I’ll be careful.”
He exhales sharply, running a hand through his hair. “You’re not trained for this. If something goes wrong?—”
“Then you’ll come get me,” I interrupt, placing a hand on his chest. “You’ve done it before. And if I don’t do this, if I just sit here, I’ll go crazy. I need to feel like I’m doing something. Anything.”
He stares at me for a long moment, his expression unreadable. Then, finally, he nods. “Fine. But you follow my rules. No improvising. No taking unnecessary risks. And if anything feels off, you get out. Immediately.”
I grin, relief flooding through me. “Deal.”
He pulls me into his arms, his grip firm but gentle. “You’re going to be the death of me, you know that?”
I laugh, burying my face in his chest. “You love it.”
“I do,” he murmurs, his lips brushing the top of my head. “But that doesn’t mean I’m not going to worry.”
I pull back, looking up at him. “I’ll be careful. I promise.”
He nods, but I can still see the tension in his shoulders. “We’ll get you a disguise. Something that’ll make you unrecognizable. And I’ll be nearby. Just in case.”
“Deal,” I say again, feeling a surge of determination. “Let’s find Gordo.”
I stand in front of the mirror, staring at the ragged old woman staring back at me. The holographic disguise Lanz gave me is flawless—wrinkles etched deep into my face, a hunched posture, and a ratty shawl draped over my shoulders. I can’t help but grin, which looks bizarre on this face.
“Well, hello there, young man,” I croak, my voice raspy and trembling. I hobble over to Lanz, who’s leaning against the wall, arms crossed, watching me with an amused smirk. “Got any spare change for an old lady?”
He chuckles, shaking his head. “You’re enjoying this way too much.”
“Oh, come on,” I say, dropping the act for a moment. “When else am I going to get to play dress-up like this? Besides, I’m nailing it.”
“You are,” he admits, his golden eyes twinkling. “But let’s not forget why we’re doing this. You’re not going to a costume party.”
“Right, right,” I say, waving a hand dismissively. “Grolgath, shelters, Gordo. Got it.”
I shuffle back to the mirror, adjusting the shawl. “So, how am I getting to the shelter? You’re not exactly going to cruise up in your sports car and drop off a homeless woman. That’d raise some eyebrows.”
Lanz frowns, his brow furrowing. “You’re not walking. It’s too far, and it’s not safe.”
I turn to him, hands on my hips—or at least, where my hips would be if I weren’t hunched over. “Honey, you and I both know you don’t do discrete.”
He laughs, a deep, rumbling sound that makes my chest warm despite the tension. “Fair point. But I’m not letting you walk. I’ll figure something out.”
He disappears into the bedroom for a moment and returns with a wad of cash so thick it could double as a paperweight. “Come on,” he says, gesturing toward the door.
I follow him out of the penthouse and into the elevator, my disguise holding steady. The ride down is quiet, but I can feel the gears turning in Lanz’s head. When we step out onto the street, he scans the area like a predator sizing up its prey.
“There,” he says, nodding toward a dilapidated blue Volkswagen van parked a few feet away. A man in a faded flannel shirt is leaning against it, smoking a cigarette.
Lanz strides over, and I shuffle behind him, doing my best to stay in character.
“How much for the van?” Lanz asks, cutting straight to the point.
The man raises an eyebrow, taking a long drag from his cigarette. “You serious?”
“Dead serious,” Lanz says, pulling out the wad of cash. “Ten thousand. Right now.”
The man’s eyes widen, and he stubs out his cigarette. “Deal.”
He hands over the keys, and Lanz tosses him the cash. The man walks off, shaking his head like he can’t believe his luck.
I climb into the passenger seat, the van’s interior smelling faintly of stale coffee and old socks. “Well,” I say, buckling my seatbelt, “this is definitely more your speed.”
Lanz smirks as he starts the engine. “Discrete enough for you?”
“Perfect,” I say, grinning.
The van rattles and groans as Lanz pulls up to St. Mary’s Shelter, the engine sputtering like it’s on its last legs. I glance at him, raising an eyebrow. “You sure this thing’s not going to explode?”
He smirks, cutting the engine. “It’s got character. Besides, it’s not like I’m taking you to a gala.”
“Fair point,” I mutter, adjusting the ratty shawl around my shoulders. I grab the cane Lanz handed me earlier—props, apparently, are key to selling the disguise—and shuffle out of the van. The cold air bites at my face, and I hunch over further, leaning heavily on the cane.
The shelter’s front door creaks as I push it open, and the smell of stale coffee and disinfectant hits me like a wall. A nun with a clipboard greets me, her smile warm but tired. “Welcome, dear. Are you here for a bed?”
I nod, doing my best to sound frail. “Yes, ma’am. Just need a place to rest my bones for a bit.”
She hands me a clipboard with a stack of paperwork. “Fill this out, and we’ll get you settled.”
I take the clipboard and shuffle over to a row of plastic chairs, sitting down with a dramatic groan. The moment the nun turns her back, I ditch the clipboard under the chair and start my search.
The shelter’s main room is a sea of cots and sleeping bags, the air thick with the sound of snores and murmured conversations. I move slowly, my cane tapping against the floor, scanning every face for Gordo. Nothing.
I spot a man in a tattered jacket sitting on a cot, rolling a cigarette between his fingers. I hobble over, leaning on my cane. “Excuse me, sir. You seen a fella around here? Short, stocky, kind of a… well, let’s just say he’s got a face only a mother could love.”
The man looks up, squinting at me. “You mean Gordo?”
“That’s the one,” I say, trying to keep the excitement out of my voice.
“Yeah, he was here a couple days ago,” the man says, lighting his cigarette. “Asked a bunch of nosey questions, then took off. No skin off my nose, though. I hate that prick.”
I nod, forcing a smile. “Thanks, sir. You’ve been a big help.”
I move on, asking a few more people, and the story’s the same—Gordo was here, poking around, and then he left. I’m about to head back to the van when a sharp voice stops me in my tracks.
“Excuse me, ma’am. Where do you think you’re going?”
I turn to see the nun from earlier, her arms crossed and her expression stern. “I, uh, was just?—”
“You didn’t fill out the paperwork,” she says, her tone leaving no room for argument. “I’m going to have to ask you to leave.”
I open my mouth to protest, but she’s already ushering me toward the door. I shoot her a glare, but it’s hard to look intimidating when you’re disguised as a geriatric.
Back in the van, Lanz raises an eyebrow as I climb in. “Well?”
“No Gordo,” I say, pulling off the shawl and tossing it into the backseat. “But he was here a couple days ago. Asked a bunch of questions and then left.”
Lanz nods, a small smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. “Good work.”
“Good work?” I repeat, frowning. “I didn’t find him.”
“True,” he says, starting the engine. “But you found out valuable intel—Gordo’s not in this shelter, but he was a few days ago. That likely means we might find him at the other shelter.”
I lean back in my seat, crossing my arms. “So, what’s the plan now?”
“Now,” he says, pulling away from the curb, “we head to Good Shepherd and see if our furry friend left any more breadcrumbs.”
The van sputters to a stop outside Good Shepherd Shelter, and I glance at Lanz. “This place looks… friendlier.”
He smirks, leaning back in the driver’s seat. “Less nuns, more chaos. Go on, but keep your eyes open.”
I adjust my shawl, grab my cane, and shuffle toward the entrance. No one stops me this time. The door swings open to reveal a room buzzing with activity—people chatting, playing cards, and a few dozing on cots. I hobble over to a man with a scruffy beard and a baseball cap pulled low over his eyes. He’s nursing a cup of coffee that smells like it’s been reheated one too many times.
“Excuse me,” I croak, leaning on my cane. “You seen a fella around here? Short, stocky, kind of… well, let’s just say he’s got a face only a mother could love.”
The man looks up, squinting at me. “You mean Gordo?”
“That’s the one,” I say, trying to keep the excitement out of my voice.
“Yeah, he was here,” the man says, taking a sip of his coffee. “Got lucky, though. Landed a job at the cannery. They come by every day, pick up anyone who wants to work. Jobs, housing, even health insurance. Can’t beat that.”
I raise an eyebrow. “The cannery, huh? That’s… interesting.”
The man nods, then gestures to his leg, which is wrapped in a makeshift bandage. “Bad leg keeps me out of the running. But if I could, I’d be on that bus in a heartbeat.”
I force a smile. “Thanks, sir. You’ve been a big help.”
I shuffle back to the van, my mind racing. Lanz is leaning against the hood, arms crossed, his golden eyes narrowing as I approach. “Well?”
“Gordo’s at the cannery,” I say, dropping the old lady act. “They’ve got a bus that comes by every day, picks up workers. Jobs, housing, the works.”
Lanz’s jaw tightens. “That’s their recruitment strategy. Clever.”
“So, what’s the plan?” I ask, crossing my arms. “I’m guessing you’re not just going to let me waltz in there.”
He looks at me, his expression unreadable for a moment. Then he says, “Actually, I think you should get on that bus.”
I blink, caught off guard. “Wait, what? You’re not going to argue? Tell me it’s too dangerous?”
He steps closer. “Of course I’m worried about your safety. But I’ve also learned to trust you. The whole world has underestimated you your whole life, Tyler. I’m not going to make that mistake.”
My throat tightens, and I feel a tear slip down my cheek. I wipe it away quickly, but the warmth in my chest doesn’t fade. “You’d better come rescue me if I get in trouble,” I say, my voice trembling.
He pulls me into his arms, his grip firm but gentle. “Always,” he murmurs, his lips brushing against my forehead.
I bury my face in his chest, breathing in the scent of him—spice and something metallic, like the air before a storm. For a moment, I let myself believe that everything will be okay. That we’ll find Gordo, stop the Grolgath, and come out of this together.
But then I pull back, squaring my shoulders. “Alright,” I say, forcing a smile. “Let’s do this.”
Lanz nods, his golden eyes gleaming with something I can’t quite place. Pride, maybe. Or determination. Either way, it’s enough to make me feel like I can take on the world. Or at least a bus full of Grolgath.