Red Handed (Young Adult Alien Huntress 1)

His sharp cheekbones gave him a menacing appearance, as if he wanted to fight the entire world. He had a slightly crooked nose, as if the world had taken him up on the offer a time or two. He also had the faintest dusting of a shadow beard on his jaw. Very…older man meets preppy. Not like the boys at my school, who were still in the early stages of muscledom (not that they'd ever admit it).

Ryan wasn't just hot; he was blazing.

Obviously more experienced than the high school crowd surrounding him, he radiated an I'll-kick-your-ass-if-you-talk-to-me vibe. He wasn't drinking or smoking, just watching everything that happened around him.

“Killer, isn't he?” Jamie asked with another wicked grin. Then she wobbled on her feet and frowned. “Stupid shoes.”

Yeah, it's your shoes and not the lack of oxygen in your brain, I thought dryly, still not taking my gaze from Ryan.

He chose that moment to glance over at me, as if he'd sensed my scrutiny. For a split second, our eyes clashed together, locked. A shiver traveled the length of my spine just before he looked away, dismissing me as he would a pesky fly.

Irritation flooded me, and my jaw hardened. Boys—younger, older, didn't matter—always did that. Looked away. I was cute, or so I'd been told, but I wasn't beautiful like Jamie and so I was, apparently, unworthy of prolonged attention. I wasn't overflowing in the breast department, either. Another strike against me.

“He's an ass**le,” I gritted out.

Jamie muttered something unintelligible and stumbled forward once more. Reaching out, I wound my arm around her waist. “Come on,” I said. “Time to lie down.”

“Nightie-night then?”

“Definitely.”

Her only response was a strangled gasp.

I eased her onto the dirt and grass, dropping my beer along the way. Jamie was heavier than she appeared and her dress didn't bend easily. When I finally got her settled on the ground, I righted her clothing to cover all the important parts.

Crouching beside her, I peered down and sighed. Her green eyes were glassy and fixed straight ahead. Her lips were parted and tinted blue as her lungs tried unsuccessfully to suck in air. Was this what my mother had seen, each time she'd looked at me?

There was nothing else I could do for Jamie. She'd fly for the rest of the night.

With another sigh, I pushed to my feet. I turned toward the dancing circle, not knowing what to do with myself just then. Stay guard over Jamie in case someone decided to molest her? Go home before my mom found out I'd left?

Nah. I couldn't leave Jamie. I'd never forgive myself if something happened to her.

Unbidden, my gaze slid back to Ryan. He was watching me, I realized with surprise. And pleasure. I'd never met a boy who radiated such power.

Again, warm tingles fluttered over my skin. My stomach clenched. I hated the way I was reacting to him. That had never happened to me before.

Before he could look away from me, I looked away from him. Ha! How do you like that?

The music reached a high-pitched crescendo, echoing through the night. In less than an hour, everyone here would be passed out. There was too much smoke in the air for anyone to remain sober for long—even me. So as soon as everyone had nodded off, I'd head home. No one could hurt Jamie if everyone was snoozing.

But I hated the thought of going home as much as I hated the thought of staying here for much longer. I'd have to deal with my mom. I shuddered. Things weren't smooth between us yet. She was constantly going through my things, looking for drugs. She wasn't even close to trusting me.

Why should she? I snuck out at the first opportunity. I'd just, well, I'd really needed a break from her sad, you'll-be-back-on-drugs-soon-enough glances. I'd needed to forget.

Don't think about that. Not here of all places, where temptation lurks. What could I do to keep my mind occupied? Dance?

No. If I joined the dancing circle, the fire would heat me inside and out and my resolve would weaken. I would smoke. If I smoked, I wouldn't stop until I was numb. And if I became numb, I wouldn't care about staying sober.

In that moment, I felt more out of place than I had in a long time. I didn't belong here, and I didn't belong with the other kids at school, the ones who considered me better off dead. I didn't belong at home with my mother, either, a woman who made me feel guilty and depressed every time I looked at her.

“Take your friend and go home,” a deep male voice suddenly said.

Startled, I whipped my attention to the side. My eyes widened. Ryan Stone was standing next to me, a slash of black clothes and intimidating male. I hadn't even heard him approach. Not the snap of a twig, not the roll of a rock or the pound of a boot.

Up close, he towered over my five-foot-seven frame. His shoulders were broad, his arms hard and strong. His eyes were…freaky. I'd thought they were pretty from a distance. Wrong. They practically swirled with blue and flecks of purple. They didn't look like human eyes.

Was he an alien?

No, couldn't be. Except for his eyes, he appeared to be fully human. Aliens did not. I'd always thought they were recognizable with one glance. The Delenseans had blue skin and multiple arms. The Bre-Alees excreted slime, so they always appeared wet. The Mecs changed colors with their moods, glowing like neon signs. The Arcadians had similar bodies and facial features to us but their skin was much paler and their eyes were a metallic purple color, inhuman.

There were more alien types than I could name. Still. Same story. They looked different from us. The ones I know about, at least…. But I did not want to consider that.

Ryan frowned at me, and it was one of the darkest expressions I'd ever seen. Scary.

“Take your friend and go home,” he repeated.

“Why?” I asked, raising my chin, refusing to budge. He'd dismissed me only a few minutes ago. The fact that he was now eager to get rid of me only made it worse. Who did he think he was?

“There's going to be trouble with the Outers tonight, and you do not want to be a part of it.”

Aliens a.k.a. “the Outers.” I had nothing against them; they'd lived and walked among us for over seventy years. I'd learned in history class that they'd only been allowed into our school system and workforce about twenty years ago. But they'd always been a part of my life and had never caused me trouble, so Ryan could go screw himself.

Outers rarely caused trouble, to be honest; they were too afraid of being killed by A.I.R., Alien Investigation and Removal, an elite unit very similar to police or military or FBI. Except deadlier. Meaner. More blood thirsty.

They were the stuff of legends and movies.

Everyone, even humans, feared them. They could mow you down like roadkill if they even suspected you were guilty of helping an alien commit a violent crime. And it would be perfectly legal. They were judge, jury, and executioner.