Read Online Rebel's Consort - Phoenix Book 1 by KH LeMoyne - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: KH LeMoyne
Tags: Romance
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now full of ‘I don’t give a flying fuck.’ No good day, hello, good-bye or kiss my ass.” He swallowed the last bit, slammed the glass down again, and turned a cold look on Aaron. For a heart-stopping moment, he thought he was in over his head.
“Thought the guy was a real prick,” Babcock said.
After pouring another drink, Aaron made a point of sipping his own. When Babcock finally nodded and grabbed the glass, his worry receded.
“I had a friend, did security work in one of the other buildings.” He licked his lips and rubbed the back of his hand across them until they stood out cherry red. “They rotate everyone in those places. Don’t want anyone getting friendly and mucking up their priorities.”
He rolled the glass and stared, searching for some prize on the bottom and not finding it. For his part, Aaron couldn’t figure out how the man could drink so much and keep upright, much less see straight.
“Sam had a sweet offer for a long weekend. Plenty of company, if you know what I mean. He offered me some high creds to take his place. No one knew anyone’s name, so I took his security ID. What the heck. Two days. A hundred creds. Good deal.” He shrugged, closed his eyes and let the whiskey touch his lips, not drinking. The glass lowered to rest on his belly.
“First night, no problem.” The crackle of his breathing rang out, jarring the quiet of the room. “Second night—the alarms go off. We rush to the lower levels.”
Aaron waited and scrutinized the more-salt-than-pepper stubble over the sunken jowls. Then he glanced higher. There wasn’t any recognition in Babcock’s eyes, the man too absorbed in his past.
“Those lower levels—a nightmare.” Babcock’s head lowered, his chin resting on his chest for a minute. “Always considered my job posh, sparkling clean in the part of the city all fresh and new.” His paw stroked the glass over his huge belly.
“The alarms rang like fucking jackhammers in my brain. Must have been twenty of us responded. Took six to hold back the guy who was in the room.” His head shook in denial as his hand shook from too much whiskey. “The doc—took six of them to pull him off. Lined up like fucking dolls, all these dead … kids. Ripped open, missing parts, organs, limbs—not like they had some fuckin’ accident. No, this was …. fucking dozens of them. Those rumors, they’re all true.” A garbled sob bubbled from Babcock’s mouth.
“Near the end of the line was the doc’s wife. All quiet for a change. No more sparkle, total whitewash, deader than dirt. Little girl beside her, dead too. Looked like her mother, except her chest was carved open.” He paused. “Wide open, like they’d come back for more.”
He tilted his head back and swallowed a good six ounces of the whiskey. Aaron flinched.
“Doc was insane. Called us murderers. Kept yelling he’d made a deal.” Babcock stared at the floor. “They tranqed him and took him away to the prisons.”
“What did you do?”
Startled, Babcock looked up as if he’d forgotten Aaron was there. “Do? I left that fucking place and never went back. Didn’t ask for the creds from my buddy, went home and—”
Aaron reached for the bottle and, thinking better of it, finished his own drink before pushing the bottle to Babcock. “You ever find out who the Doc was?”
Babcock’s eyes lasered in on Aaron’s, causing his hackles to rise again. The hard gleam in those eyes, much colder and alert than the drunken man he’d been leaching for information. “Found him in the system the day I got back. Doc Boden, Doctor Trace Boden. Next day—no records, no history—like he’d never even worked there.”
Not sure how to push more, Aaron put all his effort into not fidgeting or giving in to the urge to bolt.
“Your friend ever say anything?”
Babcock pitched his empty glass onto the table, grabbed the bottle, and took a big swill. Cradling the container to his belly, he glanced from
“Thought the guy was a real prick,” Babcock said.
After pouring another drink, Aaron made a point of sipping his own. When Babcock finally nodded and grabbed the glass, his worry receded.
“I had a friend, did security work in one of the other buildings.” He licked his lips and rubbed the back of his hand across them until they stood out cherry red. “They rotate everyone in those places. Don’t want anyone getting friendly and mucking up their priorities.”
He rolled the glass and stared, searching for some prize on the bottom and not finding it. For his part, Aaron couldn’t figure out how the man could drink so much and keep upright, much less see straight.
“Sam had a sweet offer for a long weekend. Plenty of company, if you know what I mean. He offered me some high creds to take his place. No one knew anyone’s name, so I took his security ID. What the heck. Two days. A hundred creds. Good deal.” He shrugged, closed his eyes and let the whiskey touch his lips, not drinking. The glass lowered to rest on his belly.
“First night, no problem.” The crackle of his breathing rang out, jarring the quiet of the room. “Second night—the alarms go off. We rush to the lower levels.”
Aaron waited and scrutinized the more-salt-than-pepper stubble over the sunken jowls. Then he glanced higher. There wasn’t any recognition in Babcock’s eyes, the man too absorbed in his past.
“Those lower levels—a nightmare.” Babcock’s head lowered, his chin resting on his chest for a minute. “Always considered my job posh, sparkling clean in the part of the city all fresh and new.” His paw stroked the glass over his huge belly.
“The alarms rang like fucking jackhammers in my brain. Must have been twenty of us responded. Took six to hold back the guy who was in the room.” His head shook in denial as his hand shook from too much whiskey. “The doc—took six of them to pull him off. Lined up like fucking dolls, all these dead … kids. Ripped open, missing parts, organs, limbs—not like they had some fuckin’ accident. No, this was …. fucking dozens of them. Those rumors, they’re all true.” A garbled sob bubbled from Babcock’s mouth.
“Near the end of the line was the doc’s wife. All quiet for a change. No more sparkle, total whitewash, deader than dirt. Little girl beside her, dead too. Looked like her mother, except her chest was carved open.” He paused. “Wide open, like they’d come back for more.”
He tilted his head back and swallowed a good six ounces of the whiskey. Aaron flinched.
“Doc was insane. Called us murderers. Kept yelling he’d made a deal.” Babcock stared at the floor. “They tranqed him and took him away to the prisons.”
“What did you do?”
Startled, Babcock looked up as if he’d forgotten Aaron was there. “Do? I left that fucking place and never went back. Didn’t ask for the creds from my buddy, went home and—”
Aaron reached for the bottle and, thinking better of it, finished his own drink before pushing the bottle to Babcock. “You ever find out who the Doc was?”
Babcock’s eyes lasered in on Aaron’s, causing his hackles to rise again. The hard gleam in those eyes, much colder and alert than the drunken man he’d been leaching for information. “Found him in the system the day I got back. Doc Boden, Doctor Trace Boden. Next day—no records, no history—like he’d never even worked there.”
Not sure how to push more, Aaron put all his effort into not fidgeting or giving in to the urge to bolt.
“Your friend ever say anything?”
Babcock pitched his empty glass onto the table, grabbed the bottle, and took a big swill. Cradling the container to his belly, he glanced from
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