The Alien's Little Sister (Stolen by an Alien #8) - Amanda Milo Page 0,5

will break. I want her that badly.

This is something I’ve never done. This is something I never wanted to do. It’s risky. It’s a bad idea for so many reasons.

As I work this decision out, Inara watches me without speaking, her gaze rapt on my face. Her long ears flick, and they look so, so real.

That’s it. She’s in. “Okay. You’ll be the first employee I’ve ever done this with, but I’ll pay you under the table,” I announce.

Her expression tightens. “Pardon?”

I scan her, seeing how tense she is all of a sudden. “To keep you off the books, I’ll do you under the table,” I repeat.

If possible, she gets even more rigid.

And it hits me. She isn’t familiar with the phrase and she’s hoping I didn’t just proposition her. “Uh, hang on. Paying you ‘under the table’—it means I’ll pay you without making a record of it. That’s ‘off the books,’ which the IRS, our government, doesn’t look kindly on. But you don’t want to give me your info—”

She opens her mouth to protest, her eyes looking awfully sincere.

“—or you can’t give me your info, and I’m weirdly inclined to work with you on this. However,” I drawl, even as my gaze pins her. “Don’t fuck me over.”

The scales around her eyes tighten and my gaze fixes on her face, just marveling at the tech involved in her suit. It’s… Honestly, it’s incredible.

“I won’t… screw? I won’t screw you over? Is that the typical response to that phrase?” Inara asks.

I smile. “Yeah. That’s what we say.” I shake my head at her. “Us Earthens, you know.”

Inara’s shoulders relax, and she laughs. A small sound. A stunning sound. “Yes. You humans. Creator, your language is crazeh.” She glances at me, a wrinkle marring her brow, but absolutely not marring the effect of her scale prosthetics or her makeup. “Did I use that word correctly? ‘Crazeh?’”

I catch my lower lip in my teeth, scraping it before nodding, eyes not leaving her. “Oh yeah. You got crazy on the nose, babe. But welcome to the team.”

CHAPTER 4

Jason and Sal, my other full-time employees, ambled out of the back at nine to punch out. They park behind the building, and although they don’t need a walk-out, I still make sure I’m at the door when they exit, watching the lot, and I tell them to drive safe before I lock up the back half after them. They don’t ask me any questions, and it isn’t until their taillights are all I see that I realize they probably think I’m still pissed that I’m down Tansy and Cooper on account of the couple’s impromptu wedded bliss bullshit. They were already manning their own escape room booths by the time our new employee strutted through the doors so they never got to meet Inara. I’ll fix that tomorrow. They’re going to think she’s the shit.

As for me being in a mood? Not even close. Not anymore. Tansy and Cooper who? To think I was cursing shotgun weddings when my day started, but here I am ending it and thanking God for big damn favors. Inara killed it with everybody who picked the alien package. I’m wishing Tansy and Cooper all the best, and I promise not to bitch much over the paperwork if they don’t come back.

Suddenly, my ears twinge because I hear an exclaimed, “You were fucking AWESOME!”

Since we’re the only three left in the building, that’s obviously Stacy to Inara. And Stacy’s statement is not wrong, because Inara was fucking awesome.

Still.

“STACY,” I bellow down the hall. I do it in that under-the-breath way that doesn’t hurt the ears because the roar isn’t loud or sharp, just deep enough to rattle the window glass. “Cut the fuckin’ swearing.”

Stacy’s laughter peels down the hall, but she does as ordered, using fudge and fiddlesticks and exaggeratedly safe stand-ins for cuss words as she continues extolling the incredibleness that was Inara’s performance. When I finally finish setting the back of the building to night-rights and it’s time to call it a day, I give the impertinent imp behind the welcome desk a chin tip. “Get your purse, you overgrown munchkin. Time to hoof it to your car.”

“Same with new girl Inara? You walking her out too?” Stacy hollers back, knowing she can yell all she wants because we’re closed to the public and I no longer care about polite niceties.

My head cocks in disbelief. “Did you really just ask me that? Yeah,” I confirm. “Same with new