We The Forlorn (Book #2) (Completed)

7. Ready to Go

"You want to stop talking now?" he hissed quietly into her face.

"I suppose I do," Bo said. She made sure to continue smiling, drawing his attention to her face while her hands slipped the short distance between herself and Clayton, and fished in the inside pocket of his jacket. They landed on the hard edge of a small book of some kind, and she deftly slipped it from his pocket and into her own. With it hidden away, she checked his other pockets, but found nothing but money and extra ammunition. She left those where they were, not needing them and not wanting to risk him feeling her remove them. With her deed done, she dropped her smile and slowly raised her hands to either side of her head.

"Sorry," she said. "I guess I've been out of human company for too long to remember good manners."

Clayton didn't look appeased by this apology, and his gun still pressed into her temple. "I should scatter your brains right here," he growled.

Bo felt a prickle of fear down her spine as his gaze bored into her skull. She hadn't thought he'd get so angry. Her eyes flicked to behind him to see his men were ready to fight. So, even if she managed to draw her own pistol and kill Clayton before he could kill her, she'd be left right in front of a wall of armed men.

Just as she thinking perhaps she may have bitten off too much to chew, Bo saw movement in her peripheral.

Helga sauntered up to Clayton, reaching out and resting a slender hand on his arm. Suddenly, she was no longer the snappish woman who had been a pain in the side a few minutes earlier, but instead transformed into a woman who might be more at ease in the candlelit and dim rooms of the neon-lit clubs that hid in every city. Helga's eyelids lowered, giving her a sultry look that she only enhanced by standing so that all her curves were on display.

"Maybe we should cool down a bit," she said, her voice thickening and the hints of an accent Bo hadn't noticed before coming out. Clayton didn't take any action at first, but Bo could feel his resolve flickering.

Helga pressed her advantage. She leaned into his arm, bringing her lips near his ear. "Come on, Clayton. Let's not make a mess when we don't have to. Wouldn't you rather us running off to warn Adam, and getting to kill us all at one time?"

Clayton's eyes narrowed, but Bo saw the way his ears turned red and his breathing sped up. Whatever hatred he had toward the Forlorn, it didn't seem to overwrite Helga's appeal.

He finally removed the gun from Bo's temple, and took a step back. Helga let his arm go and ran her hand over her hair and down the length of her long braid. Bo glanced at the armed men, noting that they were now all staring at Helga.

Clayton, though still fuming, spun on his heel and headed back to his men. Bo took that opportunity to dash back to where Khan waited. Helga followed slowly, swishing her hips.

When Clayton was standing amongst his men, he once again faced the Forlorn. "Tell Adam to not disrupt the Judge, or else I really will send him a present of your heads. This isn't a threat, it's an official decry. One misstep from him, and you're all dead. I'll call in the entire militia, if I need to."

With that, he ended their meeting with a flick of his hand. His men fell out, following him and disappearing into a dark alleyway. A moment later, and the sound of hopper engines filled the air. They were so confident in their strength that they didn't care who heard them during this late hour.

As soon as they were alone, Khan sagged in place and began cursing. Helga stood up straight, back to being cranky.

"You almost got us all killed, Bo," Helga snarled.