Page 74 of Alien's Love Child

"Jesse!" Davin calls out. "Status?"

"Just taking out the trash up here." I scan the warehouse floor through my scope again. "Three more by the south entrance. Want to split them?"

"Ladies first."

I line up my shot. "Such a gentleman."

The rifle kicks against my shoulder as I pick off the first one. Davin's shots take care of the other two before they can even locate our positions.

"Show off," I mutter into my PerComm, but I'm smiling.

"You love it," he replies.

I make my way down from the catwalk, keeping my rifle ready. The metal stairs clang as I descend. The warehouse reeks of gunpowder, plasma, and blood, mixing with the musty industrial smell of oil and metal.

Davin meets me at the bottom. "Clear on your end?"

"Like a summer sky." I tap my PerComm. "Running thermal scan now, just to be thorough."

"Already did. We got them all – every ranking member who showed up for the meeting." He kicks the boss's weapon away from the corpse. "Including our gracious host here."

Something's off about the way he's standing. My eyes narrow as I catch the dark stain spreading across his left shoulder. "You're hit."

"Barely grazed me."

"That's not a graze. Let me see."

"It's nothing." He steps back when I reach for him. "We need to secure the area first."

"The area is secure, you stubborn blue idiot. Now let me look at that shoulder before you bleed all over my nice clean floor."

His lips twitch. "Your floor? Planning on buying this dump?"

"Maybe I am. Could be a nice summer home. Now stop deflecting and hold still."

He sighs but finally lets me examine the wound. The bullet went clean through his shoulder, missing anything vital from what I can tell. Still, the amount of blood concerns me.

"This needs proper medical attention."

"What it needs is a bandage and some whiskey. I've had worse paper cuts."

"Paper cuts? What kind of papers were you handling in the military? Razor blades?"

Davin chuckles, then points behind me. "Down there, if you're so concerned. The supply cache. Should be med supplies in there. I'll met you back in the boss' office."

I find the medical supplies right where Davin said they'd be, in a dusty first aid station near the loading dock. The kit's well-stocked - seems the boss liked to be prepared for his violent meetings.

Following the sound of clinking glass, I locate Davin in what must be the boss's office. He's already made himself comfortable in a plush leather chair, boots propped on an antique desk worth more than my first ship. A crystal decanter sits open beside him, and the amber liquid in his glass catches the light from the grimy windows.

"Really? Drinking before I patch you up?"

"It's medicinal." He takes another sip. "This is hundred-year-old Glimner whiskey. Would be a crime to let it go to waste."

I drop the medical kit on the desk. "Speaking of crimes, you're bleeding all over this very expensive chair."

"Then you better hurry up and fix me, shouldn't you?"

"Take off your shirt."

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