Enemies of a Sort Read online

  *

  The number of people in Bruce’s bar was suffocating, but not surprising. When he decided to offer free booze, the old man had to have known he was inviting a stampede.

  Cramped in the tight square foot he’d claimed, Flynn watched as the barkeep slung drinks and shouted to others across the room. Jemoa, Seamus’s older brother took over, pouring when needed, and turning people away when they were too far gone. The boy was a natural; he didn’t seem half as foolish as his younger brother – Flynn hoped Bruce was smart enough to keep him on.

  In the corner, where Henri sat with a group of patrons. She wouldn’t let Bruce ignore the boy’s potential; Henri was too savvy a businesswoman for that. And maybe Bruce was smarter than he looked and could find a way to get the woman to agree to more than just a business partnership.

  Grabbing Flynn’s arm across the bar, Bruce held himself steady as he slammed a dusty black bottle on the bar top.

  “This one’s for you, my friend.” He tugged on the cork until it came free with a satisfying pop and hollow echo. “If you ever come back, this will always be here for you.”

  Flynn took the offered shot, and blinked as the stuff put stars in his eyes. “If that’s waiting for me, it’s a sure bet I’ll be back; hopefully under more pleasant circumstances.”

  Bruce patted him on the arm and put the bottle away. “You’ve got plans. I can see it in that smirk. You’re a man who can’t stay in one place too long.”

  Flynn couldn’t argue. Instead, he got up, letting someone else take his place at the crowded bar. He found Seamus sitting on a barrel near the door, watching the party with a glass bottle of soda in his hands, straw firmly between his lips.

  “Well, you saved the town,” he said to the boy. “How does it feel to be a hero?” Flynn didn’t care if he was exaggerating a bit. Who knew what would have happened if Giuseppe had gotten past the boy.

  Seamus shrugged, still looking around the bar. “Kind of the same.”

  “Kid, that’s the best lesson you could ever learn. Never look for glory. Help others because you want to help them, not for what you’ll get out of it. And never take a bet you aren’t willing to lose.”

  Looking him over skeptically, Seamus rolled his eyes. “You sound like my teacher. I thought you were cool….”

  Flynn smiled, ruffled the kids’ hair, and then left him to his fizzy green drink.

  The warm night air was a pleasant respite from the humid temperatures inside. That many bodies shoved in such a cramped space was just asking for trouble. So he left them all and walked down the long main street, his boots sending up puffs of dust as he headed toward the only empty spot on the main drag.

  Flynn sat on a bench in a small, weedy park. From his vantage point, with his back to the mercantile, he could see into the scrap yard and down the road to the bar where everyone was still celebrating.

  Without people shooting at him, a dust storm trying to pull his skin off, or bombs threatening to collapse the vast underground tunnel system, this place was almost peaceful. If he was a ‘solid ground’ sort of man, he might consider relocating here, though he would dearly miss Soocilla’s trees. And it didn’t smell right after it rained here, the few times it rained here.

  When the saloon doors opened and closed with a distant clatter, Flynn wasn’t surprised to see Putty headed for him.

  His brother sat heavily beside him and looked up to the fractured moon. “What now?”

  “I don’t know. We could take off before anyone sobers up and let them figure things out for themselves.”

  “That’s not what I mean.” Putty sighed, leaning forward to uproot a dandelion.

  “I know,” Flynn said. “I never intended to stay on Soocilla, you know. I’d go stir crazy faster than you’d likely imagine.” Looking out across the junk yard, he smiled. “What I’d like to do is buy a ship; get into the transport business. But the cost of a new ship is ridiculous….”

  “You can say that again,” Putty said.

  Flynn bit his tongue to keep from laughing. “You’ve been shopping for transport ships?”

  “No!” Putty said, a little too quickly. “I mean, everybody knows new ships cost an arm and a rib.”

  “Leg.” Flynn said, knowing Putty had no idea what he was talking about. “Yeah, new ships are too expensive, but then I remembered… my brother is a mechanic… and thought, what if?”

  Putty snorted a laugh and shot him a sidelong glance. “I am not building you a ship.”

  “No. I know you can’t handle that,” Flynn chided, knowing just how to manipulate his brother. “But what if I bought one in need of repairs?” Flynn stared out over the piles of metal in Nika’s scrap yard. “You can repair a ship. Do you think you could help me get something space worthy?”

  “Of course I can handle that,” Putty shot back.

  Flynn laughed.

  Putty thought for a moment, picking up a handful of dirt and letting it fall back to the ground through his fingers. “On one condition.”

  “What’s that?” Flynn hoped it wasn’t a deal breaker.

  “Take me with you.”

  That was easier than he’d expected. He leaned back against the dirty boards and looked up to where Putty’s original dreams had been stomped into the lunar surface. “I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

  “What should we name her?”

  Flynn didn’t stop himself from laughing this time. It had been far too long since he’d had anything to laugh about. “We?”

  “Well, you’re going to name the ship, aren’t you?”

  “Yeah, I was thinking Bloodless Warrior.” He’d never let a drop of red touch the deck plating. That part of his life was over and done with.

  “Nice.” Putty nodded his head approvingly and wiped his hand on his pant leg. “But I get to name something, too. Oh, and, I am not in charge. I don’t want to have to deal with the Colarium if you do something stupid and get us boarded by a patrol boat.”

  “Deal. But you have got to stop punching me any time I do something you don’t like.” He waited for Putty to nod in agreement before he looked away.

  Then he leaned back, dreaming of the vessel he hoped would one day bear his chosen name. If he could get a decent deal from Nika on a hull, they might be closer to his dream than he’d expected.

  Above him, the stars gleamed. They were waiting, and they’d continue to wait for him. The void was the only truly constant mistress in the universe. And as long as you remembered that she’d kill you without remorse, you could love her more fully than any woman.

  “Let’s go see Mom.” Flynn stood, and his older brother joined him. As they walked through the dark streets, Flynn absently ran his knuckles across the scar around his neck. It was finally beginning to heal. Things were starting to look up.

  Thank you!

  I hope you enjoyed reading Enemies of a Sort! Thank you for taking the time.

  Reviews are a great way to tell others how you feel about a book. They help other readers find their next read and I appreciate any and all reviews.

  If you liked this book, it’s lendable through Amazon’s lending program. Share it with a friend!

  Enemies of a Sort is the Novella that starts off the Flynn Monroe series. It is followed by:

  The Betrayal of Flynn Monroe

  The Reformation of Tyler Harris

  The Salvation of Rayna Castiq

  Quick and Painless

  The Escape of Joslyn Williams

  The Deception of Calliope Druthers

  And

  Irreparable Damages.

  If you’d like to know when my next book is available, join my newsletter, follow me on twitter at @abkeuser, like my facebook page, or check out my website.

  Other Books by A. B. Keuser

  Windthrow

  Never Alone

  The Flynn Monroe Series

  Enemies of a Sort

  The Betrayal of Flynn Monroe

  The Reformation of
Tyler Harris

  The Salvation of Rayna Castiq

  Quick and Painless

  The Escape of Joslyn Williams

  The Deception of Calliope Druthers

  Irreparable Damages

  The Lunar Colony VI Series

  Safety Zone

  Gravety Darkening

  Zero Proximity

  Terminal Shift

  Non-Passive Failure

  About the Author

  When A. B. Keuser isn't trying to make sense of her own brain soup, she writes the "charmingly gritty" Flynn Monroe series and space operas that will keep you guessing. An Oregon native whose life has transplanted her in the Sonoran desert - where she's slowly desiccating - she writes to stay out of the sun and heat.

  Acknowledgements

  I owe an enormous debt of gratitude to my mother. She was never afraid to hurt my feelings by suggesting changes the book needed. Quick to slice and dice away any problem spots, she’s been a constant source of edits and thankfully her sense of humor found its way in, giving me much to laugh about as I’ve read through her copious notes. This novella – this series, for that matter – would be completely different without her constant help and encouragement. She’s read so many drafts of so many novels, and she still loves me in spite of myself.

  I must of course thank Katie, Jenna, Natalie, and Nick, who all offered advice on how to make the story better, or who simply helped to encourage me along the long and arduous task of getting this series rolling. I know for a fact, I never would have done this without you guys.

  Huge thanks to my writing friends. To my Crit partner Joann, who has managed to keep me sane with the insanity of her life, and has lent a helping hand in more ways than I can count. To Connie, for walking me through some of the less exciting details – you’ve been an utter lifesaver! I owe you big time.

  I especially need to thank Earl. After all, he’s put up with me talking about the ways to kill people in crowded Chinese restaurants and at ballgames…. How could I have possibly gotten to this point without someone who is constantly on board with any schemes I have, or any of the times I’ve needed to go into “Do not talk to me I’m writing” mode?

  And finally, I’d like to thank Meredith B. She may never get a chance to read this book, but she helped me realize exactly what this series needed. I will forever be grateful for that.

  Copyright

  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination, or used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, organizations, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

  Copyright 2013 Amy Johnson

  https://www.abkeuser.com

  Cover Image by Jesse Bray | Copyright 2013 Amy Johnson

  https://www.mrbray.com

  ISBN 978-1-49-531106-2