Catching Crabs

By Celia Kyle

Claudia Banks–human, marine biologist, and total goner for a certain seven and a half foot alien who crash lands on Earth. He's got muscles on muscles, a sexy-as-sin smile, and a love of the ocean that rivals even Claudia. He's… perfect.

 

Except… Darjak isn't on Earth for a casual visit. He's a bounty hunter on the trail of his prey worth a million credits, and he doesn't have time for the curvaceous, enthralling, all-too-tempting, human Claudia.  No matter how much his body craves to become one with hers…

 

But what happens when their duties collide? Can they work together to save the wildlife failing to thrive on the Florida coast and snag Darjak's bounty intent on destroying everything in their path?  Hopefully.  Because the future of Earth's oceans depends on them cooperating in and out of the bedroom.

 

• Language: English
• Publisher: Summerhouse Publishing
• Release date: Dec 16, 2023
• ISBN: 9798223544760

Celia Kyle

Ex-dance teacher, former accountant and erstwhile collectible doll salesperson, New York Times and USA Today bestselling author Celia Kyle now writes paranormal romances for readers who: 1) Like super hunky heroes (they generally get furry) 2) Dig beautiful women (who have a few more curves than the average lady) 3) Love laughing in (and out of) bed. It goes without saying that there’s always a happily-ever-after for her characters, even if there are a few road bumps along the way. Today she lives in central Florida and writes full-time with the support of her loving husband and two finicky cats.

Book preview

Chapter

One

There are , Darjak mused, a million ways to die in outer space .

From explosive decompression and gamma ray inundation to technical failure leading to all manner of gruesome deaths, there was no end to the ways one could meet their maker in the vast celestial sea of stars.

But out of all the many ways to die, the only one he truly feared was death by boredom.

He sat at the console of his small cruiser, the Dauntless. Skrozy had promised him a new contract days ago but had yet to deliver. Darjak had gotten tired of hanging aimlessly about Zardoz Space Station and Refueling Center. He was a people watcher, but even he got tired of just sitting around waiting for something to happen.

So he’d decided to launch his ship and cruise to the next sector, just to pass the time until Skrozy got a hold of him at last. Now he was regretting that decision as he stared at the stars streaking past as he moved faster than the speed of light.

A blue light flashed on his console. He reached out with his crimson digits and tapped the button beneath the blinking orb, his heart soaring for joy.

"Skrozy, finally, he said. I’ve been wasting my time sitting around⁠—"

Congratulations! You’re the winner of the Kaltock Foundation’s Grand Sweepstakes! Just enter your credstick information so we can deposit the funds⁠—

"Frife damn you spammers! he howled, slamming his fist down on the button to cut the communication. It’s been three full days since I killed anything. I need some action."

His blue light lit up again, and he almost didn’t push the button to connect the call. Probably another spammer. But it might be Skrozy, so he sighed and punched the button.

What? Darjak growled into the quiet of his ship as he answered the comm.

Is that any way to talk to the guy who just landed you the biggest contract of your life?

Skrozy, if this is another bail jumper I’m going to⁠—

Yes, yes, I know. I’ve signed my death warrant or something like that. Anyway, don’t you want to hear about the contract?

How much does it pay?

A million credits.

You’re lying. Darjak snorted. No bounty is worth that much unless I’m hunting down Korgin the Skull Basher, and even I’m not crazy enough to tangle with him.

Darjak, the Array have been spotted in your sector.

Darjak fell silent, his lips forming a tight line on his face. Preposterous. The Clandons wiped out their home world years ago.

I have confirmation from the IPA.

The Interstellar Peacekeepers Alliance was not known to exaggerate or proclaim falsehoods. They also had the cash to back up such a large bounty.

All right, he narrowed his eyes. Send me the data.

Already sent. You really need to check your imail more often.

My intergalactic mailbox is always full of spam and ads. I check it once a month, tops.

Well, you might want to check it now because according to your transponder, you’re less than a half light year from where their ship was last spotted.

What species are they inhabiting?

Yalabark, but they’re in a class C freighter. IPA officers were able to ‘contain’ the other infected sentients, but one of them managed to steal the freighter and go through a wormhole to avoid capture.

All right. I’ll try a sensor ping and see if… oh yeah, I see it all right. Good job, Skrozy.

Just don’t forget my ten percent finder’s fee.

I won’t. You’re lucky I don’t deduct an aggravation fee for making me cool my heels for days while you came up with this.

Hey, I can’t help it if business is slow. You know how seasonal the bounty hunting game is.

Seasonal. Darjak snorted. "I’m going to drop out of FTL right on their asses. Darjak out." He ended the communication and flipped switches on his console. Darjak’s ship dropped out of faster-than-light speed and discovered the Array vessel right where he anticipated.

Jackpot, he growled. "Now you’ll find out why I am the most feared bounty hunter in the galaxies."

Darjak hit the thrusters. He pressed back into his seat as the inertial dampeners strained to their max. The Dauntless was overgunned, overpowered, and overthrust. Just the way he liked it.

Eat hot plasma, Array scum, he said, squeezing the trigger studs of his turret array. Green streaks of light blazed from the barrels of his cannon, streaking across the emptiness of space to impact the rear thruster array of the freighter.

Two, then three, of their thrusters went dark. The ship listed badly to the starboard side as he closed in for the kill.

I’m not even going to try to bring you in alive, he growled. Too dangerous. I’m not going to be infected.

Darjak locked on to his target, but the freighter suddenly broke apart. The entire cockpit section separated from the rear, and a thruster array on its aft deck burst into brilliant life.

Oh, I don’t think so, he snapped. You’re not going to escape.

The little escape ship easily outdistanced him… at first. He knew that the tiny ship didn’t have much fuel supply, however. It was meant to be a glorified escape pod, not an interstellar craft, and it lacked faster-than-light drive.

Why are you trying so hard to flee? he muttered to himself. Surely you know you can’t possibly escape from me. You have nowhere to run… or do you?

He checked the sector maps, and ground his teeth in frustration. The Array were trying to escape through a nearby wormhole. And given the head start they had, they would likely succeed.

Fuck!

He diverted power from all noncritical systems and fed it into his sublight thrusters. Darjak groaned with the strain as G-forces pressed his hard, chiton-covered back into his seat. The cruiser creaked and groaned as well as it was strained to its limit.

You’re not getting away from me, he shouted. His targeting HUD skimmed over the escape pod, and then locked on. Stars bless his Heads Up Display. There you are. Say goodnight, Array.

He squeezed the trigger studs, but nothing happened. He had forgotten that he’d drained power from all noncritical systems… including weapons.

Darjak swiftly remedied the situation but too late. The Array disappeared through the vast globe of swirling multicolored lights that was the wormhole’s event horizon.

Where does this even lead? he grumbled. He checked his wormhole map, updated daily by the Interstellar Transit Authority, and his heart sank.

Earth? He groaned. "I. Hate. Earthlings."

Still, he could do nothing but follow. He vectored into the event horizon, his ship shaking like crazy. He knew the safe thing would be to reduce speed before entering the wormhole.

Darjak almost never did the safe thing.

A shower of sparks exploded from an overhead console. He frantically tried to reroute power away from it, but his inertial dampeners shut off, and he was flung across the cabin as his ship spun crazily through the wormhole’s gravity matrix.

Alerts and alarms went off all over the ship, but the force of gravity held him pinned to his floor. He pushed himself up with great effort and crawled inch by inch to the pilot’s chair. He didn’t try to get into the chair itself. He only cared to get close enough to reach the emergency shutdown protocol.

He hit the button just as his ship exploded out of the wormhole. Darjak struggled to get back some semblance of control as his ship careened crazily through open space. The blue and white marble of Earth flashed past his cockpit glass again and again, a dizzying sight that made it even harder to concentrate.

By the time he managed to get his ship fully under control, he was trapped in Earth’s gravity well. The orbiting security drones couldn’t even get a lock on him because of his crazy flight pattern. The entirety of his ship was covered with an amber cloud as he scorched through the atmosphere.

Darjak didn’t even have time to check for the Array ship. He was too busy trying not to crash. He opened up all drag flaps and hatches, using what little power he had left on his reverse thrusters.

The ship slowed… a little. But not enough to avoid what would likely be a nasty crash. He aimed for one of the large bodies of water, seeing the wrinkled sea rushing up toward him. He attempted to turn the inertial dampeners back on, to no avail. He secured his crash webbing and braced himself for impact.

Darjak was one of the toughest men in the entire galaxy, but even he blacked out when his ship hit the surface of the water like a meteor.

The ship was enveloped into the water amid a tremendous splash and then disappeared beneath the dark waves.

Chapter

Two

Claudia’s glare only intensified when the mayor’s secretary in the ugly orange blouse gasped at her arrival. It had nothing to do with the rolled-up charts, maps, or even the laptop and projector she balanced in her arms.

It had to do with the fact she was back for the second time that day.

I’m sorry, the secretary said, using a red manicured nail to shove the horn-rimmed glasses higher on her face. But Mayor Westlake just stepped out.

Don’t piss on my leg and tell me it’s raining, Claudia snapped. I saw his car in the parking lot and I can hear him talking on the phone.

The secretary grimaced at her words. Caught in a lie, she had no choice but to forge ahead.

Mayor Westlake is in the middle of a very important phone call.

Is his phone call more important than the death of not just Pearl Island but the entire coastline?

Claudia waltzed right past the sputtering secretary and pushed her way into the office. The secretary followed her into Westlake’s well-appointed space. His office sat in the corner of Pearl Island City Hall, with a wraparound window that offered a gorgeous view of the Florida coastline and the Atlantic Ocean as it crawled toward shore.

Westlake had his back to the door, and was chatting animatedly on the phone.

Oh yeah, it’s the best view you’ve ever seen, Jim. You can sit on the front porch and watch the sunrise every morning. No, as I explained earlier, I can’t sell the house. It’s a timeshare. I can only sell access to it for three months out of the year.

Claudia turned to the secretary and arched a brow.

Very important phone call, huh?

She started setting up her charts and a PowerPoint presentation while the mayor continued to talk. The secretary threw up her hands and left the office.

What three months? Well, January through March. Hey, come on, Jim. This is Florida. It doesn’t snow here. Well, maybe in the panhandle but not here on the coast, where God pays attention.

The mayor went silent for a moment, and then his shoulders tensed up.

Hacow Seven? I’ve never even heard of it—well, if you want to jump into a wormhole and risk life and limb for a vacation getaway, that’s your business, Jim—hello? The mayor stared at his phone in disbelief. He hung up on me.

"Ahem."

The mayor nearly jumped out of his own skin with fright. He spun his chair around, his careworn face contorting into a scowl. Oh no, not you again!

Yes, me again, Claudia said. And this time maybe you’ll listen to me with more than half an ear, considering I brought visual aids.

Ms. Banks, Westlake said in his carefully measured politician voice. While I share your concern for the environment, I am a very busy man, and I’ve already given you a lot of my time today.

Well, then what’s the harm of giving me a little more of your time?

Claudia had tried being polite,