A bugle sounded as the cavalry charged to the rescue, pursing the Apaches down main street and out into the desert. The thrilled spectators cheered loudly.

  “Welcome to the wild, wild west.” I walked down the wooden footway toward the administrator’s office. Through the saloon’s bat-wing doors, I caught a brief glimpse of several women performing a bad cancan on the raised stage. The customers seemed to be enjoying the show. When I got the job, I’d make a few changes. Like hiring women who could actually dance and putting them in the proper costumes. Not the thrift store rejects they were wearing now.

  A loudspeaker blared to life. “Folks, the Clanton boys have challenged Doc Holliday and his deputies to a gunfight at the O.K. corral. Mosey on down and watch the best gunslingers in the West battle it out. Ladies, you might want to retire to the ice cream parlor. It’s gonna get bloody.”

  All the tourists’ hurried over to watch the reenactment of the shootout. One of the gunslingers shouted, “The undertaker will be puttin’ you in a pine box, Holiday.”

  “I’ve got a spot all picked out for you on Boot Hill, Clanton,” the Doc Holliday look-a-like snarled as he pulled his pistol and fanned the hammer. His deputies opened fire at the same time. Bang. Bang. Bang. Bang. Bang. The Clanton boys returned fire. Bang. Bang. Bang. Bang. Bang.

  My ears rang from all the gunfire. Amazingly not one bullet hit Doc or his deputies, but the street was littered with dead desperados. Doc Holliday twirled his gun and slid it back in his holster.

  The crowd clapped loudly.

  The undertakers hurried out, picked up the dead gunslingers and carted them off in old wooden wheelbarrows.

  A train whistle blew. Whoot! Whoot! Whoot!

  “The train leaves in ten minutes and you still have time to get a ticket. There’s a rumor it’s gonna get robbed,” Doc Holliday announced, doffed his hat and disappeared into the jail. The deputies followed him.

  The horde of tourists rushed toward the train station.

  I glanced at my watch and headed for my interview. Once Dan Johnson, the human resources guy, saw my resume, he’d hire me on the spot. If he didn’t, a little mental persuasion and the job would still be mine. Was it cheating? You betcha it was, but I was dead broke and needed a place to hide out.

  My senses went on alert when a red-headed teenager in an Annie Oakley costume approached me. She was a powerful psychic. I locked down my shields and gave her a dazzling smile. “I’m looking for the administrator’s office. Can you point me in the right direction?”

  “Sure, you’re here for the job?” She cocked her head and studied me.

  I tensed as I felt the kid mentally scanning me. I was pretty sure I could take her, but a psychic battle was the last thing I needed or wanted. “I am.”

  “Can you ride a horse?”

  I blinked. “Uh, I can. Why?”

  “The girl playing Belle Starr broke her arm and we need a replacement.”

  “I’m applying for the gift shop and saloon manager’s position, not the stuntwoman gig.”

  She grinned and held out her hand. “I’m Casey Jones. Don’t worry, both jobs can be yours.”

  Shit. I thought she looked familiar. Her father was none other than General Saul Jones. He controlled all military forces in the western United States and was a Coletti hybrid. Coming here was a bad idea. I cautiously shook Casey’s hand. “I don’t have any experience as a stunt woman and I haven’t met with the human resources administrator yet.”

  “Dan’s desperate. We lost several people in the last Rodan raid. He’ll hire you.”

  “Without seeing my resume?” Casey had to know I was psychic. Was this a trick to keep me here until the goons came to arrest me?

  “Can you shoot a gun or a rifle?”

  “Can’t everyone?”

  Casey grimaced. “You’d be surprised.”

  “I have some military experience,” I hedged.

  “Great. Playing Belle Starr, the outlaw queen, is a piece of cake. You ride down main street at a dead gallop, shoot a gun out of the Marshal’s hand and hold him at gunpoint while your gang members rob the bank. Easy.”

  “Easy? Dangerous might be a better term.”

  “Not dangerous. Fun,” Casey countered with a grin.

  My experience at fighting the Rodan on horseback would give me a leg up on the competition. I couldn’t remember the last time I had fun. Oh, wait! It was on my honeymoon in Vegas. We took in a couple of shows. Those I had enjoyed. Hell gambling away my money, not so much. Back then, I was still a nice person. Hell, and the aliens had kicked all the nice out me. I was now someone you didn’t want to meet in a dark alley or on the battlefield. A part of me liked killing a little too much.

  Casey bounded up a staircase and called over her shoulder, “What size are you?”

  “A six.” I climbed after her.

  Casey beamed at me. “Perfect. Let’s go fill out all the paperwork and see how you and Buster get along.”

  “Buster?”

  “The best stunt horse in Old Tucson. He’s one of the perks of this job and where else can you be a badass outlaw, entertain people and have the time of your life?”

  Suddenly, I wanted to have fun. Be wild and crazy. Laugh. Make friends. Be someone I wasn’t. “I think becoming an outlaw queen is just what I need.”

  “You and I are gonna be great friends.”

  To my surprise we were. Casey was a hoot to be around. No Coletti hunters made an appearance. The few times General Jones or Voss, the Battle Commander showed up, I simply locked my shields down and kept my distance. To my delight they thought I was a normal human. Was Old Tucson the haven I had been seeking?

  Chapter Two

  I entered the stables and headed over to a stall where a sorrel Quarter horse nickered a welcome. “How’s my good boy?” I petted Buster’s neck and fed him a carrot. “You ready to play?”

  Buster’s ears flattened.

  “Hello, love,” Hell’s raspy smoker’s voice sounded behind me. “Did you think I wouldn’t find you?”

  Horror rolled over me. Fuck.

  Hell jabbed my back with the barrel of a gun. “No sudden moves please. The Coletti get upset when we bring in damaged females.”

  I frowned. That gloating note in his voice had me worried.

  “Get your hands up,” Hell commanded.

  Raising my hands, I turned slowly and launched a psychic grenade. Pain erupted in my head. I choked back a yelp and glared at Hell. I guess the rumors were true. Central Command was giving bounty hunters devices that prevented a psychic from using their powers.

  Hell laughed and pointed to weird silver discs decorating his temples. “With these on, you’re harmless as a kitten.”

  God, what an idiot. Since I was dressed as Bell Starr in a black gaucho style riding habit, he probably thought my Colt Frontier six-shooters were fakes. He would be wrong. The gun on my right was filled with blanks. My other gun wasn’t. You never knew when the Rodan would attack. Plus, I could kick his butt six ways to Sunday. The only thing stopping me was the laser pistol pointed at my chest. “Are you ready to sign those divorce papers?”

  “God, you’re still a heartless bitch.”

  “And you’re a lazy jackass that preys on women. Still having problems getting it up?”

  “You did something to me,” Hell snarled.

  I eyed Hell’s thinning hair which was artfully arranged to conceal his bald spot. “No, your vanity did. Those pills you take for your hair loss obviously aren’t working. Did you know they make you impotent and cause cancer?” My gaze settled on his chest. Was he wearing a corset? “They also give you man boobies.”

  A murderous fury flared to life in Hell’s eyes. “You’re a lying bitch.”

  “Am I? Oh, my God, you’re still taking them, aren’t you?”

  “None of your damn business.”

  Even though I knew it was a bad idea to provoke him, I couldn’t stop myself. “How many little blue pills does it take to get an erection now? I mean, it’s kinda hard to play Don Juan with a limp dick, isn’t it?”

  With a roar of rage, Hell pulled the trigger on his laser pistol. A crackling red stun beam engulfed me, and agony seared every nerve ending. I crumpled to the ground and a scream tore from me as violent muscle spasms contorted my body. My arms and legs slammed repeatedly against the straw covered cement. I fought to stay conscious. Couldn’t. Let. Him. Take. Me.

  Buster squealed and violently kicked the stall door.

  “Good. Boy. Kick again.”

  Thud! Thud! Crack!

  Hell backed away. “Make him stop or I will kill him.”

  “Whoa. Easy boy.”

  Buster whinnied and paced restlessly around his stall.

  An itchy sensation filled my mind. Shit! There were Rodan warriors close by and I could sense some Tai-Kok too. How was that even possible? “Rodan,” I gasped.

  Hell chuckled. “You think I’m stupid?” He held up his wrist and pointed to a cheap version of a Coletti warrior’s bracelet. “See. The scanner is clear.”

  “Not lying. Monsters. Coming,” I croaked, struggling to control my flailing limbs.

  Sirens began to wail. The ferocious roar of low flying fighter jets shook the barn.

  “What the fuck?” Hell ran over to the door, looked out and began to laugh. “You know what? I’m gonna let them eat you. Consider it payback for damaging Big John.”

  The doofus called his penis Big John? “You. Are. A. Dead man,” I snarled.

  “You wish, love. I’m gonna head up to the top of that hill over there and watch them tear you apart. Your screams will be music to my ears.” Bending down, Hell ground his mouth against mine and shoved his tongue in my mouth.

  A spasm hit, and I chomped down hard on the nasty thing.

  Hell reared back and wiped the blood off his mouth. “That’s gonna cost ya.”

  A massive explosion rocked the area.

  Hell glanced out the doorway and the color drained from his face. “Fuck! They’re heading this way.” My loving husband ran over to a fancy black jeep and jumped in. “Adios, bitch. Die horribly,” he yelled out the driver’s window as he tore off, sending gravel flying in every direction.

  I grimaced. The only one dying horribly was Hell. A Marauder filled with Tai-Kok had landed on the other side of that hill. Very hungry Tai-Kok.

  Buster busted out of his stall.

  My gaze fell on the emergency first aid kit on the wall. If I wanted to live, I had to get to the pressure injector inside. It was filled with a Coletti wonder drug called Calofen. Which would stop the pain and spasms.

  I concentrated fiercely on Buster and put a mental picture of the first aid kit in his mind. “Bring. To. Me.”

  Buster snuffed my face.

  “Get. Box.”

  A fighter jet fell from the sky and crashed into the parking lot. Kablooey! Buster bolted from the barn.

  “Come back Buster.” In my mind, I could see him running across the desert. Dammit Buster.

  Out of the corner of my eye, I caught the flash of red energy bolts. It made me wonder if my loving husband had remembered to take his laser pistol out of stun mode?

  A volley of gunfire erupted.

  That answered my question. Hell wouldn’t last five minutes in actual combat. The itchy feeling in my head grew stronger. Tai-Kok! Four of them. There were too damn close. “Buster. Come. Now!”

  A man suddenly screamed and screamed and screamed in unbearable agony.

  Goosebumps skittered over my body. Oh, my God. Was that Hell? I might hate the bastard, but I wouldn’t wish that horrific death on anyone.

  The screams stopped abruptly.

  Shit! Shit! Shit! Drawing on every ounce of strength I had, I dragged myself across the floor. Funny little black spots danced in my vision and my insides seemed to be tangled into twitching knots. “Not. Eating. Me.” I gritted my teeth and inched toward the first aid kit. “Ever.”

  Buster charged back into the barn.

  “Box. Buster. Get. Box.”

  My trusty steed reared up, knocked the first aid kit off the wall. Using his muzzle, Buster nosed it to me.

  “Good boy. Good boy.” I wrapped my trembling hands around the kit and fumbled with latch.

  Buster lipped the box as if he was trying to help me.

  The horrible itchy feeling turned into what felt like a thousand fire ants tromping through my mind. Shit! The Tai-Kok were heading my way. C’mon. C’mon. You can do this. The lid finally popped open. I grabbed the pressure injector, dropped it, scooped it up and injected myself in the leg. The pain vanished. I took a shuddering breath of relief as the muscle spasms stopped.

  The Tai-Kok warriors began honking like demented ducks.

  They had my scent. I pulled my Colt and dumped the blanks. The more ammo the better.

  Buster reared up.

  “Easy boy. Easy. I won’t let them hurt you.” I quickly reloaded with real bullets and stood.

  A tall, hairless, skeletal humanoid with a mouth full of sharp metal teeth and three blood-red eyes entered the barn. Funky metal spikes protruded not only from his milk white skull but his dirty red battle suit too. He clacked his bloody teeth hungrily.

  “Eat this.” I shot the Tai-Kok in the middle eye. The monster dropped like a rock.

  Two more Tai-Kok warriors rushed into the barn. I hurled psychic grenades at them. They were dead before they hit the floor.

  Uttering a bunch of angry, quacking gibberish, the last one charged toward me. A laser beam struck him, and he disintegrated in a spectacular fountain of sparks.

  Casey cautiously stepped through the barn door with a laser pistol in her right hand. “You okay?”

  I eyed her warily. Had Casey sensed me using my psychic grenades? Maybe. At least she wasn’t yelling “you’re psychic and I’m telling my uncle”. “I am. Thanks for the assist.”

  “My pleasure. There’s nothing I enjoy more than killing monsters.” Casey cocked her head. “Wait. That’s not quite true. I like chocolate more.”

  “Me too, but I thought the Tai-Kok had been exterminated?”

  Casey shrugged. “Guess they missed a few.”

  “Their mistake was in not allowing Detja to be in charge. Women get the job done right the first time.”

  “So true. Let’s go kill those mothersmuckers!” Casey handed me a laser pistol.

  I grinned. Mothersmuckers? I followed Casey out the door and we joined up with a squad of heavily-armed soldiers. Buster tagged along, kicking the crap out of any monster that got close to him.

  In no time at all, we had exterminated every one of the alien freaks. I hadn’t realized how much I missed fighting the Tai-Kok and Rodan. At heart I was a warrior, not a barkeeper.

  All that was left of Hell was his head and three fingers. The military claimed his remains and buried him in a local cemetery. They even gave the bastard a military funeral complete with an honor guard. Me? I’d let the buzzards have him.

  Harsh? Yeah. Once upon a time I believed in all that happily ever after crap. Not anymore. Every woman in my family had been abandoned by the men claiming to love them. The only exception was my father. If my dad hadn’t been killed, would he have left us too? Who knows. I had learned the hard way that love was for fools.

  Chapter Three

  I stepped inside the Painted Lady and surveyed the interior proudly. I had turned a second-rate bar into an authentic 1880’s saloon right down to the cattle brands seared into the oak bar. It had taken me almost a year to find the assortment of old wanted posters now gracing the aged brick walls. I found the antique wrought-iron chandelier hanging from the ceiling in a long-forgotten ghost town.

  Since Angela called off today, I got to play bartender. I had to admit, I didn’t really mind dressing up like an old west madam. It was kinda fun wearing a bit more makeup and flirting with the male customers. I eyed myself in the mirror behind the bar. I looked damn good for someone my age. The blue silk corset emphasized my girls, and made my waist appear tiny. The black ruffled skirt showcased my legs perfectly.

  My waitresses wore emerald green corsets with short black ruffled skirts, fingerless lace gloves and black fishnet stockings. They were busily seating thirsty tourists. We were going to have a full house for the show.

  As I filled the drink orders, my psychic senses went on alert. Three extremely powerful psychics had teleported into Old Tucson. I recognized Casey’s familiar mental pattern, but the other two were strangers to me. When Casey showed up, trouble soon followed. The General had her investigating a splinter group of Earth First who wanted our world cleansed of all psychics and aliens. The Rodan offered these bigots the perfect opportunity to rid themselves of our polluted DNA. The dinosaurs thought psychic brains were yummy and were always eager to get more of the highly sought-after delicacy. God, I hoped they weren’t planning another raid. We had barely finished rebuilding from the last attack.

  Tom, my grandfatherly assistant manager, motioned to me from the stage door.

  I walked over to him and eyed the heavily made-up woman twirling around the stage like a slightly tipsy Tinkerbell. Where in the hell had she gotten her glow-in-the-dark lime green leotards. I frowned. Why did she look so familiar? And what was up with the godawful black wig? “A new hire Tom?”

  “She is. Annie this is Becky Sullivan.”

  Becky danced over. “Hi.”

  I held out my hand. “Welcome to Old Tucson.”

  “Nice to meet you.” Becky gingerly took my hand, pumped it once and dropped it like I had the cooties. “Thank you for this great opportunity. I love to dance. Really love to dance. This place is awesome. For a second-rate theme park. Wow! It gives me the shivers to get to dance the cancan in a real, old western saloon. You don’t allow Apaches in here, do you? I’m not racist or anything, but all the warpaint gives me the heebie-jeebies,” Becky babbled.

  My eyebrows crept up my forehead as she added, “Have you ever thought of replacing the Apache warriors with clowns?”

 

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