The Krinar Code Read online

  The Krinar Code

  A Krinar World Novel

  Emma Castle

  Contents

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Epilogue

  The Krinar Eclipse by Lauren Smith

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Other Titles By Emma Castle

  About the Author

  To Rich and Rhea,

  Who showed me how life was meant to be, full of compassion and understanding. And for teaching me what it meant to be the original “Queenie.”

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

  Copyright © 2019 by Emma Castle

  Excerpt from The Krinar Eclipse Copyright 2019 © by Lauren Smith

  Cover art by Anna Crosswell - Cover Couture

  Note: The Author of this book has been granted permission by Anna Zaires and Dima Zales to use the copyrighted characters and the world of The Krinar Chronicles created by Anna Zaires and Dima Zales in this book; all copyright protection to the characters and the worlds of Anna Zaires and Dima Zales are retained by Anna Zaires and Dima Zales.

  All rights reserved. In accordance with the U.S. Copyright Act of 1976, the scanning, uploading, and electronic sharing of any part of this book without the permission of the publisher constitutes unlawful piracy and theft of the author’s intellectual property. If you would like to use material from the book (other than for review purposes), prior written permission must be obtained by contacting the publisher at [email protected]. Thank you for your support of the author’s rights.

  The publisher is not responsible for websites (or their content) that are not owned by the publisher.

  ISBN: 978-1-947206-77-9 (e-book edition)

  ISBN: 978-1-947206-78-6 (print edition)

  1

  “Ow!” Harper King swallowed a curse as she sucked on her pinched thumb. The big Corvette suspended above her was in decent shape, but the axle was dented all to hell. The owner had been pissed when she’d recommended he replace the axle or sell the car. Given that it was an expensive classic, he’d opted for the replacement, but he’d grumbled the entire time. Between the parts and labor to fix them, new axles could cost almost as much as the car itself. She didn’t mind the work, but the customers at King Auto Repair usually didn’t like the price.

  “You okay, Harper?” A deep voice came from nearby. She glanced around and saw her older brother’s boots as he stopped next to the car she was beneath.

  “Yeah, I’m fine, Mason.” She lay flat on her creeper and pushed herself so she rolled out from underneath the Corvette. Her thumb still stung from where it had gotten caught in part of the undercarriage. She glowered at the car. “This axle, though, is going to have a very bad day tomorrow.” She tilted her left wrist to check her watch. It was a little after nine at night, and her brother should have been working, not here in the garage.

  Mason held out a hand, his brown eyes full of worry. He and Liam didn’t approve of her running the mechanic shop on her own, but she was damned good at it, and they needed to get with the century.

  Mason’s eyes darkened with shadows, and his voice lowered. “Liam and I have a meeting tonight. You got any more jobs, or can you watch the bar with Neil for the rest of the night?”

  She let Mason lift her up onto her feet, and she glanced around at the shop. “Yeah, I can watch it for you.” She didn’t mind tending bar most of the time, but her true love was the auto shop.

  King Auto Repair shared a building with King’s Bar, the bar that her brothers ran together. It wasn’t much, but given that Lawrence, Kansas, was a little college town of just under a hundred thousand people, it passed for the center of the local nightlife.

  Harper wiped at the sweat on her brow. It was quiet. The usual sounds of electric drills, men whistling, car hoods slamming, and the symphony of choking engines, sputtering motors, and hydraulic ramps going up and down were absent since they’d closed two hours ago. Her two employees, Jeff and Alan, had already left for the day. The shop had closed at seven, and she’d been so deep into her work that she’d lost track of time. It wasn’t the first time that had happened. When she was working, she could dive so deep into the job that the rest of the world just fell away.

  “You and Liam will be careful, won’t you?” she asked him.

  Mason, at twenty-nine, and Liam, at thirty-one, were grown men, but Harper still worried about them. Ever since they had lost their parents on K-Day, the day the Krinar invaded Earth, the three of them seemed to be standing alone against the world.

  “We’ll be fine,” Mason promised her. He and Liam wouldn’t let her join their meetings because they thought it was too dangerous for her. They were running a resistance group out of the back of the bar. Every couple of weeks they held a meeting with local men and women who wanted to find a way to resist the Krinar occupation. But even if they had let her join, she wouldn’t have. Humans couldn’t fight the Krinar—or the Ks, as most humans called them—and it was just out of plain old human stubbornness that they even tried.

  From the moment they had arrived five years ago, the aliens had taken charge, almost effortlessly. They looked human enough, just insanely attractive, like muscled supermodels. They weren’t skinny and gray with black oval eyes like many people obsessed with extraterrestrials had expected them to be, and they sure as shit didn’t need help phoning home like E.T. The Krinar were stronger, faster, and smarter than humans. They lived for thousands of years and had technology that made Earth science look like humans were still banging rocks together trying to make fire.

  We never stood a chance when they invaded. What makes anyone think we have one now?

  Harper sighed and rubbed her grease-covered hands on a towel and watched Mason walk back through the hall that connected the bar to the garage. Then she busied herself with closing down the shop. She made a note in her calendar to call the Corvette owner tomorrow with an update, but the simple task of writing tended to make her head hurt.

  She’d been diagnosed with severe dyslexia in high school. She’d graduated high school, barely, but she hadn’t been able to get into college. Numbers were easier to write, but words and names? It was like she was watching the letters dance around the page, and it gave her a migraine. If her father hadn’t discovered she had a knack for mechanics, she didn’t know where she might have ended up.

  Thankfully, engines, mechanics, and electronics all came to her with stunning clarity. When she’d turned eighteen, she’d been able to take over her father’s repair shop.

  Harper paused to look at the photo of her parents that hung behind the reception desk inside the shop. In the photo her parents were standing outside the repair shop entrance. It had been taken nearly twenty years ago when she was only four. Her father beamed with pride, and her mother was looking at him with admiration. They’d been so in love, so in tune with one another.

  And they were gone.

  A deep sting lanced through Harper’s chest, a pain of loss and sorrow that would never fully heal, no matter how much time had passed. No one deserved to die the way they had.

  She kissed the tips of her fingers and pressed them to the glass of the framed photo. “Night,
Mom and Dad.”

  Then she lowered the shop doors, set the alarm system, turned off the lights, and passed through the hall and into the small office between the auto shop and the bar. The large desk against the far wall by the single window was littered with paperwork from both the shop and the bar. Harper growled. Every night she came back here she had to clean up after Mason and Liam. They were great at dealing with vendors and customers, but they sucked at basic business organization and bookkeeping. She practically had to pester them to keep up their records.

  Harper shoved the papers aside to retrieve the folded set of clean clothes she brought to work every day. Shop work always left her khaki work suit covered in grease. She changed into her jean shorts and T-shirt with the King’s Bar logo, a retro-looking crown beneath the King name in a bold stylistic font. Then she removed her work boots and slipped on some simple leather sandals. She wasn’t girly, not compared to most girls she knew, but after work she did like to feel a bit more feminine, even if she was tending bar for her older brothers.

  As she exited the office, she could hear the rowdy sounds of the bar over the thrumming bass of the bar’s modern jukebox. She opened the door and scanned the room. The walnut wood tables and even the bar itself were full, which was typical for a Saturday night. The kids from the University of Kansas loved to come and hang out after tough classes all week.

  “Harper!” Jessie Lang, one of the full-time waitresses, grinned and waved at Harper. Jessie carried a full tray of beers toward a table of men who were watching the nearest flat-screen TV hanging from one of the bar’s support beams. They whooped as someone made a touchdown. College football was serious business in Kansas, and any good bar worth its salt would have a dozen TVs up and running with the latest games on.

  Harper smiled and waved at Jessie as they shared an amused shrug at the men talking football stats. She and Jessie were close in age, and she usually spent her free weekends hanging out with Jessie.

  A lot had changed since the Krinar had arrived. They had shut down production of beef and poultry, for one thing. Enforced veganism, most people called it, and she had to admit, of all the jackbooted declarations she had expected to come down the pipe from their new overlords, that was pretty damn close to the bottom of the list.

  But it had hit the Midwest hard. Many cities became ghost towns, and people had moved away and sold their grazing fields, which were unsuitable for crops and were now empty and valueless. It was why so much resistance had formed here against the Krinar. Mason and Liam had mobilized their friends who’d lost work when their homes had been sucked into the economic black hole the Krinar invasion had created. And their friends had brought other friends, and so on.

  All because those damn aliens didn’t eat meat.

  If I ever meet one of them, I’ll shove a cheeseburger right down their throat. The rebellious thought made her smile widen. Having to eat the plant-based protein burger patties made her gag.

  “How’s it going?” she asked her friend as she joined her at the bar.

  Jessie laughed, her dark-brown eyes bright with her natural joy. “Busy as hell, and Katie’s got the flu. You mind taking orders from those tables in the corner?” Jessie reached across the bar, where she placed a new drinks order ticket for their bartender, Neil, who was busy mixing.

  “Sure.” Harper gave Neil a nod, and he flexed his tattooed arms as he shook the martini mixer. The wall behind him was covered with a hundred bottles of decent liquor, as well as some more expensive scotch and brandy. People came from miles around to King’s Bar—students, farmers, blue-collar workers, and even some upper-middle-class folk. Her parents had left a legacy of openness and welcoming to all. Harper could gripe about a lot of things with regard to her older brothers, but they were great at keeping the bar fun, except on nights they hosted resistance meetings in the back storeroom. Those always made her nervous.

  Harper bit her lip and glanced toward the Employees Only sign hanging on the door. The closely spaced letters jumbled about and made her grimace. She’d tried to develop her own shorthand to work with Neil when giving him orders, but it still was a challenge.

  “Sure, Jessie. I’ll cover the two tables in the back corner.” She picked up a pen and notepad from the bar, her stomach cramping at the thought of having to write down drink orders.

  She reached the first table, where a tall man lounged back in his chair, watching the room. His blue eyes swept to her face as she approached, and Harper’s heart jolted as she felt the full focus of his stormy blue gaze. Damn, the man was fine. More than fine. He had long legs and narrow hips, but he also had those broad shoulders all women loved. His red plaid shirt hung open to reveal a gray T-shirt underneath that clung a little too snug to his skin, which hinted at a hard chest and chiseled abs.

  Wow. Where had this hunk of man meat come from? Harper blushed and stared at her sandals. It was not okay to objectify a guy, right? She was a total feminist—she had to be around her overprotective brothers. But damn if this guy didn’t make her want to wolf-whistle.

  Harper finally looked at the man before her again, and that was a mistake. “W-what can I get you?”

  His golden-blond hair fell into his eyes, and he casually brushed it back. How could such a simple gesture make her knees buckle? The sleeves of his shirt were rolled up to his elbows, exposing the muscles of his forearms. Harper swallowed hard. Damn again—she was having a serious attraction to this complete stranger. Something that was totally not like her. She usually kept to herself these days. She’d dated a lot in the past, sure, but lately she’d been so focused on work she’d lost track.

  “I’ll take an India Pale Ale. Whatever kind you recommend. Thanks.” His lips curved in a telltale bad-boy smile that scared her shitless. It was a smile that promised nothing but broken hearts. An IPA, that was easy enough to remember. She lowered her notepad in relief, not bothering to write that order down. She started to head back to the bar to grab his drink, but as she passed by the next table, a man grabbed her arm.

  “Not so fast, sweetheart. We need drinks too. We’ve been here ten minutes already.”

  Harper gritted her teeth. She didn’t mind being called sweetheart by a boyfriend, but by some tool like this? She eyed the rough-looking man, and his friends all snickered at her open discomfort. She wanted to flip them off, but that wasn’t going to help. She plastered on a reluctant smile and lifted her pad up.

  “What can I get you?” And by that I mean, “What can I have Neil spit in?”

  The men all started throwing exotic drink orders at her, and she struggled, frantically penning down their orders, but within seconds the panic set in. Her pen froze, and she closed her eyes briefly.

  “What’s the matter with you? Why aren’t you writing our orders down?” the first asshole demanded.

  “I am!” she snapped. “I just need a minute. I” She turned again to list the drinks, but she couldn’t correctly spell some of the more complicated orders, and then it was too late. The letters began to almost quiver on the page, and she suddenly couldn’t decipher her own writing.

  “You stupid or something?” one of the men asked her. His companions broke out into more laughter.

  Harper grabbed the nearest water glass and threw its contents into the face of the man who’d called her stupid. He surged to his feet and backhanded her so fast she never saw the blow coming.

  Pain ripped through her and she stumbled back, clutching her face in shock. A hush settled over the crowd, and Harper shot a glare at the man. She wasn’t afraid to throw a punch, but she was outnumbered. And with her luck, she’d break her hand on his jaw.

  “You have a problem?” the man who’d struck her now snapped at her.

  “Out! I want you and your asshole buddies out of here!” Harper yelled. While this wasn’t technically her bar, she felt like a part owner of it, the same way her brothers felt about her garage. And like the sign over the bar said, “We reserve the right to refuse service to anyone who’s an
asshole.”

  “Oh yeah?” The man spread his arms out wide, noting the lack of security coming to restrain him. Normally Neil would have been right there, kicking this guy’s ass, but he’d broken his leg last week on his motorcycle and was stuck on crutches behind the bar. “Who’s gonna make me?”

  “Pardon me,” a deep masculine voice said right behind her as two large hands settled on her waist. She was lifted up and set aside by the gorgeous blond Adonis from the other table.

  “I believe the lady asked you to leave. And your asshole buddies.”

  The asshole and his friends all stood. Six to one—those weren’t good odds. “Is that so?”

  “That’s so.”

  “Hey, you really don’t need to” Harper touched the Adonis’s rock-hard shoulder.

  The Adonis swung a fist fast, almost too fast to see. It connected with the asshole’s jaw, and he stumbled back, knocking over three chairs, and his head collided with the wall in a heavy thunk. He didn’t stir. One of his friends knelt down to check his pulse.

  “Chase is out cold,” the other man said. They all turned to face the Adonis again.

  “I suggest you get out. Now. And take your trash with you,” Adonis growled in a tone that sent shivers of dread through Harper. She’d seen plenty of men try to fake being a badass over the years, but this guy wasn’t faking. He was dangerous. Really dangerous. And he’d just saved her ass.

  The group of jerks rushed out of the bar, only two of them stopping to lift Chase up and carry him out. Neil followed them to the door on his crutches, scowling the entire way. Adonis watched them go, his arms crossed. Once they were gone, the conversations in the bar went back to normal, and the stares of curious bargoers eventually drifted away from them.