Love made people stupid. I knew it. I’d sworn never to fall victim to it. And here I was risking my life for a woman with more secrets than a Japanese puzzle box.
She lifted one hand to the side of my face, caressed my cheek, moved to rest her hand on the side of my neck. The touch was intimate. Familiar.
This woman was fucking mine.
Jenkins pounded on my window. “Natives are getting restless, Blake.”
I turned and looked past him at the two guards stationed at the doors. They had taken several steps toward the vehicle, long, alien rifles in their hands as they leaned down to look inside. What were they doing?
“Okay. Let’s go.” Lyra got out of the SUV and walked straight up the steps as if she were the queen of the castle. When we approached the large, double doors, the two large aliens of a type I’d never seen before blocked our path.
“You all right?” The dark one ignored me and spoke to Lyra, his English perfect. He’d been here a while.
“I’m fine. These two would never harm me. They are my friends.”
As much as my guts twisted into knots hearing Lyra refer to me as a ‘friend’, the aliens relaxed, rifles no longer pointed inour direction. Their coloring was odd. They had metallic toned skin, one guard’s face was dark as walnut with black hair, the other one a dark golden color, the braid down his back the exact same shade as his face. Their features were a bit more angular, hawkish. They could have tried to pass for human, except for the eyes. Nothing fucking human looked back at me from those eyes.
The dark-haired one bowed to Lyra and opened the door. “Lady Lyra. I am Krag, of Prillon Prime. This is Rohn. Welcome to Warlord Bahre’s home. Commander Helion alerted us to your arrival. The Warlords and the others have gathered inside. We will monitor the meeting from here.” Krag touched a spot just below his ear and I realized he was telling Lyra he would be listening in with one of the NPUs she’d just told us about.
The golden one, Rohn, inclined his head to Lyra before giving both Jenkins and I a thorough once over. “I will lead you inside to the secure area. Are you armed?”
I stared the Prillon warrior straight in the eye. “Not with anything you need to worry about.” I pulled my handgun free from its holster and showed it to the warrior.
His slow blink made me think of a giant male lion about to rip my guts out. Both males wore a colored collar around their necks, which meant they had a mate somewhere. As far as I was concerned, having a mate to protect made them even more dangerous. “That would not harm us. You may enter.”
Well, hell. They weren’t even bothering to disarm us. After seeing the ineffectiveness of my gun against the aliens in the morgue, I believed him. Next to me, Jenkins grumbled aloud what I was thinking. “We really need to get our hands on some better weapons.” Alien weapons. The kind that could turn our enemies into pink mist. I agreed.
A few minutes later we’d been led through the most luxurious mansion I’d ever seen as Rohn explained—to Lady Lyra, as he completely ignored our presence—that every window wasbulletproof and the grounds were monitored around the clock by a rotating cadre of Coalition fighters. Apparently, Warlord Bahre’s security team members also worked at the Coalition Processing Center, a designated and highly secure complex in Miami where soldiers and brides were processed and sent off planet to fulfill Earth’s recruitment obligations as a probationary member of the Interstellar Coalition of Planets. Fighters and brides, by the thousands every year. For nearly a decade now.
What had ten years of sacrifice gotten us humans? Silver Scions, cyborgs, alien gangs from Rogue 5 selling weapons, technology and new drugs on our streets, murder, kidnapping. Real win-win for us humans.
Fucking arrogant bastards. We’d been doing just fine before they showed up. Sure, we went to war and killed each other over everything we could, from different faiths to skin color to politics. But at least it had just been us. Man on man. Now we had to deal with atomizing alien ray guns and Atlan beasts so massive and deadly I figured it would literally take a tank to stop one.
I wasn’t even sure a tank would do the job. Not if they were in full beast mode and wearing their special armor.
The Prillon warrior, Rohn, stopped in front of a door that looked like a heavy metal monstrosity one would find on a bank vault. “This way. Down the stairs to your right. I believe Commander Helion and Doctor Mersan are already on an active comm call with the others.”
“Thank you.” With a glance over her shoulder to make sure we were following, Lyra walked us into what I could only describe as an underground bunker. We ignored several closed doors on our left and walked down a long, well-lit hallway, following the sound of deep male voices.
Alien voices.
The hallway opened into a large room filled with three large sofas, multiple cushioned recliners, a large conference table surrounded by twelve chairs, and a large screen on one wall that was currently split in half. On one side was a Prillon warrior wearing a dark green uniform. His skin was the color of shiny copper, his eyes and hair jet black. He looked like an upside-down AA battery. The other side featured a Prillon warrior with smoky brown skin and black hair, but his eyes practically glowed neon green. Couple of freakish looking fuckers, that was for sure. Both aliens immediately focused on Lyra, inspecting her from head to toe. Neon green eyeballs spoke first. “Lady Lyra. Why are you not wearing the Coalition armor I cleared for you?”
Everyone in the room stopped what they were doing and turned to stare at the three of us as I physically placed my body between Lyra, two Atlan Warlords, three Prillon warriors, two guys who looked human but were unnaturally still, and one woman—a gorgeous redhead—who stood close to the Atlans. Every single one of the aliens was wearing what I guessed was the alien version of battle armor covered with a black and gray pattern that looked oddly similar to military camouflage. Not quite the same, but close. A shelf of matching helmets lined one wall. Above the helmets was a display case with enough firepower to blow up half the city and at least a dozen silver ion blasters exactly like the one that vaporized Doctor Pearson.
This was a military bunker, all right. Right under our noses. And this was just the stuff they kept out in the open. What other weapons were these aliens hiding down here?
Lyra ignored everyone in the room and spoke to the alien on the screen. “It’s in the back of my vehicle. Thank you.”
So, Lyra knew this guy? Was this the CIA’s alien contact? The one who gave her—them—all the alien technology? The DNA scanner? The silver pew-pews? What armor was this guy talking about?
Jenkins took up position behind Lyra, keeping her between us as a massive Atlan slowly walked toward our small group with the stunning redhead at his side. She was tall, like Lyra. But where Lyra’s hair was a warm shade of brown, this woman’s was auburn, her eyes a striking green. She wore a pencil skirt, cream colored blouse covered with a feminine flower pattern, and heels that were at least four inches high. She looked like she was about to do a photo shoot for a fashion magazine, not standing in an underground bunker with half a dozen alien killers in battle armor.
Jenkins—being the irreverent asshole I’d grown to deeply appreciate—whistled low and slow. “Holy shit. You’re Quinn McCaffrey. Channel 9 news.” Jenkins must have known better than to offer his hand in greeting with an overly protective, suspicious Atlan Warlord looming over her like a dark guardian.
“I am. Nice to meet you, Detective Jenkins.” The woman stepped closer to the Atlan and leaned into him. I noticed both wore matching mating cuffs around their wrists, the Atlan equivalent to wedding rings. Immediately, he wrapped his arm around her with a possessiveness I could relate to. That was the way I wanted to be holding Lyra right now… as close as I could fucking get her.
Screw that. I didn’t want her to be here at all. I wanted her warm and naked in my bed. As far away from this mess as possible.
