COWBOY ROMANCE: Justin (Western Contemporary Alpha Male Bride Romance) (The Steele Brothers Book 1) (81 page)

A Scifi Alien Abduction Romance

Prologue

With her back against the golden palace wall, Melanie stood by the doorway and listened to the two men converse.

“He is an unfit ruler,” one man said.

“We must find a way to replace him,” the second man replied. “We must remove him from the throne.”

“But we must have a plan first. It will not succeed if we go on instinct or go in with nothing to back up what we do. We must do this in a peaceful a way as possible.”

“And if he objects? What if his mate stops us? Since she never took a Cartonian body, she remembers her life on Earth. She also interferes much more than a Cartonian female would. She advises him when he asks, and he always listens to her.”

“Yes. Cartonian women know to stay out of the politics of the land. This Earthling does nothing but meddle. Because she is not from Cartonia, she has no business giving advice to our prince.”

“If we cannot do it peacefully,” the second man said, “we will rebel. We will go to war against the prince. But before that, we need to prepare a replacement to the throne, someone who can rule with a firm hand, not with softness as Prince Odin rules.”

Melanie pushed away from the wall and made her way down the hallway. Thank goodness, no one wore shoes here on Cartonia. She could escape to find her husband and tell him that there were at least two men plotting to take over the throne.

It still amazed her that she heard the words of the Cartonians in English, but now she was glad that she did. All that mattered was that she help her husband save the throne. But should she tell him now or wait until the first sign of trouble?

Chapter 1

Lynne Randle sat at the bar, alone with her thoughts. A tear slipped down her cheek as she sipped the margarita before her. Her life was nearly in shambles. Two months ago, she’d lost her job due to cutbacks. If it weren’t for unemployment checks that didn’t even cover her expenses and a small savings, she would be on the street. She had only three days left before rent was due, and she didn’t have enough money. In just days, she really would be on the street, living in her car—until that was repossessed for non-payment of the loan.

To make matters worse, Roger had walked out on her two days ago, breaking her heart, as well as leaving her with the entire lease to pay. Come to think of it, the last thing she needed right now was to be wasting money on a drink to ease her broken soul.

“Are you okay?” the male bartender asked.

“I suppose I will be,” she replied as she stared at her drink.

“I don’t know, ma’am. You look like you could use a friend.”

“I have one, but she’s on vacation right now.”

“It’s pretty slow in here tonight,” he said. “I’d be happy to listen if you need somebody to talk to.”

“What I
need
is a job. Unless you have one, I don’t think talking will do much good.”

“Actually, I believe the boss is taking applications this week.”

She shot her startled gaze to his face—and what a nice face it was, kind of a cross between Tom Selleck and Pierce Brosnan. His eyes were a deep brown, and his hair was salt-and-pepper gray, with more gray at the temples. Deep dimples adorned his cheeks when he smiled.

“Really?” she asked, unable to believe her minor complaint had gotten a result.

“Really. Let me see if he’ll talk to you.”

The bartender disappeared into a nearby office and returned a few minutes later with an older gentleman following him.

By the time Lynne left the bar, she had a job waiting tables and counting cash at the end of her shift. The latter had surprised her, but she had worked in a bank, so that was probably why the owner had thought she would be good for that job. This was good because that meant a little more in her paycheck every week.

Still, Lynne couldn’t get rid of her food stamps just yet. The job would only pay her rent and car payments for the moment, but there was a chance of a promotion and pay raise if she survived the probation period. Besides, it would be nice working with Ryan, the Tom-Pierce lookalike, because he was a kind, caring man to everyone.

Finishing her drink in a better mood, Lynne left Ryan a nice tip as a way to thank him for his help, but he pushed the three dollar bills back to her, saying, “You need these more than I do. Besides, we’re working together now. I can’t take money away from a co-worker.”

“Not until I fill out the paperwork tomorrow morning,” she reminded him. “But thanks. This could buy me a Big Mac for dinner.”

Chapter 2

When Lynne arrived for work the next day, she filled out the necessary paperwork for taxes and insurance. While she did, she chatted with the owner, Steve, and discovered that he hadn’t even been considering putting an ad in the classifieds for a position at the Rattler Bar and Grill. Actually, he didn’t even need another employee; but when Ryan approached him about it, he couldn’t say no. Steve had laughed and said that it was almost as though Ryan had cast a spell on him.

What a strange thing to admit, Lynne thought as she wandered to the bar to learn her duties. Steve was the owner, for Pete’s sake. He had full control over whom and when he hired. Yet Ryan had convinced him to hire her. Oh, well, at least she had a job; that was all she cared about.

Lynne loved her job, despite the menial nature of it. Most of the customers were friendly, and she got very good tips, which helped with her finances.

Of all the things she liked about her job, Ryan was the best part. Getting to work with him was a joy. His humor was a bit dry, but she liked that. She’d learned that he was single, and he flirted with her a lot over the first month.

By the end of the second month, they were dating. Her former relationship was now in the past, and this man was her present. Would he be her future? That remained to be seen.

One thing that bothered her was that Ryan had never even suggested that they go to bed together. Oh, they’d slept together on the couch, but nothing had happened—not that she hadn’t wanted it to. She decided that he must be a staunch Christian, because he never worked on Sundays. Then again, why would a Christian work at a bar in the first place? That was easy to answer; he probably couldn’t get another job, either.

“Good morning,” Ryan said from behind her.

Startled, Lynne jumped slightly and slapped her hand over her heart. “Good Lord, Ryan. You shouldn’t be sneaking up on people like that.”

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to scare you.”

“I know that, silly.” Turning, she smiled up at him. Almost immediately, her lips slipped into a deep frown. She couldn’t quite figure out why yet, but he seemed different somehow. “Are you okay?”

“I’m kind of sick to my stomach, and I’ve been having cold sweats.”

“Then go home.”

“Nah, I’ll be fine. I’m just tired and can’t sleep. I think I’m coming down with the flu or something. I can make it through my shift, no sweat. No pun intended.”

“Nobody else wants your illness, so
go home
,” she insisted firmly. “Steve can call Jill or Rob in to tend bar. One of them can take your shift. You go, and I’ll tell him we need somebody else in here.” She turned him by his shoulders and gave him a slight push toward the door. “Now go. I’ll bring you some chicken soup when I get off work.”

Slumping a bit, Ryan shuffled toward the door. “I think I’ll take you up on that, sweetie. Maybe I can make up for some of the sleep I’ve lost over the last couple of nights.” He wiped his forehead on the long sleeve on his shirt as he pushed open the door. “Call me before you come over. I might not feel like soup.”

“All right. I hope you can rest.”

Ryan left the building without a word, and on the way by the window, he rubbed his chest. Concerned, Lynne raced to the office to tell Steve that they needed another bartender for the day. Then she asked to use the computer.

There she googled the phrase
heart attack symptoms in men
. According to WebMD, cold sweats, nausea and the feeling that one was getting the flu were signs of a heart attack. So was tightness or pain in the chest, and Ryan had been rubbing his chest, which could indicate one of those.

“Steve,” she said as she turned toward him in her chair, “I’m worried about Ryan. I’m afraid he’s having a heart attack.”

Joining her at the computer, Steve leaned closer to see what she was reading then released a chuckle. “WebMD, huh? You and my wife. I told her she was banned from using that website because every time she did, she was sure she had some disease.”

“No, I looked up the symptoms of a heart attack in men and Ryan is exhibiting several of them.”

“Don’t be silly,” he replied in an aggravated tone. “Ryan is healthy as a horse and only 33 years old. It’s probably just the flu like you said.”

“Wouldn’t it be better to err on the side of caution? I could just call 911 and send them to his house.”

“He won’t be home for at least fifteen minutes. What are you going to tell them? To find his car? To wait at the door until he shows up? You’ve got to let it go. Besides, we’ll be opening soon. I’m going to need you when the lunch crowd shows up.”

Steve had a point. Ryan was young, and it was very unlikely that he was having a heart attack. But as she went about her day, she couldn’t shake the feeling that something was wrong, that she needed to go to his house to make sure he was okay.

Throughout her shift, Lynne could think only of Ryan. She mixed up orders and could scarcely be pleasant to customers. Many who were regulars asked her what was wrong, but she told them only that she was having a bad day.

Finally, her shift was finished. She clocked out, raced to her car, and sped a few miles over the speed limit until she reached Ryan’s house. Pulling into his driveway, she turned off her car and ran to the door.

When she knocked, she received no reply. She knocked again and again no reply. She tried the knob, and the door opened. Thank goodness. She hadn’t wanted to break in, but she had been determined to do so if necessary.

“Ryan!” she called out. “Are you here?”

There was no reply.

“Ryan! Wake up!” she shouted as she rushed to the bedroom.

He lay there on the bed, his eyes staring at the ceiling, his chest neither rising nor falling. Lynne wasted no time. She’d been in this position with her father two years ago, so she knew exactly what she needed to do.

Chapter 3

Praying that she wasn’t too late, she burst into action. The first thing she did was check for a pulse on the side of his neck. Nothing. But he was still warm, so there was chance to save him. Grabbing his arms, she pulled him onto the floor. Then she called 911. Without hesitating, she began chest compressions with one hand over the other, putting some force behind her actions by sitting on her knees, her arms straight and using the power of her entire body. One … two … three … up to thirty.

Turning her attention to his breathing, she tilted his neck back so his chin was raised. She thrust two fingers into his mouth to make sure he didn’t have an obstruction before bending over him, pinching his nose with her thumb and index finger, and blowing into his mouth for just a moment. His check rose and fell, so she repeated the breath for a bit longer.

She returned to the chest compressions then mouth-to-mouth twice more. Lynne sighed with relief when Ryan gasped for air as he came back to life.

“Thank you, God,” she said to the ceiling. Ryan started to get up, but Lynne laid her hands on his shoulders and pushed him back down. “You rest. The ambulance is on the way.”

“Ambulance?” he asked in apparent confusion. “Why?”

“When I finally got here, you didn’t have a pulse, and you weren’t breathing. I figured you hadn’t been gone for long since you were still warm, so I did CPR.”

“CPR?”

“Yep.” She smiled and tried to lighten the conversation by teasing him as sirens wailed in the distance. “At first, I thought you might be faking it to get my lips on yours.”

“That makes no sense.”

“Don’t worry. It was just a joke.” Sirens grew louder then stopped. “The ambulance is here now. I’m going to let them in. You stay put.”

Scurrying out of the room, Lynne went to the front door and opened it for the EMTs. The female carried a small first aid kit, while the male toted a larger bag.

“Where’s the patient?” the female asked.

“This way,” Lynne replied as she led the pair to the bedroom.

To her dismay, Ryan stood in the middle of the room. “What are you doing up? I told you to stay down?”

“No, you told me to stay put. I stayed in the room.”

“Well, lie down on the bed so the technicians can examine you.”

“Yes, sir,” the male technician said. “Please lie down.”

“Could we speak alone?” Ryan asked the man.

“If you want.” The technician turned toward the women. “If you don’t mind, would you close the door on the way out?”

The female paramedic took Lynne’s upper arm and steered her back to the living room.

“Why wouldn’t he want us in there?” Lynne asked in a daze as she dropped onto the couch.

“Some men just don’t want women around when they’re being examined,” the EMT replied.

“But I just saved his life. Surely, he wouldn’t mind if I was in there with him.”

“Apparently, he would. Relax. John will take care of him, and we’ll take him to the hospital for a complete check-up.”

When John came out to the living room, however, he announced that Ryan refused to go to the hospital, insisting that he was fine and had simply fainted. John had checked his vital statistics and listened to Ryan’s heart and lungs. Since everything registered as being normal, he could do nothing to force Ryan to leave.

So John and the female technician packed up their belongings and left.

“You should have gone to the hospital,” Lynne admonished as she and Ryan sat on his couch together.

“I’m fine. I do not need hospitalization. Even the paramedic said I was fine.”

“But you had no pulse, and you weren’t breathing. Technically, you were dead. You need to find out what happened.”

Without a word, Ryan rose, went to the picture window overlooking the street, and stared outside. Realizing that he needed time to process what had happened to him, Lynne remained silent. She didn’t want to interrupt his thoughts. When several minutes had passed, however, she decided it was time to speak again.

“You realize, don’t you,” she said, “that this is a serious matter? Just because you don’t have any symptoms now, doesn’t mean you won’t have them again in the future. You
need
to have a doctor see you.”

This time when he turned to face her as he leaned against the window sill, he looked a little different. Oh, his eyes were still dark brown; his hair was still dark brown, as well. His mouth was still full, but he carried a slightly less cheerful expression. Was it because of his near-death experience? Had he actually
had
a near-death experience?

“What is it, Ryan? What happened while you were dead?”

“To begin with, I don’t believe I was dead.” He wandered to his recliner and dropped into it. “Maybe I was close, but I don’t believe that I had actually died.”

“Either way, you need an examination.”

“No. They will want to poke me and prod me, and I don’t want that. If I am ill again, I will do as you suggest.”

“Will you promise to do it as soon as you feel the symptoms coming on? The cold sweats? The upset stomach? The tightness or pain in your chest?
Especially
the tightness or pain in your chest.”

“I never make promises, but I will do my best.”

“All right—on one condition. I’m staying here tonight.”

“That sounds like a good idea.” He paused then added, “You are a very caring person. That is a wonderful quality. I believe I could spend eternity with you.”

“Oh, yeah?” she said, automatically adding a bit of seduction into her tone. “Does that mean we’ll be dating for longer than a few weeks?”

“Possibly. Are you hungry? I know I am.”

“Then let’s feed you. I’ll order from
Die Suppenküchen
around the corner. Do you want chicken soup or something else?”

“I like their split pea, but anything is fine.”