Her Alien Savior (7 page)

The bell signaled the door opening. She did a one-eighty.

Oh God.

No. No. No God no. It was him.

And he seemed fresh and—

She looked down at the stains on her top from a plate that slid off a tray, and ended up retexturizing and recoloring her blouse. Red pasta sauce almost resembled a blossoming gunshot wound. And then there was her face. God.

Relax. He’s here to see Belle. Yes, that’s right.
But he asked for you the other day. BY NAME. He said Miss Sanchez.
Stupid damned voice. If shaking her head would shake it away she would, but it wouldn’t. And she’d look weird on top of nasty, grimy, and oily. She slunk toward the kitchen, avoiding eye contact, hoping that would keep him from noticing her. Six yards away. She had only six yards to go and she was free and clear.

Five.

And Belle was giggling that cute giggle of hers, a tinkling little laugh. Forgetting or forgiving—or both—that he stood her up for dessert.

Four yards to go. Just four, surely she could make it.

His response to Belle, whatever it was, was low, and even though she wasn’t going to look at them, Marissa would have sworn it sounded . . . intimate. UGH. And worse, why did that bother her?

Three.

Oh yes. Almost there. Almost.

Two.

“Miss Sanchez? Marissa?” Him. God. Ugh. His voice. Double-UGH!

She whirled around. Shit. Oh. He was right on top of her practically. When she turned, she was looking right at his chin. And a nice tan strong chin it was.

Marissa chanced a look into his eyes. Amusement? He was amused? What the hell?

Suddenly her embarrassment at her appearance took a back seat to her anger at his amusement. Did he think the way she looked was funny? Marissa took a deep breath. No she wasn’t going to react. She was going to keep it together. No more bitch-Marissa from the other day. Nice-Marissa was here. Sort of. She hoped. Prayed, even.

She cleared her throat, hoping the pause would give her a chance to compose. Or recompose. Or stay composed. Or something. Something. Anything. “Yes?” And still, she squawked the word out. What was it about this man? Every time she talked to him, at least when she said
yes,
it came out in a croak.

Chapter 14

Finn

He breathed her in. Though she had clearly worked hard, and sweated, she had a muskiness, a—he inhaled again—a scent to her that reached deep down into his gut, maybe even lower. Her eyes flashed their angry green fire, her jaw jutted out.

He fought to keep from kissing her. Wondered what it would be like. Wondered what it would taste like. He was no stranger to some of the human actions, like intimacy. He studied the lessons the Asazi were taught about humans in preparation for a journey to Earth. But he’d always fought the impulse and fought the human emotions that drove it. Was this a mistake? Was sending him here to do this a very bad idea? He graduated at the top of his class at the Elite Measures Academy. Why was this happening to him? He was a soldier. He had no weaknesses. He grit his teeth to keep his anger from raising his pulse. His shoulder blades ached where his wings demanded to be released. He feared his skin would glow in its natural state, freak her out with his colors. Curse this mission. Would he have to leave the restaurant to keep from being discovered? Was he such a failure?

He tore his gaze away from her lips, her face. Held his breath and took a step back. “Miss Sanchez.” He released the breath slowly, regulating the pulse, regaining control of his faculties and his senses, even his body. Somewhat. Yes, somewhat in regards to the body. That was harder to control.

Why didn’t he have these reactions to the very, very willing Belle? Why? Why only this female? Why not the guest clerk at the hotel? Why?

He wanted to call his cousin and ask him if it was normal. Then again, what if they yanked him from the mission? What if they removed him from the military? Or even worse, assigned him to a desk job. No. He would NOT allow that. Never. Would they make him be Bound to Alithera again? Could they? Under what threat?

He put on what he’d practiced as his best smile. “I was hoping to have a visit with you, Miss Sanchez. Do I need to set up an appointment for that?”

An expression passed over her face, even if fleeting, he would have sworn that it was vulnerability. What was that about?

Her shoulders slumped, almost as if she was admitting defeat. Defeat for what? What was going on in that head of hers? Suddenly and without understanding why, Finn wanted to know everything about this woman. What made her happy, what made her sad, mad, why she seemed defeated, why she was angry earlier? What she was like as a little
human
girl. What she liked to do for fun. Humans did a lot of that—fun stuff. The Asazi were not a fun-based culture. Theirs was based on different values. Of course, it had to be. They were transplanted to a new world long ago. There was no time for luxury. And now that they were in danger of a dwindling population—

She was talking to him. What did she say? “I’m sorry. Could you repeat that?” He didn’t want to tell her why. Especially since it was because he was daydreaming while she was talking.

“An appointment for what? Who are you? Who do you represent?” Her eyes narrowed, as though suspicion had overtaken her fatigue and defeat.

“Represent? I’m a scout. Simply that.” This was all he could think to say. Pathetic. His plans of how to get close to her vanished. He’d forgotten his plan. He was worthless.
A scout?
He could imagine Kal’s voice already.
That was the best you could come up with?
Now Finn was happy there wasn’t a transmitter in his phone or on his person that would relay their conversations, his blunders.

Or was there? No, surely they’d have told him. They wouldn’t risk that anyway, would they? Risk humans finding out about Asazi by discovering any instrumentation on them if they were captured? No. surely not. Thought a niggling doubt remained.

Marissa cleared her throat, tapped her foot impatiently. “A scout for?” Then another look passed over her face. It almost seemed like recognition. Or acknowledgment. Whatever it was, it was quickly replaced with anger. She seemed angrier than she had been last time they saw one another.

“You work for one of those damned vultures, don’t you? One of those developers that wants me gone. Don’t you?
Don’t you?
” Her voice became louder and louder. Her face red. She was still a vision, but now she was a Valkyrie.

He took a step back, putting some distance between himself and her anger. “I’m not what you think. It’s not what you think.”

Chapter 15

Marissa

Just when Marissa was revving up. When she was ready to blast him with both barrels—

—the phone rang. And rang. And rang. And it dawned on her that Belle wasn’t going to answer it. To compound matters, Belle had this look on her face, like she was beseeching Marissa to answer the phone so she could talk with this guy. This Finn guy. A guy Marissa was ready to kick out of her restaurant. Damned vulture.

She sprinted for the cordless. “
Two West Two
.”

“Miss Sanchez?”

That voice. Marissa’s stomach felt like it was caught in a speedboat’s propeller.
That ass from the bank.
She choked back her reflex to cuss the bastard out. “This is Marissa Sanchez.”

“Miss Sanchez, your failure to secure a loan—”

“Just get to the point.”

“Miss Sanchez.” She could just imagine the sneer on his face. The same one he wore the last time they talked. “The sale of the property has been finalized. Effective by the end of the month, you will have to vacate the premises. You will receive formal notice via the sheriff’s office today.”

More like he probably wanted to gloat, but she bit that back. “You can’t do that. That’s less than ten days away. I have rights.”

“When your lease expired, you went month-to-month. Read your lease terms.”
If you can read at all,
his tone implied
.

The room closed in around her, getting smaller and smaller, darker and darker. She took a seat, more like slumped into a booth, wishing she could sink into the upholstery.

Ten days. Ten days to erase all traces of
Two West Two
. “How am I supposed to do that? To move an entire restaurant in ten days? And where am I supposed to take everything?” She regretted the questions the minute they parted her lips. She didn’t want him to hear the pathetic desperation she felt. She pressed the
End Call
button and put her head between her hands, resting her forehead on the table’s cool surface.

It was hard to breathe. And for the first time in two years—
since Dad died—
she wanted a drink. A whole lot of a drink. That sounded like a winner, right about now.

“Marissa?” Belle’s voice had that faraway quality.

“I don’t feel very well. Can you call in some help? I—” Marissa rose, bracing her shaky legs by holding on to the table. “—I—I’ll see you later.”

She picked up her bag from behind the register and made for the door. The man called Finn said something, but it was a low rumble and sounded more like a distant muted thunder than words.

And then she was out in the blinding brightness. Slipping sunglasses on, she fished her keys out of her pocket.

Chapter 16

Finn

And just like that—no notice, no clues, nothing—she was gone. The phone rang, she answered it, the call couldn’t have been more than a minute, maybe two. Then she looked like a balloon that had the air drained out of it. She laid her head on the table, then got up, grabbed her purse, didn’t even respond to his question, didn’t even act like she’d heard it, or that he even existed. And then she was gone.

He wondered if he should let her go. He wondered if he should abort the mission altogether, maybe move on to the next target, because this one seemed so . . . so . . . unpredictable.

Then the inexplicable happened, as if someone else was controlling his body, his mind, his actions, he found himself telling Belle he had to run an errand. And he followed her, this dark-haired, green-eyed woman with a warrior’s spirit. He knew why he did it. He’d seen that look she had on her face. He’d seen it on shell-shocked soldiers who’d seen too much, lived through too much and were numb. And numb soldiers did stupid things. Dangerous things.

Did female humans—
women
, Kal’s word reverberated in his mind—did women do stupid things when they were numb or shell-shocked? He wished he’d paid better attention to some of the lessons. Right now, knowing more about humans would serve him better than knowing all the different techniques of killing, survival, espionage, evasion, reconnaissance, and escape. He slipped into the foot-traffic, keeping enough of a distance behind her, and hoping she wouldn’t notice him. Of course she wouldn’t, he chastised himself. He was trained well. Sure, he counter-argued himself, but not to evade discovery in a densely-populated area.

As soon as he was home, as soon as this mission was complete, he would suggest to the Elite Measures Academy that they implement evasion in populated areas to their curriculum, but for now, he needed to pay better attention. To stay on his guard so she wouldn’t notice him. Who knew how she’d react to his following her. If she were mildly hostile earlier, now she may be outright antagonistic.

She stopped in front of her car, keys in hand. Then shook her head, as if arguing with herself. Her hair caught the sun’s rays, a deep auburn tint in the dark waves. She turned around, a full revolution, and Finn stepped behind a light post, while maintaining an appreciative eye on the way she filled her jeans. She made a sharp 180 and headed down the street.

What was that about? What had that phone call meant? Belle seemed concerned when Marissa told her to get help and run the dinner shift without her, as if this was not a commonplace event. As if Marissa never missed a day’s work. Was she going somewhere to a business meeting? What kind of meeting would have her looking so defeated, so emotionless?

He walked behind her, keeping his distance varied, on occasion crossing the street as she trudged on, almost in a stupor. An hour later she stopped and surveyed her surroundings. He guessed they’d gone a good couple of miles from
Two West Two
. This was a far shabbier part of town, mostly dotted with bars, car repair shops, and homes with occasional bars across their windows, the ones that weren’t in disarray. The ones that were in disarray, well—he supposed there was no reason to bar anyone from entering those.

She hurried across the street into a—

Finn looked for a sign. Anything that would identify the building. It wasn’t a place of business, as far as he could tell.

A couple followed her in. Then another couple, holding hands. Odd. Maybe it was a business? But one that was unmarked? What sort of business would that be? The green door had no identifying marks, not even a street number. In her state of mind, she’d be easy prey, probably not even paying attention. He couldn’t just let her be in there alone. Or maybe he was overreacting. Maybe he should go away.

And go where? There was nothing else, nowhere else to go. He had one mission. Marissa. Leaving her would mean he wouldn’t be accomplishing his mission. Well, that and the fact he didn’t want to admit to himself he wanted to be where she was. That in itself was too confusing to deal with. So what else was there to do but go in?

No, he’d wait and see if she came out. But first he had to make sure that there were no other exits. The building was two-story, white-washed brick, a metal staircase led to the second floor on the outside. Metal staircase with concrete steps and a metal, ornate handrail.

A quick trip around the building assured there were no windows. Odd, a building without windows. It used to have windows but they’d been sealed with bricks.