Her Alien Savior (5 page)

He pushed those thoughts aside.

A sensation of flying through a vortex seized him. The woman on the screen was remounting the man’s shaft. Lowering herself onto him with a smooth gliding motion, piercing her inner core with his shaft.

Her full posterior was inviting. Finn’s hand moved faster, gripped tighter. The vortex intensified. For reasons he couldn’t understand, green eyes and a set of full breasts crossed his mind. And stayed. Marissa. Target 41.

The vortex spun out of control. Finn ejaculated, filling his hand and exploding onto the dresser.

He sat on the bed, exhausted, drained, confused.

Sleep came easy. But it was short-lived. He awoke to a hotel room that was fully lit and a TV emitting white noise of static.

Still confused, he knew one thing. Until he was certain of what was in store for Marissa Sanchez, 41, he wasn’t turning her over to his cousin.

Picking up the cell phone, he typed an email message to Kal.

Rearranging order. Target 41 out of town. Proceeding to 42.

Finn pressed send and picked up 42’s file.

Chapter 9

Marissa

It was almost midnight,
Two West Two
was quiet, everyone gone. It wasn’t a busy night, but Marissa was tired. And she was in a bad mood, a hell of a bad mood. And if she’d have cared to admit it to herself, part of it was probably attributed to that man. That . . . she searched for a better word than man, but couldn’t bring herself to call him a douche again, even in her own mind, especially since he stirred up a whole mess of feelings inside, conflicted feelings. Confusing ones too, since she didn’t get where they came from and why they existed.

It had to be a combination of stress, fatigue, and shock from all this crap. What else could it be?

The guy called Finn never came back to the restaurant. Never came for dessert with Belle. Also didn’t come for the backpack that Belle said belonged to him. Marissa glanced at the black and gray backpack. She wanted to know what was in it. Yes, she was curious about this man.

But she shouldn’t. No, she shouldn’t. She put her hand on the zipper.
You know better than to open other people’s stuff, even if you’re curious.
She yanked her hand back.

But what if it had any information that would help her get it back to him? Should she look in there to find it?
You know better. You just want to pry, maybe even see him again?

She didn’t want to admit to that, she turned away from the backpack. He’d come back for it if it was important. But what if it had important medicine that he needed? Like if he was a diabetic or had heart issues?

A body like that?
Her inner voice scoffed.
As if that body would need medicines.
His image flashed through her mind. That was a fact.

She reached for the light switch, banishing Finn’s body and face from her mind. A good night’s rest would give her a fresh perspective.

And maybe give you some answers to your problem.
That’s true. She had no more clue what to do about the restaurant than she had this morning when that jackass at the bank jerked the rug out from under her feet.

What could she do though? Nothing. She scrubbed at her face with hands that hurt from chopping vegetables and carrying large entrée plates all day. Yep, there was nothing she could do.

Or was there? Surely she could do something about it? Couldn’t she? If she had the money to buy the chunk of property the landlord was selling, the chunk that included a third of
Two West Two’s
dining area. Couldn’t that solve the problem?

Maybe, maybe not. There was still the issue with the declining business. Yeah, but what if I offered catering? Hired a catering manager.

Sure, with what money?

That again. It all boiled down to money, didn’t it? The door chimed.

What the hell. James didn’t lock the front door when he left. Marissa froze. Her heart froze right along with her. She reached for the bat by the register.
Like that will help if the intruder has a gun.

“Marissa?”

That voice. She knew that voice. Joey. Her ex. She released her grip on the bat. Her fingers still stiff from fear. “Yeah.” Her voice betrayed her anxiety. She hoped he wouldn’t notice.

“Why is the door unlocked? You need to talk to James about that.”

“I know. What do you want?” She couldn’t keep the civility that drained from her tone. She had no reason to be nice to him.

“Nice to see you, too.” Sarcasm colored his. He raised his hand, a bottle of wine evident. “Your favorite.” He was still hot. Corporate hot. Conservative hot. Not dangerous hot.

And just like that her mind flew to Finn. Dangerous, hot Finn. “I hate wine.”

He tilted his head, the sexy way he knew used to drive her crazy. “Since when? You loved it when we were together. You drank it every time I bought it.”

That head tilt might have used to drive her crazy, until she remembered the shit she put up with from him.
“You never asked. It’s all you bought. I indulged you.”

He put his hand over his heart, as if he was wounded, mortally wounded. “Ouch. Way to make me feel like a heel.” But there was still a twinkle in his eye.

Marissa was ready for him to be gone already. “Why? Because you cheated on me?”

He recoiled, as if shocked she’d bring it up, or remember, or hold it against him. As if. “Does that keep us from being friends?”

“I’m not sure we ever were friends. Friends don’t rip their friend’s heart out over a piece of ass he met at the gym.”

Joey nodded. Acknowledging her point, probably not conceding it, if she knew him. “Just one drink. Come on. I know you’re having a rough time.”

Marissa pushed the tip jar to the corner of the counter, she’d let Belle handle that later. Wait. Wait. What? What did he mean? “Exactly what kind of rough time is it you think I’m having?” She yanked the scrunchie out of her hair, releasing the curls, and scrubbed the tension away with her fingertips, and all this without taking her eyes off Joey. Waiting, waiting for an answer to her question.

His Adam’s apple did a bob. She knew that bob oh-so-well. Joey was working on an answer. She tapped on the cupboard, studied her nails. Damn, they looked bad. She missed the days of French manicures, of pampering. Yeah, well that was a long time ago.

“Well?” She prodded Joey.

“I went to school with Rudy.”

Rudy. The a-hole at the bank. The one whose desk she hoped she’d scuffed.

“Your friend sucks.”

“It’s not exactly in his control you know.”

“Why the hell is he discussing my private business with someone it doesn’t concern?”

“Wow, Marissa. You’re not retracting your claws in the least today.” He took a few paces in her direction, then detoured to the server station, picked out a corkscrew and two wine glasses. “It’s not a conspiracy or anything like that. Anyway, I thought maybe I could be of help.”

“Really? Like what kind of help.” She didn’t trust him in the least. If Joey’s mouth was moving, he was lying. “You’re in car sales. What are you gonna do? Give me a job selling cars?”

He turned the corkscrew into the bottle. Twisted it out and set it down. “Well, yeah, I guess if that’s what you wanted. But I was thinking of something else. Something to help you keep
Two West Two.
”

He had her attention now. Though she still wasn’t ready to buy whatever he was selling. “Keep talking.”

“I could give you the money, you could make me a partner.”

Marissa opened her mouth to tell him there was no way in hell she’d sign any part of her father’s business over to him.

He raised his hand, stopping her before she’d even begun her protest.

“There’s another option. Hear me out.”

She waved her hand like a cop controlling traffic, leading him forward. “Go on.”

“Marry me.”

“What?” she couldn’t have heard him correctly. Couldn’t have. There was no way. “Marry you? Why the hell would I want to do that? Why the hell would you?”

He took a sip of the wine he’d poured, sauntered to the counter, still the same cocky old Joey, and handed her a glass. “Why don’t you just think about it before you give me an answer?”

Marissa set the glass down. She wasn’t even remotely interested in drinking wine. She hated wine. It gave her a headache. And right about now, Joey was giving her one too.

His option wasn’t quite the option he thought it was. It wasn’t the option that anyone who didn’t know Joey would think it was.

She closed her eyes and rubbed her temples. Shuffling sounds made her hope that Joey was leaving. Without stopping or even opening her eyes, she said, “Lock the door, please.” Taking a short nap on the cot in the back sounded good right about now.

A hand on her shoulder made her jump. She’d thought he was leaving, not walking her way. The other hand on her other shoulder wasn’t quite the same shock, but when the hands started to travel down the sides of her body, semi-cupping the sides of her breasts before drifting to her hips, she had to put the brakes on.

“Joey, I can’t even think straight. Give me some time.”

“Think about my offer.” His voice was soft in her ear. The same voice that used to make her body react to his touch.

He brushed his lips over hers.

She didn’t open her eyes until she heard the door latch and click.

Chapter 10

Finn

Target 42 was a dog groomer in southeast Houston. Reluctant to check out of the hotel that was near Marissa, he thought over his choices.

Don’t, he told himself. Don’t leave her behind.

I won’t.
He wouldn’t leave her.

The procedure to bring the targets in was simple enough, once initial contact had been made. An additive to a beverage would make the targets complacent and agreeable. Then twenty minutes later they’d be unconscious. And they better be in a secluded place or there would be questions asked, suspicions raised if anyone was around. Kal recommended a vehicle, for easy transport.

“Sounds simple enough.” Finn mused. Much simpler than many of the training missions he’d been on. And succeeded at those, succeeded very well, if he were to not be falsely humble, he reminded himself.

The phone buzzed. Finn checked Kal’s response.

Are you on schedule?

Finn paused. Should he tell Kal he might be behind? No, absolutely not. Better to try to catch up. He’d lost half a day. Or more.

His response to Kal was short.

Yes.

Grabbing a kit with the necessities to secure the target, Finn set out for his rental and the forty-nine minute drive to southeast Houston. Forty-nine, according to the GPS.

~*~

Finn nosed the rental into 42’s apartment complex, riding the brakes to keep from going too fast, and easily identified her car.

Based on research, 42 shouldn’t be out until 7 a.m. at which point she’d go to her favorite coffee shop and order her usual.

42. He didn’t want to remember her name. That would mean getting personal. What if the same thing happened with her as did with Marissa. He knew the same thing wouldn’t happen.
Not the same, exact thing
, but what if he started to care? What if his mission was impeded? No. That couldn’t be allowed to happen. He would lose everything. He’d be a disgrace. Maybe he’d be court-martialed for treason. And he wouldn’t blame them.

No. no friendships, no bonds, nothing. Just efficiency. Just transporting the target to the team. To Kal’s team. That was all.

An apartment door opened. 42’s door. He verified that this was the woman in the photo and followed her to the coffee shop. He parked and vaulted out of the car, dashed in and ordered before she even opened her own car door.

Inside, he ordered her favorite drink and proceeded to the sugar-and-cream counter to doctor it. And to wait for 42. Teresa, he reminded himself. Teresa. You can’t go around calling her 42.

“Teresa,” the barista called her name, handing 42 her latte.

42 approached him, her face distracted, deep in thought, maybe. Finn ran into her, jarring her elbow, sending her drink flying. Her expression turned to one of horror as coffee splattered him, the tables, and the floor.

“Jesus, I’m sorry.” he apologized, reaching for napkins, doing his best to appear contrite. “I wasn’t paying attention. Let me buy you another. What did you have?”

“A latte.”

“Oh, hell, take mine. That’s what I drink.”

“I couldn’t possibly.” Her pale cheeks blushed a rosy color, clearly not immune to male attention.

“I haven’t had a single sip yet. Not one.” Finn pressed the drink in her hand. “It’s yours, take it. Can I get you a pastry? I feel bad, I wasn’t paying attention to where I was going. Do you have time for a quick bite?”

He knew she had the time. Her usual routine included taking the coffee and drinking it at a park while she read a paperback romance.

“Oh, I—” She blushed a deeper red. “Okay. Why not.”

“Want to sit outside?”

Twenty minutes later she was getting into Finn’s rental, not only willing but also smiling, thanks to the Asazi supplement in her coffee.

In the car, she turned doe eyes his way.

Finn avoided looking in her eyes. He couldn’t. No. He started the car, reached for the stick to shift it, 42 sighed, laid her head down. Out. Damn the curses. That was close. One minute earlier and she’d have passed out in the coffee shop. Exactly what he did
not
need. That was way too close. He wiped the sweat from his brow with the back of his hand. Between the humidity and heat in this city and the stress of making sure she was in the car before she passed out, he was drenched in no time.

Now for the drive to Kal and his group who had set up a compound northwest of Houston, not far from College Station.

The drive to the compound lasted more than an hour. A long drive during which all he could do was hope that the target wouldn’t awaken. He never asked how long the targets would be kept unconscious by the formula. If she woke up, he would have to come up with a plan instantly. And he would risk discovery. Not knowing these facts, as small as they may have seemed made Finn nervous.