Invaded

by Jennifer M. Eaton

  Agent Evans kept pace beside him. Agent Black or Brown—whatever the kid’s name was—trailed behind them, tapping on his phone with a stylus.

  “Agents.” John inclined his head slightly. “Need some help with your case?”

  “Just a few questions,” Evans said.

  Clark pushed within inches of John’s nose. “Like why another woman wasn’t murdered on Friday.”

  John tried to look surprised, as if he’d detached himself from the case and hadn’t checked their progress, or lack of it, each morning. “I wouldn’t assume there wasn’t another murder. I’d be combing the missing person’s reports.”

  Clark pointed to the younger agent. “Green has already done that.”

  So, the kid’s name was Green. He knew it was a color.

  “No recent disappearances match the profiles of the other victims,” Green said.

  John’s eyes narrowed. “There’s barely a profile between them. Other than eye color, we couldn’t find a match.”

  The agents glanced between each other.

  “What, you found a connection?”

  Clark pointed at John, pushing him back. “We’re really interested in why the murders stopped the second you were taken off the case.”

  Heat flooded through John. “What the hell are you getting at?”

  Evans pushed toward him. “Has your Ambient manifested in any way? Spoken?”

  “Other than craving broccoli, no.”

  “Have you had any episodes of sleepwalking?” Green asked. “Or waking up somewhere other than where you went to bed?”

  “No.”

  Dak jolted, kicking John’s bladder.

  This line of questioning confirmed John’s concerns. “You think an Ambient host did this?”

  Clark’s nose wrinkled. “Classified.”

  Of course, it was. “Nothing has changed since my last interrogation with you guys.” He waited for a woman carrying a manila folder to pass out of earshot. “I barely know this thing is inside me.”

  “Have you noted any other Ambients in the area?” Evans asked. “We’ve found that they can be attracted to each other.”

  No sense in lying about that. “Yeah, Tracy Seavers. We ran into each other outside a coffee shop.”

  Green glanced at his phone. “That would be The Treehouse coffee shop, right?”

  John’s right hand formed a fist. He released it. “How long have you been watching me?”

  Green shook his head. “Not you, but it is standard protocol to watch a new host for a set amount of time. If nothing manifests within a month, statistically, they’re safe.”

  “So, you’re watching Tracy.”

  Shit. Tracy had experienced some alarming issues with her entity, but nothing like this. Then again, how long had she been out of the Ambient Research Facility before the murders began?

  “Our job is to make sure humanity is safe within the confines of the accord,” Evans said.

  Clark nodded. “And if we deem it’s not safe, we act.”

  Dak shivered, and John worked at keeping himself from stepping back. They’d seen Clark act on an entity he’d deemed unsafe. Both he and Dak had nightmares for months.

  *Keep him away from Adonna. She didn’t do anything.*

  How can we be sure?

  *She’s too weak. There’s no way she could take hold for long without Tracy knowing.*

  That was true. There was definitely something up with Adonna, but it was unlikely it had anything to do with murder.

  *What about the other host Tracy met? The entity that Adonna…* Dak fizzled and his words faded out.

  John worked to quiet the flush of anger surfacing, imagining another man touching Tracy. But it had only been that: one entity attracted to another, nothing that sounded dangerous. Was it fair to sick these maniacs on a guy who was probably as confused as any other host?

  Part of him wanted to say yes, to put Agent Dickwad on this guy’s trail and get rid of the competition, but none of this was that poor sap’s fault, and maybe not even the guy’s Ambient’s fault. They probably didn’t even know Tracy was involved with anyone else.

  No, he wouldn’t throw some stranger under a bus. That didn’t mean John wouldn’t consider asking the guy a few questions, though, just in case.

  He took a deep breath. “Well, if I run across another host, I’ll be sure to let you know.”

  Green just blinked. Clark and Evans continued to scowl.

  “If that’s all, gentlemen,” John tried not to spit out the last word. “I have my own case to get back to.”

  Clark called down the hall as John headed to the war room. “I find it interesting that the only person who saw our murderer ended up dead a week later.”

  John hesitated, his hand on the door.

  Shit.

  *Please keep walking.*

  John turned. “Do you want to take over Officer Doogan’s murder, too?” He eyed Evans, whose sneer took up most of his face.

  Agent Green shoved his phone into his inner jacket pocket. “We don’t think your case is related.”

  “That’s what I thought.” John pushed the door and headed into the war room. The bastards were trying to get him riled up for some reason.

  *Don’t let them.*

  John unclenched his fists. “Working on it.”

  The papers on the corkboard shifted as he entered, calling attention to Doogan’s final pose.

  This crime scene was different. The women from the first investigation were raped. Two of them were tortured. The perpetrator had enjoyed himself.

  The person who killed Doogan was angry. This was personal. They wanted to do harm. Kill. Emasculate. Or was the mutilation something else?

  Art shifted in the corner. “You’ve got that scary detective look on your face again.”

  Scary? Yes. Terrifying. Doogan’s sexual organs were removed after he’d been beaten to death. If stuffing the man’s genitals into his mouth was a message, it wasn’t for Doogan. The cop was already dead.

  Who would get satisfaction from seeing Doogan that way? Did the perpetrator kill Doogan for someone else? But, who? And why?

  Unless the motive was the most obvious one.

  What if Doogan really had shot the killer? Maybe this was the perpetrator’s way of keeping the investigation off-kilter while getting rid of loose ends.

  The photos from the women’s murder scenes flashed through his mind. He centered on the people gathered against the barricades outside Melissa Harpoona’s house.

  Tracy was there. Why? Morbid curiosity over a dead schoolmate she hardly knew?

  And she seemed so interested in the case, always asking questions.

  John’s stomach clenched. He jumped when Art’s hand appeared on his shoulder.

  “Hey.” His partner frowned. “You okay?”

  John blinked and nodded. “Yeah.” He glanced back to Doogan’s photo. “I’m feeling a little nauseated all of a sudden.”

  He grabbed his phone and brought up Tracy’s last text. He tapped his finger beside the happy face emoji.

  No. The Feds had been watching her. They’d have picked up on anything strange.

  He was overthinking this. He had to be.

  46

  “I’m telling you, you should have seen his face.” Tracy propped her elbows on the edge of the table, soaking in John’s bemused gaze as he leaned across his plate, waiting for her to continue. He barely flinched when a waitress dropped a tray of dishes a few booths away.

  When was the last time she had a guy’s complete attention like this? Her cheeks heated. Probably never. In the past, she’d felt second fiddle to her date’s phone, or a pretty waitress, or the flat screen broadcasting the game.

  Tracy’s stomach clenched, and she shifted her weight. “I don’t think the colonel could believe that a higher charitable donation could possibly lead to more profit.”

  John stared at her for a moment. She gulped. Should she have said something else?

  His e
yes narrowed as if deciphering some grand puzzle before his posture relaxed. “Well, that’s why he gave you the promotion, right? Sounds like you really know your stuff.”

  She released a breath. He actually was listening. It was invigorating and horrifying all at the same time. Tracy drank in the lines of his shoulders, the virile cut of his jaw. Shit, he was hot and attentive. What in God’s name was he doing here, with her?

  A tiny dimple appeared on his cheek when he smiled. Warmth wrapped her up and drew her heart slowly, lazily toward her stomach. She imagined those strong arms encircling her, those hands removing her clothes.

  Flushing, she ran her fingers over the top of her wine glass, regaining her composure and bringing her back to the conversation about her business meeting. “I was so nervous, but once I got going, it felt right. Like I was always meant to be up there.”

  John raised his glass. “To the future CEO.”

  “I don’t know about all that, but thanks.” She clinked her glass against his.

  Before withdrawing, John ran the side of his hand along hers. She shivered, and it had nothing to do with their Ambients. He was so sweet, so perfect.

  But so was break-up-with-you-on-the-answering-machine Jason.

  Part of her tried to put up a wall to brace herself against getting hurt again. But she couldn’t. She didn’t want to. Not this time.

  John sipped his drink and set it down beside the last scoop of the Triple Chocolate Meltdown they’d been sharing.

  “Are you going to eat that?” Tracy asked.

  He folded his hands. “No. If I do, the date will be over. I’m not ready to say goodnight.”

  She warmed. Sometimes, the end of the date was just the beginning.

  John had said he wanted to take this to the next level, but what did that really mean? Was it safe for her to open up and let him in? God, she wanted to. Now, more than ever.

  Yes, her life was upside down, but things had leveled since she met John. Maybe things were even better than before.

  This relationship was right in so many ways. Meeting John had been the tipping point that brought her back from the edge of a dark, frightening place she didn’t want to remember. She needed him, and she was pretty damn sure the feeling was more than mutual. All she needed to do was break through the chain-mail armor he seemed to wear around his heart.

  “I had an awesome time tonight.” She cringed at her own words. How many times had a guy said that to her, followed by a sleazy line to try to get her in bed? Was she doing the same thing to John? Maybe.

  To hell with maybe. She was. She totally was.

  And to hell with taking things slow. Everything about their relationship was right. She just needed John to see this as clearly as she did. She’d never have a normal relationship with a non-host. Adonna had cut Tracy’s options down from a million eligible men, to a few alien hosts. It was unlikely she’d ever meet another host she liked as much as John. She’d find a hole in that armor if it killed her.

  Tonight had been great. Pressure-free. She could relax with John, as if they’d known each other forever. Being with him was like being swaddled in a blanket: warm and protected. Not that she needed to be protected, but it was nice to know he was there, just in case.

  Tracy uncrossed and re-crossed her legs as Sean’s shirtless form flashed through her mind.

  No. That was not what she wanted. And, Adonna, you better wipe that thought from your mind forever. Tracy steadied herself with a deep breath.

  Never again. It wasn’t about Sean, anyway. It was about the entity inside him.

  Adonna rolled, but nothing more. Good.

  Tracy understood that Adonna was her own person with her own needs. If Tracy wanted to make it work with John, she needed Dak to show Adonna that he could make her feel the way Sean’s Ambient had. Tracy needed to be sure that Sean would never be an issue between her and Adonna again.

  “I had a great time, too,” John said. “That’s why I don’t want it to end.”

  He rotated his grip on her hand, not holding it on one place for more than a few seconds. There was no sense of the now-familiar touch of Dak seeping into her skin because John wasn’t giving him a chance. How horrible it must be for the poor alien, being so close, but unable to touch.

  “You’re teasing Dak.”

  John smiled. “I certainly am. He’s not being a good boy. I don’t want him anywhere near you, but I want to hold your hand.”

  Sean’s entity had exploded through his host’s skin to get inside her. Hard, fast, and strong. Frightening. Was that what Adonna wanted? Could Dak give that to her?

  Tracy’s gaze carried along John’s shoulders, up his strong neck, and settled on the adorable dimple. It would be so much more intense being with someone Tracy wanted—connecting with John on her own terms while giving their Ambients the contact they so desperately wanted.

  Maybe Dak knew this. Maybe that was why he was struggling to get to Tracy. If Dak was ready to show his stuff, if he could give Adonna the intimacy she wanted…

  John continued his small touches, denying his entity entrance. But maybe that was a good thing, because tonight wasn’t about the creatures hiding inside them. It was about Tracy, John, and whatever this little spark was that had ignited between them.

  She settled her hand over John’s. Thankfully, Dak kept to himself. “I’m not afraid of Dak, and I’m definitely not afraid to take this further.”

  John’s eyes darkened. He broke her gaze.

  “Are you afraid?” she asked.

  “No!” John bolted upright, then settled himself. “I mean, no, of course not. I told you, I’m interested.” He smiled before he took her hand again. “I’m really interested.”

  He closed his eyes for three beats before opening them. His face remained turned toward the menus tucked in the clip beside the window.

  Damn, she wished she could hear the argument probably going on between John and his Ambient. For maybe the first time, she hoped Dak would win—as long as the entity would agree to give them some privacy. Which was probably unlikely, but she hoped he would.

  She and John hadn’t been together all that long—just a few weeks, but he’d bounded over the friend zone like an Olympic athlete. He’d become a part of her life, slipping in effortlessly, as if he’d always been there, belonged there.

  He did belong. The intensity brewing inside her may have something to do with the Ambients, but she didn’t care. This was real, and she wasn’t about to let it go.

  His gaze flicked back to hers.

  “Everything okay?” she asked.

  John turned his hand beneath hers and squeezed her palm. “Yeah. Actually, I think it’s great. I think maybe we’re both great.” His long fingers dwarfed hers, and there was no extraterrestrial sizzle in their contact.

  “Dak’s keeping to himself.”

  “For once, he’s being smart.” John gestured to the melted ice cream and soggy cake still between them. “Do you want any more of that?”

  “No. I think I’m ready to leave.”

  His grip on her tightened as their gazes locked.

  What was going on in that head of his? Was Dak poking at him, or was he lost in his own thoughts?

  She squeezed his hand back. “Laini is at her book club tonight. Do you want to come over for a bit?”

  His lips parted, showing a brief flash of his teeth. “Yeah, I think we’d like that a lot.”

  The sound of John’s radio kept Tracy company most of the ride home.

  John gripped the steering wheel with both hands. His cheek ticked, and he grimaced more than once. Despite the quiet in the car, the conversation between Dak and his host seemed quite heated.

  Adonna remained silent, as always. Maybe she realized that Tracy and John were finally going to be alone. Maybe she was gaining her strength, anticipating an evening with Dak.

  Tracy adjusted her seatbelt, imagining John’s arms around her, loving her—not just taking what he wanted, but giving, too
; and Dak giving the same to Adonna. Her skin ached and her Ambient twitched beside her heart, over her stomach, and lower.

  Had there always been this many red lights from Applebee’s to her house?

  John parked in her driveway and sprang from the car. Tracy chuckled to herself, wondering how much of that haste was Dak’s doing.

  If things did go well, hopefully Dak and Adonna could be discrete. She really wanted this moment to be about her and John, if that were even possible.

  Tracy fumbled for her keys as John walked her to the front door. He kept back a few paces as she jiggled the lock. She pushed open the door and stepped inside but John remained two steps down from the porch, again.

  “Aren’t you coming in?” she asked.

  “I’m not sure that’s such a good idea anymore.”

  She furrowed her brow. “Why not?”

  “If I walk through that door…” He closed his eyes and took a deep breath. “Dak is pushing me really hard to walk up those steps.”

  Tracy smiled, folding her arms. “And that’s bad because?”

  He puffed out a laugh. “I’m serious. What’s going on in here…” He tapped his temple twice. “…he’s like a raving lunatic, I swear.” He slipped his hands in his pockets. His eyes swept over her, devouring her inch by inch until his gaze returned to hers. “Are you getting anything from Adonna? By now she has to know that we’re thinking about… I mean, she’ll know if you’re…”

  “Turned on?”

  His lips thinned. “Yes.” He made his way up the steps, then stopped. A battle raged in his eyes, a hunger that would have startled her if it had been anyone else, mixed with fear and heartbreaking dread.

  Amy must have been his last real relationship. John had probably been devastated. But Tracy wasn’t going to live in another woman’s shadow. She knew what she wanted.

  She slipped her hand into his and lazily coaxed him through the door. “There is no chance in hell that she doesn’t know exactly what I’m thinking right now.”

  The heat in his eyes twisted her own need into a dull, throbbing ache. And Adonna… Tracy searched inside her, looking for a sign, but the entity hung like a balloon, silent in her chest.