CENTER OF THE UNIVERSE
BOOK TWO
BELLE MALORY
Copyright © 2013 Belle Malory
All rights reserved.
ISBN-13: 978-1490535029
ISBN-10: 1490535020
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are either products of the author’s imagination or used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales or persons, living or dead, is coincidental.
Cover art by Regina Wamba at http://www.maeidesign.com/
You can visit Belle Malory at: http://bellemalory.blogspot.com
Table of Contents
Prologue
One
Two
Three
Four
Five
Six
Seven
Eight
Nine
Ten
Eleven
Twelve
Thirteen
Fourteen
Fifteen
Sixteen
Seventeen
Eighteen
Nineteen
Twenty
Twenty-One
Twenty-Two
Twenty-Three
Twenty-Four
Twenty-Five
Twenty-Six
Twenty-Seven
Twenty-Eight
Twenty-Nine
Thirty
Thirty-One
Thirty-Two
Thirty-Three
Thirty-Four
“I know nothing with any certainty, but the sight of the stars makes me dream.”
-Vincent Van Gogh
Prologue
For Penelope Little, Thursday afternoon was like any other. She’d finished her morning errands, went to her ten o’clock Pilates class, and watched her favorite daytime soaps. A pan of butterscotch cookies cooled on the stovetop—Mr. Little’s favorite. He would assume she baked them herself, along with completing all the household chores. In actuality, she hired out help for tedious things like mopping and baking, because regardless of what her husband might think, it wasn’t possible to do it all and look as good as she did. Manicures and washing dishes didn’t mix, and if she had to choose, the manicure would win every time.
Looking around her gleaming kitchen, breathing in the combined scent of soaps and butterscotch, Penelope gave a satisfactory nod. Everything was just as it was should be. Shining and perfect.
Problem was, now that the day’s list of must-do’s were accomplished, the routineness of it all soaked in, causing her to fidget anxiously.
She was bored.
Tapping her fingers against the counter, Penelope wondered how she could fill the time until her husband came home. She could call the spa—see if they could squeeze her in last minute.
No, she thought. She was in no mood to sit still. Restlessness flowed through her veins.
Shopping, she decided, was the perfect fix. A new Hermes Birkin was rumored to have hit the local mall, and she wanted to beat all her friends to it. Yes, the purse was just what she needed!
Grabbing the keys to her Maserati, Penelope headed out the door, excitement building in her chest at the thought of showing off the Hermes on Thursday’s charity luncheon. Envious eyes warmed her in a way nothing else could.
She stopped dead in her tracks.
There, on her doorstep, was a giant package. Why, it must have been at least four feet tall, and about the same width too.
Penelope scanned the labels, unable to remember purchasing anything recently. She kept records of her husband’s bank statements as well, and she hadn’t noted any unusual purchases on his part. Pressing her palms to its sides, she tried moving the box. It barely budged.
Hmm…heavy. It must be a gift.
The urge to tear it open grew within Penelope as her fingers searched for the opening. A hesitant glance at her polished fingernails and she ran back inside the house for a pair of scissors. Breathless, she returned to her doorstep with them and tore the blade down the center of the masking tape in long, quick strokes.
Once the tape was cut, she threw the flaps open. Inside was another box, this one with a giant bow adorning it.
So it was a gift then! And a big one by the looks of it.
The bow tore off easily, and so did the next lid, which Penelope tossed aside. She came back to the box quickly…
And instantly backed up.
The gun clicked as the safety came off, and the masculine voice that held it leered with amusement. “Surprise, surprise.”
Slowly, the man stood. He was tall, built like a bull, and wore a hat that shaded his eyes.
Heart racing, Penelope’s eyes darted to the door, wondering if she should make a run for it. She could probably get away. He didn’t know her house like she did, and if she could get to a phone in time, help would be there in minutes. Less than that in this neighborhood.
“Don’t even think about it.” His voice was gravelly, and there was something sinister about it, like it was about to crack at any given moment. “I’m here to talk, Mrs. Little.”
He stepped out of the box, one leg at a time, keeping his gun trained on her chest.
Penelope’s back hit the wall of her house. She winced, shying away. She hated guns. Despised them, even in movies. “If you wanted a conversation, what did you bring that for?”
“To ensure your cooperation. Inside,” he ordered.
She did as she was told, keeping her trembling hands held where he could see them. Maybe if she played her cards right, she could still get away. Running was a risk, and she didn’t want to get shot in the process. But oh God, she didn’t want to be raped either! She had heard of that happening before—unsuspecting housewives getting raped and murdered in broad daylight. Not in this neighborhood though. This guy was ballsy to come after her here in Islesworth.
“Sit there, at the table.”
Penelope looked one last time towards the stairs before sinking miserably into her dining room chair. She didn’t have enough guts to run.
Damn her husband to hell. If he had only allowed her to hire security like she’d suggested, then she wouldn’t be in this mess. But no, he assured her they lived in one of the safest, most exclusive neighborhoods in the world. No need for extra security.
“You see, Mrs. Little, I tried to make an appointment with you. A civilized one, where no guns were involved, but you refused.”
Make an appointment…wait a second. Did she know this guy? Her mind spun, trying to piece it all together. He took off his ball cap, and she immediately recognized the pale green eyes that pierced her, the military cut of his dusty brown hair, and the lean muscles pressing against his collared shirt. “Ryder,” she spat in disbelief.
“So you do know I’m alive.”
“Of course I do, you imbecile.” The last note of her insult wavered, remembering the gun that was still in his hands. But good God almighty, Maxwell Ryder?
He had to be crazy, coming here, pointing a weapon at her like a common street thug. What was he thinking? She could easily identify him to authorities.
Unless…Penelope swallowed.Unless he intended to kill her.
Ryder made his way around the room, eyeing the countless trophies lining the inside of the china cabinet. “So how is the old man these days?” He stopped, pointed to a trophy in the shape of a goblet with a handle on each side. “Saw him at last year’s US Open. Holed out from 147 yards.” He shook his head. “Insane.”
Penelope shifted in her seat, braced herself on the table, and said, “I’m assuming you didn’t come here to talk golf. What do you want, Ryder?”
Pointless question, really, since she could already
guess the answer. Last she’d heard from the billionaire, he was inquiring about her family’s property in Mexico. He wanted to buy it, offered an obscene amount of money too, but she denied his request for a meeting. There was no point; she wasn’t interested in selling. That land had been in her family for generations. And since she wasn’t a friend of Ryder, merely an acquaintance, the land had to be the reason he was there.
“He’s at the gym, isn’t he?” Ryder waved the gun a little. “Don’t answer that. I’ve been following both your schedules for months now. He goes to the gym every weekday morning and on the golf course every afternoon until six. Meanwhile, you’re here…and not doing much of anything.”
“How dare you—”
“Careful, careful.” Ryder clicked his tongue. “Don’t forget who’s holding the weapon.”
“The reason you’re here has nothing to do with my husband.” Penelope steadied her breath, trying to act as if fear didn’t fill her to the core. Trying to act like this was an everyday conversation. “You want my land.”
Ryder’s eyes glinted. “You get straight to business, don’t you, Mrs. Little?”
“So that’s what this is? You’re forcing me to sell it to you?”
“Oh no. No, no, no.” Ryder’s face dropped, a little theatrically. “That would be stupid. As soon as we signed the papers, you’d go to the police, explain what happened, and I would be incarcerated. Why would I want that?”
Penelope drew a deep breath. “So what are you after?”
“Don’t get me wrong; I am after your land. But I have no intentions of forcing you to sell. Remember how I explained that the gun was only to ensure your cooperation?” He leaned against the table, rested the gun on top of it, and wagged his finger as if to say no sudden movements.
Penelope held her breath, seeing the gun sitting there, and knowing she would have a few seconds ahead of him to flee. Should she go for it?
Ryder punched a few buttons on his brace, an expensive, advanced one by the looks of it. Hologram images appeared, filling the space between them.
All thoughts of making a quick getaway vanished as she stared at the images. They were pictures of her…and oh God.
They were of her and Jean Pierre.
Penelope put her face in her hands, feeling the urge to cry. They both thought they had been so discreet.
Clearly they were wrong.
“As I was saying, no one is forcing you to do anything. Blackmail, on the other hand, is a different sort of thing. Beautiful, aren’t they?” Penelope lifted her head, saw Ryder clicking through different snapshots of her and Pierre. “This one is my favorite. Orange string bikini—you look like a swimsuit model. No wonder your husband snatched you up.” He lowered his voice. “Course, I don’t know if he would appreciate seeing your tongue down another man’s throat.”
Penelope batted the tears out of her eyes. Rage coursed through her blood. He knew he had her. How could she have been so stupid? Not that it mattered now. “Let’s get this over with,” she ground out through clenched teeth.
A satisfactory smile spread across Ryder’s face. “Thought you might say that.” He withdrew an envelope from his back pocket, unfolded it, and set out a stack of papers. “I took the liberty of having the docs drawn up. All you have to do is sign there on the dotted line.”
One
Sunlight might be the most divine entity ever to exist. Kennedy stretched out her arms, closed her eyes, and basked in the warmth of the day. It felt so good. Nothing else could compare to silky sand sifting between her toes, to the radiant golden rays bronzing her skin, to the sound of the waves crashing against the shore…she flinched.
Okay, all good except the last part.
The beach was beautiful today though. Miles of empty white sand stretched across the coast, colliding with the dark blues of the sea. The tide was choppy, but she wasn’t planning to get in. Today wasn’t the right day for confronting fears. Tomorrow maybe.
Or the next.
Whenever.
Definitely sometime before this visit was over.
Kennedy surveyed the area, double-checking that no one was in sight. Satisfied, she faced the ocean and tapped into the invisible but tangible energy that connected her with the water. It hummed inside of her like little sparks of white light, igniting a strength that up until six months ago, she would’ve never believed possible.
She pushed that energy out, extending it into tiny threads of herself, and with them, she drew a ribbon-sized stream out of the ocean. The stream twisted into a spiral, misting together to create the same type of waterspout Hunter’s skipping stones could form.
Skipping stones were expensive toys, programmed to form the spouts. And she was forming them on her own. With her mind. It still seemed…crazy.
Impossibilities surrounded her every day. Part of her still played the skeptic, watching from somewhere outside of herself and wondering if this was all a dream she hadn’t yet woken up from. Because that was easier to believe than what was true. Being born to protect Earth, manipulating water—those were the truths. But they definitely didn’t feel real.
Kennedy drew herself out of the energy, and as she did, the waterspout sank back into the unsteady ocean. She fell into the sand, rolling onto her beach towel, and closed her eyes.
Not so long ago, her every waking thought was dedicated to figuring out how to come back to Amelia Island. Although she enjoyed being home and had missed it beyond belief, this visit couldn’t have come at a more inconvenient time. Professor Mason approved four weeks of vacation. Four whole weeks. If she’d found out at any other time, she would’ve felt like a lottery winner. She would’ve screamed from the rooftops! Okay scratch that, there were no rooftops on Olympus (it being a space station and all), but she would’ve been that excited.
For the life of her, she couldn’t figure out why Professor Mason would send her away. Why now, after the planet had been threatened by an outside force? She imagined that sort of thing usually put a damper on vacation plans. Especially for a keeper. She was only responsible for keeping Earth and mankind safe. But hey, no biggie.
Argh. Honestly, it was frustrating. Never in her life had she felt so damned useless. Professor Mason was insane if he thought she would enjoy this visit. Lounging on the beach wasn’t exactly relaxing while somewhere in outer space, aliens plotted to attack Earth.
Kennedy thought back to the day he told her to go home, wondering if there was something she’d missed, a bigger picture to the story maybe.
She hid outside his office back on Olympus, trying to spy on the conversation he was having inside. Eavesdropping wasn’t something she was proud of, but…he’d summoned Phoenix there. And when it came to that particular keeper, nothing she did or felt seemed to make any sense.
Phoenix and the professor had been exchanging guarded looks and whispers for weeks, growing an achy feeling in the pit of her stomach. Neither one was talking, but she knew they were up to something. Unfair of them to keep secrets, if you asked her, and one way or another, she was determined to get to the bottom of it.
She peeked through the sliver of the door they left open. Professor Mason sat behind his large cherrywood desk, his face inscrutable. She wanted to see Phoenix’s expression, but he had his back towards Mason, looking out the window into the bright blacks and whites of space.
“We’re not sure,” Professor Mason said.
Kennedy pressed closer, trying not to move the door, and strained to hear their low voices.
“Does the number twenty-seven have any relevance?” Phoenix asked.
“It’s unlikely. Projects are given numbers to keep information classified and organized.” Professor Mason typed something onto his keyboard and pulled up three-dimensional documents. Kennedy squinted, but she couldn’t make out any words.
“So why did they ask us to investigate this project? What’s involved?”
The hologram flashed as Professor Mason flipped through the pages. “It was in Plaff
le’s computer. Considering the secret mission you and Kennedy found, DOE has been combing through everything he had stored. It’s taken weeks to get past some of the firewalls, but we’re not taking any chances.”
No-brainer there, Kennedy thought with a small snort. Good ol’ Commissioner Plaffle thought nothing of risking life on Earth, especially for the right amount of money.
Phoenix stepped away from the window and examined the document. His black eyes roamed over it coolly.
“There’s not much there,” Mason said. “Just an address we’re assuming was for correspondence purposes, and then a few sections of the Peri-Guard were listed as well. Whatever this was, Plaffle was keeping it wrapped up pretty tight. We’re questioning members of the Peri-Guard under the sections listed, but no one seems to know anything.”
“How convenient.” Phoenix pointed to part of the document. “This is a Russian address. What is it?”
“A residence,” Mason answered. “We’ve planted surveillance, not dreaming for a second we’d actually find anything of importance. But get this, we found a radio signal coming through.”
“And?”
“It came through an internationally banned frequency.”
Phoenix let out a low breath. Kennedy heard herself do the same.
“Can you tell where it’s coming from?”
“Only the direction,” Mason said. “The thing is, the nearest planet in that direction is millions of light years away. That only leaves us three possibilities. It’s either coming from somewhere off the grid, from a spaceship, or from a planet that’s a helluva ways away.”
“No kidding.” Phoenix straightened, then crossed his arms over his chest, thinking. After a moment he said, “So why don’t you ask for a warrant? Bust whoever’s in the house?”
“Already took care of the warrant. You and Fang are cleared to go.”
“You’re sending me and Fang?” He dropped his arms, looking more than surprised.
“Why not?” Mason asked. “The two of you have been approved for fieldwork for a while now. It’s time you earned your stripes.”
Center of the Universe (Twelfth Keeper) Page 1
