by Devyn Quinn
Callie didn’t argue the point. Yuan was right. Grimacing at the telltale cup, she gave herself a good swift mental kick. Having an alien’s baby hadn’t been part of her plans. Not by a damned long shot.
Taking the cup, she considered tossing it back in Yuan’s face and getting the hell out. That would probably be the wrong thing to do.
Sliding her legs over the edge of the examination table, she looked around. “Which way to the bathroom?”
Yuan pointed to a nearby door. “As much as you can spare, please.”
Feeling the pressure in her bladder, Callie imagined she’d be able to spare quite a bit. She hopped off the table, and her head swam a bit with wooziness. Clenching her teeth, she refused to waver. Marching toward the bathroom, she shut the door behind her.
She locked the door, grateful to have a moment’s privacy. Since this whole assignment had begun, it seemed like she’d had eyes on her twenty-four hours a day, seven days a week. No mirror, but the reflection in the silver-plated face of the paper towel dispenser looked terrible, like death warmed over. Eyes lined with fatigue, cheeks paler than twin moons in the sky, and hair a nasty tangle, she certainly wouldn’t call herself beautiful at the moment. She looked and felt like a thousand-year-old hag.
Setting the cup down on the edge of the sink, she lowered the lid of the toilet and sat down. She collapsed, leaning forward until her forehead rested on her knees. Her hands locked around her head, a parody of a woman expecting a head-on collision.
Close to tears, she sucked in a ragged breath. “I…oh, God, I wasn’t prepared for this. Pregnant…What the hell am I going to do if I am?”
She nibbled her lower lip, torn between fear of the tragedy in her past and the uncertainty of her future. A quick bio ran through her mind. Thirty, unmarried, unstable, fucking an alien—a real alien, no less!—and enemy of the state. Shit. That couldn’t be written in a fucking book.
She slipped her hands between legs and abdomen, pressing them to her stomach. What would it be like to feel her belly large and round? She didn’t know. She’d never been pregnant, but the idea wasn’t an unpleasant one.
Letting her gut lead, Callie made a spur-of-the-moment decision. Pregnancy was too big a risk. She wasn’t in any shape, emotionally, to carry and raise a child. Hell, she didn’t even have enough stamina to commit to owning a goldfish. Nightmares of her rootless childhood kept her from sleep most of the time, and even her own people were keeping a close watch on her. Sane, respectable federal agents didn’t get knocked up with alien babies. “I don’t want his baby.”
The acid in her stomach called her a liar. She grimaced. She did. Suddenly she’d had enough of hiding behind the emotional walls she’d built to keep life at bay. God help her, she loved Iollan, and carrying his child would be a privilege.
She didn’t know yet if she was even pregnant, but if she was, well, she’d deal with it. Goddamn it, she would. When down to the wire, she’d always looked out for herself. That’s the way it was. That’s the way it always would be.
Trust no one.
Her mouth quirked up at the thought.
Releasing a tremulous sigh, she lifted herself with a jerky heave. Her entire body trembled with the effort. Nevertheless, she drew back her shoulders and called on all her inner willpower to appear calm. Her stomach churned acid.
Standing up, she raised the lid, unzipped her pants, sat, and reached for the plastic cup. She hated testing of any sort. An invasion of privacy. But no one working for the government ever truly had a private life. Roger had confirmed that.
Not even my piss is my own.
Ten minutes later, she handed over the cup. “It’s late and I’m tired,” she told Yuan. “Any chance I can go home?”
Claiming her latest specimen, Yuan nodded. “Agent Reinke’s waiting outside for you. He’ll take you home.”
Callie headed toward the door. Just as her hand hit the doorknob, the image of a tall, broad-shouldered man wriggled its way into her brain. Remembering the way Iollan had touched, kissed her, she shivered as a rush of heat filled her. Her body automatically responded to the slightest thought of his overwhelming maleness. Not impossible to do, given that she’d memorized every muscular conture. The rhythm of her heart was disrupted every time she thought about him.
Not good.
But inevitable. Head over ass, she’d tumbled into love without even seeing it coming.
She paused, turning back to Doctor Yuan. Her gaze rested on the woman she was sure intended the Niviane Idesha to become an extinct species. “His name is Iollan Drake. Don’t forget, he was a human being once. He still has feelings and needs—just like the rest of us. I’d appreciate it if you’d keep that in mind.”
Yuan’s mouth opened as if she intended to say something to the contrary. Then a thought seemed to strike her. Eyes softening, she nodded her understanding. “Of course.”
22
Roger drove a discrete Saturn sedan, just the sort of car the mysterious G-men would be expected to travel in. The highway separating the government facilities from the city was long and dark, almost deserted at such a late hour.
Hands bunched nervously in her lap, Callie looked out over a gently rolling landscape lined with various hardwood trees. This part of Virginia was scenic, absolutely beautiful, part of what she’d like about living in the area. Accepting her position with the ASD would mean relocation. She still hadn’t had time to stop and think about moving. Uncle Sam would foot the hotel bill for the agents until relocation was completed. Eventually, she’d have to take some well-deserved time off and move. Leaving the Richmond field office would be bittersweet. The old would be behind her. The future stretched ahead, wide open.
At least she hoped it did.
Part of the old she’d be leaving behind was her ex-lover. Roger Reinke would not be moving. His climb up the ladder in the ASD would be higher than hers, his role to coordinate and lead future searches for new clans of the Niviane Idesha. As for her own role…
Callie’s brow wrinkled in thought. For some reason this still hadn’t been clarified or confirmed. She’d believed she’d be working with Roger, but that had been quickly negated. Though she’d still be partnered with Paul Norton, their base of operations would be inside the ASD. For the time being, the only thing she’d be stalking was a desk and a computer terminal.
It occurred to her this might be because of her involvement with their newly caught prize.
A sire.
Who can make more of his kind. Capable of reproduction.
Callie shivered. Something she definitely didn’t want to think about just this second. She’d think about it later, when necessary, such as when she’d missed her period.
Since they’d entered the car, Roger had been unusually quiet, saying barely two words since Yuan had released her from the examination room. Since Roger wouldn’t tolerate any unnecessary sounds when he drove, the radio hadn’t been turned on. Drawn out by the steady hum of the engine, the silence grew, unbearable and entirely too long.
Unable to take it anymore, Callie glanced his way. Lit by the glow of the dashboard, his face, half in shadow and half in light, looked angry. “You okay, Roger?”
Roger hedged. His jaw flexed. He kept his full attention riveted on the highway. “Fine,” he answered tersely.
They say you never know someone until you live with them. Callie had never lived with Roger. But she had slept with him, and had gotten a bird’s-eye view of his moods and storms. His actions were the quiet in the eye of the hurricane. Something was due to break. Soon.
Might as well get it over with.
She cleared her throat. “Something bothering you?”
Roger didn’t look at her. “No.”
Not true. Unspoken resentment emanated from him like sonar signals. “Really?”
He bristled. “Nothing.”
“Anything I did?”
“I don’t want to talk about it. Drop it, okay?”
“If I fucke
d up, tell me.”
Roger drew a deep breath. He glanced over at her, his expression freezing even more. “The raid,” he said finally. “Drake got you down pretty easily.”
Callie let out a long breath. Ah, so that’s what was on his mind. Couldn’t blame him. On her mind, too. Like anyone could forget it. Not. “Drake’s a big man—strong—and he isn’t exactly human.”
A narrow look. “You seem to like that.”
Her defensive wall shot up. “Like what?”
Roger kept his hands on the wheel, gaze returning to the road. “Fucking Drake.” His words came out in a snarl.
Gritting her teeth, Callie narrowed her eyes. She recognized the emotion in his words, dripping with unspoken jealousy. Oh, Christ! What was it about men that made them go all primitive and primal when the subject of a new lover came up?
She’d been crushed when Roger had left her. Regardless of how much it hurt, she had healed. Had survived.
“Is that what’s got your goat?” she asked in annoyance. “That I slept with another man?”
“He isn’t a man. He isn’t anything that belongs on this planet.”
“Felt like a man to me in every way that counts.” Callie’s smart-ass remark leapt out before she curbed her tongue.
A scowl froze Roger’s face, and his breath rushed out between clenched teeth. “I saw what happened between you and Drake during the raid. I heard everything.”
Callie’s heart clutched painfully. The fine hairs rose at the back of her neck. Ah, shit. She felt herself go cold inside, all the way to the tips of her fingers. She didn’t know what to do, what to say. Deny it? What would be the use? If she lied, he’d resent it even more when the truth came out. She had her honor, too. Lose that and she’d compromise everything.
Swallowing heavily, Callie decided to try to explain, and hope he’d understand. “I can’t tell you what happened,” she admitted through quivering lips. “When he got me down, something strange happened. Weird. He made a connection—”
Roger snorted. “I saw your connection. Looked like he was fucking you, to my eyes.” He turned his narrow gaze her way. “And it looked like you were enjoying it. A lot.”
Stiffening into stone, she tried to defend herself. “My God, Roger! You didn’t see it all.” Her hand rose to her bruised throat. “He had those fucking fangs of his right at my throat; he could’ve ripped me a new asshole. I knew it and he knew it.”
Her words sounded unconvincing, even to her own ears. Spluttering and gasping, she sounded like the classic liar. She’d been fingered and rightly so. She’d practically committed treason.
Not good. Especially when one got caught.
She’d never be trusted again.
“I’m sorry,” she said softly. “I fucked up.”
Shooting her an ugly look, Roger suddenly swerved the car off onto a dark side road. The car slammed to a halt. Had she not been wearing a seat belt, Callie would’ve gone flying through the windshield.
“I might have forgiven that,” he said in a voice gravelly with anger. “But after tonight, I don’t think so. My God, you practically fucked him right before my eyes.”
Callie stiffened. “That’s unfair and you know it,” she said quietly. “If I might remind you, you guys put my ass on the line without warning me what I’d be up against. I’ve been doing the best I can.”
Roger’s hand shot out. A hot flash of pain sizzled. Sparklers shot across her eyes. “Doing Drake in front of everyone wasn’t part of the job description,” he hissed. “Acting like a fucking whore, getting yourself off.”
Hand flying to her mouth, Callie felt wetness trickle over her bottom lip. She drew her hand away. By the low illumination in the car, a bluish fluid covered her fingers.
Damn! Shocked by the blow, she lost the ability to think. Roger’s outburst of irrational fury had caught her totally by surprise. She didn’t hit back. She’d only make the bastard madder. And a mad Roger Reinke was a force to be reckoned with.
Without a word, she pointedly unlatched her seat belt and opened the door. Gravel crunched under her boots. Stumbling around to the front of the car, she leaned against the hood, fighting to catch her breath.
She heard Roger open his door. Slamming it, he stepped heavily, the rasp of rocks sounding ominous. Illuminated by the twin beams, he loomed in front of her.
Callie glanced toward the highway. Eerily quiet. Deserted.
“Get back in the car.” Roger’s voice snapped with impatience.
She gave him a narrow look. “No.” She sucked in her fat lip, tasting her blood. “Not until I get an apology.”
He laughed. “Apologize for what? Calling a whore a whore? Give me a break.”
Callie snorted. “You sound a little jealous, Roger. What’s the matter? Not getting enough?”
Wrong thing to say. Another hot branding iron slammed into her face.
Slamming back against the car, Callie raised her right arm to ward off his next blow. She dodged around his body, intending to run like hell. She wasn’t fast enough.
Roger expertly blocked her, his leg knocking hers out from under her body. Holding out her arms to break her fall, she skidded on dozens of tiny rocks, palms scraped raw. She scrabbled forward on her knees, struggling to get away from this bizarre nightmare come to life.
A boot caught her in the side, flipping her neatly over onto her back. Her head struck bare ground. “Not so fast, babe,” he panted. “I’m not finished with you.”
Air vanishing from her lungs, Callie spluttered, gasping for breath. Fierce agony ripped through her. Blackness swam in front of her eyes. Fuck! Just what she didn’t need. A jealous ex-lover on her ass. Roger seemed to have tossed sanity out with his brains. Right now he was thinking with his balls.
And his balls said she’d taken things with Drake one step too far.
Clutching her head, Callie tried to sit up. She blindly reached for the gun holstered under her left arm. Her grasping fingers grabbed nothing. She’d given up her gun to feed Iollan Drake and hadn’t reclaimed her flak jacket and weapon before leaving the facility. Totally unarmed, she’d have to rely on her training to fight hand to hand.
It didn’t get her very far.
A hand pushed her back. Two booted feet came down on either side of her body.
Callie gulped and looked up, trying to focus fuzzy vision on the giant. The fear in her stomach exploded and shivers swept over her in waves.
Hands on his hips, Roger looked down on her with a sneer backed up by a lot of angry male muscles and testosterone. “You always were a hot bitch, babe. I always said you’d fuck a snake if someone would hold its head.”
Callie looked up between his muscular thighs. She clenched her fists, striking out at his crotch. Vision skewed, she missed. “Better to fuck a snake than you, asshole.”
A chuckle slid from the back of Roger’s throat. “Maybe we should test that theory right now.” He bent and powerful fingers circled her arms. Hefting her to her feet, he planted her against the hood of the car.
Callie dug her heels into the fender and bucked to throw his heavy weight off. The car bounced from their combined weight. Roger’s heavier body, greater length, and unyielding physical strength gave the older agent every advantage. Mix in a black belt in karate and hand-to-hand combat training in the military, and an efficient killing machine emerged.
Though she fought like hell, her limited strength wasn’t getting her far. Outclassed and outmaneuvered, she had to admit defeat. “Let go, you big ape!”
Stubbornly holding his place, Roger easily pinned her arms behind her back. “I think the correct word is Neanderthal.”
She spat at him. “Bastard.”
Roger lifted a leg between hers, jabbing his knee up between her legs. The pressure of his thigh was right against her crotch. The uncomfortable friction verged on painful. He chuckled. “You’re about to find out how true that is.” His vicious tone sizzled across her ears, burning straight into her soul.
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Silence.
Callie forced herself not to wince. A violent shiver shook her, leaving her muscles quivering like jelly. Apprehension constricted her throat, but just barely. Roger’s jealousy was like a rabid animal, raging and ready to devour.
You’ll survive this. You know you will.
An acid smile twisted Roger’s mouth. He ignored her pointed silence. “Look at you. Legs spread open, just the way I remember. Instead of letting that freak poke you, why don’t you come back to where you got it so good to begin with?” Knee pressing, his heavy-lidded gaze smoldered.
Feeling the pressure to the center of her chest, Callie glared back. Impossible not to be baited. “You’re the one who gave it up,” she sneered. “Remember? Right now, there isn’t a piece of you I know, remember, or want.” Talk much braver than she felt.
Roger Reinke gave her a brutal stare. One of his hands left her wrists. He groped between her legs. Thick fingers pressed against her clit, rubbing. “In a few minutes you’ll remember everything—and then some.”
Callie’s mouth went bone dry. The ultimate control a man had over a woman. She forced down another surge of panic. Not a bluff. “Raping me isn’t the way to make me remember.”
Skewering her with a leer, he rubbed with painful friction. “You can’t rape the willing, babe.” He said slyly, “I bet if I dipped into you right now, you’d be dripping.”
Willing? Her left foot!
Callie tried to wiggle away. No go. He held like Super Glue. She glared at her tormentor. “You want to bet?”
He snorted and rolled his eyes. The flat of his hand slammed into her cheek. “I’d win, honey.” Hand leaving her crotch, he rubbed roughly over her belly, and then her breast. Finding one full mound, he squeezed. “If you want to keep your job and stay near that freak you like fucking, you’ll keep your mouth shut and take whatever I give you.” Insistent hands pulled at the waistband of her pants, working the button open, the zipper down. “Otherwise, you’ll be right in there with him. In a cold dark cell where no one will ever see or hear from you again.”
