Lobo: Stargazer Alien Mail Order Brides (Book 7)

by Tasha Black

“Well is he here waiting?” Percy asked.

  She shook her head.

  “Check your stupid computer,” he spat.

  “Sure, but we’re a no-kill shelter,” she said, nervously clicking on her keyboard. “It’s, like, a really big deal if an animal has to be put down. Everyone would be talking about it.”

  Percy rolled his eyes and waited. The girl looked as sharp as a bowl of milk. It was probably in the system.

  But she looked up at last and shook her head.

  “Damn it,” he said.

  “Ahem,” said a voice behind him.

  He turned to see a tiny older lady with a large clipboard.

  “That’s enough of that kind of language,” she said. “You’ve got your answers. It’s time to be on your way.”

  He wanted to argue with her, maybe threaten to arrest someone, but he was too angry to control his temper.

  Besides, it was Veronica who needed to bear the brunt of his fury. He wasn’t wasting any of it on this old biddy.

  He headed to his car. The sun reflecting off his windshield was so bright it was almost blinding.

  He drove as fast as he wanted back to the academy. He was a cop, if anyone pulled him over he’d flash a badge.

  When he reached the old building where she lived he parked and pushed past the hedge to the front door.

  He knocked hard and fast.

  When the door didn’t open immediately, he wrenched on the knob, expecting it to be locked.

  Instead, it turned wrist-achingly quickly.

  He walked in.

  “Nunez,” he yelled at the top of his lungs.

  There were footsteps on the stairs.

  Nunez soon appeared on the landing.

  She looked like shit. Her eyes were all red and puffy. Her ponytail was messy too.

  “Reeves,” she said coolly. “I see you’re out of the emergency room.”

  That bitch. The fucking nerve. She should be begging for mercy for her job and her dumb dog.

  “Where’s the dog?” he asked.

  “Animal control came for him this morning,” she replied.

  “Don’t play innocent with me,” he spat. “I know you have him.”

  “Reeves, your injury must have you disoriented,” she said.

  “Here’s the thing,” he told her. “You’re going to give me that K-9 position.”

  “Why would you want it?” she asked.

  “You will give me the position or you will have no dogs left,” he told her, ignoring the question.

  He waited for her to lash out.

  Her job would be over if she laid a finger on him. Unfortunately, they didn’t “put down” women who stepped out of line, but he’d enjoy getting her fired. And she’d gone off like a gun back in the kennel last night when he provoked her.

  But today she merely smiled.

  “I’m looking forward to working with you again,” she said.

  Her creepy smile widened to the point it made his blood run cold.

  “Fuck you,” he said, spinning on his heel and heading back into the blinding sunshine.

  He’d rather take his chances with that monster dog.

  23

  Veronica

  Veronica was all out of ideas.

  The thought of the big alien out there with no one but Biscuit to help him was pretty scary.

  Lobo didn’t have a cell phone, so there was no way to reach out to him and find out what was going on. She was so grateful to him for trying to help Biscuit, but she was also driving herself crazy worrying.

  After Percy’s creepy visit, Veronica decided she needed to get out of the dorms for a while. So she hopped in her car and headed out, cruising aimlessly around town, hoping to track them down by dumb luck.

  If she were only an officer, rather than a civilian training specialist, she might have been able to call in a favor to have more people looking out for him. As things were, her only consolation came from the knowledge that Biscuit was micro-chipped, so if he got separated from Lobo and wound up at the SPCA or a vet’s office, she would get a phone call.

  Some departments used GPS trackers for their K-9s, but Veronica’s unit didn’t have the budget - one more thing she dreamed of being able to fund one day.

  Tracking was fantastic for search and rescue. And the trackers could be used to monitor temperature. More K-9 officers were lost each year due to overheating in police vehicles than were killed in the line of duty.

  All of which made her think of Lobo and Biscuit out in this heat with no money, no car, no friends…

  She pulled onto a small neighborhood street. The houses were set far back and she could see practically to the horizon.

  No big man with a big dog.

  She turned around in a driveway and headed back to Main Street.

  The pit in her stomach threatened to suck her inside out.

  She was starting to lose hope.

  What if they had left town altogether somehow?

  She didn’t even know where to start.

  Her phone dinged on the seat beside her.

  She pulled over immediately.

  It was a text from Trinity, with a link to a Facebook post.

  * * *

  Officer Lobo is a Doggone Hero

  * * *

  What the heck?

  She clicked on it.

  * * *

  I was at Paradise Park today with Randy and Marcy. I had just put Randy down for a moment to help Marcy off the swing when I heard barking on the other side of the park.

  * * *

  Randy, that little bugger, must have made a beeline for the exit the second his little feet hit the ground. He was headed right for the street - and you guys know how busy Columbus is in the mornings. I ran after him, knowing I would be too late.

  * * *

  But lucky for Randy, the barks I had heard were actually the alert cries of Officer Lobo. This tall dark and furry officer of the law was down on his belly, blocking my baby from running into the street and calling for his human partner to help. (Sorry, guys, I know he’s super hot, but I forgot to ask him his name.)

  * * *

  Needless to say, Randy is safe, and Lobo is my hero. And guys, maybe we need to ask the township to put a gate across the exit to Paradise Park this year?

  * * *

  #MyTwoCents #HairyHero #K-9Love #Lobo

  * * *

  Veronica gazed in open-mouthed wonder at the picture of Lobo and Biscuit with the woman and her baby.

  Then she sprang into action.

  She wasn’t far from Paradise Park. The timestamp on the post was less than an hour ago. Maybe they were still there, or at least nearby.

  It was hard not to slam the pedal to the metal, but she drove slowly and carefully toward the park.

  When she reached the vicinity of it at last, she parked right away so as to avoid having trouble finding a spot.

  She locked up the car and jogged the last block to the entry, where the photo had been taken.

  She scanned the grounds. There were some teenagers on the basketball court and one guy pushing a kid on a swing, but no sign of Lobo or Biscuit.

  But she did see the woman from the Facebook picture, baby Randy on her hip, watching a little girl on the monkey bars.

  She jogged up as slowly as she could manage, trying not to terrify anyone by blasting across the park like a rocket ship.

  “Hey, are you the one who posted about Officer Lobo?” she asked, panting slightly.

  “Yeah,” said the woman with a big grin. “That post sure is getting a lot of love.”

  “They’re not still around, are they?” Veronica asked.

  “Nope, they took off in a hurry,” the woman replied.

  “Do you know where they were going?”

  “I have no idea,” the woman said. “Is everything okay?”

  “Yeah, they were having car trouble, I was going to pick them up,” Veronica lied. “If you see them again will you let them borrow your phone
to call me?”

  “Sure,” the lady said shifting the baby to her other hip to slide her phone out of her pocket. “Put your number in.”

  Veronica punched in her own contact with the note Lobo.

  “Thanks very much,” she said. “Which direction were they heading in?”

  The mom pointed back to the exit and to the left.

  Veronica nodded her thanks, and headed back out of the park.

  If only she had a dog with her. Lobo and Biscuit would be so easy to track…

  But she was on her own.

  She reached the end of the fence and took off in the direction they’d been heading, hoping she could find some clues or witnesses to keep her on the right track.

  24

  Lobo

  Lobo admired the patience and fortitude of Officer Biscuit as they retraced the mile or so they had traveled in the ice cream truck to make their way back to the academy.

  Lobo hadn’t been sure which way to go, but he had stroked the sleek fur of his friend’s back and pushed out a vision of the academy.

  The dog instantly pricked up his ears and headed in a direction Lobo hoped was homeward.

  The street was hot enough that Lobo encouraged his friend to cut through front yards to soothe his paws on the cool grass.

  At last the sights were familiar enough that Lobo knew the academy was just a block away.

  “Good work, Officer Biscuit,” he told his companion. “You are an excellent rescue officer.”

  Biscuit swiveled his ears toward Lobo.

  Lobo could tell by the slight lift in the dog’s posture and the warm enjoyment emanating from him that he felt proud.

  “Let’s go the long way though,” he told Biscuit. “We don’t want anyone to spot us. It’s too risky. We’re wanted men.”

  The dog made no protest when Lobo led them all the way around the rear of the old monastery.

  Lobo’s heart sped up a bit when they rounded the corner of the old stone edifice to see the field of violets and the trees to the east where he and Veronica had nearly shared intimacy.

  He had missed his chance with Veronica.

  She was not really dedicated to chastity. He could tell by the way she responded to his touch.

  If he really wanted her to choose him for her mate, it would have been a simple thing to wait for her to lose Biscuit and then make sure he was there to comfort her and let things run their course.

  But that would have been wrong. He could not let anything happen to his mate’s best friend.

  Veronica herself had been willing to sacrifice their future together to save Biscuit.

  No, he had done the only thing he could. He had sacrificed his own chance to click with her and become permanently human in order to set things right and save his friend.

  He should have no regrets. He should see the good sense in each decision and feel satisfaction.

  But the cool intellect of his personality on Aerie was lost to him now in a sea of human emotion and warm kinesthetic memory.

  His imagination was thrust back to the shaded bower where he had held Veronica in his arms and explored the wonder of her body.

  Officer Biscuit snorted indignantly.

  Lobo was concerned that his lustful thoughts had been communicated through their link, but when he looked over he could see the dog was focused on a figure scurrying out of the monastery and into the shadows.

  A low growl emanated from the dog’s throat.

  They were close to the living quarters, where the cadets lived in shared apartments. The person must have come from there.

  Percy.

  Percy and the other K-9 trainees were staying in rooms there. It must have been Percy who just dashed away. Lobo should have recognized his weasel-like shuffle right away.

  No wonder Biscuit was feeling threatened.

  Lobo headed into the front hall of the building, Biscuit's claws clicking on the marble floor beside him.

  The inside was dim, but once Lobo’s eyes adjusted he could see the buzzers for each unit.

  Most had two or three names on them. Lobo decided it must mean that the cadets shared their quarters.

  At last he saw ‘REEVES’ on a buzzer all by itself.

  Percy had his own room.

  Of course he did.

  Reeves was a greedy and unpleasant fellow, unlikely to be chosen for room sharing.

  Lobo noted the number on the unit and headed up the stairs, Biscuit following close behind.

  When they reached the proper apartment, Lobo tried the handle.

  Locked.

  Biscuit whined, his ears pressed down against his skull.

  “We have to get in there,” Lobo explained. “It’s the only way to clear your good name.”

  He looked around. They were on the second floor, in the back of the building. There were two units to the east of this one.

  “Come on,” he told his friend. “Let’s go back out.”

  They headed back down the stairs and outside again, miraculously without bumping into anyone.

  Lobo led Biscuit to the back of the building and counted windows.

  “There,” he said triumphantly, pointing at the proper window.

  A fire escape balcony was just off the window. But the ladder was retracted upward, so Lobo couldn’t reach it from the ground.

  He looked around.

  The only thing the right height to climb on was a big recycling bin by the back door.

  Recycling on a planet so close to its environmental tipping point as this one was no joking matter.

  Lobo hesitated.

  Biscuit whined.

  “You’re right,” he told his companion. “This is important too.”

  Besides, Lobo was sure he could climb on the bin and return it to its place before any metal or plastic found its way to the landfills.

  Determined, he dragged it over and tried climbing it.

  After a few attempts he managed to get on top and stretch himself high enough to reach the ladder and pull it down.

  He scrambled up to the fire escape and looked down at his partner on the ground below.

  Biscuit looked up at him, concern in his large amber eyes.

  “Wait here, my friend,” Lobo whispered down to him. “I will be right back. But I need you to keep watch for me.”

  Warmth and understanding flowed back through their bond, so he turned and opened the window.

  Percy’s apartment was immaculate.

  The dining table by the window was meticulously set in the manner which Dr. Bhimani had demonstrated to the aliens was proper. They had never seen a table set that way again. Meals at the lab were big bustling affairs with very little ceremony.

  But Lobo admired the perfect symmetry of the silverware, the way the mug was placed in relation to the plate, and the fancy napkin folding Percy had accomplished.

  The kitchen counter was small but no less organized. Mugs were organized by color and lined up in descending size order.

  The refrigerator had a few magnets lined up in a perfect row.

  On the far counter, Lobo found exactly what he had been looking for.

  The evidence was right there.

  Or rather, it was not right there at all.

  But the facts of the case were clear.

  Lobo felt as clever as Axel Foley, the famous cop of Beverly Hills.

  Triumphant, he headed back out the window and onto the fire escape.

  He was just lowering himself to the ground when he heard footsteps.

  “Freeze,” said a no-nonsense voice behind him.

  25

  Veronica

  “Freeze,” Veronica said, hoping she sounded more confident than she felt.

  She was not actually a police officer. She was an independent contractor working for the department, just like Brooke and Trinity. Though they carried some clout as high-level trainers, none of them had the authority to make a simple arrest.

  Lobo stood motionless at the base of the fire
escape, his hands in the air like the victim of a “stick up” in a bad movie.

  She must have sounded authoritative enough.

  Biscuit cocked his head inquisitively and looked back and forth between the two of them.

  “What the hell are you doing?” she demanded.

  Lobo turned slowly, his blue eyes twinkling as he smiled down at her.

  Veronica was surprised at the lump in her throat.

  He was okay. He was happy to see her.

  “I was trying to help,” he said.

  Veronica was tempted to tell him everything was okay, that they would figure it out. But the truth wasn’t so simple. He had done something he couldn’t undo.

  “Well you didn’t help,” she retorted. “You made everything much worse.”

  She slid her phone out of her pocket.

  “What are you doing?” he asked.

  “I’m calling a real cop,” she told him as she dialed in the number for emergency services. “You’re in big trouble.”

  “Biscuit is innocent,” he said.

  “Thank you for calling 9-1-1, what’s your emergency?” a voice on the line asked.

  Veronica squinted up at Lobo.

  He gazed down at her with a pleading expression.

  “This is Veronica Nunez from the police academy,” she said. “Can you send an officer to make an arrest?”

  “If you come with me to the kennels, I can prove it,” Lobo called to her.

  “What is your location?” the operator asked.

  “You just need to trust me,” Lobo said.

  Trust.

  There was that word again.

  She could practically hear Ralph saying those exact same things to her. Trust me, Veronica. There’s nothing going on. She and I are just friends.

  Veronica had been living with Ralph for six months by then - he’d moved into her little apartment downtown. When he started talking more and more about his new co-worker, she’d begun to feel nervous. But he said she was imagining things and accused her of projecting her feelings about her dad onto him.