A Seacat's Love (Oceanan Trilogy Book 1)

by Kong, Jessica

  “No problem. That’s none of my business anyway. However, Rick is. I don’t like seeing him in any pain.”

  “Do not worry; it was painless for him.”

  “Painless?” Carol Ann’s face expressed shock. “Are you kidding me? The man still hasn’t gotten over it, and it’s been a month.” Leonora smiled while Carol Ann bitterly continued, holding up four fingers. “He’s bought four killer guard dogs and has forbidden me to ever leave your side when he’s not around because he fears losing you. And he doesn’t like dogs. Do you consider that painless? Well I don't. I have to take care of those giant dogs."

  “I apologize for dragging you into this. But I love your brother so much that I never intend to be with another male.” Sobering, she added, “Even after we part.”

  “Yeah, well.” Carol Ann grimaced. “Do me a favor and get him off my back. He’s driving me crazy, agonizing and complaining about how he hurt you.”

  “I will have a talk with him when he returns.”

  “Please do. And by the way, Tigif is in his room, I heard the television going. He sure loves his Superman. Anyway, I’m going to be right over there,” she said, pointing to a section of the beach, “trying to catch some sun. If you need me, just yell.”

  “Will do. Have fun,” said Leonora entering the house.

  “I will. Bye.”

  “Bye.”

  An hour later, Carol Ann was on her belly, enjoying a romance novel. A cloud passed under the sun, making it cloudy for what she felt would be only a few seconds. When ten minutes went by and it remained cloudy, she glanced at the house then toward the sky in search of what was blocking the sun. There was not a cloud in the sky. Shrugging her shoulders, she went back to reading her book. She was at the best part and did not want to be interrupted.

  Suddenly the hairs on the back of her neck stood on end. Scanning the area, she saw nothing was amiss. She chastised herself for allowing her brother’s paranoia to rub off on her. She returned to her book after giving the sky another puzzling scowl. Four pages later, she heard a growl behind her. She froze. She believed it was one of Rick’s new pet guard dogs until she heard an unfamiliar man’s voice.

  “Now that is a gorgeous bottom.”

  Tigif was not one to let an opportunity pass him by. He cornered Leonora between a chair and an end table.

  “If you do not get out of my way this instant, Tigif, I swear I am going to—”

  “Leonora!” Leonora and Tigif were startled by the familiar voice that boomed from the beach entrance.

  Leonora saw her brother standing by the doors, big as life. “Challen!” She ran to him, jumping into his strong embrace.

  “Thank Onssa, Nora, you are alive!

  Challen kissed her on her cheek. He hugged her so tightly that Leonora believed she would pass out from lack of oxygen. She did not complain. She had feared she would never see him again.

  “Oh, Challen, I missed you so much.” Her tears began to fall.

  “By thunder, Nora, are you all right?” Challen lowered her to the ground. He held her at arm’s length and searched for visible injuries. The relief was apparent on his face. “You have a lot of explaining to do, young feline.” His penetrating glare spoke volumes to her.

  Leonora wiped the tears from her cheeks. “I can explain.”

  “Perhaps the two of you should go to your room, Nora. I’ll take care of these two.” Carol Ann pointed toward Tigif and Jugar, Challen’s companion.

  “Thank you, Carol Ann. Come with me, Challen.” She grabbed her brother’s hand and led him to the master bedroom.

  After everything was straightened out between them, Rick had refused and forbidden Leonora to sleep outside of his embrace. He had moved her belongings into his bedroom.

  Leonora closed the door. Her hand lingered on the knob. Her mind quickly tried to produce a good reason for going against Challen’s wishes. Each time she had conjured something she felt it was lame and disregarded it. Now she wished she had not.

  {You better have a good explanation. I have never been this angry with you, Leonora.} Challen sent his thoughts to her.

  It felt wonderful to hear Challen’s masculine voice in her head, but Leonora flinched at hearing him use her full name. Challen rarely called her Leonora, except when he was seriously angry with her. The way he stood with his arms crossed over his massive chest—eyes blazing, nostrils flaring—made her fearful of his punishment. She wished the floor would open up and consume her whole.

  Leonora swallowed the hard lump in her throat. Rick’s image popped into her head—if only he were there to protect her from the beating she was sure to get. Then again, would he interfere? He had said if he were Challen, he would redden her behind for risking her life. Since she had no excuse to give Challen, she decided it was best to come clean. At least halfway.

  She spoke to him as she normally did, telepathically. {I am sorry, Challen. I went against your specific orders and came on this trip. I sincerely felt that I could make a difference. Not caring for your feelings, I simply followed my own instincts. You were right about us not knowing what we were getting ourselves into, or how these humans were unpredictable. At first, they seemed to be our friends. Then they turned against us, killing Leo, Pandor, and Tamiron. Tigif and I are the sole survivors only because there are a few good humans, even among their government agents. Brother, I am very sorry for causing you unjust fear. I cannot imagine how scared you must have been for my safety. All I kept thinking about was how could I ever beg you for forgiveness if I die? How could I tell you thank you for everything that you have done for me, have sacrificed for me, if I no longer existed. I love you, brother, and I am so, so sorry.} She hung her head in shame and cried.

  Challen said nothing for a few seconds. It seemed that she had taken him off guard with her words and tears. He went to her and embraced her.

  Challen pressed his face into her curls. {If I had lost you, kitten, I would no longer have a reason to go on living.}

  Rick and Lance had gone to meet with Anderson who was staying in Fort Irwin. Their plan was to uncover the government’s progress. What they had discovered was that they were the center of an investigation.

  On their first meeting, Anderson had mentioned he received an anonymous tip about the perpetrators involved with the disappearance of the aliens. The person accused Rick McCall and Lance Blaisdale—two of the government’s top, most-trusted men.

  Naturally, he did not believe it, but because of national security, he had to investigate their whereabouts on the night of the break-in. Rick did his best to hide his nervousness throughout the meeting. He was not surprised to see Lance’s calm reaction to Anderson’s interrogation. It was not until after they had left the fort that Lance revealed why.

  During his stay at Rick’s beach home, Lance had received a cell phone call from a fellow Shadow member called Viper. Viper, also known as Anthony Pike, had warned Lance that someone had let the cat out of the bag. Lance gave Anthony orders to set plan three into motion. He did not want Rick to worry. Therefore, he had left him in the dark.

  Rick led the way through the corridor to their rented hotel room. They just arrived from a third nerve-racking meeting with Anderson. He plopped in the nearest chair, while Lance poured two glasses of wine. He handed one to Rick before taking a seat on the chair across from him.

  “So what do you think?” he asked Rick.

  They spoke openly since neither worried about the room being bugged. They had rented the room after the meeting. And since they never rented the same room twice, or went to the same hotel each time, no one actually knew where these two would be sleeping.

  Rick was deep in thought, glowering at his wine glass. “I think I’m in deep shit. I think we’re all in deep shit. Whomever that leak was gave them precise information.”

  “Too precise,” Lance agreed. “But our alibis will back us up. Plus, our clean records will speak for themselves.”

  “I want to know who cracked under pre
ssure.”

  Lance’s bottom lip protruded a bit at the spark that ignited in Rick’s eyes. He recognized Rick’s predatory look. He knew without a doubt if Rick got his hands on the informant, it would be the snitch’s last day on Earth. There would be no helping him.

  “Do you think it was someone on the team?”

  Lance shook his head. “I doubt it. They have just as much to lose as we do. Plus, they wouldn’t want to double-cross either of us. They know better than to do that.”

  “Then who else could it be?”

  “I don’t know. But we better find out before anymore information leaks through.” Lance calmly scratched his head. “Unfortunately, we can’t even leave or make a move without confirming everything the snitch said about us.”

  “You better tell our men to get out. It’s too dangerous.”

  “I already have when Brian warned us about what to expect with Anderson.”

  “That meeting didn’t go so well. And today’s meeting went even worse.” Rick took a sip of his wine.

  “No, it didn’t. But I did get the impression that Anderson didn’t believe the informant.” He sipped his wine. “It’s obvious he has his doubts.”

  “Doubts or no doubts, if any more information gets through, we can kiss our asses good-bye.”

  The phone rang. Lance lowered his glass onto the center table. He stood and walked toward the desk that was on one side of the living room. He lifted the receiver and answered. It was John Rainfield, better known as Trigger for his uncanny ability to create explosives from virtually anything he could find and how much he enjoyed making them go off.

  Only the Shadow Team knew of the handpicked hotels to use when under assignment to throw off anyone who tried to put a tab on them. They each also had a bug detector built into their cars in case someone placed a tracker on their vehicles without their knowledge.

  “Control?”

  “Control here.”

  “It’s Trigger. Viper heard something that might be of interest to you?”

  “Go on.”

  “Anderson received another phone call. Viper naturally listened in—”

  “Get to the point.” He was in no mood for dilly-dallying.

  “Well, well. Impatient, aren’t we?” Rainfield said with a bit of humor in his voice.

  That humor was misplaced and inappropriate in Lance’s opinion. Lance rubbed his forehead.

  Sobering, Rainfield added, “Anyway, Anderson is on his way with the army as back up to where the aliens are located.”

  Lance’s body jerked. He felt his blood rushing out of his body through the soles of his feet. “How the hell is that possible?”

  “Our little informant snitched on the Predator. Again.”

  “Son of a bitch!” Lance hissed, picturing his own hands around the informant’s neck and breaking it.

  “What happened? What’s going on?” Rick was instantly brought out of his thoughts at Lance’s swearing. Without a doubt, something was terribly wrong, for Lance only swore when there was trouble. Big trouble.

  Lance’s eyelids dropped halfway. “Do you know exactly where this phone call originated from?” He already knew the answer but wanted to make sure.

  “I sure do,” Trigger answered. "Seeker placed a trace on our little snitch, and the phone call came from California. I have an exact address—”

  Lance slammed the receiver down.

  “What’s wrong?” Rick placed his glass on the table.

  Lance’s focus remained on the phone. “I know the canary who sung.”

  “Who?”

  “I suspected it from before, but until now, I wasn’t certain.” A thought crossed Lance’s mind. He pulled out his cell phone and scrolled down the list of outgoing calls. He spotted one that he did not recall making. “Fuck!” Lance cursed, calling himself seven kinds of fool for not seeing it before hand, for not checking his phone earlier.

  Rick stood from his seat. “Who is it?”

  Lance sent him a grave look. “Tigif.” He held up his cell phone. “Bastard used my phone to make the first call. Anderson is on his way to your beach house right as we speak.”

  Rick paled. “Nora!” He ran from the hotel room with Lance two steps behind him.

  They arrived at Lance’s car. Lance threw his keys to Rick and allowed him to drive. Rick instantly ditched their tail. For the second time in his life, Rick drove like a madman along the highway to his home and his helpless wife.

  It was nearing one in the morning. Leonora lay awake in bed, worrying over how much longer Rick was going to be. It was hard convincing her brother to allow her to stay that evening. She used the excuse that Rick would return in the morning. It had worked only because Challen and Jugar had decided to stay with her. She would have to make up an excuse to stay longer if Rick did not arrive, for she had no intentions of leaving her soul mate. But what?

  Her door was suddenly thrust open. Even though she was startled, Leonora’s combat instincts kicked-in. She was in a fighting stance before Challen’s form was through the door.

  {Nora, we have to leave. Now!}

  {But, Challen, you said—}

  He did not let her continue. He grabbed her arm and dragged her into the living room, where the others awaited anxiously for orders.

  Leonora fearfully sought her sister-in-law for help. She noticed Carol Ann’s red, swollen lips. Her red lingerie was wrinkled and had several large, wet patches on it. This puzzled Leonora, for Carol Ann never wore anything wrinkle, let alone dirty.

  “Commander? Commander are you still there?” came the nervous question.

  Leonora knew the voice was coming from Challen’s wristguard, most likely, from the one he had left in charge of his ship.

  Challen quickly spoke into his left bracelet. “Yes. How far are they, Krey?”

  Leonora studied her brother’s face and attire as he spoke to his officer. His lips were red and swollen, also. There was a huge wet spot at the center of his silk pants and down his thighs. Her eyes widened.

  “Fifteen minutes, Commander.”

  Challen rushed toward Carol Ann. Without saying a word, he grabbed her arm. “Transporter Room, I am bringing aboard an extra party. She is one foot beside me. Do you have her on your scanners?”

  “Yes, Commander.” This time it was a feminine voice responding.

  “Very good then. Transport.”

  Carol Ann was too quick for the transporter beam. By twisting then jerking her arm free, she jumped a good distance away and avoided being teleported onto the mother ship.

  “What the—” Challen was heard to say before he dematerialized.

  Carol Ann scurried off the floor and ran into the kitchen. She reached behind the fridge to grab the key Rick kept taped to the backside. She then made a mad dash out the front door, turned right, and raced down three blocks to a neighboring home. She used the key to open the door to the garage.

  Inside, Carol Ann quickly turned the lights on. There was a silver BMW parked in one spot of the garage and a motorcycle on the other. Rick paid the owner monthly to store his motorcycle in the garage. Naturally, the bike was kept there for emergencies.

  On a shelf opposite the door, she spotted a black helmet, a one-piece jumper on a hook, and matching boots beneath the jumper. She immediately dressed in the jumper and boots. She had less than a few minutes before the enemy troops arrived at her home.

  Carol Ann reached under the front tire’s rim and took the key Rick had hidden there with duck tape. She hurried to the panel on the wall and pressed the button. As the garage door opened, she slipped on the helmet, mounted the bike, and escaped. She leisurely passed the speeding army trucks heading west, as she headed east to one of the hotels the Shadow Team uses during assignments. Her intention was to safely meet her brother.

  After being on the highway for about twenty minutes, a car zoomed past her, going west. She thought nothing of it and kept on going.

  “Stop!” Rick suddenly yelled, startling Lance.
He had not spoken a word since they left the hotel room. Therefore, it was obvious that Lance was not expecting him to speak now.

  “What?”

  “Stop! Turn this car around. That motorcyclist…” He pointed in the direction the motorist was heading and said, “Follow that motorcycle!”

  Lance had switched places with Rick when they had stopped for gas. Lance made an illegal U-turn and took off after the cyclist. “Why am I following someone on a bike?”

  “You’re not going to follow her. You’re going to stop her.”

  Lance gave him a funny look, “Her?”

  “That’s Carol Ann,” Rick informed him. “So move it!”

  “Carol Ann? Rick, we zoomed past him. The person had his face covered. He was a blur. Plus it’s pitch black out there. How the hell could you possibly tell if it was Carol Ann?”

  “Because I have keener eyesight than you, and I’d recognize my bike anywhere. And if you don’t move this piece of junk, we’re going to lose her!”

  Lance sat straighter in his seat, obviously insulted by Rick’s reference to the car. “I take offense to that, McCall. This is not a piece of junk. It’s a classic. Besides, your sister, if it is your sister, can’t even lose her own shadow on a cloudy day.”

  “Can you?” Rick countered irritably.

  Lance sent him a narrowed-eye look. “Don’t start.”

  “Then move it!” Just as Rick was about to put his foot on the accelerator, Lance speared him with a glare that blared “don’t you dare.”

  Lance soon caught up to the motorcycle. He blinked his headlights, hoping she would understand and stop. She did not. They had to drive alongside of her.

  “Carol Ann!” Rick yelled. He gained her attention by waving his arms wildly.

  Signaling back, Carol Ann pulled off at the curb. Lance followed close behind. She turned off the ignition and swung her leg over the bike. Taking off her helmet, she dropped it on the floor as Rick reached her side.