Gryke: A SciFi Alien Romance (Enigma Series Book 6)

by Ditter Kellen

  Fiona eased her head around the corner of the building she stood next to, searching the area for movement. Darcy remained on the other side of the street while Roosevelt was practically stuck to her back like glue. She hadn’t expected Darcy to follow, but follow them, he did.

  “We just doubled our chances of getting caught with Darcy in tow,” Fiona whispered, ducking down under the cover of darkness.

  Roosevelt hunched down beside her. “A third pair of eyes is never a bad thing. You just do as you’re told, and pray you don’t get caught. Your brother’s life depends on it.”

  Fiona was more than aware of what lay in store for Brant if she didn’t return with the scrolls. “Screw you, Roosevelt.”

  “Maybe later,” he replied, leaning back against the brick wall.

  Ignoring his crude comment, Fiona pushed away from the wall and darted toward the alley, keeping her head low and her eyes alert.

  She arrived at the fence that would lead her to the house she’d hidden the scrolls inside.

  “Where’s Darcy?” she asked in a quiet voice, dropping to her haunches next to the fence.

  Roosevelt shrugged, telling her without words that he didn’t know or care.

  “Great.” Fiona stood, gripped the top of the chain link, and pulled herself over.

  Her gaze scanned the darkness for signs of military presence in the area. Not to mention Bracadytes, she silently acknowledged. Fiona would rather face the entire military force than even one Bracadyte. Particularly Gryke.

  Satisfied the area was clear, Fiona moved like the wind toward the yellow, two-story house in front of her. She slid to a stop outside the back door and carefully tugged it open.

  “You hid them in a house right outside the entrance to Aukrabah?” Roosevelt whispered from behind her.

  Fiona waited until they were safely inside before answering. “It was the most logical place. Hidden in plain sight, where no one would have ever thought to look.”

  “Brains as well as a nice ass,” Roosevelt crooned in a silky-smooth voice, standing entirely too close.

  The fine hairs on Fiona’s neck stood on end. She slowly turned to face the hovering Roosevelt. “Back off, freak. I was told to bring back the scrolls. Jefferies said nothing about your safe return.”

  “Is that a threat?” Roosevelt questioned, grabbing onto her wrist.

  Fiona narrowed her eyes, piercing him with a pissed-off stare. “It’s a promise.”

  Roosevelt let go of her arm, but didn’t back up. He continued to crowd her personal space as if daring her to act on her words.

  Returning to the task at hand, Fiona moved silently into the laundry room, tugged the dryer away from the wall, and popped off the service panel on the back. There, exactly where she’d left it, was the bag containing the ancient scrolls of the Bracadytes.

  She gingerly pulled it free of its hiding place. “I hope Jefferies chokes on them.”

  “Give them to me,” Roosevelt demanded, a gun suddenly in his hand.

  Fiona backed up a step. “What are you doing?”

  “Did you honestly think I would risk everything for Jefferies? Those scrolls are worth a fortune.”

  “You can’t do this,” Fiona pleaded, her mind scrambling for a way of escape. “Doug will kill my brother if I don’t return with these.”

  Roosevelt pulled the hammer back on his weapon. “I’m sorry about your brother, Fiona, but those scrolls are my ticket out of here.”

  Fiona’s heart pounded hard enough she could hear it beating inside her head. If Roosevelt ran off with the scrolls, Brant wouldn’t survive until morning.

  All the fear, anger, and resentment came bubbling to the surface. It raced from her stomach up through her chest to escape her throat. “You can rot in hell.”

  Dropping to her free hand, Fiona kicked out with her leg, sweeping Roosevelt off his feet.

  The blast from his gun shattered the night as a bullet whizzed past her head to embed in the wall behind her.

  Fiona surged to her feet and slammed the heel of her boot against Roosevelt’s face, giving her the second she needed to jump over his body and race for the door.

  Another shot exploded from behind her, taking out the window in the door she ran for. She yanked it open and darted for the fence.

  “Fiona!” Roosevelt snarled, gaining his feet and barreling out the door behind her.

  Run, her mind repeated like a mantra as she zigzagged across the yard, racing headlong for the fence she’d scrambled over not minutes before.

  The sound of boots thumping on the grass could be heard coming from the other side of the fence, telling Fiona that Darcy was directly in her path.

  She took a hard right, gripped the scrolls tightly, and ran like the wind toward the entrance to Aukrabah.

  Chapter Nine

  Gryke all but tossed Andrew at Tony and Naura as the sounds of gunfire erupted in the distance. “Take him to safety.”

  Naura lifted the child into her arms. “Do not go back out there, Gryke. The human weapons are dangerous.”

  “I have to,” Gryke responded, glancing at Andrew. He mentally connected with Naura to keep the child from overhearing. “Fiona could be in trouble.”

  “She is most likely long gone by now, Gryke.”

  Gryke shook his head. “The CIA has been tracking her. Fiona is near, Naura. I must go.”

  “Stay safe,” Naura mentally called out as Gryke took off toward the entrance.

  The sound of his heartbeat drummed in his ears, matched only by the pounding of his feet on the cave’s floor.

  He sailed through the opening, nearly running into Melvin on his way out.

  Melvin gave a hand signal, telling Gryke without words to go left.

  Gryke nodded, rushing to the left as Melvin spun around and quietly disappeared into the shadows.

  Another shot echoed through the night, followed by the sound of someone running in Gryke’s direction.

  Flattening himself against the wall of a nearby shed, Gryke waited until the footsteps were on him before stepping out and jerking the runner off their feet.

  Immediately recognizing Fiona, he slapped a hand over her mouth and dragged her behind the wall of the shed.

  “It is me,” he whispered in her ear, tightening his hold over her mouth. “Do not scream.”

  At her nod, he slowly released her mouth but kept her in his arms. He could feel her heart pounding against his stomach through her back.

  She was tall for a human female. Not nearly as tall as a Bracadyte female, he acknowledged, glancing at the top of her head. But certainly not small.

  Her unique scent drifted up his nose, making it difficult to concentrate. She smelled better than he remembered.

  His body stirred to life the longer she remained in his arms. He tightened his hold, causing her bottom to press more firmly against his now growing erection.

  Fiona stilled. “Gryke?”

  “She ran this way,” someone growled, swiftly heading in their direction.

  Gryke yanked Fiona off her feet and moved her to his side.

  He waited a heartbeat, giving the guy time to reach the shed before stepping out and swinging with everything he had. His fist connected with the soldier’s face, shattering bone and spraying blood across Gryke’s chest.

  The man’s body flew through the air, landing several feet away in a bloodied and limp heap.

  Fiona suddenly jumped, dropping the bag she held before slamming into the side of an incoming Roosevelt and taking him down. His weapon ended up a short distance away.

  Gryke could only stare in amazement as Fiona stepped back to allow the guy to rise, taunting him with her words. “Get up, you piece of shit.”

  Retrieving Roosevelt’s weapon, Gryke tucked it into the waistband of his shorts and sidled closer to Fiona’s side.

  “No, Gryke.” Fiona growled, crouching low and circling the stunned soldier. “This one’s mine.”

  Gryke’s brows shot up, but he didn�
��t argue. He understood the need for vengeance better than anyone.

  Staying close in case she needed him, Gryke backed off enough to allow Fiona her revenge.

  “I said, get up,” she snarled, kicking Roosevelt in the ribs.

  The soldier’s lips peeled back over his teeth. He briefly gripped his side before springing to his feet.

  Fiona’s hands came up close to her face. She curled her fingers inward and snapped her arm forward with lightning speed.

  Blood sprayed from Roosevelt’s nose as her fist connected with his face.

  He shook it off, his eyes growing wild with rage. With a battle cry, Roosevelt charged Fiona, only to find himself facedown on the ground as she spun to the right and brought her elbow down onto the back of his neck.

  Fiona bounced around on the balls of her feet, obviously calculating her next move. She abruptly drew back her leg and kicked Roosevelt in the teeth.

  An unholy sound came from his throat, and more blood sprayed from his face. He staggered to his feet, suddenly wielding a knife.

  Gryke lowered to his haunches, ripped a knife from the belt of the unconscious man at his own feet, and chucked it next to Fiona.

  She snatched it up without blinking, instantly tossing it from hand to hand. Gryke had never seen anyone handle a blade with such ease.

  Fiona began to circle the guy, all the while keeping the blade moving in her grasp.

  Roosevelt jumped forward, swinging his knife out in a wide arc, barely missing Fiona’s face.

  She spun to the side, tossed the blade to her other hand, and buried it in Roosevelt’s gut.

  Gryke watched in satisfaction as the cowardly soldier’s eyes registered surprise a second before he fell heavily to his knees.

  “Finish him,” Gryke softly demanded. “Andrew will never be safe as long as this man breathes.”

  Fiona raised her glassy-eyed gaze and met Gryke’s own determined one. Something passed between them in that moment: something primal and instinctive. An understanding that Gryke had only experienced with a small number of Bracadyte warriors. But Fiona is a warrior, Gryke silently acknowledged. And for reasons he couldn’t explain, that pleased him.

  The knife slipped from Fiona’s fingers to land on the ground at her feet. Without looking away from Gryke’s penetrating stare, she circled around behind Roosevelt, gripped his head in her hands, and gave a mighty jerk.

  Roosevelt slumped lifelessly forward.

  She’d chosen to break the man’s neck instead of cutting his throat, Gryke noticed. He also understood why she’d ended him in such a fashion. She considered it more humane than letting him drown on his own blood.

  “He would not have given you the same consideration,” Gryke pointed out, tugging the gun from the waistband of his shorts and aiming it at Roosevelt’s partner.

  “Wait,” Melvin called out from the darkness. “Don’t kill him.”

  Gryke growled low in his throat, watching as Melvin jogged through an alley with three of his men in tow. “He does not deserve to live.”

  Melvin slowed his steps as he grew closer. “I agree, but we need to question him about Jefferies’s location.”

  “Jefferies has my brother,” Fiona interjected, her breaths coming in rapid succession. “And if I don’t return tonight with the scrolls, he’ll kill Brant.”

  Gryke lowered the weapon he held and strode over to the shed where Fiona had dropped the bag of scrolls. He snatched it up and turned to face her. “I cannot risk the scrolls falling into Jefferies’s hands.”

  Chapter Ten

  Fiona rested her palms on her knees and attempted to catch her breath. Gryke had just announced that he had no intention of letting her take the scrolls to Jefferies. After everything she’d been through in the last twenty-four hours, Fiona wasn’t about to leave without those damn scrolls. “You’re willing to let my brother die?”

  “I do not wish your brother to come to harm,” Gryke growled, striding toward her with the bag, “but I cannot allow these to fall into the hands of Jefferies.” He held up the bag for emphasis.

  Melvin stepped aside as his men cuffed and dragged Darcy away. “Maybe we don’t have to.”

  “What are you saying?” Fiona straightened, her attention instantly on Melvin.

  “I’m saying that Jefferies has never seen the scrolls. What if we replace them with forgeries?”

  Fiona took a deep breath and glanced between Melvin and Gryke. “But we don’t have the time to fake a bunch of ancient scrolls. Besides, the Bracadyte scrolls are made with some sort of animal skins. Where are we going to acquire something like that at the last minute?”

  “Jefferies doesn’t know what they’re made of,” Melvin pointed out. “I’ll make some calls, see what we can come up with last minute.”

  “But Doug’s expecting me to return with them tonight. If we attempt to delay, he might grow restless and kill Brant.”

  Melvin shook his head. “He won’t kill his hostage. Your brother is his only chance at getting his hands on the scrolls. Trust me, he won’t retaliate yet. It’s too risky.”

  “Braum is near,” Gryke suddenly announced, his gaze straying to the street beyond.

  Melvin nodded. “He arrived about an hour ago. The president is here as well.”

  Fiona returned her attention to Melvin. “President Pratt is out here?”

  “He and the Secret Service are in a residence near the entrance to Aukrabah.”

  “I must speak with Braum,” Gryke murmured, moving to turn away.

  Melvin pulled a cell phone from the holder at his side. “You two go on ahead. I’m going to see how long it’ll take to produce some forged scrolls.”

  “It has to be tonight,” Fiona argued, her hands going to her hips. “Jefferies only gave us the one night to return with them.”

  Pinching the bridge of his nose, Melvin met her gaze. “I’m aware.”

  Fiona nodded slightly. “You know where to find me.”

  “I’ll be along shortly,” Melvin responded, already pressing buttons on his phone.

  Gryke stepped up next to her. “Let us go.”

  Fiona didn’t need to be told twice. “Where is Andrew?”

  “The boy is safe. He is with Naura and Anthony Vaughn.”

  Relief was swift. “I can’t thank you enough for taking care of him.”

  “I did not do it for you,” Gryke growled, staring straight ahead.

  The harsh words stung, but Fiona understood his feelings. She had, after all, caused him a ton of grief in such a short amount of time. “I’m sorry, Gryke. I had no choice.”

  That slowed his steps. He turned and stepped into her path, causing her to nearly run into him. “There is always a choice. You could have come to me and told me of your situation. I would have helped you.”

  “How?” Fiona demanded, crossing her arms over her chest. “By throwing me in the same cell that Maria occupied?”

  Gryke narrowed his eyes. “I guess we will never know, will we?”

  “That’s what I thought.” Fiona moved to step around him.

  “What you think matters not to me,” Gryke bit out, grabbing her hold of her wrist. “Your presence in Aukrabah was derived from deception. Had you been honest from the beginning, all of this could have been avoided.”

  Fiona jerked free of his hold. “Really, Gryke? So, let me get this straight. You are saying that you would have helped me with taking the scrolls to Jefferies if I’d told you that I was sent to Aukrabah to spy on you?”

  “I have known all along your purpose for being there. Land walkers cannot be trusted. And your human president has further proven that fact.”

  “President Pratt’s reasons for sending me to Aukrabah were honest and true. My orders to learn what I could came from the CIA.”

  Gryke went completely still. “Melvin is a part of your deception?”

  “No,” Fiona admitted on a sigh. “It came from higher up than Melvin. And I didn’t deceive you. When Pratt sent me
to Aukrabah as a liaison, it was in good faith. It was his way of assuring the Bracadytes that he had no intentions of harming them. The CIA, however, saw it as an opportunity to learn what they could about your people. But only for the sole purpose of maintaining the safety of America. The orders to take the scrolls came strictly from Jefferies.”

  Fiona took a deep breath to calm her breathing. A thought struck her. “How did you know that I would be here tonight?”

  Gryke glanced at her wrist. “According to Melvin, the CIA has been tracking you through your watch.”

  So many things made sense to Fiona in that moment. “That must be how Jefferies’s men found us on Oz’s yacht.”

  Gryke spun on his heel. “I would assume so. Now, let us go. Time grows short.”

  Chapter Eleven

  Gryke could feel Fiona’s gaze boring into his back as he trekked toward the entrance of Aukrabah. The anxiety exuding from her seeped into his psyche, nearly choking him in its intensity.

  He knew she worried about her brother, whose fate lay in the hands of Doug Jefferies. Gryke could almost sympathize with her. Almost.

  “What happened to Andrew’s sire?” Where had that question come from?

  “He was killed in the line of duty,” Fiona answered softly.

  Slowing his steps, Gryke waited for her to catch up. “He was your mate.” It wasn’t a question.

  Fiona shrugged. “Depends on what you mean by mate. He was my husband and the father of my child. Other than that, we were strangers.”

  Gryke could see the entrance to Aukrabah up ahead. “I do not understand.”

  “Being in the military forced us to spend a lot of time apart. I suppose he became lonely and began sleeping around.”

  “Sleeping around?”

  “Sleeping in other women’s beds,” Fiona explained. “He was unfaithful.”

  Realizing her meaning, Gryke shook his head. “But you were bonded. How is it possible that he would take another female to his bed?”

  “I would love to know the answer to that question myself.”

  Gryke studied her features, taking in her bright red hair, her full lips, and golden-colored eyes. He wondered how her mate could have betrayed her. “A Bracadyte male would never disrespect his mate in such a way. Nor would any of our females. It is unheard of in Aukrabah.”