Beyond : Series Bundle (9781311505637)

by Miller, Maureen A.

  With a grave expression, the dust-covered man in back nodded. “To the best of my knowledge, everyone in this car is safe.”

  Even as he uttered the words, his glance betrayed him, swinging towards the main road. “And the second?” he prompted edgily.

  “What happens now?”

  Two police cars made their way down the main street, their lights flashing. They were heading in the direction of her house.

  “I need to ask you all some questions,” Craig affirmed.

  Aimee’s throat locked up. She couldn’t swallow. This can’t be happening.

  “And I need to meet up with those officers that just passed by,” he added, not backing down from Zak’s intimidating focus.

  Aimee gauged them to be close in age, or at least they appeared that way. This man might be an inch or two taller than Zak, looking cramped in the backseat of her old Jetta. Dressed in a white cotton shirt with the sleeves rolled up, the fabric was now scored with stains. His tanned face was handsome despite the anxiety that carved lines around his eyes and mouth.

  “If Diego didn’t show up while we were at your house, then I’m sure he is long gone by now—probably on his way out of the state. In all honesty, I don’t anticipate you having anything to worry about.” He held up the cell phone. “As soon as I receive the call that the area is secure, we will drive back so that I can continue my investigation.”

  Something in his demeanor troubled Aimee. Other than the obvious predicament they were in. This man was withholding a key detail. Of course, it was his job to withhold details from the public. He would never divulge the full story. It wasn’t so much their safety that concerned her as it was their anonymity.

  There were places they could go...places to hide. When she had stockpiled her money, it was with the intention of having enough to find a place to live. Having the use of her parent’s house had been an unexpected perk.

  The sound of her own phone startled her.

  Craig slammed it to his ear. “Buchanan.”

  Dark eyebrows furrowed in angst. He glanced at Raja who was stoically tucked in her corner. Finally he set the phone down on his knee and gave her his exclusive attention.

  “There is no trace of Diego or his partner in the area. The van is gone. I gave the authorities the license plate, but I’m sure Diego has since abandoned that vehicle. Anyway, they are most likely heading south as we speak.” His hand dropped to the seat between them and it looked like he wanted to reach for hers, but instead he curled it into a fist. “Let’s go back to your house and discuss the next steps, and then I’m wanted back in Wilmington.”

  Raja stared at him as if he spoke another language. Aimee knew that Raja was just lagging on the translation. She was used to Aimee’s dialogue, but she was bright and adjusted to the nuances quickly.

  “You will get this Diego,” Raja encouraged quietly.

  Whoa? What happened in that barn? Raja didn’t encourage. Raja was quiet, reserved, and offered reassurances to only a select few. It took a flamethrower, a bulldozer, and a few thousand soldiers to get through Raja’s personal force field. She did not encourage strangers.

  They had reached the house, and the strain in the car was palpable. Two blue and white police cars sat in the driveway, their lights bouncing off the side of the house like a bizarre July 4th decoration. Aimee worried about what the neighbors must think, but the closest neighbors were the Kings, and evidently they weren’t home.

  “Stay in the car for a moment,” Craig ordered as he thrust a leg out the open door.

  Outside, his arms shifted in agitation while debating with the police officer. Even in his lofted navy blue hat, the officer only reached as high as Craig’s neck. Craig tipped his head towards the house and the police hat nodded in affirmation.

  The car door swung open again and Craig’s dusty head popped in. “Alright, it’s safe to go in. I have to finish up some paperwork with this officer, and then I’ll be back to talk to you about the Kings. A unit will stay parked here for the night—but I wouldn’t worry too much.”

  “Thank you for the use of your phone and your vehicle,” Craig directed at Aimee. “I’ve left my card with Raja in case you need me for anything before I return. I should be back in an hour at the latest.”

  To Aimee it felt like a threat...not a promise.

  * * *

  “I should probably wash and change?” Raja held her arm up to the light, inspecting the layer of dirt clinging to her glistening blouse.

  “Yes, you should do that.”

  Cocking her head at the tone, Raja looked wounded. “I am sorry, Aimee. I promised to keep a low profile until you returned, and I did not do a good job of listening. I was just—” she glanced at the window and her hand reached to touch the glass, “—so curious.”

  Aimee’s shoulders sagged. “This is not a prison cell. You are free to come and go as you please. I just worry about you until you get acclimated.”

  Outside, the police car was visible in the driveway. “This whole experience,” Aimee explained, “this is not commonplace. This is not my Earth. I grew up in this house. I lived next door to the Kings for nearly 18 years without any incidents. You come here for less than a day and meet up with criminals. Criminals with guns.”

  Aimee wrapped a hand over her eyes. “I am embarrassed. I am embarrassed for my planet, and I am sorry to make your first experience here so negative. And now—” she floundered, “—now we have this pit bull FBI guy—.”

  “Pit bull?” Raja smiled. “I’m not sure exactly what that means, but I get the context. He intrigues me, but I think I should go wash and change before I get into any more trouble.”

  It was hard to suppress a laugh. Aimee reached forward and hugged Raja, grateful that her friend was safe.

  “There are clothes out on your bed. I hope they fit. We’ll go shopping together tomorrow.”

  With Raja gone, Aimee’s eyes connected with Zak’s across the room. His shoulder was hitched against the archway between the dining room and kitchen. He was dressed in jeans and a white cotton button-down shirt they had purchased this morning. God help her, he looked so damn gorgeous standing there. But his expression was like granite.

  “What?” she asked.

  He hefted away from the wall and crossed the floor.

  “I’m not naive enough to believe that any planet is safe. They all harbor enemies—antagonists. I will not allow some neighbor to harm you.”

  “Zak, this is all just a case of bad luck, and it will pass over.”

  “Maybe,” he mused. “But I am always cautious—especially when it comes to your safety. I did not come here empty-handed.” Reaching down, he grabbed an item off the end table.

  Aimee gasped. “Zak, oh my god, if anyone sees that!”

  In his hands was the sleek boomerang shape of a star laser. Setting the weapon back down, he reached up and cupped her arms. “It doesn’t matter what planet it is, Aimee. I am going to protect you. Protect us. I almost lost you to the Korons. Do you think I will ever allow any race to come that close to taking you away from me?”

  She clamped down on her quivering lip.

  “Zak, maybe we should just run before this federal agent returns. He is going to ask too many questions. Questions we will not have answers for. Neither of you have any identification. Heck, neither of you have last names.”

  “Zak Patterson sounds rather noble, don’t you think?” He inched his chin up with a grin.

  Aimee snorted, and then reconsidered his suggestion. “Actually, we may go with that for now. For all of us. Raja can be your cousin.”

  A story began to form in her head—a string of lies to protect those she cared about. Her thoughts were distracted as Zak drew her into his arms.

  “It will all work out, Zer-shay,” he whispered into her hair.

  The doorbell rang.

  She looked up into his eyes. “Just go with whatever I say, okay?”

  Zak’s brow quirked. “Don’t I always?”


  * * *

  Seated at the dining room table, Aimee was conscious of the star laser tucked behind a vase on the wall-length buffet. It was the quickest concealment they could manage when the bell rang. Next to her was Zak, ever-vigilant. She could feel his tension—a thick cloud of turbulence like a barely-contained cyclone. Across from her, Special Agent Craig Buchanan loomed in a fresh black t-shirt. Though his shirt was clean, she could tell he had found no time for a shower, as a trace of dust still nestled in his hair. His face had been scrubbed, though. A gritty, but handsome man. Not what she imagined for the FBI. But to her he represented nothing more than a six-foot threat to their anonymity.

  In his haste, Craig had settled down on the edge of his chair, his elbow smudging the polished table. Just this morning it was covered in about as much dust as he was, and Aimee had feverishly corrected it with lemon spray polish, hell bent on making this house comfortable.

  Upstairs a door creaked and Craig came alert, his hand delving behind his back.

  “Raja’s cleaning up upstairs,” Aimee offered. “She’ll be down shortly.”

  Visibly coaxing himself down, he nodded and pulled a pad and pen out of the back pocket of his jeans.

  A notepad? How archaic, even for this planet. Already, Aimee had studied the latest trends in technology and discovered the tablets that would one day evolve into something akin to JOH.

  Still, this man set down his small spiral notepad, clicked his pen, and concentrated on Zak.

  “Alright. I’ll try to do this as quickly as possible. I’m sure you didn’t plan to spend your evening this way.”

  Amen.

  “Your name.”

  “Zak.”

  Aimee concealed a cough behind her fist.

  “Your full name,” Craig repeated patiently.

  For a brief second she could feel Zak’s eyes on her and then she heard him state evenly, “Zak Patterson.”

  The pen moved across the notepad. It paused. “Z-A-C-H?”

  Inquisitive golden eyes converged on her again. She nudged his thigh under the table.

  “Yes,” he affirmed.

  “And you are—” Craig turned to her, “—Aimee Patterson, his spouse?”

  “Yes.”

  “And,” his eyes drifted up the stairs.

  “Zak’s cousin,” she quickly inserted. “Raja. Raja—Patterson. That is spelled R-A-J-A.”

  Even as the agent wrote, she saw his eyebrows rise. “Interesting name.”

  When Aimee did not elaborate he settled back with his pad. The silence made the tick of the clock on the wall even more pronounced. Upstairs something went thump against the floor.

  “Is she umm—” Craig set down his pen and rubbed the back of his neck. “—what does she do?”

  “Do?” Aimee’s voice cracked. “She’s a—scientist.” Oh God, what if he asks where she works? “But she’s unemployed at the moment.”

  A brief smile flashed across the agent’s face. It made him less intimidating...for a second.

  “That makes sense,” he observed quietly.

  “It does?”

  Craig sat back in the chair and gazed at the empty staircase again. “She seemed intrigued by our lab.”

  “You said the word lab to Raja?” Zak injected.

  “Yes.”

  “No wonder she likes you,” he rumbled.

  “She likes me?”

  Despite the fact that Aimee was squeezing his powerful thigh in an effort to hush him, Zak continued. “Well, she spoke to you. Raja is a woman of few words. If she engaged in conversation with you, then she likes you.”

  Beneath the table, Zak engulfed her hand. He turned to her and grinned. “I, on the other hand, have a woman of many words.”

  “I don’t know if you would call it conversation. We were tied to a post together—” Craig’s head jerked up at the sound of footsteps.

  Instead of turning around, Aimee studied his face closely. Bourbon-colored eyes fixed on the woman descending the stairs. A slight heft of his eyebrow might have revealed that he liked what he saw, or perhaps Aimee was reading too much into his rapt attention. She shifted to discover Raja dressed in jeans and a UNC t-shirt. Perhaps the attire made her blend in with every other woman in the world, but Raja was not from this world. Her freshly cleaned hair gleamed under the faux crystal chandelier, and her alabaster skin glowed with a blush under everyone’s focus. She cleared her throat, but did not speak.

  “Hello Raja.” Craig’s voice was gravelly. “Please sit down. I’m just finishing up some questions and I’ll be on my way.”

  Edgy, she slipped her long body into the chair beside Aimee so that now it was a faceoff of three people to one. Craig’s glance lingered equally on each of them.

  “This is not an inquisition,” he read their expressions. “You may have inadvertently witnessed something, or know some minute fact that you are not even aware of. Is this man your neighbor?”

  A picture was nudged across the table. Aimee did not pick it up, but she focused on the dark-complected man with black hair gleaming from hair gel. A goatee jutted from his chin, and beneath that a collection of gold chains nestled under a black collar.

  She snorted. “That is not Mr. King.”

  “Do you recognize this man? Have you seen him before?”

  “We—” She shot a sidelong glance at Zak. His eyes encouraged her. “We have been abroad for a few years, so I cannot tell you who has been at the farm recently. For all I know, the Kings have sold the place. I don’t recognize this man, though, and Mr. King is in his sixties and has a nose that looks like it belongs on an elephant walrus.”

  For a moment she thought she detected a shadow of a grin on the agent’s face. When he continued he was sober.

  “How about another man, Latin as well.”

  “And a scent.”

  All eyes turned to the woman with her arms folded on the dining room table. Raja reddened under the assault. “He smelled,” she whispered and looked down at her lap.

  Craig set the pen down. “Yes. Yes he did. Aftershave. Judging from the rest of the man’s getup it was probably expensive aftershave, but it still...smelled.”

  Raja peeked up at him and then her eyes snapped back to her lap.

  “So no one has been in this house?” Craig continued. “For how long?”

  Fingers of anxiety started to crawl up the back of Aimee’s head. “My parents moved out of here several years ago—about the same time we—we went to Europe on a work permit.”

  “All three of you? You’re all scientists?”

  A rush of fabric beside her alerted Aimee that Raja had shifted in her seat.

  “Ummm, no. I—Zak and I work for the automotive plant down 77. Raja came along with us.”

  Curse that pen that moved so freely across his damned notepad. And curse the frown that wove across the agent’s brow.

  Again the pen dropped onto the table with a pronounced click. Craig sat back against the dining room chair. Fatigue affected his posture, but the eyes were still sharp. For a prolonged moment he engaged in a visual standoff with Aimee until Zak budged in his chair and made everyone jump.

  “Mister—Buchanan,” he began calmly.

  “Craig.”

  “Craig.” Zak repeated, crossing his arms. “I’m not from North Carolina, and my years with Aimee and Raja have not been in this area, so I’m not able to provide a lot of feedback for you. It concerns me to think that we are just about to settle down in this town, only to discover that there is a criminal close by. Correct me if I am wrong, but you are most likely going to leave this house tonight with false assurances that this man is long gone—and that we will probably be safe—but that does not satisfy me.”

  And that, Aimee thought, is why I love him. In one casual declaration, Zak had shifted the discomfort across the table.

  Tapping his thumb on the table, Craig nodded. “Understood. I have many concerns when it comes to this man, and no, it is not my intention to
give you false assurances. I will tell you this. I have been tracking Diego for almost two years now. He is not a man to harm civilians, but he is not above using them.” A quick glance at Raja, and then he added, “When I leave here tonight, my eyes will remain on that farm. They will remain on you. Through the local police, through additional agents—if this man returns, I will know it.”

  “So you are stating that it is safe for us to stay here?” Zak prompted.

  There it was, Aimee thought. That betraying flash in Craig’s eyes—a fleeting glimpse of uncertainty.

  Beside her, Raja glanced up, awaiting his response.

  Craig reached behind his head and rubbed the back of his neck. “Look. I have to get back to Wilmington. It’s about a five-hour drive. I’ll finish what I have to do there, and I’ll be back here so that we can continue after we’ve all had some rest. In the meantime, I’ve arranged for two patrol officers to take turns overseeing both the King property and yours until I return. If you are uncomfortable, you might consider staying elsewhere. A hotel perhaps.”

  He awaited their debate, but the room remained silent.

  “Alright then,” he made motions like he was preparing to wrap it up. “I just need two things from you, and I’ll be on my way. I need the full names of the Kings, and—” he glanced down at his pad, reading previous notes, “—I need the name of the company in Europe that provided your work permit.”

  Chapter Five

  Acid churned in Craig’s stomach and it wasn’t from the fast food he crammed down his throat at the truck stop. There was no need for the European work permit. Aimee Patterson’s demeanor was guarded as she spoke of their time away. It didn’t take much of his training to surmise that she was hiding something. Most likely it was a personal aspect, and had nothing to do with Diego Carlo, whom she sincerely seemed naive about.

  No, Craig had tossed that last question out for simple curiosity...to see what it triggered. And it triggered a seismic quake in the woman. Oh, she concealed it with an evasive answer about her father obtaining the working visas as part of an engineering training program for the company. There was no doubt that she was lying, though. It was an interesting twist, but until he could do further research he saw no correlation between the three Pattersons and Diego Carlo.