Should she call his attention to the fact that she was perfectly capable of walking on her own? Yes. But, first just a minute more of this bliss. All too soon he was going to come to the conclusion that she was different, and he would heed her with fright. No longer would those dusky eyes smile down upon her. He would not hold her like this, and he would not kiss her anymore. Instead he would be appalled.
With her head tucked against his shoulder she listened to his hastened pulse and reveled in the heat of his skin.
Shifting his grip, Craig kicked the door to the house with an awkward tap of his foot.
It flew open immediately and Aimee managed a stunned, “Oh my God.”
* * *
“Quick,” Craig barged in, settling Raja down in the closest chair. “Call 9-1-1. I’ll get my belt off. We can use it as a tourniquet.”
“What did you do, Raja?” Aimee reached for her cell phone and then hesitated.
Catching her pause, Craig was incensed. “Hurry! She’s losing so much blood.”
Cursing himself for his lack of tact, he tried to think how he could have handled things differently and prevented this horror. He should have identified that Raja was sensitive.
“Umm, Mr. Buchanan—”
What is your problem, Buchanan? How could you have let your professionalism go to hell like this? You couldn’t stop yourself from kissing her? Come on, man!
“Mr. Buchanan?”
Vaguely aware of Aimee’s intrusion, Craig yanked the leather belt from his waist.
“Craig.”
That wasn’t Aimee’s voice. It was Raja’s. A breathless sound so close to his ear that an army of chill bumps marched across his shoulder.
She sat on the edge of the upholstered seat, leaning forward, silky hair falling across her shoulder to conceal her face. When she tossed her head slightly, he caught a glimpse of a timid smile.
What?
“Mr. Buchanan,” Aimee cut in again. “I believe that Raja is just fine. You don’t have to worry.”
“That can’t be.” Craig grabbed his forehead and stared at Raja’s bicep, which she was now dabbing at with his shirt. Parts of her forearm bore copper stains, but there was no blood flow. Hell, there was no laceration, and he had witnessed the gaping wound directly.
Unable to resist, he reached for her hand and tilted it up, inspecting her arm from all angles. Nothing. No wound. Still disbelieving, he accepted the wet cloth Aimee produced and gently rubbed it up and down Raja’s slim limb. The blood washed away leaving no trace of a gash. All that remained was perfect, unmarred flesh.
“Do you want to sit down?” Aimee pulled over a chair.
“No.” He’d lost his mind. Sitting would not help with that. “I want to know what the hell is going on here.”
Backpedaling from the table and the captivating woman who was holding his blood-stained shirt, Craig reached for his chest. “Are you all in collusion to make the FBI agent go insane? Have you drugged me? Some hallucinogenic?”
“That’s not something I would use.” Raja hefted off her seat. “I see no merit to planting false images into someone’s head.”
“Raja, what did you do?” Aimee repeated her earlier question. “Where is the blood from?”
“He didn’t believe me,” Raja planted her hands on her hips. “I had to do something drastic. I stuck a blade in my arm. It wasn’t anything life-threatening. I aimed for the meaty part of the bicep, careful to avoid any nerves. It was more about the drama of the blood so that he could see that I could heal myself.”
“What if you didn’t have enough serum? I don’t know how to do stitches, and we don’t have insurance yet. We would have had to take you to Urgent Care—”
“I have enough,” Raja stopped Aimee’s spiral. “I have more up in my room.”
“Time out!” Craig bellowed. “So Raja has some magic potion that can seal life-threatening wounds? I really was shot then, and she healed me?”
Both women nodded dumbly.
“Thank you.” Goddamn. “Thank you. I knew I remembered being shot. I am not losing my mind. Some of it at least.” Deep breath, Buchanan. Get a grip.
“Raja tells me that you were not kidnapped by Diego Carlo, but rather by an alien spaceship.” His voice cracked on the last word.
Aimee exchanged a long look with her husband.
“What do you want to know, Mr. Buchanan?” Zak asked with a deep inflection.
Some of the chaos abated with Zak’s level tone. Answers. Craig craved them at this point.
“Let me just state the most immediate observations and you correct me if I’m wrong.”
Zak nodded.
“Okay,” Craig began. “I was shot. In the chest. Raja poured something on me to heal what would have been a fatal wound. Then she fired at Alfonso with your gun—or ray—which I would like to see. And then—she stabbed her arm, poured some more magic potion on it—declared that she was from outer space—and here we are.”
Excellent summation, Buchanan. Bravo. “I need some Tylenol.”
“I might have something for pain in the cranium,” Raja pointed out.
“Raja.” Zak’s sharp injection made her snap her lips shut. He turned and reached for an item on the end table and extended it to Craig.
It looked like a silver soup ladle. Craig grabbed it, shocked by the sting of ice. Frigid. Slippery. If it was a gun, there was no way to determine the muzzle versus the grip. It was like a boomerang. He wrapped his hand around it and hoisted it up for a closer inspection.
“Easy there,” Zak moved in, taking the boomerang and flipping it over and handing it back to Craig. “If you shot yourself with that, none of Raja’s potions will cure you.”
“But you said Alfonso was not dead.”
“Raja’s not a good aim. He is what you might call, in shock.”
Inspecting the device closely, Craig could see no opening and no channel to emit ammunition.
“How does it work?”
“Aimee, can you open the front door?”
“Zak, if you let him destroy anything more in here—”
“He works for the law. He is trained to handle artillery. It would be like me picking up one of your semi-automatic weapons. I think I could manage.”
“Right, like you behind the wheel of a Formula 1 vehicle is the same as a terra angel.”
Ignoring the jab with a quick grin, Zak made a motion with his arm, encouraging Craig to mimic the gesture.
Sure, why not, Craig thought. He raised the cold alloy, aiming it through the open doorway.
“Now rub your index finger along its underbelly, once like this—” he made a motion like he was beckoning someone with his crooked finger. “That engages it.”
Craig rubbed the underside. It was so sleek. There was no identifiable click to register that he had done the step properly.
“Now, you need to be careful,” Zak warned. “Point at that tree in the distance and tap the top surface with your finger—”
The fact that Zak was cringing already didn’t bode well, but Craig kept his arm steady. Locking in on the thick trunk a hundred yards away, he tapped the top of the soup ladle.
Zzzzzzzztttttt.
It sounded like an insect being electrocuted by a bug zapper. The flash of light extended off the front porch and then retracted back into the boomerang, all in less than a second.
Shaken by the power he had wielded for that instantaneous spell, Craig lowered his arm. A fancy gadget, yes—but from another world?
He made the mistake of meeting Raja’s eyes. So much hope lingered there. So many expectations from him that he feared he would never live up to.
“I know you don’t believe us,” she charged. “It would take one of your earthly scientists to find the genetic discrepancies between us and offer you the solid proof that you seek. I don’t think we have time for an array of tests such as that.”
“Nor are you ever going to have such tests,” Aimee added with anger.
&nb
sp; “Raja’s right,” Zak stated, stepping into the shadows cast by the roof. “We don’t have much time. It sounds like we’re about to have company. A vehicle just pulled over on the side of the road a few houses away.”
Craig whirled in the doorway. “You too? You hear things before everyone else?”
“I don’t know.” Zak shrugged. “Didn’t you hear it?”
“I did,” Raja confirmed.
Rubbing his forehead, Craig muttered, “It could be anyone. You said it was a few houses away.”
Typical FBI protocol was to approach on foot from a safe distance.
“Get inside,” he encouraged, clicking the door shut behind Zak.
Craig turned around to find three plaintive faces boring into him…and a body on the floor. The face that engaged him the most stirred up a melee of doubt and need that he had to corral if he was going to salvage this situation.
“Mr. Buchanan,” Aimee uttered softly.
“Craig.”
“Craig,” she repeated. “If the FBI takes us in, you know that they will dig until they find the truth, and the truth is something they’re not equipped to deal with. So, instead, they will take Zak and Raja away, and lock them up until they can determine how to handle them.” Her blue eyes rounded. “Please, help us. We didn’t ask for any of this. All Zak and Raja wanted to do was meet my parents and learn a little about my world. We aren’t involved with your drug dealer, and I think you know that. You don’t have to believe us. Just, please, help us.”
If you look at Raja right now, Buchanan, you’re a fool.
Mutinous eyes veered to her. There was worry in her gaze, but resolve as well. A video played in those ocean-colored eyes. A film of them kissing—of her arms locking behind his neck to draw him in closer.
Blood stained her soft dress. This woman had stabbed her arm and bled like a geyser right before his eyes...and yet, here she stood with no wound and no side effects. She could hear at least a third of a mile away, he gauged, and she could stay underwater for an undetermined time. An alien or a genetic marvel? Right now it really didn’t matter.
“There are footsteps coming up the driveway,” she cautioned.
His eyes stayed locked with hers. A communion. This woman weakened him and at the same time infused him with strength—a beguiling contradiction.
“Raja and I need to change. Fast!” he dictated.
Aimee jumped up. “We’re on it!” She grabbed Raja’s shoulder.
As Raja hastened to follow, she snatched up the white cardboard box that had been sitting on the table, and then disappeared up the stairs.
“We need to move that carpet over the blood stains on the floor.”
Zak crouched down and lifted Alfonso’s legs to draw the carpet out from under him. “What about him?” he asked.
“We’re going to say exactly what you told me. That he suffered a heart attack.”
Disbelief registered in Zak’s eyes.
“The mere threat of the gun to his face was too much for him,” Craig added feebly, and then shrugged. “Hey, my objective is to have them focus on using this guy to draw out Diego. I need to deflect their goals from you.”
“Good.” Zak nodded, and then hesitated. “Thank you.” His intonation was sincere.
He deserved honesty in return. “I don’t know what I’m doing yet,” Craig confessed. “I’m buying time. That’s all I can do right now.”
With a brusque nod, Zak’s head snapped up. “They’re approaching the front door—cautiously.”
Inside, the soft thud of Aimee and Raja’s feet sounded on the stairs. Craig glanced up just in time to get hit in the face with a shirt. Hastily donning it, he took stock of Raja who looked fresh and clean in her lacy pink blouse and jeans.
A booming rap against the door was followed by the muffled declaration, “FBI.”
Craig surveyed the dining area. All traces of blood were concealed beneath an oriental rug, albeit slightly askew in placement. Aimee and Zak righted any disrupted pieces of furniture and Raja sat down on the stairs, wrapping her arms around her knees.
Slicing a glance at the distressed faces, Craig strived for assurance. “I’ll do the talking.”
“By all means,” Aimee whispered just as he swung open the door.
“Buchanan,” James Saldano’s black eyebrows vaulted over the bronze rim of his sunglasses. “I see you beat us here.”
Intimidation was this man’s trademark. A tailored black suit and polished black shoes, along with the expensive reflective sunglasses were all facets intended to make whoever he faced feel inferior. That might work on the first encounter, but for someone who worked with this guy, no extravagant slight of hand could dodge the fact that the man was a piece of federal fluff. Did Saldano actually expect to bulldoze him? Less than half an hour ago, Craig had been shot point blank. Hell, he was like goddamn Sleeping Beauty, brought back from the dead by the kiss of a beautiful woman. Saldano’s intimidation tactics were useless on him.
Pivoting away from the smug character, Craig called out, “We need to call 911 for this man.”
Aimee had been clutching her cell phone and now lifted it on cue. “Okay.”
“Who is that on the floor?” Saldano ripped off his glasses, “and what the hell happened to him?”
Beckett trailed inside after him. He was a short man with broad shoulders, making him look like a walking slice of pie. Hair gel glued down the few strands of brown hair he possessed. Combined with the humidity, the scent of that gel made Craig’s stomach roil.
“That,” Craig crouched down alongside the sprawled figure, “is Alfonso Moreno.”
There were no collective gasps. No sighs of relief. No high-fives. It just confirmed Craig’s guess that these two had absolutely no clue who Alfonso Moreno was.
“Diego Carlo’s brother,” he added impassively.
“Diego doesn’t have a brother.” Saldano disputed. “He had a cousin or something that died several years ago in Colombia.”
Maybe he was brought back to life like me.
“Yes, he has a brother and it appears he is not dead—and if we want to keep it that way we need to get him to the hospital. We’ll require an escort for the ambulance and his room better be flanked with agents.” Give them tasks. Keep their minds busy. Deflect their questions. “Diego will no doubt be nearby, and may even try to kidnap Alfonso from the hospital.”
“Do you have any proof?” Beckett challenged.
“Well, Steve, the man isn’t exactly carrying ID, but he did confess who he was after I confronted him with my suspicions. Apparently Diego staged his brother’s death so that he had no vulnerabilities—no relatives to be considered an Achilles heel.”
“I don’t see any blood on him,” Beckett interrupted. “He wasn’t shot, so what the hell did you do to him? There’s no shiner, and no swelling on the face. You didn’t punch him.”
“I cornered him with my gun and the guy up and had a heart attack or something.”
Their cynical silence loomed behind him. “I have three witnesses to that,” Craig attested, looking up at bobbing Patterson heads.
“Right. And they are credible, especially considering that one is suspected of working for Diego.”
Just before Craig turned to address Beckett, he caught the motion of Zak reaching for Aimee’s arm to quell her protest.
“I’ve questioned Miss Patterson and do not believe that to be the case. Yes, I’ll take a formal statement later, but right now our primary concern has to be with Diego’s brother. He is the closest we’ve ever come to having some leverage with Diego. We need around-the-clock security on him, and I can guarantee you that Diego tries to contact us.”
Another gap of silence as Beckett stared hard at Craig.
The slice of pie jerked his head in accord. With a final glimpse of contempt, Saldano swung around, his baritone voice barking orders into a cell phone.
* * *
Raja watched Craig. Every motion he engaged in, every st
atement he uttered, was a choreographed means of distraction. As the group awaited the arrival of the ambulance, he physically positioned himself as an obstacle between Raja and the two special agents, blocking their view of her. Even now he was busy preoccupying them with repetitive conversation.
“Our failure here was in trusting the local law enforcement,” he charged. “They lasted, what—” His eyes swerved to meet hers and she felt that connection like a jolt from a Nova ray. “—24 hours?”
Mutely she agreed, reluctant to speak in front of these strangers.
In time, the wail of encroaching sirens pervaded. Her head snapped up at the sound, as did Zaks’, but no one else heard the peal. Noticing her attention, Craig raised an eyebrow, but she clasped her hands between her knees and focused on the corner of the rug. The sole of Craig’s shoe snared the burgundy material in place, ensuring that the stain remained concealed beneath.
A few moments later, Saldano stood alert at the window. “I think I hear the ambulance. I doubt it’s the police. Why should they be in any hurry? They know we’re going to chew their asses.”
Good. Keep looking out the window, Raja thought. The man had been making her nervous with his extended glimpses behind Craig’s back. How odd that she could bask under Craig’s stare for eternity, but one glance from that Saldano person and she felt itchy all over. Even now he had repositioned himself so as to be able to study her. She pulled her knees up and rested her chin against them.
Ingesting this activity, Craig frowned.
“Why don’t you go out there and debrief everyone?” he suggested to Saldano.
Pursing his lips, Saldano looked mildly amused by the command. He chuckled at Beckett, “How do you like that—the rookie’s giving me directions.”
Raja knew the translation for rookie, and based on the years of service Craig had recited, the title did not apply. This meant that Saldano was being sarcastic. Another reason she didn’t like him. Let him direct his smug sarcasm elsewhere.
She stood up on the steps. All eyes turned towards the sudden motion.
“I would like to go upstairs for a moment,” she announced quietly.
Beyond : Series Bundle (9781311505637) Page 55
