by Pamela Fryer
None of those planets had Brooke.
Roall Vinill was vermin. A rat, Brooke would call him. His greed had caused him to turn against his own, to sacrifice the billions of lives on this beautiful planet, all for the sake of his own gain. To live like a king.
Roall Vinill didn’t know the half of it. With Brooke by his side, Jager wouldn’t live like a king—he would live like a god.
But no matter how much he loved her, desired her, or would ache with the pain of her loss, he would never turn against the Alliance. He couldn’t live with himself at the sacrifice of his own honor.
He must be satisfied with the knowledge he had saved her life and her world.
He must be satisfied with loving her from afar.
* * * * *
She felt Jager move up behind her and glanced over her shoulder. “She’s calmer now.”
He nodded.
“You received a reply?”
She’d heard the notification chime, and a moment later OMaGS had announced an incoming transmission.
She knew the news would be that he was leaving. There was nothing keeping him here now. She only needed to know when.
“An Alliance rover will retrieve us in sixteen hours and twenty-four minutes. I must take the traitor to a cleared section at the specified coordinates atop a nearby mountain. Topographical maps show a road that passes within two miles.”
Brooke nodded and glanced back at Sara. “It’s called Windy Hills. The teenagers go grass skiing there during the summer. I can drive you to a path that’ll take you there. A fire road, actually, but my car can’t travel it.”
She stood and took his hands. Jager gathered hers and brought them against his chest. She felt his heartbeat, strong and steady. In truth, a part of her own heart was crumbling away.
“I have to get Sara back to her father.”
Jager nodded.
She tipped her head in the direction of the medical chamber. “Is he safe in there?”
“He is both physically immobilized and in a state of mental unconsciousness.”
“Come with me then?” She gave him a hopeful smile. “Spend your remaining time with me, and I promise you won’t regret it.”
He gripped her hips and hauled her close. She felt the rigid length of his manhood pressing against her belly. He got the picture, all right.
“I can think of nothing I would like better.”
They left the craft, Brooke walking behind Jager as he maneuvered Sara with the levitation beam.
“I suppose the ships will be retrieved too?” she asked him as they trudged through the woods.
“Yes, in separate transport. It is not safe to travel within the ship when it is being moved. It is badly damaged and the retrieval process is rough. OMaGS will later be installed in a new vessel.”
Brooke exhaled a breath of relief. She was glad Jager would have a friend later, and someone he could share memories with. It made her feel better to know he wouldn’t be totally alone.
They found Christy’s car parked behind hers, just as Richard had said. They settled Sara into the back seat of her car and Brooke retrieved the keys from under the seat. She turned on her cell phone as she angled around and down the long driveway. There were sixteen missed calls, all from Senator Brown. She would bet money the nine voicemails were from him as well.
“My client. He’s uppity.” She turned the phone on speaker and set it on the dash so Jager could hear.
“You were supposed to call in every night with a status report. Call me as soon as you get this message. I’m not paying you to visit old friends.”
The tone of his next message increased.
“You haven’t returned my call in twenty-four hours. If you’re taking time off, I need to be informed. If you can’t handle this job, I’ll find someone who can.”
Finally, the senator made no effort to hide his anger.
“Miss Weaver, you’re officially MIA. I’m on my way to Portland and I expect you to meet me at the airport. Our flight arrives at ten tomorrow morning.”
Brooke punched the number sign, deleting the message, and then powered down the phone. Our flight. The senator was a widower. Clearly he meant his entourage. He never went anywhere without at least two bodyguards in garishly obvious gear.
“Well, I guess he’s already figured out I’m not going to meet him at the airport.”
He was probably in Ridgemont by now. With any luck, he’d bullied his way into her hotel room and rifled about.
She pulled into the parking lot, but parked in front of the office. There were two black Humvees parked at the end of the long row on the opposite side of her room. She hoped the FBI had checked out. If not, Agent Dail and Senator Brown were camped out right next to each other.
“Wait here a minute,” she told Jager as she turned off the car.
She called the hotel front desk. She saw the kid walk the length of the counter to pick it up.
“Hi there. This is Brooke Weaver.”
“That you out in the car?” He glanced through the window and waved.
“Yep. Sorry, what’s your name?”
“Matt.”
“Hi Matt. Was there a stodgy old stuffed-shirt looking for me today?”
“Yeah,” Matt said with a laugh. “Pushy old geezer. I didn’t tell him nothing, though. We keep the confidentiality.”
That hadn’t stopped him from telling her about Agent Dail. She didn’t mention it. “That’s great. Did he book a room?”
“Three rooms. Dude threw the gold card around like it was nothing. Didn’t offer to bribe me for the four-one-one, though. Cheapskate.”
“And those are his urban assault vehicles parked over there?”
“Yep. Room fifty-two, fifty-four, and fifty-six.”
If memory served, that sounded like one of the rooms Agent Dail had been in. “So the FBI cleared out?”
“Bright and early this morning.”
That was a relief. At least there wouldn’t be a fight over who got custody of Sara. “Last question—does Wicked Wanda’s still deliver?”
“They do, and I’ve got a coupon for five bucks off a large pizza if you want it.”
She hopped out of the car and he met her at the door with a tear-out coupon.
“You’re the man. I haven’t forgotten you want to talk. I promise I’ll make time before I leave town.”
“Oh, uh, that’s cool,” he said with a shrug, but she saw excitement flicker in his eyes.
She drove the car to a spot nearby the Humvee. A burly man in a dark suit was outside one of the hotel rooms, smoking a cigarette.
“Can you get her out of the back seat?” she asked Jager. The man didn’t look at them, but Brooke knew he was aware. It was his job to be aware without looking aware.
She got out of the car. “You the senator’s lackey?”
He looked her way, his expression granite. He was wearing sunglasses even though the sun had set an hour ago. What a jerk. Without replying, he knocked on the door.
Senator Brown himself opened it. When he saw Sara in Jager’s arms, he stood back and held the door wide. Other than widened eyes, he hardly showed any emotion at all.
Brooke knew it was unlikely, but she’d hoped the gruff man would break down and rush over to his daughter in tears.
“Miss Weaver, I thought you’d disappeared off the face of the earth.”
She felt like she had. She followed Jager inside. “I’m sorry I missed your calls. I was in the field.” Ass.
“Well, you seem to have done your job, so I’ll let it pass.”
Clearly the man was not accustomed to being ignored.
“What’s wrong with her? Why is she so dirty? Why are you all so dirty, for that matter?”
Jager laid her on the bed. He swiveled toward the senator as he straightened up, glaring. The man checked his attitude and took a step back.
“She became lost in the sewer system when she tried to escape the raid, but she’s fine now,” Brooke ex
plained. “She’s asleep, and will probably remain that way for a day at least.”
“The sewer? That doesn’t sound like my Sara.”
Brooke sighed. Somehow, the personal satisfaction she’d hoped to feel was not there. As an afterthought, she added a small fib, to account for any strange behavior Sara might exhibit. “The cult was drugging her without her knowledge. I think they slipped it into the food.”
The senator’s tension rose visibly. “I should take her to a hospital.”
An elegantly dressed woman emerged from the bathroom, idly fondling a diamond necklace glinting at the neckline of a thousand dollar suit. She didn’t look eager to offer any tenderness Sara’s way. Instead, she stood far away from the bed, eyeing the sleeping girl with a scowl.
“I think she would be better off with you here, alone,” Brooke suggested.
“I don’t need you to tell me what’s best for my daughter,” the senator barked.
That was the last straw.
“Listen, Senator, you can speak to me any way you like. It doesn’t bother me a bit. But Sara is going to be eighteen in three months and that means the next time she takes off, you can’t do a damn thing about it. If you want her to stick around, you’d better learn a new tone. She doesn’t care about your money, power, or importance. She wants one thing from you. I’ll leave you to figure out what that is.”
She turned and stalked toward the door, biting back her anger. Jager turned and stepped out in front of her, making his two MIB cronies hustle out of the way. They were big, but he was bigger.
Her recent encounter with Madeline Farnsworth flashed through her mind and Brooke felt a surge of sadness. The man was too stupid to realize how close he’d come to losing his only child. She wished she could hold him by the back of the neck and force him to look at the sorrow etched into Madeline’s tortured face.
“He did not seem happy to see his daughter,” Jager commented when they were outside.
“Yeah, well, there’s as much ugliness in this world as there is beauty.”
“Miss Weaver.”
She turned around. The senator emerged from the doorway.
He approached them, his breath blowing plumes on the chilly night air as he took several deep breaths. “I’m a politician. Maintaining a front is a drawback that comes with the territory.”
He managed a thin smile while he glanced warily past her at Jager.
“I love my daughter very much.” He ran a hand through his perfectly coiffed hair. “I’ve been going crazy with worry these past months.”
“I understand,” Brooke told him, forcing gentleness over the anger in her voice.
“I appreciate what you did for me,” he continued slowly. “I can see that you worked very hard to bring my daughter back to me, and I understand that this was an unusual case for you.”
“They’re all unusual.”
“Rest assured, there will be something extra for you in the final wire.”
Her faith in humankind jumped a notch. “Then I’ll name my price.”
The senator froze.
“Cherish her.”
He relaxed and nodded as his gaze fell to her feet.
“Every time she comes second behind your political career, make it come second to her twice.”
He laughed. It was a strained sound that he had been holding in, but he seemed relieved to let free.
“I will. Thank you.” He reached for her hand and shook it, and then reached for Jager’s hand. “Thank you.”
Jager took her under his arm as they walked away. “If he only knew what it was like to be forbidden to marry and procreate, he would not need to be reminded to cherish his child.”
“I’m sorry you had to see that. There’s an old saying, ‘You don’t know what you’ve got until you lose it.’”
She didn’t add that humans were self-centered and callous, and some even took pleasure in hurting others. In the back of her mind, she knew she hadn’t called her mother in months. She was no better. She made a mental promise that as soon as life was back to normal, she would call Mom. In fact, before she left town, she would visit.
But right now she had mere hours left with Jager, and she didn’t intend to waste a single minute of them. She wanted nothing more than to show Jager how much she valued and cared for him.
Brooke slid the key into the knob and opened the door. Still standing outside, she pulled at the laces of her hikers and kicked them off while dialing the number on the pizza coupon Matt had given her. She ordered a large combo pizza, two calzones, and a liter bottle of soda.
“I’m filthy. I’m taking a shower.” She took forty dollars out of her wallet and handed it to Jager. “Someone will knock on the door to deliver food. Give him these and say ‘keep the change.’”
Brooke brushed her teeth before starting the shower. She could still smell smoke and dead Tetra in her hair, but she had to admit the medical chamber had cleaned most of it away. She suspected most of the odors she still carried were in her clothes.
She stripped them off and left them in a pile in the corner, catching a whiff that she knew was completely her own. She dug through her travel bag for the chamomile soap she kept for just this reason. She was going to make tonight special for Jager, and generic hotel room soap would not do.
She brought the bar of soap to her nose breathed in its light scent. It had been so long since she’d even considered seducing a man, and she was pulling out all the stops tonight.
Chapter Eighteen
Brooke was still in her shower when someone knocked at the door. “Wicked Wanda’s.”
Jager opened it to find a gangly youth holding a large square carton with a bag balanced on top.
“Thirty-one fifty.” He chewed endlessly on a rubbery wad as he came inside and set the packages on the table.
Jager handed him the two currency notes Brooke had given him. “You are to keep the change.”
“Hey, thanks man.” The boy glanced at the closed bathroom door. “’Zat Brooke Weaver in there? She’s like, a local celebrity.”
“I will tell her you said so. What is your name?”
“Luke Finley. She used to babysit me. Tell her Little Fin said ‘hi.’” He gave a mock salute. “We all used to love it when Brooke sat for us ’cause she was so hot.” He held both hands in front of his chest, as if cupping imaginary breasts. “She blossomed early, know what I mean?”
Jager didn’t, but he suspected the conversation was headed in a direction he wouldn’t like.
“Thank you, Little Fin,” he said with finality in his tone.
The young man gave an upward nod. “Later.”
Jager closed the door behind him and engaged the locking mechanism. He knocked on the bathroom door.
“Yes?”
“The food has been delivered,” he said without opening it.
“Come in here.”
He opened the door. The tiny room was as steamy as a Celusian jungle.
“Join me.”
Naked curves moved behind fogged glass dripping with rivulets of water.
“Take off your clothes, first,” she added.
Jager had them off in a nanosecond. Brooke drew back the glass door and he stepped into the small compartment. Hot spray prickled his skin. He’d swum in the frigid waters on the planet Dunud as part of a training exercise but hadn’t enjoyed it at all. His throat had grown tight, making it hard to breathe, and his jannuk and natees had shrunken until they’d nearly receded back into his body. The first time he’d arrived on Earth, he couldn’t believe Earthlings enjoyed submerging themselves in water.
This was definitely different. It was warm, and not displeasing.
Brooke’s hair was slicked back to her head, revealing every inch of her beautiful face. Her entire body glowed with a rosy hue and her cheeks were pink. Silvery streams of water rolled over her, illuminating her body with a million dazzling drops glinting like diamonds. His breathing quickened as he looked at her, standing before h
im in unabashed glory. Water dripped over her breasts, sluicing around puckered, dusky nipples.
He hadn’t seen her like this when he’d loved her on the ship. They’d discarded their clothing while lying against each other, kissing. Then she’d hurriedly dressed afterward, leaving him to think he’d offended her.
Her narrow waist flared at rounded hips. A tiny patch of hair crowned the vee at her thighs. She trimmed it down to nearly nothing, he realized. An elegant touch, alluring and wild, like the woman herself. His engorged jannuk stood at full attention.
There was no hiding his desire.
“Stand under the water.” She eased backward and angled the spray at his chest. The sensation was brilliant, like a blast of bright light in the eyes. A moment later, all he felt was the soothing caress of warm water.
Brooke smiled as she took a small, purple disk in her hands and worked it into a lather. She touched it to his chest and dragged small circles, spreading the foam on him. Pleasing, flowery scents wafted on the air. He closed his eyes, concentrating on the path her hands took across his body.
“Trade places with me,” she whispered. “Careful, don’t slip.” She squeezed past him and guided him under the spray. It felt incredible spattering against his back.
“This is shampoo.” She turned a small bottle upside down and an opalescent liquid dribbled out. “Lean your head under.”
Jager eased his head into the spray. The sensation made prickles rise across his entire body.
“This is wonderful.”
Brooke reached up and massaged his scalp. The liquid’s scent intensified, and he kept his eyes closed as her fingers worked like a magnificent dream. “Wonderful.”
Her breasts pressed against his chest, plump and soft. He slid his hands around her back, enjoying the way her slippery wet skin felt warm and pliant under his roaming fingers.
“Now lean your head back again and rinse. Keep your eyes closed.”
Had he known warm water running over his body would feel this good, he would have done this long ago. Somehow, though, he knew it wouldn’t have felt as good by himself. Everything was better with Brooke. He tramped away the grim reminder that soon his life would be bleaker than before. He now understood what he’d been missing, and too soon it would be gone.
