The Alien Huntress Series

by Gena Showalter

  “Don’t look at me like that,” she snapped.

  His eyes lifted to hers. He saw anger mixed with arousal. “Like what?”

  “Like I’m the only reason you’re breathing.” Her lids fluttered shut, blocking her emotions from his view. Blocking him from her view.

  She’s exaggerating. He had a million things to live for, but she wasn’t—couldn’t be—one of them. For all the reasons he’d considered earlier and a million more.

  I do what I have to do to survive, she’d once told him. He was pretty sure she’d kill him if ordered and damn afraid she’d sleep with another man if ordered, too. Even as a toddler, he hadn’t liked sharing his toys. While he wanted desperately to save her, that didn’t change the here and now.

  “Don’t just stand there! Scratch my neck. It itches,” she said, cutting into his thoughts.

  He obeyed, careful not to scratch too hard and leave a mark. Her skin was hot, as if lava flowed through her veins. From anger? Or the thought of his touch? “Better?”

  “Yes. Thank you,” she said reluctantly.

  “Welcome.” Silent now, he tugged the shirt over her head and through her arms. His knuckles accidentally grazed the side of her breast. Both he and Mishka moaned, reminded of what they’d been doing only a few hours ago.

  The panties, well, he hooked them over her ankles and pulled them up her legs without ever dislodging the sheet. One glance at his new favorite place and he might forget the two men waiting for him.

  “That bastard Devyn better free me or I will hunt him down.”

  “I’ll talk to him.”

  “But you’ll talk business with him first, won’t you? Business you don’t want me to overhear.”

  Jaxon didn’t deny her words, but he didn’t confirm them either. “Need anything else before I leave you?”

  Her gaze pierced him like twin laser beams, glinting with panic and fury. “Leave me?”

  “The room,” he assured her. “Only the room.”

  Slowly the panic faded so that only the fury remained. “Leave the compound if you want. It’s not like I care.”

  Oh, she cared. But she was probably as confused as he was about the link between them and the likelihood of successfully being together.

  Leaning over, he flattened his palms against the mattress. He nuzzled the tip of his nose against hers. “I won’t be long.”

  She licked her lips, as though imagining a kiss. “Carry me in there with you.”

  “No.”

  “Why the hell not?”

  “You’ll tell your boss what you hear.” That wasn’t the real reason, but he doubted she’d like hearing he didn’t yet want to make a choice between his friends and his woman.

  “You’re lying,” she bit out.

  “I’m not.”

  “And I won’t tell,” she vowed.

  “You won’t be able to help yourself. You told me that.”

  Several seconds ticked by, each more tension-filled than the next.

  “I won’t forget this,” she said softly, fiercely.

  He sighed. “I know.” He kissed her neck, exactly where he’d scratched her, and then he limped from the bedroom.

  He knew the betrayal in her eyes would haunt him for eternity.

  Alone, still frozen in place, Le’Ace silently fumed. Jaxon had truly abandoned her. Had let his friends basically chain her, rendering her helpless. He knew her past, knew she despised being controlled, but he hadn’t fought for her rights.

  Did you expect him to? You were a piece of ass to him, nothing more. That’s all she was good enough to be, and she knew it. All she would ever be. A nonentity, a piece of garbage to be tossed aside at will.

  After the tender way Jaxon had held her, she’d thought—hoped?—he saw her as something more. When will you learn? Her stomach clenched painfully. He’d lied to her and left her. Why couldn’t he have been different? Why couldn’t he have seen some kind of worth in her?

  Better this way, she assured herself. Made things easier. When Estap’s men came for her, she would happily leave. Mad as she was at Jaxon, she wouldn’t dream of him, wouldn’t fantasize about him, wouldn’t crave him every second of every day to come. Yeah, right.

  Just do your job. That’s all you have. All you can ever have.

  Her eyes narrowed as determination coursed through her. She’d recognized Dallas from the A.I.R. files she’d read. The other, the alien, she hadn’t been able to place. But she would.

  Magnify hearing, she commanded the chip.

  CHAPTER 14

  You should kill her,” Dallas said, lounging on the dark brown sofa. Cold words from a man who usually loved cold women.

  “She is not up for discussion,” Jaxon said darkly, pacing in front of his friend to work the stiffness from his ankle. “Now who’s the otherworlder and how does he fit into the equation?”

  Dallas ignored him. “Mia hates Le’Ace. That is Le’Ace, isn’t it? And if Mia discovers you’re sleeping with the woman, Mia will kill you.”

  “Mia hates everyone. Besides, isn’t she out of town?”

  “Not anymore. She left the training camp. For you.”

  Jaxon scrubbed a hand down his face, only then realizing how often he’d done so in the last few days.

  “Well, Eden hates Le’Ace, too,” Devyn supplied helpfully.

  Jaxon stopped and glared at him. The alien had one shoulder propped against the far white wall, his skin so pale it nearly blended in. “Who the hell is Eden? And seriously, who the hell are you?”

  “Two hells.” Scowling, Dallas slapped his hands against his thighs. “What’s gotten into you? I’ve known you a long damn time, and you’ve never cussed. Not that hell is a cuss word, but you’ve never said it before.”

  Devyn arched a black brow, his amber eyes glowing with even more amusement. Did nothing anger the man? “Eden is a freelance assassin, and I’m her friend. Sometimes I aid her with cases.”

  “That doesn’t help me.” Jaxon again scrubbed a hand down his suddenly tired face. “Are you sure we can trust him, Dallas? He’s obviously a Targon warrior.” And Jaxon knew that Targons were capable of extreme telekinesis. He’d even heard rumors that one Targon could freeze an entire city in place—and hack the citizens down, one by one.

  Good men to have as friends, bad men to have as enemies.

  Devyn preened like a peacock, back straightening, lips lifting smugly. “Actually, I’m king of the Targon warriors.”

  Jaxon’s eyes widened and he whipped sideways to stare at Dallas. “Is he serious?”

  “Yeah. And yeah, I know he’s irritating as hell,” Dallas added, “but he’s also pretty cool. Once you get past the world-size ego. Now, tell me what’s gotten into you. Did the beating cause brain damage? I’ve never seen you so stressed. First time I’ve ever seen you naked with the enemy, too, but we’re not talking about her so I won’t mention that fact.”

  Enemy? Yeah, he supposed they should have been enemies. Technically they worked for the same side of the law. Her boss, though, had twisted her into something unpredictable, something dangerous.

  God, he wanted to murder the man.

  You have the skill to do it. That he didn’t dismiss that rogue thought as he should have, shocked him. Instead, he set it aside to be pondered later. I’m seriously fucked up.

  “What do you want us to do with the woman we’re not going to discuss?” Dallas asked.

  His hands curled into fists. “Nothing. I’ll handle her.”

  “But—”

  “She’s mine. How many times do I have to say it?”

  Dallas raised his palms in a show of surrender. “Fine. Whatever. Just make sure you do something to incapacitate her on a kinda-sorta-maybe permanent basis. I, uh, have a feeling she’s going to…” His voice trailed off, and he swallowed.

  Jaxon frowned over at him. “What?” Past few months, Dallas had been having premonitions, he supposed was the word. The man knew things before they happened, not that he�
��d admit it.

  “Don’t drive on Main,” Dallas had told him a few days after returning to work after his near-death hospital stay.

  “Why?” Jaxon had asked.

  “Just don’t.”

  A few hours later, every news station in the city had buzzed about the eight-car pileup on Main. Seemed a sedan’s sensors had misfired and it had flown over a bridge and onto Main. Neither Jaxon nor Dallas had ever spoken of the incident, but it had settled between them like a fat pink elephant in a purple tutu.

  Dallas tugged his earlobe. “Look, she’s going to bring you and everyone in our little rescue party down. One by one, we’ll topple. Because. Of. Her.”

  “And how’s she going to do this?” he asked, not wanting to believe it. Surely Dallas was wrong. Surely it was Dallas’s dislike of Mishka, and not precognition, coloring his perception of the future. Jaxon didn’t want to believe otherwise.

  “She’s going to shoot you,” was all Dallas said.

  “I can put her to sleep for a few days,” Devyn suggested.

  “No.” Jaxon had betrayed her enough, taking her freedom of choice like he had. Any more, and she might never forgive him. “Forget about her, okay? She’s not going to shoot me.” He hoped. “Now let’s talk about the case Jack had me working.”

  For the next several minutes, Jaxon explained about the Schön, their virus, and the women they’d infected. He told about his experience with Nolan inside that bar. And then, finally, Jaxon spoke the secret he’d been hiding since the beginning.

  “Testing the virus will require keeping the victims alive, perhaps keeping their babies alive, and both could very well cause it to spread at an accelerated rate.”

  “That why you killed them?”

  He nodded. “Once the body dies, the virus dies, because it cannot live without a living host.”

  “Are you sure?” Dallas asked, leaning forward and propping his elbows on his knees. “You aren’t a doctor, and you aren’t a scientist. What’s more, Jack told me you made him promise not to allow either in the cells with the women. Why?”

  “Each of the women I killed were given a message to deliver. Their lovers apologized for what they’d done and explained what I just told you. That testing makes everything worse.”

  “Could be a lie,” Devyn said.

  “I know that. But the only way to determine that is to test the blood of a living victim. I had to weigh the pros and the cons and ultimately decided to kill the victims before testing could be done.” Jaxon looked from one man to another, not even trying to hide his torment. “If the Schön were telling the truth, we can’t test it without severe consequences. If they were lying…” He sighed. “I don’t know what to believe, really. The past few weeks haven’t yielded any new information.”

  He plopped into the nearest seat, his gaze snagging on the parallel bars Mishka had erected for him. Seeing them made his chest ache. She had been so thoughtful and concerned with his care. He pulled his attention to the scuffed wooden floor.

  Overall, the compound wasn’t terrible but it wasn’t inviting, either. The walls were too white, almost blinding, and the furniture sparse. The air held no scents of home, no baked breads or pies, no fruits or perfumes. Only cleaners.

  No, wait. Frowning, he inhaled deeply. He caught a hint of Mishka’s erotic fragrance. Spice and warm, feminine skin. His body instantly reacted. Arousal beat through him, eliciting images of Mishka underneath him, straining against his mouth, legs spread wide, female core wet and eager.

  He bit the inside of his cheek to keep from moaning.

  He wondered how much time she’d been forced to spend here, who she’d been forced to stay here with—his rage sparked—and if she even liked the place. Her bedroom boasted a comfortable bed, feminine dressers, and a colorful carpet. Mishka. Bed. Arousal flicked brighter than the rage.

  “Jaxon. Dude. Snap out of it.”

  Fingers waved in front of his face, and Jaxon blinked. When he focused, he saw that Dallas was standing in front of him. Devyn was beside him, grinning like the madman he probably was. They’d approached him, yet he’d had no idea they’d even moved. Some agent he was.

  “What?” he said, defensive.

  “You left us.” Dallas.

  “You also grew hard.” Devyn. “Didn’t realize you were attracted to me. I’m flattered. Truly. I do prefer women, though. I know, I know. You’re disappointed. No need to say it. I’m very handsome.”

  Jaxon’s cheeks burned. He frowned. “Just back the hell off.”

  Both men were grinning as they returned to their seats. Jaxon studied them. Even though Dallas was smiling, lines of strain now bracketed his eyes. Jaxon’s frown deepened. “You okay, man?”

  “I’m fine. You mentioned a bar a bit ago. You talked to the otherworlder there, yes?”

  Jaxon nodded.

  “Did you happen to get a recording of his voice?”

  “No.” Mishka probably had, but he didn’t mention that. At the moment, he doubted she’d be inclined to help them.

  Dallas sighed. “Would have made things easier, but we can still work with what we’ve got.” He stood, slid a thin black tracer from his back pocket, and strode to the coffee table.

  There, he knelt and flipped the tracer open so that both ends were flattened against the table’s surface. He pressed his thumb into the center and a bright yellow light scanned his print. A moment later, a keyboard appeared just in front of him. Not solid, but merely as bright a light as the scan.

  His fingers flew over it, tapping against the wood. “Name of the bar?”

  “Big Bubba’s.”

  More tapping. “Date and time you were there?”

  He answered. Even more tapping. Then a blue screen crystallized over the black tracer, forming a four-by-four square. A map of the city appeared next, followed by eighteen red dots.

  “All right,” Dallas said, hands falling to his sides. “Here’s what we’ve got. At the time you gave me and in the vicinity of the bar, there were twenty-nine alien voices recorded. Eighteen are in the middle of a conversation right now.”

  Sometime after a group of aliens had first come to this planet through interworld wormholes, it was discovered that most alien voices acted as human DNA did, leaving otherworlder prints behind. Their voices possessed a frequency human voices did not. That’s why there were voice recorders and amplifiers set up all over the city, constantly documenting the different wavelengths.

  Those recorders had come in handy during the human-alien war that had erupted all those years ago, helping track down enemy camps and watch certain locations to ensure aliens never breached them.

  Of course, that had not been one hundred percent effective. Predatory aliens had quickly learned to be quiet before, during, and after raids, which hid their location as if they were shrouded in shadows and magic. Magic, he thought. Perfect word, reminding him of the way Nolan had simply disappeared through that wall.

  If only more was known about their uninvited visitors. Different species, different powers, all kept as secret as possible. The best defense was a good offense and all that shit.

  “I’ll call Mia and Eden and let them know what’s going on,” Dallas said. “Each of us can scout a different location.”

  Devyn crossed his arms over his massive chest. “Wait. There are only fourteen dots now.”

  Dallas waved a dismissive hand through the air. “Don’t worry. The other locations were recorded. We’ll search whether they’re there or not. I anticipate lots of frustration and failure, but right now these are the only leads we’ve got.”

  Okay, then. That was settled, which meant the time had come to make a decision about Mishka. She’d made it clear they were to part ways in the morning and that’s what she wanted. Or so she’d claimed. Maybe she didn’t want it; maybe it was being forced on her.

  If she defied her boss, she would be punished. If Jaxon forced her to go with him, he would be taking yet another decision from her.

&
nbsp; Jaxon wanted her with him, though, whether she wanted it or not and whether she could be tracked or not. He wanted to protect her, wanted to find a way to save her. Deep down, she had to crave those things. But as afraid as she was of her boss, he knew he’d have a hard time getting her to admit it.

  Still. He had to try.

  He pinched the bridge of his nose. “Release the girl from stun,” he told the Targon.

  Devyn frowned. “Are you sure?”

  “Yes.”

  Dallas said, “No. She stays frozen. And that’s nonnegotiable.”

  With a shrug, Devyn said, “You take the fun out of everything, Dallas. It is done. She’s free.”

  That easily? Jaxon thought, surprised.

  Dallas growled. “You traitor! I told you no. She’s dangerous.”

  Jaxon expected Mishka to rush into the living room, guns blazing. She didn’t. In fact, a minute passed in silence and calm, and then another.

  “Mishka,” he called while Dallas and Devyn continued to argue. “Mishka!”

  Finally, she stepped into the room. Relief poured through his veins. Relief and awe. Her glorious hair was tied back in a ponytail. She wore a black shirt rather than the white one he’d left her in, and black syn-leather pants covered her legs.

  Her expression was blank, and her hands were shockingly free of weapons. Her gaze remained locked on him, as if the other two men weren’t even present.

  Dallas stopped yelling at the Targon and strode toward her, menace in every step.

  Jaxon moved in front of him, blocking his path.

  “Don’t ask,” Mishka told him. “I’m not going with you.”

  Reading his mind now? A muscle ticked below his eye. No longer did she look like a well-loved woman. She was Marie, an assassin, cold and uncaring, beauty carved in stone.

  “At least give me a chance to help you,” he pleaded.

  She shook her head. “And have one more thing to be disappointed about? No thanks.”

  “Maybe I won’t disappoint you.”

  Slowly she approached him, her strides graceful and fluid like the machine she considered herself to be. When she stopped, she was only a breath away. And when she took that breath, her nipples brushed his chest. Behind him, Dallas tried to push him away. Jaxon shrugged out of his hold, grabbed Mishka’s arm, and dragged her into a corner. He could feel his friend’s narrowed gaze boring into his back.