“You idiot! We leave you alone with a pretty girl and this is what you do?” Carrie planted her hands on his chest and pushed. Unable to move or even budge him, she gave a frustrated cry and hit him with balled fists.
“Take your mate to the upper level,” Seeran instructed Vox, ignoring Carrie and the pounding on his chest. It did not matter, she could not hurt him. “There is a kit under the bed with an oxygen mask.”
Carrie paused in her pummeling. “Why do I need a mask?”
“Tear gas is detrimental to the baby,” Vox said, pulling toward the stairs.
“They’re not going to gas us. Why would they gas us?”
The Terran police might or might not know there is a civilian female in the building. They knew there was a Mahdfel warrior inside and they came prepared for him to resist peaceful surrender.
Seeran’s top lip curled back in disgust. They assumed he would recklessly endanger those around him and fight. After a decade of the Earth-Mahdfel treaty, the Terrans understood nothing about the Mahdfel.
“Go. This is my battle,” Seeran said.
The SWAT team surrounded the building. At the front, the team fanned out from the armored vehicles. Every member pointed a weapon at the door. Without a doubt the exit was just as covered. Seeran recognized Officer Miller, even under the armor.
The Terran male held a rifle far too powerful for him with childish glee. That particular rifle was designed to pierce the plating on a low flying vehicle. Directed at a Mahdfel, it could take off a limb. It was too far forceful. At best, the recoil would knock Miller on his ass. At worst, Miller would not be able to keep the barrel steady and the shot would go astray. The idiot would get himself or someone else killed.
Seeran exited the building. The team stared at him, stunned. He refused to hold his hands in the air in surrender but he did display his open palms. He held no weapon.
“On the ground!” the male in the front shouted, voice amplified with a megaphone.
Seeran complied, kneeling on the grass. The Terran did not need such a worthless device. His hearing was perfectly functional and the megaphone only added distortion, rather than volume.
A third vehicle arrived, this one sleek but no less armored. Three Terrans climbed out, each one dressed in dark suits. Two males towered over one female. Seeran recognized the government look of Federal Bureau of Intergalactic Affairs agents but he specifically recognized the female agent with her rich brown complexion and precision tailored uniform. Her reputation was legendary and if she was involved, Seeran would be handed over to the military immediately.
The female FBIA agent approached the male with the bullhorn. Although they spoke with their faces turned away from the megaphone, Seeran heard them perfectly. “Thank you for waking the entire neighborhood, but Intergalactic Affairs has jurisdiction. I’ll be leading this situation.”
“Ma’am—”
“Agent Novak,” the female said.
“Ma’am, we had contact with this alien yesterday and are well equipped to handle anything this brute throws at us.”
Agent Novak raised an eyebrow. “Brute? That comes across as rather speciest and the fact that you brought out a SWAT team when most reasonable folks would have talked to the suspect means you’ve turned a simple inquiry into a damn debacle on a residential street. Behind every one of those windows is a civilian with phone, recording this. Thank your lucky stars the agency is here to pull your asses out of the fire and tell that idiot with the canon on his shoulder to stand down before he hurts himself.”
The male with the bullhorn frowned and looked as if he would protest before turning the device to the idiot with the canon on his shoulder. “Stand down, Miller.”
“But, sir, he could have a hostage in there. We haven’t located the Rovelli woman. She could be inside. Captive.”
“For the love of,” the agent muttered. “I said stand down.”
“Not until he tells us where the Rovelli woman is.”
Seeran’s body tensed at the knowledge that Hazel was missing. He needed to find her, gather her up in his arms, run his hands over every part of her to assess for damage.
“Look at him, like a viper ready to strike,” Miller said.
“You will either stand down or I will put you down,” the agent said. “So you think about your response when I order you one more time to STAND DOWN.”
Miller’s gun did not waiver.
Agent Novak gave a weary sigh and removed a device from her inner jacket pocket. Seeran recognized it at once. He had used it many times. The stunner would temporarily immobilize an enraged Mahdfel. He had no idea what it would do to one stubborn Terran.
The agent placed the stunner at the back of Miller’s neck. The man fell to the ground in a boneless heap. Novak gave Miller a cursory glance and turned her attention to Seeran. “Warrior Seeran Rhew? I’m Agent Novak from the Federal Bureau of Intergalactic Affairs and I’d like to have a few words with you.”
“I know who you are,” Seeran said.
She nodded, as if expecting to be recognized. “Then you know I’m going to handle this as fairly as possible. You gonna come with me quietly or are you gonna make these assholes’ day and be difficult?”
“I show you my empty hands,” Seeran said. “I yield.”
Hazel
HAZEL’S CERTAINTY VANISHED in the morning light. The light was not kind to her tiny apartment, the thrift store furniture or the two bags packed by the door. Everything she owned was worn and dingy at the edges. None of her dishes matched. Even the apartment itself was worn and dingy. The hardwood floors were scratched and uneven, varnish long gone. The only thing nice about the apartment was the natural light which came in soft and warm in the mornings. She’d hate to leave this place, as worn and dingy as it was. She liked her crummy apartment and the modest life she’d built for herself.
Hazel rolled out of bed. Had she really stayed up all night trying to convince her sister that volunteering to be matched to an alien was a good idea?
She had no idea where she would go if matched. She could be sent to an active war zone. Or a space station and be the only human. Could she handle being the only human? Bad enough being married to a stranger, but to be completely alone with no one who shared the same holidays, planet or even the same number of limbs...
There was no guarantee she’d be matched with Seeran. She had a good feeling but that was pie-in-the-sky optimism. She could be with anyone, anywhere.
Staying on Earth became very important to Hazel in that moment. To be so far away from everyone and everything she ever knew overwhelmed her. So what if her ex-husband was a stalker? She’d keep moving, get a quality fake ID and stay ahead of him.
But she signed a contract to be tested. If she failed to test today, she’d have to be tested on her birthday. The law was the law, no exceptions.
Except if she could fake an ID, she could fake a marriage license. She saw that on a detective show, so it had to be real. Or mostly real. There was a black market for everything, after all. She heard stories of “exemption marriages” all the time on the afternoon talk shows. Some men were willing to marry for the right price and some women were willing to pay. How big of a leap from a fake marriage to a fake marriage license was it? Not big at all.
Hazel grabbed her car keys and headed to the door. She was scheduled to be tested soon and the recruitment officer said they’d send a van to pick her up. If she was going to dash, she had to do it now.
An old green truck with a canvas top, exactly the kind of truck used to haul around soldiers in the old movies, pulled up.
Too late.
A soldier hopped out of the back and headed straight for her.
Hazel slammed the door shut, put her eyes to the ground, and moved to her car.
“Hazel Rovelli?”
She tried not to react when he said her name but instinct was instinct. She had a lifetime’s worth of training to respond to her name. “Not her. Sorry,” she said.
Her horrible acting didn’t fool the soldier.
“Miss Rovelli, you need to come with me,” he said, almost bored.
“Look, I changed my mind. I don’t want to be tested anymore.”
“Your name is on the list.”
“Right, but I volunteered. I don’t have to be tested today.”
“Your name is on the list,” he repeated. “You have to comply with the tenants of the Mahdfel-Earth Protection Treaty.”
“Easy for you to say,” Hazel snapped. “You’re not the one who has to leave the planet and hook up with an alien.” She stomach lurched. Twelve hours ago she was all for hooking up with an alien. Well, not just any alien. Her alien.
The soldier’s hand moved in a slow and deliberate manner to the stun gun at his hip. “Miss Rovelli, testing is mandatory.”
“You enjoy bullying people?”
“No, ma’am, just a perk of the job.” No smile. No grin. No reaction at all. Just another dull day at the office, rounding up terrified women to be tested for the Draft.
“I suppose you don’t want to stun me, either.”
“Not particularly. You’d be knocked out for a good ten minutes and I still have to get you into the van. You’d be surprised by how difficult it is to move unconscious people.”
Hazel huffed. At least he didn’t claim she’d be too heavy to lift, just difficult. “Fine,” she said. “Fine. I have two bags at the front door. Can I get them? I won’t run, honest.”
“Regulations only allow for one bag.”
“Are you even serious right now? The recruitment officer told me two.”
“They say a lot of things.” His mouth twitched in the slightest hint of a smile. “I don’t suppose it matters. Matches hardly ever happen. Just one more thing for you to carry.”
Hazel grabbed her bags, gave the apartment one last look and climbed into the van. Two other women were already seated. Other than a quick nod, they rode in silence. The tires on the asphalt pounded out a rhythm, urging her to find a way out, to run or stall. She could go anywhere, to anyone and, worst of all, she volunteered for this anxiety. The scenery of suburban sprawl changed to oceanfront views and finally morphed into the old NASA space center, the message in her brain to run grew frantic. When the van stopped and the doors slid open, she’d be trapped.
She was already trapped. She was trapped yesterday, wasn’t that why she volunteered? She needed a way out. She could go off planet or she could just run and hope for the best. Logic told her this was the best option, cautioned her to be calm and submit to the test. Blind fear and panic wanted her to dash for the doors the moment the van stopped, stun gun or no.
The soldiers marched the women inside the testing facility and handed her off to a technician. A nurse, memory told her. She confirmed her identity and the nurse took a vial of blood. Hazel had already signed all the consent forms yesterday, back when she had been confident and fear hadn’t coiled around her heart.
The nurse walked her back out to the waiting room. Someone handed her a cup of tea. A strong minty scent wafted up. It was a good thing she hadn’t had breakfast because her stomach was turning somersaults like no one’s business.
“It’ll calm your stomach,” the nurse said.
Hazel barely had time to sip before a technician called her back.
“Congratulations,” the man said. “You’ve been matched.”
The cup clattered to the floor, splashing her legs with scalding mint tea. She didn’t feel it. She couldn’t feel anything. She was disconnected from her body and floated above, attached through only the thinnest of tethers. The connection could snap at any moment and she’d float away.
She was married. Again. To a total stranger. She signed the marriage license yesterday. No need for a fake one now. The thought made her giggle and the technician gave her a concerned look.
The man took Hazel to the teleportation room. The room didn’t seem so remarkable. She expected something shiny and high tech, like on the sci-fi shows. This room was bare, just grey walls and a glowing white floor. Hazel was slow to realize that the entire room was the teleporter.
The technician babbled something and held a large metal device up. He wanted to inject her with something. He asked if she understood. She did not but nodded. The muzzle of the device was pressed behind her ear and for a brief moment she was more distracted by the cold metal than the sharp pinch of the translator chip being installed.
The technician shoved a wrapped mint in her hand and pushed her through the doorway. He waited on the other side of a glass partition.
“Where am I going?” she managed to ask.
The technician said something but it was lost in the drone of the teleporter engines revving to life.
There was the countdown and she was amazed she could hear the computer’s voice over the engine noise then realized that the countdown was in her head.
This was too much. This was too weird. She didn’t even know her husband’s name.
The world dissolved away and...
Chapter Eight
Hazel
The world slowly came back into focus.
The same technician had a startled look on his face.
The hand clutching the cellophane wrapped mint dropped the candy. Her knees gave way and Hazel fell to the floor.
The same room. The same technician.
She hadn’t gone anywhere.
The space behind her eyes ached.
Correction. She was teleported and rematerialized in the exact same location. The teleport must have failed. They did that, right? If the receiver pad wasn’t operational it sent you back to the starting location? Cold dread settled in her stomach and Hazel knew, knew, that her ex-husband had somehow managed to stop the teleportation. There was no escaping him. She was defective and he was the only one who wanted her. He’d told her as much, and she believed him now.
“Hang on,” the tech said. “Let me see what happened.”
“I’m going to be sick,” Hazel said.
“Not in my machine! Eat the mint!” the tech ran into the room and shoved another mint at her.
Her churning stomach settled immediately. Someone pressed another cup of black mint tea in her hand and guided her to a chair. Hazel couldn’t say how long she sat there, staring into the paper cup until the tea grew cold.
“Hazel Rovelli?”
Her head jerked up at her name. A black woman in a sharp suit with hair pulled back in a no nonsense braid stood in the doorway. Her posture had military precision but there was something about the woman that made Hazel want to trust her. “You a fed or something?”
“Agent Penny Novak,” the woman said, extending her hand. “You’re a hard lady to find.”
“Not hard enough,” Hazel muttered. “Is there a reason my teleportation was canceled?” The recruitment office couldn’t stress hard enough that teleportation happened immediately. Once the match was made, it became real to people, they got cold feet and tried to back out. She could understand that. Last minute nerves and panic made her try to run away that morning.
“Mind if I join you?” Agent Novak said moments before sitting next to Hazel.
“I don’t know what story Scott spun for you, but I was matched. He can’t stop me from going.” Hazel lifted her chin, ready to fight.
“Scott Schwartztrauber? That bag of hot air? He is involved but not the way you think. You were teleported to your match. Congratulations on that, by the way. I understand you volunteered.” Her well wishes sounded sincere.
“Um, thanks, but I’m still here on Earth.”
Agent Novak sipped her own coffee. “Funny thing about the ladies who volunteer. Almost all who sign up only do it after they meet a Mahdfel.”
“I’ve seen Mahdfel before.” From a distance. Never really spoke to one. Or kissed one.
Until yesterday. Until her alien.
“They have this one amazing encounter, meet a warrior who really speaks to their soul, and the attraction
is unbelievable and so they volunteer to be matched, knowing the odds are not in their favor because raw attraction doesn’t mean genetic compatibility and they could be matched to anyone, anywhere, but they hope for their warrior. Sound familiar?”
“You’ve met my ex-husband so I think you understand why I was anxious to get off planet. And I could have been matched to him.” It wasn’t beyond the realm of possibilities. “It’s not some starry-eyed fantasy.”
Agent Novak’s wrist comm chimed. “Hang on. They know not to call me at work. Do you mind if I check?” Hazel shrugged her shoulders and Agent Novak’s attention shifted to her comm. “Yeah. You know... I don’t care that your brother has a sword. Yes. Well, he’s older than you. You did what? Does your father know? Wait, of course he knows. Did he give you the damned sword, too? Uh-huh. No. No. Don’t argue with your mother. Is it one of the parts that grow back? Well maybe the other boys should make fun of you for cutting off the tip of your own tail. Put your father on. Now.” She rolled her eyes at the ceiling and her tone shifted from exasperated but patient to angry. “What the hell were you thinking? He’s too young. You promised me no sharp edges. Yes, he is eight. He’s my baby! I don’t care how old you were. Did you slice off the tip of your tail, too? Really?” She paused. “Really. No, I can’t say I find that particularly funny. Look, we’ll talk about this later. Right now I’m trying to convince a woman that marrying a Mahdfel isn’t the worst decision she could make but my credibility is in the toilet and she’s giving me some serious side eye right now. Yes, love you too.”
Agent Novak sighed and downed the rest of her coffee. “So that was my husband and son. Apparently the barb at the tip of their tails falls out like a baby tooth, but making the kid chop it off is funnier.” She rolled her eyes. “Aliens.”
“You married an alien.”
“What gave it away? The tail or giving an eight year old with no impulse control a sword?”
“But you’re on Earth.”
“Yes.”
“Aren’t you supposed to be whisked away?”
Seeran: Warlord Brides (Warriors of Sangrin Book 6) Page 6
