by Susan Hayes
Hanna blinked, too shocked to speak for several seconds. She’d known the Pyrosians were eager to have more human females on Pyros, but all their conversations so far had been focused on establishing a rapport and ensuring that both sides were trustworthy. “They’ll have housing? Training? No camps? No quarantine?”
Jet waved a manicured hand. “By the time they arrive, each and every female and her offspring will be a citizen of Pyros already. They will be welcomed.”
“But there would be no requirement for them to accept a Pyrosian mate, correct?” They’d already discussed this detail, but now they were face to face, she wanted to hear him say the words, even if it meant risking insulting him.
Instead of taking umbrage, Jet smiled, rising several more places in her esteem, and the tiniest flutter of butterflies erupted in her tummy. Oh no. She was not developing a crush on the dashing diplomat. This was work, not play, and besides, he was at least a decade younger than she was. This was no time to turn into a cougar.
“Any female who wishes to do so can add their names to the mating database at any time after they arrive, but per our agreement, it would not be required.”
She hadn’t planned on asking this question yet, but the timing was too perfect. “Why is that?”
This time, his smile made her breath catch. He wasn’t that good looking.
“You’re asking me what we get out of this deal?” the modern-day term rolled off his tongue, accompanied by a roguish smile.
“I am.”
“Children. The women, and their children will be citizens of Pyros. Even if they don’t grow up and take Pyrosian partners, they’ll still play important roles in the future of my species. Our population is dwindling, leaving holes in our workforce and in every other facet of daily life on my world. And if some of those children return to Earth, then they will bring with them a wealth of information, along with what we can hope is a positive opinion of Pyrosians.”
“Future diplomats?” she asked, amazed at the scope of his answer.
“They will be the future, period. For both of our species.”
The answer was diplomatic, but she sensed he was sincere. Beneath the grand words were real hope, and hope was her stock in trade.
She took a moment to compose her thoughts before she spoke again.
Megan was staring out the window, no doubt looking for threats. It was what she was paid to do, but Hanna trusted the Pyrosians to keep them safe. Megan hadn’t been happy to hand over security to the aliens, but it was a necessary sign of trust, even if her bodyguard didn’t approve. She caught Megan’s eye and gave her a hint of a smile, along with a subtle hand sign to confirm that things were going well. Megan raised a hand, and then all her attention shifted to the window again.
“Hold on!” Megan shouted, and Hanna had a split second to grab hold of her seatbelt before the world around her erupted into chaos. The vehicle shook, metal screeched, and she was flung against her seatbelt as they spun wildly. As the vehicle finally came to a halt, rocking on its tires, stunned silence fell, though she could barely tell over the hammering of her heart.
“Everyone okay?” Megan’s voice broke the silence. Her tone was sharp, but her eyes were too wide, her normally ruddy skin too pale. “I’m alright. What happened?” Hanna asked as the others confirmed they were still in one piece.
Megan ignored her question and started issuing orders, instructing Lily to call the authorities then directing Jet to contact the embassy, all while undoing her seatbelt. “I think we were rammed intentionally. I’m going outside to take a look. Everyone else stays here, and lock the door after I’m gone. Vykor, if anything happens, can you transform and get the others out of here?”
Vykor didn’t get a chance to answer before the driver’s partition lowered behind Megan.
“Kyle, you okay up there?” Jet called to the driver.
“Did the other vehicle drive off?” Megan asked.
A man’s hand appeared in the gap above the partition. He shoved something through and then the partition closed again. Before any of them could react, a series of heavy clicks sounded. She knew the sound. Someone had activated the door locks. They were trapped.
Jet was still unbuckling his seatbelt when Megan grabbed the canister that had been dropped into their section. It started to hiss and vapour spilled out of one end.
Gas. The word flashed through her mind even as she pulled loose one end of her scarf and used it to cover her face.
“Everyone cover your mouth and nose,” Megan instructed, her voice confident and full of command despite the insanity of the situation. Everyone around her was trying the doors, but the gas was rapidly filling the vehicle and it was getting hard to see.
Megan pivoted in her seat and started kicking at the window, but Hanna knew it wasn’t going to work. The vehicle was armoured, the windows designed to withstand gunfire. She knew, because Jet had told her about it to reassure her that they were taking her safety seriously.
Apparently, they’d missed something. The thought humoured her, and dark, desperate laughter bubbled up inside her. She clamped her lips tight and tried to think of something she could do, but it was getting difficult to think at all. Her eyes watered, her lungs burned, and her vision was going dark.
She wanted to scream. To fight. To do something, but her limbs were too heavy, and her eyes were closed tight against the stinging, suffocating gas. She sagged, leaning into Vykor, but it was Jet’s voice she heard. “No matter what happens, I will protect you.”
Then the darkness rose around her, and she couldn’t hear anything anymore.
Chapter Two
Jet woke up, and for a moment wondered what he’d done the night before to earn the mother of all hangovers. His mouth was parched, his eyes seemed to be glued shut, and his bed was moving so much it was making him queasy. It took him a moment to register that he couldn’t be in bed. Whatever he was lying on was hard, flat, and vibrating slightly. He could also hear the low thrum of an engine, along with the distinctive sound of traffic moving over rain-slick roads. Shit.
He forced his eyes open, but it didn’t help. His vision was obscured by dark fabric. Turning his head brought on a wave of dizziness, but it also made it clear he was wearing a bag over his head instead of a blindfold. He flexed his arms, or at least he tried to. They were bound in front of him, his wrists and elbows lashed together so tightly he could barely move them. His legs were immobilized, too. What the hell had happened? He fought through the disorientation and dizziness, trying to remember. He’d been at the airfield. Met with Hanna. They’d been driving. They’d been rammed. Gassed. Kyle had betrayed them.
Where were the others? Were they okay?
The vehicle jarred and bounced as they drove over something, and he heard a female’s low, pained groan from somewhere to his left. He turned toward the sound. “Hanna?”
Something heavy pushed him onto his back, slamming him to the hard metal floor. Whatever it was pressed down on his chest and making it almost impossible to breathe. “No talking, ya alien asshole.” Someone spoke from above him. Jet guessed the weight on his chest to be the other male’s boot.
“Chill out. Boss left orders not to damage this one, or the women,” another male said, his voice harsh.
The pressure eased and he sucked in a lungful of air, grateful to know that Hanna and the other females were unharmed, at least for now.
“What about the other one?”
“The dragon? Boss didn’t say anything about him. We were only supposed to be bringing back three of them.”
Three? Coils of icy dread wrapped around his spine. There were five of them in the vehicle, not including that traitorous sarkeen, Kyle. If he and Vykor were here, which one of the females had been left behind, and why?
“Dragon?” The weight on his back vanished as the first male took two shuffling steps back. “Why the fuck is it here? Those things are dangerous!”
“Jesus, nut up already. He’s no threat. He�
�s some kind of mutant. Can’t shapeshift or whatever the fuck they do. No magic, either. And the Pyrosian isn’t mated. No mate means no fire. So, find your fucking backbone and do your job.”
“I’m doing it. But they’re aliens, man. No telling what weird shit they’re capable of.”
The other male snorted in derision. “You’re pathetic. Did you sleep through the briefings? We know exactly what they’re capable of. Jesus, did you even read the handouts?”
Jet listened to the two males talk and tried to gather as much information as he could. Whoever had taken them were organized and well informed. Had Kyle been the only inside source, or were there others? How had they slipped through the regiment of interviews and background checks? Karos would be losing his mind by now. The big Romaki would take this attack as a personal failure.
Karos, Keth, and the others back at the embassy must have found the vehicle by now. They’d already be searching, and Gods have mercy on these fools when Karos found them, because the fire dragon certainly wouldn’t.
“Where are you taking us?” Hanna asked, her tone as calm as if she were asking the time. She was an amazing female.
“I said no talking!” There was a thump and a faint hiss of pain.
“Dammit, Mike. I fucking told you not to hurt the women! Get your ass over to the door and stay there. Bossman is going to break you in half when he hears about this.”
“Stupid bitch shouldn’t be hanging around with these alien assholes,” Mike muttered, but he was already moving farther away, his voice and shuffling tread growing fainter.
“Hanna, are you hurt?” Jet asked softly.
“Stop fucking talking,” the words were heavy with warning, but Jet didn’t care. Bullies were the same, no matter what planet they were from. They only responded to one thing, strength.
“Not until I know the females are alright.”
The male growled but didn’t say anything.
“Hanna?” Jet asked again.
“I’m okay.”
“Me too. Oh, and it’s Lily talking.” She paused, then called out, “Vykor?”
“For fuck’s sake, you’re all fine, but you won’t be if you don’t shut the hell up. This is a hostage taking, not a play date.”
Jet wanted to know if Vykor was alright, but he couldn’t risk it. The one in charge had stated that only the females and Jet were to remain unharmed. Given the way these males were acting, they were likely to take out any frustrations on Vykor. At least he knew which of the females was missing. Megan Richards, Hanna’s bodyguard.
He offered up a silent prayer to the Gods that no harm had come to her. When he’d taken this job, he’d been eager for the responsibility, for the chance to do something meaningful. Now, the full weight of that responsibility settled on his shoulders. He’d offered these females his protection. Now, two of them had been taken, and one’s fate was unknown. He clenched his fists and tested the bonds that held him. The plastic ties bit into his flesh until he bled, but the pain gave him focus and clarity. He’d need both.
Hanna lay still and did her best to ignore her aching ribs. The brute who had kicked her might not have used his full strength, but it hadn’t been a love tap, either. She was hurt, scared, and disoriented. All valid feelings, but none of them were helpful, so she pushed them aside.
She was grateful to Jet for asking how they all were, despite knowing it would come at a cost. Hearing their voices, even for a second, helped ease her worries and reminded her that she wasn’t alone. It also gave her new reasons to fear. Megan wasn’t with them.
There’s no way she could have escaped, which meant their attackers had left her behind on purpose.
She hoped it was because abducting someone with Megan’s skill set wasn’t a good idea. But if they’d figured that out, they might have also decided that leaving her alive wasn’t in their best interests, either. Her heart twisted at the thought of what might have happened to her friend, but Megan had drilled into her head, time and again, that if something like this ever happened, she was not to worry about others. Her job was to stay alive.
“I’ll be coming after you. Your job is to stay in one piece long enough for me to find you,” Megan’s voice sounded in her head, the memory providing a small bit of comfort. Megan was the toughest woman she’d ever met. Hanna had to believe she was alive and royally pissed off. Whoever had taken them, they were going to regret it.
It wasn’t long before the truck came to a stop, the squeal of worn brakes announcing their arrival and setting her teeth on edge. There were footsteps, grunts, and then a wash of cold air flowed over her as the doors were opened. Even through the hood there was no mistaking the scent of the sea—salt and seaweed, mingled with the smell of diesel fuel and rusted metal. Seagulls called to each other from somewhere nearby.
“Free their legs and get ‘em on their feet,” The one in charge ordered, and within seconds rough hands were cutting through the plastic ties on her legs. There were groans and muffled sighs of relief as everyone was cut free and helped out of the truck.
A hard hand clamped onto her shoulder and she was guided inside. It was warmer in here, but not much. The cries of the gulls faded away, replaced by men’s voices that echoed as if they were in a large space.
“Put the blonde in her cell, and bring Dewan and the diplomat to me,” a new voice ordered, this one full of arrogance rather than authority.
“What about the other alien asshole?” she thought it was Mike who asked, but she couldn’t be sure.
There was silence for several seconds before the arrogant one snarled in frustration. “Fuck. Put it with the blonde, but secure it to a chair or something.”
“You’re putting it in with one of our women?” a new voice demanded. How many of these jerks were there?
“You questioning my orders now?” The tension in the air thickened, and Hanna wished she could see. There was too much going on.
“No boss. Just clarifying. I mean, we’re supposed to be protecting our women from these freaks, right?”
“Right. But you’re going to secure the creature, and it’s not like we have anywhere else to put it. I’m running a revolution, not a fucking hotel service.”
Someone, she’d given up trying to tell the voices apart, barked another order. “You and you, escort the prisoners to their cell. I’m going to go get something to secure the creature.”
There was a rush of activity, people moving, and she wished she could at least see Lily once before they were separated. At least the girl wouldn’t be alone. They were putting Vykor with her, which meant they’d be able to watch out for each other.
“Bring the others to my office. I want to speak to them.”
She was shoved forward hard enough she staggered a few steps, and the leader from the truck growled. “Stop manhandling her. We need her and the diplomat in one piece, remember?”
“If you could please take this hood off, then I wouldn’t be so likely to trip.” She hated to ask these jerks for anything, but making demands wasn’t going to accomplish anything, and she really wanted the damned hood off.
They walked a few more feet, then the floor changed from concrete to carpet and the temperature rose to almost pleasant levels.
The arrogant voice spoke again. “Polite, meek, and sensible. Very well. Danny, you can take Ms. Dewan’s hood off.”
“Yessir.”
The hood was removed, and she blinked until her eyes adjusted to the bright lights that filled the room. Eventually she was able to make out a few objects: a battered old desk, a few plastic patio chairs, and a rickety card table with a printer and a few office supplies sitting on it. An ancient space heater sat beneath the table, the filaments glowing cherry red. It’s a wonder the whole operation hadn’t burned to the ground already.
She rubbed her bound hands across her face, using the motion to check for the necklace she always wore. It was gone. Damn.
The necklace had been a gift from Megan, and she never took it o
ff. Along with the sentimental value, the pendant held a tracking device. If it was missing, then either their abductors had scanned her for such devices, or someone had told them about her necklace. Only a few people knew about it. Megan, of course, her parents, so they wouldn’t worry so much about her, and Lily. Lily had a tracker of her own, though hers was part of a charm bracelet. Had they found hers, too? How had they known about them at all?
She put that line of thinking on hold and focused on the here and now. There would be time to consider things later, and maybe by then she’d have more information to work with. Standing behind the battered desk was a man with dishwater blond hair and a broad, bulky frame. He was dressed in a flannel shirt, and what she could see of his jeans were stained and well worn. He looked more like a down-on-his-luck handyman than a terrorist. The only thing about him that stood out were his eyes, which were a rare shade of blue so deep they almost looked purple. She knew someone else with eyes that colour, and her instincts started whispering that it wasn’t a coincidence. She just couldn’t make the connections, yet.
The man was watching her intently. “Better?”
She breathed a sigh of relief at having the hood gone, pasted a smile on her face, and said, “Much better, thank you.” The gratitude galled her, but Megan had taught her that in this scenario it was better to be cooperative.
“You’re welcome. I wanted to speak with you briefly and let you know what’s going to happen.” He pointed to one of the plastic chairs. “You may sit, Ms. Dewan.”
“You have my name, may I have yours?” she asked. As she took a seat, she noticed there was one more occupant in the room. A dog the size of a small pony lay in the far corner of the room in a nest of shoddy blankets. She didn’t know much about dogs, but this one looked like it was one-part Rottweiler and two parts hellhound. It didn’t move, but the animal’s dark eyes were alert, watching herself and the others with intent interest.
“My name is John Ashton, and I’m the current leader of the Humanity First movement.”
