Guardian Alien: a sci-fi alien romance (OtherWorldly Men Book 1)

by Susan Grant

  Sometimes, when she was feeling magnanimous, she’d explain away Brace’s behavior as acute, financial-related stress. He’d sunk a lot of money into Ice. Just looking around at the place made her hear the ca-ching of cash registers. Ice lived up to its name: everything was built of either steel, glacial glass or quartz. The cool, blue tones soothed Jana’s underlying hysteria. Or maybe it was the subzero shot of Stoli that had temporarily deadened the scream that seemed to bubble constantly just beneath her faux-calm exterior.

  “Sit, eat!” Viktor waved to his best table. The restaurant was noisy and crowded. If Viktor’s goal was to introduce upscale Sacramento diners to the art of zakuski, it was working. According to the explanation on the menus, zakuski meant “a few bites” but growing up half-Russian, Jana knew it really meant “a few bites to go with vodka.” A good zakuski selection was supposed to cover the table, and Viktor’s certainly did: salads, cold chicken and potatoes in sour cream, pickled herring and smoked whitefish, pickled garlic, pickled beets, and everything else Russians loved to pickle, along with thick hunks of black bread. A frosty bowl of caviar was being handed around the table to be spooned onto blini and other treats.

  “Eat! Eat!” Viktor called out and took a seat next to Jared. Alex settled next to Jana, of course. She caught a whiff of his aftershave mixed with starch from the Korean cleaners down the street. His pale lavender shirt was pressed so crisply that the creases could give someone a paper cut. In contrast, his tie, decorated with loud yellow daffodils, all but shouted spring, an outfit that somehow worked. Jana had always admired his unique sense of style, but when she compared him to Cavin’s spare, functional, all-black military simplicity, Alex through no fault of his own looked like an overwrought butterfly.

  “Thanks for the flowers, Alex. It was sweet. Very thoughtful.”

  His dark brown eyes sparkled. He was boyish and cute with an underlying intensity she found attractive. But she knew there’d be no magic in his kiss. She missed Cavin, she realized with a pang. Really missed him, missed the man who saved her from an alien assassin’s killing shot, who could sent her into orgasmic bliss with words alone…Cavin, who last she’d heard was prowling on Evie’s roof.

  Her heartsick pang changed to the kind you might have dangling over a pit of hungry alligators. She had to get back to Evie’s, but she was stuck here for at least another hour. Downing another shot might be helpful, but she’d already had plenty.

  Alex spooned a dollop of caviar onto a stuffed egg. “I’m glad you liked them. I couldn’t help thinking of you with all this going on.”

  “Let’s not talk about that.”

  “No, let’s not. Let’s talk about what time I’m going to pick you up, later.”

  Later? The Kings game. “Oh, crap. Alex, I forgot all about it.” She’d agreed to the basketball game date before anything had happened. That was five days ago but it might as well have been five years ago it seemed so far away. He’d been after her for so long to go out. She’d finally said yes, and now she couldn’t go.

  “So you forgot. You’re a busy girl. But now you remember. Do you want to eat before or after?”

  “I can’t go, Alex.”

  “Don’t work late. You work too much.”

  “I’m not working. I…I have plans. It was very last-minute.” Like last night in the supermarket. She tipped her chin down and tried to look as apologetic as she sounded. “Rain check?”

  Something darker flickered in his eyes. “Sure.”

  “If you really want to put our Alex in a bad mood, tell us how much higher caviar prices will go, Senator,” Viktor scolded Jana in a teasing tone she suspected was meant to mask a more serious one.

  “Viktor,” Alex warned.

  “You’re in a better position to tell me that, Viktor,” Jana said, licking sour cream off her spoon.

  “Not so. Last October, this country banned imports of Russian caviar. You know this, because your father was behind it.”

  “My father and the rest of the U.S. Congress,” she pointed out.

  “What is left of the Caspian Sea stock is several thousand dollars a kilo. So, we are now totally dependent on domestic supply. In Russia, the caviar industry is controlled by the Mafia, but in California, it is controlled with your iron fist. In certain circles in the Russian community, you are known as the czarina. Your Fish and Game thugs have become as feared in the community as the Soviet KGB. Here in America.”

  Jana put down her spoon. “I don’t know where you get your facts, Viktor.”

  “I get my facts from my wallet. That’s where I get them. Caviar prices have gone through the roof.”

  “Sturgeon were fished to near extinction. There’s a fact for you. For a while the population in the wild came back, but suddenly it’s falling again. There’s another fact for you. Fishermen are calling Fish and Game because they’ve noticed the decline. And they’ve noticed several men asking around, seeing who’d be willing to catch them a sturgeon, which as you know is against the law. My so-called thugs are hardworking men and women trying to stop the hemorrhage. My special ops wardens are on the case.”

  Viktor’s dark eyes slid to the side. His near arrest during the last big bust-up of a poaching ring had left him sensitive to the subject.

  “We’re creating farms to bring the population back. But it’s a long-lived, slow-maturing species. It won’t happen overnight.”

  “My businesses may not be here overnight.”

  Viktor had his main business in San Francisco. It was vast and sprawling, and she knew the new ban on exports from Russia had given him headaches. Many in the Russian community saw U.S. caviar as inferior, an image Jana was working hard to change. Because of her position, Viktor was careful what he said around her, but it wouldn’t surprise her to learn his hands were dirtied occasionally by black market caviar. But until today, she’d never talked shop and neither had he. It was an unspoken promise of family get-togethers that he’d now broken. She’d get up and walk out if it wasn’t so important to her mother that they share this “family” lunch.

  “You limit me to fish farms, Jana, yet you keep the prices high. How am I supposed to make a profit?”

  Jana passed the bowl to her mother and exchanged an annoyed glance with Jared. “If I don’t limit it to the farms, sturgeon will disappear—here and all over the world. Then you’ll be paying five hundred an ounce or more for your precious caviar, wholesale, if you can even find any. Or you’ll learn to like catfish eggs.”

  “Nyet,” her mother said softly. “May it never be.”

  “With your father, my own uncle, cutting off my Russian supply, and you cutting off my California supply, I have no choice but to descend into ruin.”

  Jana fumed. “I’m not cutting off anyone’s supply. I am trying hard to keep a species from extinction.”

  “It seems you care more about a fish than a businessman trying to feed his family.”

  “Shut up, Viktor,” Jared snapped. “Just shut up.” His eyes had narrowed and his shoulders were tight. A muscle twitched in his jaw. “And what family, Viktor? Last I checked, you don’t have one.”

  “Enough!” Mom slammed her hand on the table, rattling the cutlery and silencing everyone. Her soft, sky-blue eyes had turned to ice. Her stare was so frosty and focused on Viktor that Jana half expected him to turn into a snowman. Siberian winter had arrived at the table.

  Suddenly, cousin Viktor didn’t look so brave.

  Mom’s voice was low and cold. “I brought your father to this country, Viktor. I brought him here and I will send him back.”

  He stuttered. “Aunt Larisa, he’s dead.”

  “So? Everyone dies. If I want him to go home, he will go. I will send him back to Russia in his box.”

  Jana had no doubt her mother would do it, too.

  Viktor downed a shot of Stoli and dragged the back of his thick hand across his face and nodded. “I have been rude. Please accept my apologies.”

  Mom gave him the epitome of
a Russian shrug. Jana had never seen another ethnic group who could shrug like the Russians could.

  Alex sighed. “I apologize for my partner’s passion. It hasn’t been easy. We all feel the pressure lately.”

  Then why didn’t you stop him, Alex? What kind of man lets the girl he’s interested in get pulverized by his business partner? Not the kind of man she’d ever be interested in. Cavin never would have let that happen. In that moment, Jana crossed Alex off her list for good. Their eyes met, and he seemed to sense it. Anger heated his gaze, not disappointment, or regret, and that unbalanced her even more.

  Alex Neiman doesn’t like you.

  But if he didn’t like her, why send the flowers, why ask her out?

  “I was out of place,” Viktor grumbled. “Mixing business with what should be only pleasure. Jana, I’m sorry.” He dipped in a small bow. “You will forgive me, yes?”

  “This time,” she muttered. “Next time I beat the shit out of you.”

  “Jana!” Mom gasped as Jared fell back, laughing.

  Viktor appeared stunned. “What happened to the sweet, mild-mannered girl?”

  “She’s on leave. Maybe permanently.” Jana reached for the bottle of Stoli sitting deep in a melting hunk of ice. Time for another glacial, brain-deadening, and very necessary shot.

  “Wait,” Alex said, stopping her hand short of the bottle. “We’ve got something better. Viktor, go get it.” Viktor hesitated. “Go. You owe her big-time, buddy, bringing up things you had no business discussing over a civilized meal. A family meal.”

  Suddenly Alex was family?

  “You mean…it?” Viktor asked.

  “Yes. It. It’s what we’ve been saving it for, right?”

  Still, Viktor hesitated. Alex rolled his eyes and dragged Jana’s cousin from the room. There was the sound of a heavy freezer door slamming shut, murmured voices. Then the men returned to the table. The bottle Viktor carried was triple the size of a normal liquor bottle. Frosted over, it smoked with water vapor.

  “This is the vodka Stoli wishes it could be,” Viktor declared in triumph and dropped the freezing bottle in Jana’s lap.

  “Ooph.” The bottle was as cold and heavy as a torpedo pulled from the Bering Sea. Inside, subzero vodka sloshed like syrup. She grabbed hold of the bottle to keep it from falling. “Ow, this is really cold, Viktor.”

  “Jewel of Russia. Ultra-ultra. A three-liter bottle. Hand-painted with traditional Russian designs.” Viktor scratched at the frost, clearing some away. “And signed by the artist.”

  Again, Jana tried to get rid of the cold, heavy bottle, but Viktor kept talking. Her arms were aching, and her hands stung.

  Bizarre Medical News Daily: Woman Recovering After Surgical Removal Of Liquor Bottle.

  “Only two of these were released to the United States this year,” Viktor bragged. “One of them to the Russian ambassador, and one of them to me. I won’t tell you what it cost, but you could buy a small car for the price. Me? I’d rather drink the vodka. Jana, please accept this small token of apology.”

  Suddenly, the frosty bottle was a hot potato. California had very strict disclosure laws for elected officials. Anything over fifty dollars that wasn’t from immediate family she had to disclose. Even then, there was the problem of the appearance of accepting perks from those with agendas. It allowed her to keep little of what was given to her all year long.

  Viktor should have known that, but he was an idiot. A bumbling well-meaning idiot, but still an idiot. She was glad other diners hadn’t noticed the presentation. It would be hard to explain away.

  “Thank you,” she told the men. “It’s a wonderful and generous gift. And beautiful, too.” The sunshine from the window cut diamondlike jewels in the vodka, and the ice cut like knives into her wrists, which sort of diluted the loveliness of the light show. “Do you mind if I leave this here with you for now? My staff will pick it up for me. Rules and more rules. You know how it is.”

  “I will keep it here for you, Jana. Locked in the freezer vault, for you when you come. You come to drink vodka, I will have the best for you.” Finally, her cousin lifted the heavy bottle from her frostbitten arms.

  Almost regretfully, Jana watched him carry it away. But considering she was at her personal limit with police encounters and near arrests in a twenty-four-hour period, she’d better be sober when it came time to get in her car.

  “I WON’T BE BACK in the office today,” she told Nona an hour later, driving from the capitol to her apartment a few short blocks away. A doggie bag for Cavin sat on the seat next to her.

  “I can’t remember you ever taking the afternoon off.”

  “Not since I was nine,” Jana mumbled.

  “Sorry?”

  “Not important. I have a small emergency going on. Personal stuff.”

  “What’s wrong? Are you okay?”

  “Yes, I’m fine, Nona. Everything’s fine.” Liar, liar. “It’ll be easily taken care of if I can give the matter a little attention.” Pants on fire. “Cancel out my afternoon, or go in my place. I’ll see you in the morning.”

  Jana pulled into the Sacramento Sky Towers parking garage, rode the elevator up to the lobby to transfer to the residence elevators.

  Malvo, the doorman, greeted her and said, “Hello, Senator.”

  “Hello, Malvo. What’s up?”

  “The good news or the bad news first?”

  “Why, I’ll take the bad news.” She always did when someone asked. She hated to ruin the good news. “What is it?”

  “The police are waiting for you upstairs in your apartment.”

  Chapter Eleven

  “THE POLICE ARE HERE?” They’d found out about last night, Jana thought frantically, her eyes shifting back and forth. Where were the exits? Could she run away in time? She’d disappear, drive to Mexico and disappear: Fugitive Senator Flees Over The Border After Drunken Vodka Spree.

  Her chin came up. You’re not a fugitive. You’ve done nothing wrong.

  Ha! Nothing like a conscience in denial. Besides, she promised Cavin she was coming back. Maybe they could escape to Mexico together. Someplace steamy. Rainy. With trees.

  “Security was supposed to call you. Someone saw someone outside your door trying to break in.”

  “Oh, good,” she said, relieved. Malvo gave her a funny glance. I mean, good that I’m not about to be hauled away to jail. She dug deep for a more alarmed reaction. “Oh, no. I’d better get up there.”

  She ran into the elevator and rode it up to her floor. Only when the doors opened did she remember she never asked Malvo for the good news.

  A couple of police officers hovered by her apartment. One of them was busy making out a report. The lock was broken, the door ajar. It was creepy, picturing someone stalking around at her place only hours after she’d left it.

  She came forward, her arm outstretched. “Good afternoon, gentlemen. I’m Jana Jasper. I understand someone tried to break into my apartment.”

  “Not tried, did.” The officer pushed on the door, opening it. Someone had been inside. Someone out to get her. A malevolent presence hung in the air. She wasn’t sure how she sensed it, she just did. Her unease skyrocketed.

  “We got an anonymous call from one of your neighbors,” the officer continued. “Unfortunately, they couldn’t get us a description.” He pocketed a pad he’d been writing on. “Well, file a report if anything is missing. We’ve got another call.”

  “Wait.” Jana’s mouth had gone dry. “Can you come inside with me? Make sure no one’s there? I’m a little nervous about going in alone.”

  “We checked for trespassers, ma’am.”

  Nonalien ones, she thought frantically. She didn’t want to encounter the REEF behind her shower curtain. “Please?”

  The busy cops shrugged. “For you, Senator, we will.”

  Jana followed them inside. She blinked in the bright sunshine flooding the living room. It was airy and sparsely furnished in ultramodern decor: glass, maple, g
ranite and steel, with hues of blue, gray and white dominating. All very different from Evie’s house. It was supposed to remind her of the sky, but she wondered if it had been an unconscious attempt to distill life down to the essentials of the magic she’d experienced and lost.

  And now, found.

  As the officers looked around, Jana placed her mother’s matryoshka on the shelf above the fireplace. Love is the only constant. She changed her mind and slipped the doll into her purse.

  “Do you ever cook in here?” one of the officers called from her kitchen as he inspected the gleaming smoke-gray granite counters, pristine stainless steel appliances, her digital espresso machine, the cobalt-blue glass bowls of the blender and mixer that were as new now as they were when she took them out of the box.

  “Sometimes.” Okay, rarely. Fine, maybe never. “I eat a lot of takeout.”

  “That was my guess. It’s so model-perfect I wasn’t sure if you lived here full-time.”

  Come to think of it, she wasn’t sure if she lived here, either. The apartment was a place she slept in when she wasn’t at work, nothing more. Maybe that was why she didn’t feel as violated by the break-in as she was frightened that someone had come looking for her, namely the REEF. She thought of the naked men found last night, and their description of someone dressed like Cavin. Where the incident occurred was not too far from downtown, an older section, but less than five miles away.

  She shuddered, dialed Cavin. No answer. Then she dialed the number Evie had left for her pet sitter, Patti. “All circuits are busy,” droned an operator’s voice. Busy? How could they be busy? What was going on back at Evie’s house? Jana gulped. Probably nothing. It was a new area, lots of construction going on. They were probably doing work on the phone lines or cell towers. Or something.