Close Encounters of the Sexy Kind: In the Stars Romance

by Abbie Zanders

  She had just settled on her couch when her phone chimed. She briefly considered not answering it. She had lots of information to wade through and wasn’t in the proper frame of mind to listen to Betty’s detailed account of last night’s sex-capades. When she looked at the caller ID, however, it wasn’t Betty, but an unknown number.

  “Hello?”

  “Hello, Ryan.”

  Those two simple words, spoken in that deep, delicious voice, sent zinging tingles of awareness throughout her tired body. “Tiberius?”

  “Yes. You sound surprised.”

  “I am,” she answered honestly.

  A soft chuckle. “Never doubt me, Ryan. Did you have a pleasant day?”

  She pulled the phone away from her ear, looked at the screen, then blinked. When was the last time someone had asked about her day?

  “It was okay,” she told him. “How was yours?”

  “Long. I was thinking of you.”

  “Oh,” she whispered as those tingles intensified.

  “I would very much like to see you again.”

  Yes, please, she thought, but decided it was best not to appear too eager.

  “What did you have in mind?”

  “Perhaps dinner?”

  “I’d like that. When?”

  “I suppose answering right now would not be appropriate.”

  It was her turn to laugh. “No, probably not. I just got out of the shower.”

  There was a slight pause, and then he said, “A stunning visual. You do know how to torture a man, Ryan Winslet.”

  Warmth flowed through her. How did he manage to do that with just his voice?

  A sudden, overwhelming desire to see him washed over her. “But I am free tomorrow night,” she told him.

  “A veritable eternity,” he murmured. “Very well. I suppose I can wait that long, if I must.” Amusement colored his tone.

  “Good. Shall I meet you somewhere?”

  “I would prefer to send a car for you.”

  Ryan hesitated. Everything about Tiberius seemed wonderful, but she was reluctant to divulge her home address just yet, at least not until she knew a little more about him. Having seen some of the stuff that could happen, she was probably more paranoid than most.

  “There’s a bookstore not too far from my place. Would you mind picking me up there?”

  “Of course. Your caution is commendable, though I assure you, unnecessary in this case. I would never harm a woman, and certainly not you, Ryan Winslet.”

  She sincerely hoped that was true. “Thanks for understanding.”

  “Until tomorrow then.”

  “Oh, what shall I wear?”

  “Something casual and comfortable.”

  “Got it. Goodnight, Tiberius.”

  “Goodnight, sweet Ryan.”

  Ryan disconnected the call and sat back with a sigh. It was official. She was in crush.

  Chapter Twelve

  His name upon her lips resonated through him like a perfectly tuned note. He looked forward to hearing her scream it as he brought her to ecstasy over and over again. For now, though, things seemed to be going well. In time, she would come to trust him, and eventually, would not be able to envision her life without him in it.

  A check of the monitors confirmed that the club was once again at capacity. This night, however, he had no intention of making an appearance downstairs. He had already found his happiness, and she was in a small apartment on the other side of town. He knew because he had surreptitiously followed her the night before. Her safety and well-being had become his primary concern. Even now, she was under the watchful eyes of one of his men.

  He smiled, envisioning how that knowledge would probably rile her. Ryan was a warrior for her people.

  While he appreciated her abilities, taking such precautions was necessary. She was his mate and, as such, there were those who would target her because of it. The fact that she did not yet know that did not alter the truth of it.

  In the meantime, he had a courtship to plan.

  He pressed a button on the private communication device, pleased when Spice answered right away. “Whatcha need, boss man?”

  “I require tutelage on the proper wooing of a human female.”

  There was a moment of silence before she said, “Say what?”

  He exhaled then spoke slowly. “I require tutelage on the ...”

  He didn’t get any further before Spice came through the door, eyes alight. “Who is she?”

  “Her name is Ryan Winslet, and she is—”

  “A cop.”

  “Yes. Have you made her acquaintance?”

  Spice frowned. “Not personally, no, but in my former profession, it made sense to know the players on both sides. Straight-laced and kind of a ball buster, right? Not exactly your type.”

  “She is exactly my type,” he countered. “She is a strong, capable, honorable female. More importantly, she is my mate, the one divinely chosen for me and me alone.”

  “Aha. And she’s okay with all this?” Spice asked doubtfully, waving her hand in the air. “With you?”

  He stiffened. “She is quite taken with me.”

  Spice stared back at him. “She doesn’t know, does she?”

  “No,” he admitted, “which is why I require your assistance.”

  “Let me guess. You want her so head-over-heels in love with you that who you are and where you came from won’t matter.”

  “Precisely.”

  “All right, then,” Spice said after several long moments. “Lord knows you’ve done so much for me. For all of us, really. I’ll help you get your happily ever after, Sharky, but it’s not going to be easy.”

  He grinned. “Nothing worthwhile ever is.”

  By the time the dawn was nigh, Tiberius’s head was filled with suggestions on how best to win the detective’s heart. Spice had called in several others over the course of the night, and all had been willing to share their personal strategies, which ranged from traditional gestures, like roses and candy, to all-night pleasure marathons. Tiberius had listened to them all and had eventually crafted a plan which he felt would not only appeal to his mate but was also centered around his particular strengths.

  Hours later, rested and refreshed, Tiberius was finalizing the evening’s plans when he received a call from downstairs.

  “A guy named Drew’s here to see you, boss. Says it’s important.”

  “Very well.”

  “You want me to bring him up to your office?”

  “No, I shall speak with him in the bar. I am on my way down now.”

  Tiberius took his private elevator down to the first floor, enjoying the tranquility of the place now that it wasn’t filled with writhing humans.

  He paused at one of the massive aquariums and gazed at the assortment of sea creatures longingly. It had been too long since he had immersed himself in the salty depths, felt the cool glide of water over his skin, enjoyed the peace and serenity only found far beneath the waves. This afternoon, he would treat himself and Quintus to a brief but much-needed sojourn before the evening’s courting began in earnest.

  “Quintus,” he said without turning around, “stop skulking. It is beneath you.”

  “It is not, and you know it,” Quintus replied easily, stepping up beside him. “And my skulking, as you describe it, has served us both well.”

  Tiberius couldn’t deny the claim. Quintus’s ability to melt into the shadows had revealed quite a few truths over the years, many of which had saved him from making grave errors in judgment. What people said to a prince’s face and what they said behind his back were often vastly different and, as Quintus had told him on multiple occasions, he was sometimes too naïve to sense a person’s true intentions.

  If he had listened to Quintus’s warning about the Celusian princess, he wouldn’t have been found guilty of treason and exiled to Earth.

  Then you wouldn’t have met your mate, a small voice in his head reminded him.

 
; Well, there was that.

  “I have been informed that someone named Drew comes with important news.”

  “Drew?” Quintus furrowed his brow. “The cannabis merchant?”

  “I suppose.”

  Quintus frowned and looked as if he wanted to say more, but only nodded. “Very well. Let us hear what he has to say.”

  They found Drew waiting in a plush, semicircular booth, being guarded by Gino, one of the daytime security staff. Drew’s gaze flicked left and right almost constantly. Beneath the table, his knee bounced up and down in quick, staccato movements.

  “I thought cannabis had a calming effect,” Tiberius commented quietly.

  “It does,” Quintus replied darkly, which meant whatever news Drew had brought, it was not good.

  Tiberius and Quintus sat down, one on either side of Drew, effectively caging him between them.

  “You have something you wish to tell us?” Tiberius asked.

  “Yeah.” Drew looked at one, then the other, and swallowed. “Word is, Black Eagle isn’t too happy about so many of his peeps going missing.”

  Tiberius inclined his head. “Black Eagle?”

  “Yeah, man. Black Eagle.” Drew licked his lips. “As in, the Black Eagle that every pimp and dealer in the Golden Beach area gave seventy-five percent of their take to before you came along.”

  “And ...?”

  Drew blinked. “And ... the dude is hardcore, man. He doesn’t like to share. If he’s coming to town, it’s not in a friendly way, feel me?”

  “Ah,” Tiberius said, realization dawning. “You have come to warn us.”

  “Uh, yeah.”

  “Why?” Quintus asked suddenly.

  “Why?” Drew repeated, seeming confused.

  “Yes, why? You do not strike me as a particularly selfless, giving soul. What is it you hope to gain in exchange for imparting such information?”

  For a moment, the man looked offended by Quintus’s assessment. “Me? I don’t want nothing, man, except for you to remember who gave you a heads-up when shit gets real.”

  “Shit is not real?” Tiberius murmured.

  Quintus shot him a quelling look then turned back to Drew. “You are afraid of this Black Eagle?”

  “Fuck yes, I am. And dude, you should be, too. Look, things around here are a lot better since you came to town. Less painful, more happy, and heavier pockets, if you catch my drift. A lot of us don’t want to see things go back to the way they were. I know you’re a badass and all, but Black Eagle ain’t like the small-time losers you’ve been dealing with. He’s the big fish that eats all the little fish that ain’t making bank; you know what I’m saying?”

  Tiberius processed his words—the man had an odd way of speaking—and translated it to something he understood. “Forewarned is forearmed.”

  “Exactly.” Drew nodded emphatically. “And I’m forewarning you so you can forearm yourself with some big-ass guns.”

  “Do you have information on his pending arrival?”

  “No, he ain’t the type to give out details, man. My sources only say it’s gonna be sooner rather than later. And it ain’t gonna be pretty. Dude likes to make a statement, send a message to anyone else who might be thinking about going indie.”

  “Thank you, Drew. Please continue to keep us informed.”

  “Yeah, man, I will.”

  “Excellent. Gino will see that you have whatever you need. Good day, Mr. Drew.”

  Tiberius and Quintus walked away, leaving a slack-jawed Drew staring after them.

  “Is he reliable?” Tiberius asked.

  “For the most part,” Quintus answered carefully. “He does seem to pick up a lot of information not readily available, but I don’t trust him.”

  Tiberius smiled. “You do not trust anyone, my friend.”

  “True enough.”

  “We would do well to be prepared in case the fecal matter does find its way into the circulating blades.”

  “You mean, before shit hits the fan?” Quintus laughed.

  “Yes. That is what I said.”

  “My prince, we really must work on your grasp of human colloquialisms.”

  “Quite,” Tiberius agreed. “In the meantime, have Antonio prepare the car. It has been far too long since we have had a proper swim, and I need to prepare for my date this evening.”

  “I hope you are right about her, Tiberius.”

  “I am,” he said confidently.

  Chapter Thirteen

  “If it’s too much for your delicate constitution, Winslet, we can handle it.”

  “I’m fine, but if you need a moment, go right ahead.” Ryan swallowed the bile rising in her throat and kept her face neutral. Yes, the scene was gruesome, but it was the fishy smell of the docks that made her queasy. She wasn’t about to give Haines, Kowalski, or anyone else a reason to believe she wasn’t just as capable as they were, though in truth, they looked a little green around the gills themselves.

  She forced her gaze away from the man who had been strung up along the dock and left dangling. She recognized him as one of the local indigents known as “Punxsutawney Phil.” He had gotten the nickname because he was a transplant from the Northeast and had a tendency to hide at the first sign of trouble. The poor man had definitely looked better. His eyes, ears, and tongue had been crudely cut out and left beneath his feet.

  “Who called it in?”

  “A couple of dock workers,” Kowalski answered. “Said they found him like this shortly after they clocked in.”

  “Looks like someone was trying to send a message,” Haines said.

  She frowned. The scene was clearly a warning. See nothing, hear nothing, say nothing. Otherwise, this was what would happen. Phil must have seen or heard something he wasn’t supposed to.

  “Yeah, but what?” Ryan mused aloud. The docks weren’t exactly a safe place to hang out, but she felt pretty confident that none of the locals would have done this to Phil. They knew he wouldn’t have said anything. Phil had been a silent presence around here for years.

  As they spoke, a black sedan pulled up and two men got out. Even if their dark suits and sunglasses didn’t peg them as Feds, their cocky G-man swagger did.

  “Great. Just what we need, the dynamic duo,” Kowalski grumbled.

  Ryan bit her tongue. It was no secret that Kowalski was champing at the bit for a position in Homeland Security Investigations. Hell, many of them were, including her. But, instead of letting the caustic taunt of “Jealous?” cross her lips, Ryan remained silent and professional.

  “You think Nez is involved?” Haines asked quietly.

  “I do now,” Kowalski answered.

  Ryan didn’t care for their superior attitudes. In the interest of working together, though, she would share what she knew about Phil with the G-men. After a brief internal debate, however, she decided not to mention her conversation with Drew. If her informant was right and there really was a new guy in town, it might explain why Nez had resurfaced unexpectedly. Unfortunately, she hadn’t had a chance to corroborate any of Drew’s information, and she was not about to jeopardize another chance at nailing Nez by parroting unsubstantiated claims.

  The agents didn’t seem inclined to share much either. When she asked point-blank if they had any leads on Nez, they blew her off with Bureau-speak answers that revealed nothing. She wondered if they knew about her previous encounter with Nez or if they were just misogynistic douchebags.

  She was in a foul mood when she returned to the station, but the crystal bud vase with a single red rose she found on her desk lifted her spirits. She held it to her nose and inhaled the sweet, subtle fragrance.

  “You’ve been holding out on me,” Pam accused, coming out of nowhere. “Who is T anyway?”

  Ryan snatched the small card out of Pam’s hand, seeing the strong, masculine scrawl with the words: Until tonight, T.

  “Nosy much?”

  “Jealous,” Pam corrected. “I can’t remember the last time a guy sent
me flowers.”

  Neither could Ryan, but that was because no man had ever actually sent her flowers.

  When she heard Haines and Kowalski coming back into the office, she quickly slipped the delicate vase into her oversized tote. Being a woman on the force was difficult enough without having things like flowers on display. Her general rule was: if it wasn’t something the guys would put on their desks, she wasn’t going to put it on hers.

  “You saw nothing,” she told Pam pointedly.

  Pam put her thumb and forefinger together and made a zipper motion across her lips. “My lips are sealed.” Then her face grew serious. “Hey, I heard about Phil.”

  “Yeah.”

  “He didn’t deserve that, you know?” She lowered her voice. “Is it true? Nez is back?”

  Ryan looked over to where Haines and Kowalski were deep in conversation. “It sure looks like it.”

  “Shit.”

  “Yeah. Keep your eyes and ears open, okay?”

  Pam nodded and went back to her desk.

  Ryan checked the time, pleased when she saw it was already after six. She opted not to stay late for once. After all, she had a date to prepare for.

  After propping her bag in the passenger seat and opening it slightly so she could see the beautiful flower, Ryan hit the hands-free button and called Betty as she pulled out of the lot. “Hey, are you busy?”

  “Not anymore,” Betty answered. “What’s up?”

  “I have a date tonight, and I was hoping—”

  “Whoa, whoa, whoa. Back the truck up! You have a date?”

  “Yes.”

  “With who?”

  “A guy I met at the bar the other night.”

  “You shameless hussy! You didn’t say anything!”

  “That’s because there’s not much to tell. We had coffee.”

  “That’s it? Coffee?”

  “We had pie, too. And talked.”

  “That’s boring. Only you could find a dud in a place like Bait.”