by Devyn Quinn
Addison frowned. “As an EMT, I understand the idea of containment and control of anything that presents a danger to civilians,” she finally allowed. “I think we should all try to accept that we’re stuck and make the best of it.” She looked around. “If nothing else, think of it as a little family vacation.”
“A vacation under lock and key isn’t my idea of fun,” Kenneth grumbled.
“You won’t be locked in cells,” Whittaker hastened to explain. “Since a lot of employees and agents live on site, the sciences facility has its own apartment and shopping complex. Think of it as a small neighborhood.”
“Surrounded by a high barbed-wire fence and armed guards, I suppose,” Kenneth retorted.
Whittaker nodded. “The use of deadly force is authorized,” he confirmed. “Nobody gets in.”
Gwen inwardly flinched. Despite the moistness in the air, her mouth was dry. She crossed her arms protectively in front of her body. They don’t get out either, I bet.
As a federal agent, Blake was accustomed to flying business class. Priority check-in, decent menu, good wine. He enjoyed it as one of the perks of his job and didn’t abuse his expense account.
Traveling commercial was one thing, a decent way to get from point A to point B with relatively little hassle. Doing it in a private government-owned jet was an entirely different experience. There was no hassle of getting through a congested airport, no standing in line waiting for bags to be checked, no messing with trying to rent a car at the destination site.
This must be how the president travels, he mused. Every step was smooth, the well-oiled machine humming along with perfect precision. No luxury was spared. The plane was outfitted with every modern convenience that could be stuffed into its narrow frame.
Tucked in a comfy chair, Blake accepted a refill on his drink: a single malt scotch, no ice. A female agent doubling as stewardess served everyone with blank-faced efficiency.
Normally Blake didn’t drink. He didn’t like the idea of losing control of his senses. He was also prescient enough about himself to know he liked the taste of booze, and would swill it without restraint if he set aside his self-control. As the child of an alcoholic, he knew the damages liquor could inflict, both emotionally and physically. His mother had been an ugly drunk.
He vowed his son would never see him in such a condition. He’d sooner cut off his right arm with a hacksaw than go staggering in to pick up Trevor.
Had he not been stressed to the max, Blake would have stuck to coffee. However, the last thing he needed was more caffeine. He was already jumpier than a flea on a hot brick. And even though he’d barely slept since Friday, he’d managed to keep himself going on sheer force of will alone.
A couple of drinks would help him unwind and relax during the flight. It would also help loosen his tongue, which seemed to get tangled in knots whenever he tried to talk to Gwen Lonike.
Sipping his scotch, Blake glanced over at his seatmate. Gwen had the window side. Her head was turned to the view outside, which was nothing but a mass of clouds.
The food in front of her—steamed trout fillets in lettuce parcels with a Thai stuffing—had gone untouched. She hadn’t taken a single bite. Nor had she sipped from the glass of white wine she’d requested. Whatever she might be thinking, she kept to herself. Tension compressed her lips.
Silence dragged between them.
Looking at her, Blake combed through his memory. The little bit of intelligence they’d been able to hastily gather on her didn’t fill a single page. She didn’t party, had no known drug or alcohol problems. Aside from her business she didn’t seem to have any outside pursuits. She’d broken up with her boyfriend almost a year ago and wasn’t presently seeing anyone.
All in all she should be perfectly vulnerable for an act of calculated seduction.
It looked like it would be an easy thing to do, too. Beside him sat an impressively beautiful young woman with a charming smile and a killer body. But she was also a woman who wasn’t human in any sense of the word he understood.
A belated thought occurred. What if mermaids didn’t mate the same way humans did?
It didn’t matter. He’d been ordered to do whatever it took to get close to Gwen.
As for the notion of going to bed with her . . . He wasn’t sure he’d actually go that far. A few days ago he’d been attracted enough to consider asking her out, with the vague idea he might try seeing her beyond a one-night stand. Being ordered to pursue her put a damper on the entire notion. Suddenly it wasn’t play, but a whole hell of a lot of work.
He sighed. In the space of a few days his entire world had spun completely out of control.
Without turning her head, Gwen cleared her throat. “I wish you would stop staring at me,” she said through tight lips. “It’s making me nervous.”
Unaware his perusal had become blatantly noticeable, Blake dropped his gaze. “Sorry,” he mumbled into his glass. “I didn’t mean to upset you.”
She reached up, sliding down the cover on the window. “You’re not doing anything,” she admitted, head settling back against her seat. “It’s me. I was just thinking how I should be home now, in my own apartment.” Eyes a little puffy, her gaze was dulled with fatigue.
Flexing his fingers around his glass, Blake considered his half-empty drink. “You aren’t the only one who had plans.” Right now he was just as trapped as she was. If he could fling open the door and jump out, he probably would.
Crooking her brows, Gwen nodded. “I guess that’s true. We all had our separate lives to lead before this got dumped on us.” She glanced down at his arm. “How does it feel, by the way?”
It took Blake a moment to realize what she was asking about. He reached up, touching his arm. “It’s okay,” he answered. “Gives me a little twinge now and again, but I’ll survive.”
She crossed her arms over her chest. “I’m sorry you got hurt.”
He shrugged and tossed back the remnants of his drink. The scotch burned all the way down his throat, hitting his belly like a slug of lead. “It isn’t the first injury I’ve taken in the line of duty and it probably won’t be the last.” He hadn’t eaten much either and the booze was beginning to give him a slight buzz. Without quite knowing why, he rambled on. “I just do the job and keep my mouth shut. Don’t know why, either. Overall, it’s just one big hassle I could do without.”
A perfect brow lifted. “I would think something like this would be a career maker for an agent working in the alien sciences division.” She grimaced a little as she spoke.
Blake released a heavy breath. “Oh, please. It’s been years since we’ve had any findings to get excited about. It’s not like the world is jumping with paranormal phenomena. Truthfully, most of us sit around twiddling our thumbs until we’re old enough to collect our pensions and get the hell out of government service.”
“So all those claims of alien abductions and crop circles—” she started to ask.
He drummed his fingers against his armrest. “Are absolute bunk,” he finished for her. “Most of them are just crazies who want attention.”
A little smile crept across her sensual lips. “But you still have to check them out, I suppose.”
Blake raked his hands through his hair, pushing it away from his brow. He’d allowed it to grow a little longer than normal lately, an attempt to lessen the severity of his sharp features. “Sure. It gives the government a reason to write me a paycheck and I get to feel like I’m a lot saner than the rest of the world.”
“So what about when you find something, um, extraordinary?”
He shrugged. “Not sure. Haven’t been through the process before. And as you can see, I’m on the same flight you are. It’s a first time for both of us.”
She reached for her wine, then sipped. “First time for everything I suppose.”
Blake motioned for a refill. The agent wielding the liquor bottle complied. “Not a lot of firsts left in my life,” he remarked, going to work on his thir
d glass. He needed to be just a little bit drunker to loosen up. Making time with a woman was one thing. Making time with a woman he’d been ordered to seduce was quite another.
I wouldn’t have made a very good gigolo. He was more than a little bit annoyed with the notion. Charming a woman who was also an alien offered a strange challenge. It definitely wasn’t in any handbook he’d been given to read. Like a blind man in the dark, he’d have to feel his away along.
Oddly enough, he didn’t think he’d mind the feeling part. With her full breasts, narrow waist, and gently flared hips, everything about her was perfectly proportioned. Under normal circumstances, the notion of slipping between her sheets wouldn’t have been difficult.
However, circumstances definitely weren’t normal. He wondered if there was a word for sex with a mermaid. And what about the tail? Oh, God. Where did they keep those things anyway?
The questions buzzed through his mind, more annoying than any insect. He supposed it was part of his job to find out.
Gwen quirked a brow. “Oh, I’ve got a few left, though I can strike being taken into federal custody off my list.”
He sighed. “If there are more hostiles, we need to work on capturing and containing them before more lives are lost.”
She traced the rim of her glass with a single finger. “As much as I don’t like it, I suppose that makes sense. I still can’t believe Lucky is gone. I liked that crusty old sea dog.”
“Can I ask if Lucky knew about the, ah, mermaids?” The word sounded strange rolling off his tongue.
Gwen glanced up. “Sure, some people knew. I mean, know about us.” She thought a moment. “Lucky, of course, and most of the members of his family. A couple of the guys Addie works with know. Since she works underwater rescue, someone’s got to keep an eye out when she’s under. Jake, he was engaged to Tessa for a little while. He was one of the few who actually tried to tell the world about the Mer and all it got him was bounced out of the archaeological community.”
“Nobody believed him?” Observing her every change of expression, it wasn’t difficult to figure out she wasn’t lying.
Gwen shook her head. “Not a bit.” She cocked a finger toward her temple, twirling it around. “Everyone thought he’d lost all the marbles in his head.”
Blake motioned toward Tessa and Kenneth, sitting a few seats away. “I suppose Randall there knows what he married.”
Gwen laughed. “Of course Kenneth knows. And in case you’re wondering—and I know you are just by the look on your face—yes, humans and Mers are biologically compatible. There are no Mer-men. We have to mate with human males to reproduce, just like any woman does.”
Blake eyed the couple. “They look happy enough.”
Gwen looked fondly at her sister and Tessa’s new husband.
“They’ve been married less than a month. Still in that newlywed phase where they’re all kissy-faced and goggle-eyed over each other.” She made a face. “Sometimes it’s disgusting to see two people that much in love.”
Blake knew exactly what she meant. “Little jealousy simmering there?”
She sighed. “I suppose there’s a bit. I can’t complain, though. They’re perfect for each other.”
“So what about you? Any perfect man in your life?”
Her nostrils flared. “Not even close. No time really. The hotel’s taking every spare minute, and most nights I’m too tired even to eat dinner. It’s straight to bed. All alone.”
She might have been describing his routine. Most nights he didn’t even bother with bed, collapsing on the couch in front of the television. The drone kept him company. It had gotten to the point where bars were boring and the women uninteresting. He’d rather sleep. “Sounds like everybody who has a job.”
She moistened her lips, a naturally glossy shade of pink. “What about you? This must be hard on you, too, having to make a sudden move.”
“It’s a little tough,” he admitted. “I’ll miss seeing my kid.”
She looked surprised, then delighted. “You have children?”
Blake mentally chalked up a point. Nothing made a man more attractive to women of a certain age than children and pets. He’d have to plead the Fifth if asked how many times he’d used cute snapshots of Trevor to get in good with a woman.
It was an awful thing to do, but he had. Back then he’d had an itch to scratch. Sex satisfied the physical, chased away the loneliness for a few hours. It wasn’t something he made a habit of these days, though.
Digging out his wallet, he flipped it open. “That’s Trevor. He’s four—almost five—now.”
Something close to delight glimmered in her eyes. “He’s cute.”
Blake couldn’t help puffing a little with pride. “Yeah, he is. And smart as a whip. He’s in pre-K now and already has his letters down cold.”
She pointed to a picture of Trevor with his mother. “That must be your wife. She’s pretty.”
Blake looked. He’d been meaning to cull that one from his collection but hadn’t gotten around to making the cut. As much as he hated to admit it, the woman was Trevor’s mother. He might not love her, but he had to respect her. The unintended accident between them had resulted in his son being born, and he wouldn’t give his child up for the world.
Trevor was his lifeline, his touchstone to leading a seminormal life. Lose his son and he’d be totally cut adrift.
He endured the momentary discomfort, then answered. “Um, we’re not together anymore.” No reason to explain that not only had he not married his ex-girlfriend, but he’d moved out ten months after their son was born.
Her gaze briefly flickered over the picture again. “Sorry it didn’t work out.”
Blake flipped his wallet shut. “You never know someone until you live with them.” He tucked it away. “We were just incompatible, you know?” He shrugged. “Debra got married a couple of years ago.”
“Do you see your son often?”
He forced back a quick rise of resentment. “I see him as often as the court allows, which means from Friday at six to Saturday at six, every other week. I’ve got every other holiday and summer vacation, too. I’d like to have more time with him, but it looks like Debra’s going to be leaving Boston soon. Doesn’t look like I can stop it, either.”
Gwen frowned. “That’ll cut out your weekends,” she murmured drily.
Blake scowled and pushed his drink away. He didn’t need any more liquor. Drinking and brooding didn’t mix well. “Damn right. We’re fighting it out in court, but the law just isn’t on the father’s side.”
She smiled with genuine sympathy. “I guess now isn’t a good time for you to be dragged off to Virginia.”
A grunt rolled past his lips. “Didn’t seem to be any way to get out of it, or I wouldn’t be here now,” he answered flatly. His discontent with the entire matter wasn’t faked.
Gwen’s hand settled on his arm, giving him a little squeeze of reassurance. Her grip was firm. The warmth emanating from her palm filtered through his sleeve. “I’m sorry.” A look of quiet sympathy surfaced in her emerald eyes. “I can’t imagine how hard it must be for you. I think it’s admirable when a man tries to hold on to his kids. Too many are willing to walk away to avoid the hassles.”
Blake was surprised. As frightened as she was, she had still managed to pull herself together and offer him reassurance. His heart lodged at the base of his throat, stealing away all the air in his lungs.
Gwen Lonike was something else.
Another tremble of response moved him.
Blake quickly shifted his gaze away from her face. It was all he could do to hold his wits together. There was no doubt in his mind that he did, indeed, want to seek comfort in her.
He just didn’t want to do it as a part of his job.
Blake curled his fingers to stop himself from reaching out and touching her. Misleading her, deceiving her, would be wrong.
Shit, he thought. I’m getting in too damn deep.
Chapter 1
0
The enormity of Blake’s latest assignment didn’t fully begin to sink in until the plane began circling the base, preparing to land. Then it kicked in. This was real, and there was no turning back. There was no way he was going to get out of the assignment.
It bothered him more than a little that the place looked like a prison. The impression didn’t bode well in his mind, either. He could almost imagine iron bars swinging shut, locking them all in.
Forever.
Virginia greeted them with a soft drizzle from a low, leaden sky. The wind pulled at their clothing, reminding everyone present that no one had packed for chilly, depressing weather. The gloomy dusk perfectly suited everyone’s mood.
From long habit, Blake performed a thorough visual sweep of the place as he followed everyone off the plane.
The A51-ASD sciences center in Belmonde, Virginia, had first served the government as Lawrence Air Force Base. Decommissioned in 1990, the on-site property totaled over ten thousand acres. Major components of the base included an airfield, an Alert Area, and a Weapons Storage Area. It also had a large industrial area and two large hangars. Administrative, institutional, recreational, and residential areas were located at the western portion of the base.
The area was originally an undeveloped tract of dense forest, shallow marshes, and densely packed wild blueberry bogs, covering rolling hills with virtually no obstacles to construction. A slight plateau provided distance from nearby tobacco farming areas. Sources of hard bedrock and limestone supported the construction of the runways, taxiways, and parking aprons.
Remote, the base was heavily guarded. Border and warning signs proclaimed PHOTOGRAPHY STRICTLY FORBIDDEN and USE OF DEADLY FORCE IS AUTHORIZED. Security agents lined the perimeter twenty-four hours a day, seven days a week.
Nobody got in or out of the facility without a top-secret clearance and proper authorization.
Blake was already aware the hostiles they’d taken into custody had been transferred to the facility a few days before. Unlike Gwen and her family, they hadn’t gotten the first-class treatment. In fact, handling them had presented a whole hell of a lot of problems, which had filtered back to him in hourly reports. His BlackBerry regularly buzzed with yet another status update, to the point where he’d had to put it on vibrate instead of ring. The continual noise was starting to get on his nerves.