Unique Ink

by Cyndi Friberg

  “This is Roxie Latimer,” Lor began.

  “I know who she is.” Morgan was all business. Not even her bright blue eyes held a hint of emotion. “Why did you deviate from the original plan? Where are Jillian and Odintar? For that matter, where is Elias?”

  So Jillian was a spy. The news didn’t surprise Roxie, but a fresh wave of anger drove her fear a little farther back, allowing her to think more clearly. Was Elias the soldier or the healer? And what happened to Nazerel? He’d been nowhere in sight when she woke up.

  As if Lor heard her mental ramblings, he said, “Nazerel was with Roxie when Jillian arrived at the shop.”

  Roxie listened intently. They were answering her questions. All she needed to do was stand here and keep her mouth shut until she understood the situation. Then she’d strategize.

  Morgan’s lips pressed into a grim line. “Is he in custody?” She tensed as if preparing for disappointment.

  “He insisted that he didn’t want to fight and did nothing but defend himself when we attempted to trap him. It was really strange.”

  They tried to “trap” Nazerel. That had to mean they were adversaries. Roxie tucked the fact away for later consideration. Anyone out to trap Nazerel had to be a better option than Sevrin and her boys.

  “So you let him go?” Morgan’s expression finally registered anger.

  Roxie moved to the side, trying to peer past Morgan. The door to the corridor remained open, but it was unlikely Roxie could make it out of this room. Besides, was it physically possible to outrun someone who could teleport?

  “Of course, we didn’t let him go,” Lor snapped. “He insisted that he’d only come to warn Roxie that she was in danger and then he flashed to safety. As usual, we were unable to track him. He’s just too damn fast.”

  So Nazerel could teleport too. It stood to reason that…wait a second. “Why am I in danger?”

  Morgan waved away her concern without even turning her head. “Lor will explain in a moment.”

  She’d been shushed like a child. Crossing her arms over her chest, Roxie glared at Morgan. Who the hell did she think she was? Being director of a military installation didn’t give her the right to act like a condescending bitch.

  “Was anyone else there?” Morgan continued her interrogation.

  Lor glanced at Roxie as he responded. “Jett, one of Roxie’s employees. He knows something odd happened, but he didn’t see us teleport. Roxie not only saw us flash in, she also had direct contact with Nazerel. At the very least, she needs to be questioned. However, I suggest keeping her in protective custody while we investigate Nazerel’s warning.”

  Morgan glanced at Roxie then back at Lor. “Was he specific about the potential threat?”

  “He said Sevrin had some nefarious use for Roxie and that she needed to be protected.”

  This was the first time he’d mentioned Sevrin. It was unlikely that he’d know Nazerel and not know Sevrin, but he’d just confirmed his connection to the real villain. Just the thought of Sevrin gave Roxie the shivers.

  Morgan finally faced Roxie, including her in the conversation for the first time. “What did Nazerel say to you? How long had he been in your shop when Jillian arrived?”

  The smarter course would have been to cooperate, but Roxie had always struggled with authority. The harder they pushed, the more rebellious she became. And Morgan wasn’t just autocratic, she was insulting. “Screw you! You can’t be bothered to answer my questions. Why should I answer yours?”

  Morgan shook her head as she turned back to Lor. “I don’t have time for this and neither do you. Put her in a holding cell and go get Elias. He’s good at this sort of thing. Then you and Blayne get back out there and find Nazerel!” Without so much as a backward glance, Morgan stormed out of the room.”

  Roxie was floored by Morgan’s rudeness as well as the implication in her orders. “I’m not allowed to leave?” She dragged her gaze back to Lor, finding him slightly less obnoxious.

  “Why would you want to when Elias is about to answer all your questions?” A hint of challenge threaded through Lor’s question. A much wiser strategy, but Roxie had already dug in her heels.

  “I’ve committed no crime. If you intend to interrogate me, I want my lawyer present. If not, I demand to be released.” Lor reached for Roxie’s arm, but she twisted away. “You can’t keep me here.”

  “It’s for your own protection.”

  “Bullshit. Nazerel was just screwing with you. They’re on their way out of town. Sevrin told me so herself.”

  “Sevrin wants us to believe the danger is past so we’ll let down our guard.” With terrifying speed, he wrapped his arm around her waist and teleported into a room even smaller than the first. This room had a built-in bunk and a bolted-down table and chairs. Obviously the holding cell Morgan had mentioned.

  Infuriated by her own helplessness, she shoved him away and rushed across the tiny room. “Why are you treating me like a criminal? I haven’t done anything wrong.”

  “Elias will take you through it step-by-step.” He paused and compassion warmed his gaze. “I’m sorry we haven’t been more welcoming. Nazerel is extremely dangerous. If there is even the slightest possibility we can pick up his trail, we need to keep trying.”

  Before she could respond to his apology, Lor flashed out of sight.

  Stunned beyond rational thought, Roxie just stood there staring at empty air. Then emotions rushed in, weakening her knees and compressing her chest. She wanted to scream and she needed to cry, but neither reaction would get her out of this cell.

  She stumbled to the door and tried to push it open. There wasn’t even a handle on this side and it was locked solid as she’d feared. Pounding only hurt her hands, but at least it was an outlet for her anger. If anyone heard her furious yelling, they ignored it. There was a large window beside the door, but some sort of film prevented her from seeing out.

  Too exhausted to continue her tantrum, she crossed to the bunk and sat, no longer trusting her legs to support her. Was Jillian an alien or had the woman in Unique Ink only looked like Jillian Taylor? Maybe these creatures could take on other shapes or—she shook away the unknown. What she knew for certain was intimidating enough. They were faster and stronger than humans; they could heal with a touch and teleport.

  Rather than wasting energy on useless speculation, she took stock of her environment. Morgan had said they were in Arizona, but that didn’t really mean anything. How far was the nearest town? Were there public roads nearby or were they isolated? Could she find a vehicle on the compound or did everyone teleport in and out? She couldn’t tell anything by the inside of this cell and she was powerless to change the setting.

  A second, smaller door sat adjacent to the bunk. Hopefully it led to a bathroom. If she was going to be stuck here for hours, she’d rather not be at the mercy of her bodily functions. Curious, she stood and approached the doorway. The door slid sideways automatically, revealing a tiny lavatory.

  “Thank God for small favors,” she muttered under her breath. Still, there was no shower and no food. How long did they intend to keep her imprisoned here? She’d been thinking hours, but it could be days. Months? She shuddered.

  Now that the rush of adrenaline had run its course, she felt weak, yet jittery. The cell wasn’t even big enough to pace, so she returned to the bunk. She scooted back against the wall and folded her legs in front of her. If they’d treated her with such discourtesy, what had they done to poor Jett? Her phone was in her purse, which was locked in her desk drawer. She had no way to check on her friend without the assistance of her captors. It also meant if she somehow managed to escape, she had no money, no credit cards, not even her ID. What a disaster. With an exasperated sigh, she closed her eyes.

  The main door buzzed, popped then swung outward. She opened her eyes in time to watch the soldier from her shop move into the cell. Without searing pain clouding her vision, it was as if she were seeing him for the first time. He was six foot four,
at least, with a body perfectly proportioned for such a large frame. Dark green cargo pants and a black T-shirt, his clothing was right in line with his pseudo-military appearance.

  “Elias, I presume?”

  A lazy smile quirked one corner of his mouth as the door swung shut behind him. “Guilty as charged. I brought water and a protein bar.” He held up a plastic bottle and a foil-wrapped bar. “Thought you might be hungry once you calmed down.”

  “What makes you think I’m calm?”

  He tossed her the bar and waited to see if she’d catch it before tossing her the bottle of water as well. After eying her for a moment longer, he crossed to the table and swiveled one of the chairs around to face the bunk. Then he sat, looking particularly oversized in the compact setting. “How much did Lor explain?”

  Not yet ready to play nice with anyone, she glared at him. “What did you do with Jett?”

  “Jett is your assistant?”

  “Employee and friend.” She stressed the last word so he’d clearly understand her position. Then she twisted the cap off the water bottle and took a long drink. Cool, soothing moisture spread across her tongue and down her dry throat. She hadn’t even realized she was thirsty, but water had never tasted so good. “What will happen to him?”

  “He was told Nazerel is an international arms dealer specializing in experimental weapons. You were feeling ill, so we wanted to make sure the weapon Nazerel discharged hadn’t caused any lasting damage.”

  Jett had “been told” Nazerel was an arms dealer, which implied the truth was something else. “Did he believe you?” Jett was fiercely loyal. It was unlikely he’d let things go with a superficial excuse.

  “I don’t know. I left so they could tell him I was the one who drove you here.”

  Which they both knew was untrue. She’d been teleported here by Lor dar Something-or-other. “I want to talk to him, make sure he’s okay.”

  “And I’ll arrange the call, as soon as you’ve convinced me you’re going to behave yourself.”

  His tone was patronizing enough to make her hand tense around the protein bar without motivating her to throw the water bottle at his face. “Can everyone from your planet teleport?”

  Elias grinned and the gold flecks in his green eyes shimmered. Though short on the sides, his dark hair was long enough on top to form distinct waves. It made him look as if someone had just run their fingers through his hair. He wasn’t model perfect like Lor or exotic like the healer. Still, his stark ruggedness appealed to her. He appeared strong, more than capable of protecting her. And whether or not Roxie was willing to admit it out loud, she was in desperate need of protection.

  “Sorry to disappoint ya, darlin’. I was born in Austin.” His voice took on a subtle twang she hadn’t noticed before. Had he intentionally rid himself of the cadence or was he using it now in an attempt to make himself seem less intimidating?

  “You’re human?” She wasn’t sure she believed him. The others had looked human too, at least to begin with. Besides, he hadn’t denied being an alien. He’d just claimed to have been born on Earth.

  “Don’t I look human?” He crossed his arms, stretching his T-shirt even tighter.

  What a poser! It would take more than rock-hard muscles to scramble her brain. But then this man had more than his share. “Lor looked human too until his eyes started spinning. And the healer only had a freakish blue light inside his eyes after I confronted him.”

  “The healer’s name is Odintar. He and Lor are from different planets within the same star system. Morgan and I work with aliens, but we’re both US citizens, just like you.”

  That brought up all sorts of new questions. What the hell were aliens doing on Earth? Was the government officially involved or was this some sort of private venture profitable enough for the government to ignore?

  Not wanting to lose herself in the details, she started with the basics. “How long have they been on Earth?”

  “We’ve been working together for about a month, but they arrived a few weeks before that.”

  “What are they doing here?”

  “Trying to protect you from some extremely dangerous people.”

  Roxie scoffed then ripped open the protein bar and took a bite. “Humans in general or me in particular?” She paused for a drink of water before adding, “Either way they’re not doing a very good job.” She’d been terrified for the past nine weeks, intimidated and verbally abused. She’d even been subjected to some sort of alien technology that might well have damaged her brain. She started to tell him about the language infuser, Sevrin had forced Roxie to endure. But she gained nothing by volunteering information. “Is Nazerel some sort of fugitive? Why are you trying to capture him?”

  “How long have you known him? Is your relationship strictly professional or—”

  “We don’t have a ‘relationship’. He’s a customer. That’s all.” She studied his features for a moment. Though his eyes were bright and attentive, she could discern nothing but intelligence behind his stoic expression. The man had one hell of a poker face. “Why’d you dodge my question?”

  “Did he and his companions just happen upon your shop or was there some sort of formal arrangement?”

  Tension wound through Roxie like a massive constrictor. Was he building a case against her? Did they think she was involved with Sevrin’s men? “I tattooed them; nothing more.” She looked at the door as discomfort surged into fear. “How long are you going to keep me here?”

  Elias reached over and touched Roxie’s foot. Even dressed in black leather and chains, she looked like a frightened kitten. He wanted to comfort her, calm her, but her agitation worked to his advantage. He needed her to believe he was dangerous, that he’d do anything to find out the answers to his questions. That wasn’t far from the truth, but even bastards like him had limits. And harming women was high on a very short list of things he would never do.

  “I need to understand how it started.” He kept his voice even, yet unemotional. “What brought you together with those men?”

  Roxie shrugged. The absent motion made the delicate chains draped from shoulder to waist jingle against her breasts. She was lithe and lean, her gentle curves perfect for her narrow frame. Snug black leather pants showcased her long legs and sleek hips, while a sexy cropped tank top left the artwork on her arms and sides visible.

  “Would you like me to undress?” The challenge in her tone snapped his attention back to her face.

  “I was distracted by your tattoos. I apologize.”

  She chuckled, clearly unconvinced by the lame excuse. “Sorry, Tex, but you weren’t looking at my tattoos.”

  He’d already apologized, so he ignored the comment and brought the conversation back on track. “How’d your interaction with Nazerel and his companions begin?”

  “It didn’t start with Nazerel. Sevrin strolled into my shop one night and offered me an obscene amount of money for an exclusive contract.”

  Not willing to derail the conversation again, he focused on her powder-blue eyes. “An exclusive contract to do what?”

  “I’m a tattoo artist, dumb-ass. What do you think she wanted me to do? Clean their apartments?”

  He pushed to his feet and turned toward the door.

  “Where are you going?” She swung her legs over the side of the bunk, but didn’t stand.

  “I’m attempting to be civil. If you’re not ready to exchange information, I’ll return when you are.”

  She did stand then, an angry flush coloring her high cheekbones. “If this were an exchange, I might not be so bitchy. I’ve answered your questions, but you’ve dodged all of mine.”

  He advanced, backing her against the wall with two long strides. Pressing his hands against the wall, he caged her, surrounding her without actually touching her. “You’re in more danger than you can possibly imagine. Even if Sevrin has left Las Vegas, she hasn’t lost track of you. Cooperate with us and we’ll protect you. Continue to be a pain in the ass and
we’ll turn you loose. Do you really want to be at Sevrin’s mercy again?”

  “I’m not afraid of Sevrin.” She glared up at him, her expression mutinous.

  Damn. She was going to be harder to break than he’d thought, but he was known for his patience. It was one of the things that made him so good at interrogations. “Fine. I’ll arrange for your discharge.” Before she could react to the dismissal, he walked from the room.

  “Wait.”

  He pretended not to hear her cry and locked the door behind him. He’d let her stew for an hour or two while he found out what was going on with the others. Hopefully, when he returned, she’d be more reasonable.

  Her stubborn expression and angry gaze lingered in the back of his mind as he hurried toward his office. He’d expected her to be more frightened, more overwhelmed. It was almost as if today were not the first time she’d been exposed to paranormal abilities. Had the Shadow Assassins been showing off for the feisty tattoo artist? And if they had, what abilities had they revealed? She insisted that her only interaction with them had been professional, but what else would she say? She gained nothing by admitting to more.

  As Elias approached his office, he found Bates and Larossa, two of his men speaking with Lor. “Please tell me you caught the bastard.”

  Lor looked at him then shook his head, displeasure tightening his features. “Nazerel is like smoke. We get close enough to smell him, but there’s nothing there to catch.”

  “Hopefully the new guy will give us something useful,” Bates said.

  “If he survives,” Larossa grumbled.

  “What are you talking about? What new guy?” He pushed the door to his office open and Lor followed him inside while Bates and Larossa loitered in the doorway. Neither of the soldiers had worked directly with aliens before and their unease tended to show. He couldn’t blame them. The Mystic Militia weren’t going out of their way to network with their human counterparts. Master-level Mages were treated with respect and reverence on Ontariese and they expected the same deference on Earth. Only trouble was most humans weren’t used to bowing and scraping to anyone.