by Kelly Goode
‘You can’t expect Blake to cover all that ground,’ Carson tried to reason. ‘You need me too. I’ll stay out of the way, I promise. I’ll start looking for Doctor Malone.’
‘No, I’ve already called Sheridan and Finch in for another shift. They’ll assist Blake with the search.’
Carson’s jaw clenched. She didn’t like the two other field agents much. Mainly because Sheridan didn’t hide the fact he disapproved of having a woman on his team and Finch spent so much time sitting on the damn fence, that his arse was full of splinters. She usually stayed away from both of them.
‘I’m sure they will do a competent job, but I really think I would be better placed here.’
Tom looked up and the intention was crystal clear when he narrowed his eyes. She was not going to win the battle.
‘Do you want to talk yourself off this case entirely?’
‘No, sir.’
‘Then take a GOD DAMN day to get your head straight,’ he thundered. ‘One day or you’re OUT for a week. Do I make myself clear?’
Tom had never shouted at her like that in public. Not even through her troublesome teenage years when she’d tested his patience to the limit. Now his anger was palpable and she felt her mouth opening and closing like a fish, but there was nothing more she could say to change his mind.
‘Fine.’
Carson finally managed to spit out that one word as she stood with as much poise as she could manage. She limped towards the exit, but paused at the door.
‘I’ll see you both tomorrow,’ she said.
Neither man answered her, so she made damn sure they heard her slam the door on her way out.
22
Blake paused outside Carson’s front door. He’d left an appropriate amount of time before following her. Chief Melman had been unwaveringly brutal in shutting her out of the operation, and it was his fault. He should never have given that fake speech in the boardroom. He knew better than anyone that Carson needed to be involved in the search for the latest missing girl. Otherwise, her guilt would drive her crazy. He’d tried to get Melman to change his mind but the old man would not listen to reason, using Blake’s own words as evidence for why Carson should remain at home. Arguing was futile, so he’d taken his assignment to search for the missing jaktten without any further discussion, knowing he could drop in on her before he began checking the area around the warehouse again.
He could spare five minutes to help a friend.
Blake exhaled loudly as he ran a hand through his dishevelled hair and then across his stubbly chin. Carson wasn’t his friend. Men and women were never friends when they shared chemistry like they did. She was the first thing he thought about when he woke in the morning and the last thing before sleep claimed him at night. She’d bewitched him from the start.
Blake had argued against a partner at first, as he’d been happy working night-time surveillance while he gathered intelligence on the ISCU team, but with the offer of promotion to a field agent in exchange for babysitting someone called Carson Towers, he begrudgingly took the offer. He’d been expecting a rookie - a bloke with an ego as large as his biceps and a brain as thick as his neck – but his new partner was a woman. A beautifully damaged woman.
He still remembered the first time he saw her. Although technically, he heard her before he saw her. She’d been protesting loudly that she didn’t need medical attention after returning from a routine capture and kill mission. The desquamater was history, but Carson had taken one hell of a beating in order to secure him. Blake had watched Doctor Malone examine her, fascinated by the numerous cuts and bruises on her face and the old scars that criss-crossed her arms and torso. It was clear she’d lived a harsh life and something sparked inside him. Something wholly masculine and primal. He’d been told his species had strong mating desires once they found someone worthy, but he’d never felt that connection before now.
Blake made a vow to ensure this woman never looked that hurt or broken ever again. That was a harder task than anticipated, as Carson didn’t think she needed protecting for a second. She’d pushed away from Doctor Malone and charged at him like a rhino. She barely reached his shoulder but when she’d stood in his personal space, with her back ramrod straight and asked him blatantly what his problem was and why he was staring at her, he’d felt her energy like a physical force.
Blake had savoured the moment whilst explaining to her that he was her new partner. He’d seen her tough expression turn to one of disbelief, then anger, then finally acceptance. That didn’t mean she’d made it easy for him over the following months and he discovered the hard way that she was fiercely independent, often to the point of danger, and he’d lost count of the number of times she’d pursued an alien without him. Her cavalier attitude drove him insane as he could only protect her if he knew where she was and she was damn hard to pin down.
Thoughts of him physically binding her hands with his belt sent his blood rushing south. He felt like a sex-starved teenager around her and knew he needed to find another woman to take to bed sooner rather than later if he really wanted to get her out of his system. Blake shook away those thoughts and used his spare key to let himself into the house.
‘Hey, it’s me,’ he called, as he entered the hallway. He made sure he kept his footsteps loud and heavy, as he didn’t want her mistaking him for an intruder and shooting him. He checked the living room and then the kitchen.
‘Carson?’ he called out again, as he retraced his steps to the bottom of the stairs. The house appeared silent and the only noise came from the ticking clock on the mantel.
Blake closed his eyes and listened harder until he could separate the individual noises. There was the fridge humming, water moving through the central heating system, and slow breathing from upstairs…
Carson was here but she wasn’t moving.
Blake thundered up the stairs. He told himself to be cautious considering the previous night when he’d burst in on her in the bath. He’d thought she was in trouble but copped an eyeful instead. It was a very, very pleasant eyeful that caused the last of his resolve to crumble. It was liberating to know she wanted him as much as he wanted her, and he’d been prepared to consummate their lust. Dragging himself away had been torture, but for the best, considering their circumstances.
Blake pulled out his gun and nudged open the door to Carson’s bedroom. He couldn’t sense another person’s presence but something felt very wrong inside. His heart slowed painfully in his chest when he saw her lying face down on the bed, still fully clothed. Blake rushed to her side. He should never have let her go home alone. His tormentor warned him danger was coming and he hadn’t listened.
Blake pressed his fingers to her neck, checking for a pulse. It was there, slow but steady. He rolled her onto her back and she still did not stir. He checked her body for any injuries but considering what she had been through, it was difficult to distinguish any new abrasions from the scabs and bruises caused by the grenades. Blake’s hands skimmed across her arms. She had strong, well-defined muscles and her skin felt warm beneath his palms. He felt a spike of anger at seeing the knots of scar tissue that ran the length of her forearms. As he traced the patterns with his finger, Carson exhaled deeply and then proceeded to gently snore.
Blake recoiled as if he’d been electrocuted. She was asleep, not hurt or dying, but it was such a deep slumber that she hadn’t even registered his presence. He felt like an idiot, or worse a pervert. Was it illegal to unintentionally grope a sleeping woman? Carson wouldn’t see the funny side if she woke up.
He looked across to the bedside table where a pill bottle sat open beside a glass of water. Carson never voluntarily took medication and he checked the label as unease spiralled inside his stomach. He relaxed when he found it to be a genuine prescription, given to her by the substitute doctor last night. She must have been really upset to willingly take the sleeping pills and he felt a greater guilt for what he’d said about her to Chief Melman.
Blake counted the remainin
g tablets to ensure she hadn’t exceeded the dose. He knew it was unlikely, but needed to check for his own sanity. By his calculations, there were enough pills left in the bottle and he slowly released the breath that he hadn’t even realised he’d been holding. He sat back down on the edge of bed and watched Carson sleep, something he’d never seen before. It was a rare moment for him to observe her with her guard completely down. She looked so young, with the worry and tension lines missing from her brow and it was another stark reminder of their age difference.
Blake couldn’t resist stroking her cheek. Her face was pale apart from the purple gash running down one side. Her eyelashes were long and dark, and her red lips pursed while she slept. Carson should be enjoying her life, finding love, having a family, instead of going through the shit they dealt with on a daily basis. He wished he knew her reason for joining the Invasive Species Control Unit. Something turned her towards this life of death and destruction, but Carson remained a true mystery that he hoped one day to solve. No other agent’s file was as tightly wrapped up as hers was. Probably not even his own, and most of what was in there was a lie.
Blake felt a sense of peace as he sat there with Carson. He thought about curling up and sleeping beside her. He wanted that stillness. Wanted the same calmness that she was enjoying, but now was not the time. He had an assignment to finish. Places to be and aliens to question. Blake pressed a tender kiss on Carson’s forehead. Something was changing in the jaktten community. He could feel it and everyone needed to be on their guard. Everyone except Carson. He would grant her the serenity of sleep that she deserved while he chased the bad guys. He owed her that much at least.
23
Carson slowly opened her eyes. It took a few moments to place where she was as she normally fell asleep on the sofa while watching TV and it had been a while since she’d woken in her bed. She wiped her mouth, ashamed that she’d dribbled and that her pillow was damp. Thankfully, she was alone as it would have been mortifying if someone like Blake had seen. There was a dull pressure inside her head brought on by artificial sleep, which was why she hated taking pills of any kind. It conveyed weakness, but she’d been so angry and in so much damn pain that she’d succumbed to the oblivion of uninterrupted, medicated sleep where she hadn’t dreamed or even tossed and turned. It was just a big, black nothingness.
Carson looked at her clock, which glowed two in the morning in the darkness of the bedroom. She’d slept the remainder of the day away, but at least her chest pains felt marginally better. Her skin no longer itched or burned thanks to the cream Tom had supplied and she carefully added another layer to her arms and chest. A rumble from her stomach cut through the otherwise silence and she realised she hadn’t eaten since yesterday morning. She climbed out of bed and stretched tentatively. No twinges or cramp, which was a good sign.
With only the moonlight as a guide, she navigated around the sparse bedroom furniture until she reached the hallway. Carson winced when she switched the light on. The illumination hurt her eyes and her head, so she decided to light some candles in the living room instead. She found some scented ones that Tom had given her as a birthday present a few years back. He claimed they were for calm and wellbeing, and she thought now was as good a time as any to test that claim.
Once the candles were lit, she grabbed an apple from the fruit bowl and flopped onto the sofa. The aroma from the candles reminded her of Blake’s aftershave and revived the pains in her chest. She still couldn’t believe he’d said all those things about her being unfit for duty.
Carson took a large, juicy bite of her apple, imaging it was his head that she was decapitating. She switched on the television and flicked through the channels. She stopped on a news broadcast that was coming to an end so she could catch up with the headlines. She almost choked on her fruit when they cut to a presenter broadcasting a live feed from outside the industrial estate near the warehouse where she’d dispensed with Malcolm Plummer. Blue and white tape stretched around the main entrance, while policemen and women contained several reporters and camera crews as they clambered for the story.
Carson grabbed her phone and pressed the home button. The screen lit up with missed notifications advising her she had five new voice messages. She keyed in the code and pressed retrieve.
‘Carson, hey, look, it’s me. I’m sorry about earlier. Shit!’
The message ended abruptly so she finished her apple while she waited for the next one to start.
‘Carson, sorry, I pressed the wrong button. You know I hate leaving messages on these things.’
It ended abruptly again and she smiled, imaging Blake getting angrier with each call.
‘Damn it, I did it again. I just wanted to say I’m sorry. I was out of line earlier. I hope you slept well. See you tomorrow. Bye.’
She figured the part about her sleeping was just a figure of speech. He didn’t know how well she’d slept and she wanted to keep it that way. The pills would be her little secret. It wasn’t as if she was ever going to use them again. It had only been one time - a moment of weakness - so the fewer people that knew about it the better.
The next message was silent, so she assumed it was a cold-caller or a wrong number and pressed delete to move straight to the final message.
‘Carson,’ Tom’s voice boomed. ‘Come back to HQ as soon as you get this message. I don’t care what time it is. I need you here.’
His voice sounded strained beneath the order and at first, she’d thought he might be worried about her, but that wasn’t the tone he usually used. No, he wanted her to kill something – an alien. For all his speeches about the other agents, Sheridan and Finch, being able to cope, something had happened and he needed her.
She was merciless and she was back in the game.
24
Blake stood near the vending machine, deciding whether to have another cup of mediocre coffee or not. He certainly didn’t need the caffeine hit, but his vitals were crashing. His heartbeat was erratic and he longed to run. Run and run, until his legs wouldn’t carry him any further - until he collapsed from exhaustion and found solace in sleep, as he was no closer to finding the injured jaktten or discovering why he’d helped a desquamater.
Blake rubbed his eyes. They felt gritty and his head felt too heavy for his neck. He should go home, before the fatigue got the better of him and forced him to find somewhere private to shift forms. He still needed to search Chief Melman’s office and find that damn list. If only the old man would take a break or go home himself, but he was just as stubborn and relentless as Carson was.
Blake watched Melman get up from his desk and stand in the doorway of his office. He jammed his hands into his crumpled trouser pockets as he looked out at his team. Without Carson, the place felt subdued and Blake hoped she would be allowed back to work soon. The team needed her.
Damn it - Blake needed her too.
‘Are you getting any?’
Blake turned to face the agent that had joined him. Matt Sheridan was in his late twenties with dark hair and eyes. He was short and stocky, and a real powerhouse when he needed to be. Blake didn’t exactly like him as the young man’s temper was a little too short to warrant any real respect.
‘Huh?’
Sheridan nodded at the vending machine.
‘Coffee. You getting any?’
‘No. Go ahead.’
Sheridan leaned across and punched in a code.
‘I heard Towers was suspended as she went rogue again,’ he said, as the machine clanked and whirred in protest instead of preparing the selected drink. ‘You need to control her better or else she’s going to get someone killed.’
‘She didn’t go rogue. It was a clean kill.’
Sheridan snorted. ‘You would say that.’
‘What’s that supposed to mean?’
Sheridan ignored the question as he slammed his palm against the front of the machine.
‘What’s wrong with this thing? Is it on the blink again?’
‘Why would I defend Carson if I didn’t mean it?’ Blake asked, not appreciating the accusation within young man’s tone.
‘Oh, come on. Everyone knows you’re fucking her.’
Blake’s hand formed a fist and it was only the sound of the doors swinging open behind him that had him pulling the punch at the last second. His hand collided with the vending machine instead of the young man’s face, and a freshly brewed cup of coffee instantly dropped into the dispenser.
‘Some things just need a little gentle persuasion in order for them to mind their own fucking business and do their job,’ Blake said, and by the set of Sheridan’s jaw he knew his not-so-subtle threat had been received as intended.
He moved away from the vending machine and concealed his surprised as Carson strode into the centre of the room. She squared back her shoulders and tilted her chin, as if daring anyone to comment on her arrival. Her short black hair stood on end like she’d been constantly pulling at it, but at least her limp wasn’t as noticeable as it had been yesterday. He was pleased to see the cuts on her face had started to heal but he wasn’t sure about the rest of her injuries as they were covered in her usual uniform of black t-shirt and jeans. She was still a little pale and her eyes were slightly sunken, but he knew by the clench of her jaw she was ready to work, and he wasn’t going to do anything else to jeopardise her position on this case. He had his own mission to complete, and it was time that he remembered which side he was really on.
25
Tom Melman stood in the doorway of his office and stared out at his team. The Invasive Species Control Unit was a small department and lately he was struggling to balance the budget with the intense pressure to get results. And by results, his superiors wanted dead aliens or viable information. The next wave of the invasion was imminent, but even after twenty years on the job he was no closer to decrypting the aliens’ plans for the planet. He sighed. The building they used as their HQ was showing signs of wear. The beige walls were looking tired and the grey carpet worn. A bit like him he supposed, tired and worn. He needed some life injected into him too.