“I just saw Bree,” Charlotte announced. “And she’s had a confrontation with aliens!”
That caught Nick’s attention. He swung around to stare at her, pretty sure he was wearing the same astonished expression as his friends.
“Yes.” Charlotte nodded. “Last night she was on a hunt and-”
“A hunt?” Nick repeated.
Alex cut his eyes to him.
Charlotte’s blue-rinsed hair didn’t move an inch as she nodded vigorously. The woman had to have half a tin of hair spray in there. “On a hunt and came full upon an alien spaceship! And she has the bruises to prove it!”
“Bruises?” What the hell…?
“Nearly got her eye torn out, her wrists slashed.” Leaning forward, her voice dropped to a whisper. “I think she fought hard but the brave girl won’t admit it.”
Nick tensed, already starting to move across the booth seat to get out.
Harly grabbed his hand without looking at him. “Have you actually seen Bree today, Charlotte?”
“With my own eyes.” Charlotte shuddered, but her eyes shone with excitement. “How she got away is a miracle.”
Nick didn’t wait. He tugged his hand out from under Harly’s, gave Alex a short, sharp nod and left. Striding out to where his Toyota Landcruiser was parked, he beeped the locks open and got in, started the engine and backed out of the parking bay. Only as he was driving in the same direction as the Ford Transit had disappeared did he suddenly realise something, and he switched on the hands-free mobile phone.
Alex answered almost immediately. “Going hunting, mate?”
“Bet your arse. Where does she live?”
“You mean Alien Girl?”
“Ha ha. Just tell me.”
Amusement glimmered in Alex’s tone. “I wouldn’t take everything Charlotte says as gospel, Nick. Maryanne says she saw Bree and she certainly didn’t look torn up.”
Somehow, that was no small comfort. Nick wanted to see that for himself. Not only that, why the hell had she gone on a hunt without him after she’d agreed to his accompanying her? Damn fool woman was going to get hurt, running around at night in the pouring rain chasing lights through fields on her own. If she got really hurt, she’d be alone with no help for God knew how long.
Unacceptable.
“Just tell me, Alex.”
“Sure.” There was a low conversation, then Alex came back onto the phone. “Lot 54, about half a mile out of town. She’s on the main road heading west, left hand side. Old house well back from the road.”
“Thanks.” Nick hung up.
He wasn’t sure what he’d do if she wasn’t home but he sure as hell knew he was going to find her. Why it mattered so much, he had no idea.
Okay, he kind of did know. Over the months they’d written, he’d formed a kinship with her and now he’d met her face-to-face several times there was just something there, something that appealed to him, something that made him feel like he was - what? Obsessing?
Shoving both that thought and his puzzling reaction aside, Nick drove through town and out onto the highway, passing the quiet fields with their combination of crops, sheep and cattle. The sunlight was bright, drying out the mud puddles, and normally he’d enjoy sitting back and letting the chill wind blow in the window, enjoying the view, but his concern now was for Bree.
He found her property easy enough, the battered sign with the lot number on it nailed to a post beside the surprisingly sealed track of the driveway. Turning onto it, he drove up to the house, seeing it set well back.
It was old, like Harly and Alex’s home, big verandas, stone and wood, big windows with lace curtains, comfortable and old. He liked old houses, but right now his gaze fastened on the Ford Transit with the generous backside sticking out of the side door as Bree bent over doing something just inside.
Pulling up not far from her, Nick turned off the Landcruiser and got out, swinging the door shut behind him.
Bree hadn’t heard him arrive, which wasn’t really surprising seeing as how Wendy Matthews was singing loudly from inside the Ford Transit, a song Nick recognised as ‘Feel Like Taking Your Man’. And Bree was singing along with gusto.
A lot of gusto but not a lot of tune.
However, she was obviously enjoying herself if the sway of that generously rounded derriere was anything to go by. It filled out her slacks lovingly and he had to fist his hand to stop himself reaching out and laying his palm against one tempting buttock.
His other impulse was to smack it, but that particular one he fought down.
Crossing the distance between them, he slapped his hand against the door frame of the side door with a loud bang.
Bree shot upward as though she’d been shot, swinging around with a can of something in her hand with which she proceeded to liberally douse him, aiming right for his face.
“What the - hell!” Nick managed to clap his hand over his face before the spray hit.
It was sticky and it smelled freaky.
“Nick?”
Nose screwed up against the odour, he waved the spray residue in the air away before lowering his hand cautiously to see her looking at him in surprise.
“What are you doing here?” she yelled above Wendy Matthews.
“Looking for you,” he growled back.
“What?”
“Looking for you.”
“Hang on.” She climbed into the van, reaching over to turn off the engine. Wendy Matthews’s voice disappeared and only the silence of their surroundings was heard.
Not really silent, considering the native life in the bushes and the odd sound of a cow lowing or a sheep bleating, but it was quiet. Country quiet. Nick sucked in a deep breath. It should have been calming, but oddly enough it wasn’t as calming as usual.
Bree appeared in the doorway of the van. “Now, what did you say?”
“I said, I came looking for you.”
“Oh.” Jumping down, she flung her arms out to the sides, a wide grin on her face. “Well, here I am. You need seek no more.”
Yeah, here she was, and now he could see her face clearly. There was a scratch along her eye socket, too bloody close to the eye for comfort, and when his gaze cut down to her wrist - first one then the other - he saw the white Primapore on her left wrist.
Grabbing her forearm, he brought her wrist up and looked accusingly at her.
Eyebrows arched, she looked back at him in silence.
Reaching out with his other hand, he touched his finger to the scratch along the bottom bone of her eye socket. An unexpected emotion swept through him, one that made him want to cup her cheek and lay his lips along that scratch and kiss it better.
Idiot. She wouldn’t have gotten hurt if she’d done as we agreed. He shoved that stupid emotion right down where it belonged and focussed on the insubordination at hand. “Spill, Bree.”
“Ah,” she said.
Nick felt a surge of annoyance. “‘Ah’ is right. What happened?”
“An altercation with the ground, Your Honour.”
“A smart lip won’t save you.”
“From what? Are you here to silence me?”
“I’m here to make you talk, actually.”
“Truth serum?”
“What?” He blinked.
“Handcuffs? Torture? Truth serum?”
Jesus. “Bree, this isn’t funny.”
“Do I look like I’m joking?”
That was the scary part. Now that he got a good look at her solemn face, he was very afraid she was dead serious. When she just kept watching him closely, he dropped her wrist and sighed. “You are really serious about this bullshit, aren’t you?”
“You’re military and you’re here demanding answers. What do you think?”
That spark of annoyance flared back to life but he tamped it down, taking a step sideways to lean one shoulder against the side of the van. Putting distance between them, if only a few feet, just might calm the crazy woman down.
Though sh
e didn’t look hysterical. But she was crazy, so who knew?
Bree folded her arms beneath her breasts, the movement pushing them up and against the front of her jumper.
It almost diverted his attention immediately, but he was made of sterner stuff and when he looked back up at her face, it was to find her with a …shit, surely not. She looked really disappointed that he was looking at her face.
For God’s sake, surely she hadn’t… “Bree, did you just try to distract me with your breasts?”
“It obviously didn’t work,” she retorted, dropping her arms to her sides.
“I do not believe this.” Astonished, he stared at her.
She shrugged. “Hey, it’s worked before, I thought it worth trying again.”
“You’ve done this before? Are you insane?”
“Hey, it worked. While he was distracted I need him in the nuts and ran.”
Nick straightened. “He?”
“It doesn’t always work for other women, unless they’re lesbian and interested, right?”
She was crazier than he first thought. “Do you know how dangerous flaunting yourself is?”
“Depends on the situation.”
“What if things hadn’t turned out the way you’d planned with that bloke? You could have been raped.”
“Uh…” She coughed, turning back to the door to reach in and snag a cloth and bucket.
What the hell…? Nick peered around the door to find the floor of the van damp from an obvious scrubbing. “Getting rid of evidence?”
“What evidence?”
“Alien blood? Some poor bastard’s nuts?”
“Laugh if you must,” she said a trifle snootily, lifting her nose in the air in a way that had a reluctant grin tugging at his lips. “But the truth is definitely out there.”
“And you aim to prove it?”
“A lot of us aim to prove it.” She slid the van door shut.
Nick straightened as she emptied the bucket and dropped the cloth into it. “Anyone else of that ilk here right now?”
She looked suspiciously at him. “You mean here at my house, or here in Whicha?”
“I have a choice?”
“The answer is no, it’s just me.”
Nick squinted at her.
“It’s the truth.” Bucket swinging in her hand, she strode towards the veranda.
He fell easily into step beside her. “Look, Bree, apart from all that, what about our agreement?”
She looked sideways at him.
“Did you or did you not go out alien hunting last night?”
“You’ve been listening to gossip.”
“Is it true?”
“Gossip is never reliable, Nick.”
God, the woman could try the patience of a saint. “Bree-”
“I didn’t set out to hunt aliens last night.” Stepping up onto the veranda, she toed off her sneakers.
“So what happened?”
Bree opened the screen door. “Come in.”
He removed his own muddy sneakers before placing one hand above her head to hold the security screen open. “After you.”
She walked ahead of him, which gave him a good view of her backside as she went down the hall. Talk about a good handful and more, he’d sure like to slap his palms against those rounded cheeks and squeeze-
There came a thump, a scrabble, and a blue-eyed, blue-masked cat came hurtling through a doorway further down the hall. In a manoeuvre he could appreciate for its dexterity, the cat saved itself from slamming into the wall by the simple act of hooking it’s claws into the hall runner and halting the front momentum, it’s back quarters swaying alarmingly before it righted itself to run down the hall towards him. It stopped as soon as it must have realised he was a stranger, whereupon it sat down and stared at him.
Nick had never seen a Siamese cat outside of a magazine, and this one was pretty unnerving with the way it stared at him, its blue front paws shifting restlessly on the runner.
“That’s Bast,” Bree said. “She won’t hurt you.”
Bast pricked her blue ears up, her blue eyes so vivid and curious as she continued to stare at him. Rather than shift as he neared, she simply kept putting her head back further and further to see him as he loomed over her, then she shifted as he passed, but only so she could swivel on her bum to watch him.
Weird cat. Nick could swear he could feel her staring after him and a glance over his shoulder proved it. Bast was sitting there, just staring at him, and then she unnerved him completely by standing, putting her head low to the ground and following.
Was she getting ready to pounce him or something?
Nick was prepared to defend himself, which was pretty funny considering it was just a freakin’ cat. The blokes back at base would laugh their arses off if they ever knew how one small cat was unnerving him.
Maybe being in Bree’s company wasn’t healthy for his sanity.
He followed her down the hall and into a big kitchen area that spanned the back of the house. Standing in the doorway, he looked around. The kitchen area was to the left, dining area to the right. A door in the back wall led to a screened in veranda and a room on the left of it, possibly the laundry.
“Have a seat.” She pointed at the dining table, a big wooden affair with six chairs and a vase of roses in the middle.
Pulling out the furtherest chair, Nick sat down so he could watch her as she walked through the back door to place the bucket and cloth on the veranda before returning inside and taking the chair opposite him at the table.
Folding her hands on the table, she looked at him. “Ready to interrogate?”
He eyed her. “Little dramatic, don’t you think?”
“I’m trying to gauge the amount of drama that is required.”
“Fine. Do we start with the insubordination?”
“Do I need a lawyer?”
“Did you do anything to warrant needing a lawyer?”
“Would trespassing on private property be in that category?”
“Why don’t you tell me? I reckon you’ve done it enough times.”
“Hey, that’s just the way I roll.” Her eyes twinkled. “Stick with me, you’ll be rolling the same way.”
“Wow. Walking the edge.”
“Someone has to do it.”
Tamping down on his amusement, Nick frowned at her. “What happened?”
“Do you want the presentation in point form or essay?”
He pinched the bridge of his nose. “Point form. I don’t believe in wasting time.”
“And yet you’re sitting here.”
“I don’t consider this a waste of time.”
Bree’s eyes crinkled engagingly at the corners as she smiled. “That’s so sweet.”
“I also don’t get diverted easily. What happened last night?”
“Sir. I left the Lawson’s house after a most scrumptious dinner. Saw a big light. Saw two laser beams, one green and one red. Investigated. Fell over a fence, Sir. Climbed a hill. Light and lasers disappeared. I came back. Fell over again. In the course of my investigation, Sir, I sustained two minor injuries, a cut to my wrist and a scratch to my face. Sir.”
“Is that all?”
“I’ll have my written report on your desk in the morning. Sir.”
Nick smothered a laugh. Bree spoke seriously, her face solemn, but her eyes were dancing with wicked delight. He maintained his frown. “You’re giving out a lot of attitude, woman.”
“Can’t be helped. Sir. It’s how I-”
“Roll?”
“Ah, so you do get me!”
“I think I always have.”
Almost immediately the laughter faded from her eyes to be replaced with intense scrutiny. “Always?”
Hmmm. Which way to play this? Nick badly wanted her to reveal herself, to lay it out in the open so they could just discuss it. Their letters, the friendship, her weirdness about revealing herself. Why the secrecy? Why-
An ear-piercing yowl shattered
his ear drums, making him jump violently and swing around in his chair. “Jesus! What was that?”
Was the freakin’ house haunted or something?
Another ear piercing shriek rent the air from the direction of the back veranda.
Air raid? Missile coming in?
“Poor baby,” crooned Bree, getting up and opening the back door.
Nick watched as a dainty little Siamese walked in, dark little paws prancing sweetly along, lithe body coming through. It didn’t look afraid, he’d have half expected it to come spitting and hissing through the door, seeking shelter from whatever infernal thing was out there.
“This is Sheba,” Bree said.
The dainty Sheba sat and looked at him, all sweetness and cuteness, with huge blue eyes that fastened themselves on his face.
Then she opened her mouth and shrieked.
Nick actually flinched. “Holy shit!”
Proudly, Bree stroked the little head. “Got quite a set of lungs on her, doesn’t she?”
“Lungs? More like an air raid siren!”
“Don’t exaggerate.”
How the hell the woman could possibly think he was exaggerating when her cat gave another screech that was like nails running down a blackboard, he’d never understand.
Nick could only stare at Sheba. How in God’s name did such a tiny, dainty, little thing end up with such a nerve-shattering yowl? “Did she have an accident or something?”
“No.”
“So what happened to her voice box?”
Scooping Sheba up, Bree rubbed her nose on top of her head between the two little dark ears. “This is Sheba’s voice, her meow. Nothing went wrong. This is all Sheba, all natural. Aren’t you, darling?” She dropped a kiss between Sheba’s ears.
“There’s nothing remotely natural about it.”
Laughing, Bree crossed to where he sat and handed Sheba to him. “Look, isn’t she sweet?”
Sheba was actually quite small, particularly held in Nick’s big hands. His hands each side of her little ribcage, he looked her directly in the eyes. She blinked slowly at him, opened her mouth and howled.
He nearly dropped her. “Bree, I think the paint is peeling off your wall.”
The Goodbye Girl Page 10