She couldn't stop touching his face, feeling his features. The darkness killed her—she needed to see him. "I love you so much, Scott. Please know that." She wondered what he must think about her strange loyalty to Jake Tierny. He couldn't possibly understand. "Don't let anything make you doubt."
"What about Jake?" he managed to get out, clearly understanding her meaning.
"He's connected to you. I know it. It's why I'm drawn to him."
He shook his head, adamant. "Enemy."
"No! No, he's a good man. He cares about me—and you. Especially you."
Scott recoiled, shoving her away from him, but she wouldn't be denied, continued to touch him, hold him. "Why," he barked, "him?"
"There's a connection, an important one," she insisted. "But right now we have to focus on getting these bonds loose." She stroked the length of his muscled arms, dropping her voice into a seductive rumble. "And there's only one way it seems we're going to accomplish that."
Chapter Twenty-one
The best of Jared's advisers were gathered in the main meeting room—with the exception of Scott Dillon, of course—but at least that man's alter-ego was among their ranks. Still, even with Jake present, the room's power felt diminished; his second-in-command always created a tidal wave of energy whenever they came together to strategize.
Jared's awareness of that painful absence empowered him as he addressed the small group in his chambers. "We're all here for one reason." He slowly swept his gaze around the room. "Because I will move this very mountain we live upon in order to get Scott Dillon and Hope Harper back. Whatever assets I own, whatever power in my possession, I am ready to wield it to that purpose."
Nevin Daniels cleared his throat. "Our investment is in the lieutenant, sir, with all due respect. I'm not certain Hope Harper should figure into our strategies."
Jared shot him a withering look. "And why not the FBI linguist who has already shown her loyalty to all of us? To Dillon, in particular?" Jared chanced a look in Jake's direction, aware he didn't yet want his true identity revealed to those in the room. "There are many new allies we find in our midst, but that doesn't make their considerations any less valid."
Nevin inclined his prematurely silvered head. He didn't have quite a decade on Jared, but often seemed older because he'd begun his military career at just seventeen, a true prodigy. "We have fought under Dillon's command for years, my lord," he answered after a considering moment. "He is second only to you in rank. Of course he is our paramount concern, whereas Ms. Harper is both a new element to our equation and a human, my lord."
"And a human." Jared planted both palms on the table, leaning much closer to his adviser. "Lieutenant Daniels, I hope you're not revealing a subtle disdain for humanity, especially not when we find several of their species in our fighting ranks—and one in particular reigning as your queen."
Nevin recoiled in his seat, a blood vessel suddenly pulsing at his dark temple. "I—I seek only to protect you, my lord. All of my considerations lead back to your safety and wellbeing. Dillon is naturally part of that because of what he means to you, sir." That pulsing at Nevin's temple became an outright throbbing, his face turning ruddy with emotion. "As for our lady Kelsey, twice now you have doubted my loyalty to our queen. Please, Commander Bennett"—Nevin glanced away, fixing his dark eyes on some point beyond the darkened windows—"I ask with the greatest respect, with the highest regard for both my king and queen, please never doubt my allegiance to either of you again."
Nevin Daniels had never, not in all their years together, spoken so bluntly with Jared. Of all their ranks, he was without question the most buttoned up and old guard, with very firm ideas about protocol and social strata.
Unnerved and a bit shamed, Jared glanced at Thea, who gave him a reproachful scowl. Apologize, she mouthed, eyes widening as she glanced at Nevin's back.
With a sigh, Jared turned to Lieutenant Daniels. "Nevin," Jared told the man gently, "Nevin, I am sorry. Mshashka r'hka." It was the most intimate and gentle apology in their language, one reserved for dearest friends, family even.
Daniels shook his silvered head back and forth, as if he couldn't bear to acknowledge the king’'s familiar use of his first name, much less receive such humble contrition.
"Nevin. Look at me." Undaunted, Jared took a step around the edge of the table, determined to enter his adviser's line of vision. "N'vsai."
At the use of his true Refarian name, Daniels swung a fiery, arresting glance upward at Jared, absolutely spearing him with it. "My lord, I am your lieutenant," Nevin barked roughly. "Your servant. Let us continue now and say nothing more of this."
Thea cleared her throat. "Daniels has some good ideas about the USAF," she volunteered, in an overly bright tone. "Excellent, actually, sir."
"And I would like to hear them." Jared resumed his seat at the table, waving the man onward as he sank back into the chair. "Please continue, Lieutenant Daniels."
Nevin neatened a sheaf of papers on the table, working to recover his trademark and unflappable calm. "I will maintain precisely what I've said ever since Warren, Commander," he finally continued. "We must contact Colonel Peters. His support during that battle—his newfound and certain belief in our cause—makes him a ready ally. It is a moment that we must capitalize on, this potential cooperation with the American forces."
"The colonel must indeed love us at this point," Jared conceded, folding both hands behind his head as he considered the idea. "And must see how vital we can be to human military operations."
Thea gave a firm nod, glancing at Nevin before continuing herself. "Without our intervention at Warren, the humans would have lost control of their missiles. Or worse."
Jake made a low growl, breaking his silence. "Oh, it would've been a hell of a lot worse. Trust me on that one," he said, then pulled back inside himself again, silent once more.
Nevin slid a piece of paper across the table, a phone number written in bold ink. "Colonel Peters' direct line. Right here and now, we use it," Nevin said. "That's our next move. And it's how we get Dillon—and Hope Harper—back." Daniels paused significantly, one eyebrow migrating upward ever so slightly. "I believe that humans are poised to become our allies, now more than ever before. In every way. And our queen? She could serve as a great diplomat in our cause … when the time is right. Humans, my lord, are the true foundation of my strategy."
Jared inclined his head slightly. "I should have known you'd have anticipated all my concerns. As ever."
"It's more than the USAF, though." Jake bolted to his feet, suddenly restless. "Hope's brother is a special agent with the FBI and works the alien squad. Well, at least he does at some point in the future." Jake paced the room, a hand pressed to his temple as he clearly thought things through. "So I'm certain her brother Chris Harper's involved here, right in this shit—I'm sure—and deep. He's probably tracking Hope even now."
Thea scowled, her ongoing distrust of Jake obvious. "Tracking her how, huh? What makes you think the FBI has a fix on Hope that we can't seem to get?"
Jake spun on her, his massive body practically hulking over her seat. "You are joking, right? This is the FB-fucking-I, Haven," he practically snarled at her.
Jared rose again, placing a staying hand on his friend's arm. "Let's keep our emotions in check." It was tough to comprehend, but in Jake's future Thea was a traitor. With a gentle shove, Jared pushed Jake away from the table. He rolled his shoulders, pacing the room again, but seemed to get himself under control.
Thea watched him, then finally blew out a sigh as she redirected her attention to those at the table. "Anyway, like I said, Daniels' plan is a sound one. An important one. We need to call the colonel, and besides"—she tossed Jake a bitter glance—"Maybe Tierney's right and these humans have a line on Scott and Hope that we don't."
The tension left Jake's face, and he nodded appreciatively. "Good. We need to ask the colonel to put us in touch with Hope's brother, Chris Harper. He is way on the inside with all the alien intel … if
not now, then eventually."
"He's in it to some degree now," Jared agreed. "He brought Marco in for questioning last week."
"Then let's not waste any more time, sir," Jake insisted. "Let's call the colonel and try to get a meeting."
Thea dialed via a series of relays so their own number could not be traced, and extended her iPhone to Jared. Fixing his eyes on the damnable thing, he considered simply ending the call with a jab of his thumb, but deep down he knew it finally was time to speak to Colonel Peters. They'd been in possession of his number ever since the recent events at Warren, and Jared valued his advisers enough to admit that teaming up with the USAF had worked splendidly in their recent battle with the Antousians. Perhaps it truly was time to stop flying solo in all his military endeavors here on Earth, as everyone around him kept suggesting.
Colonel Peters answered and, after a moment's hesitation, Jared calmly identified himself.
"Commander. I've been waiting all week to hear from you." The colonel sounded like he might reach through the phone and absolutely kiss him.
Jared leaned a forearm against the wall, putting his back to Thea and the others gathered in the meeting room around him. "It's good to speak with you, sir," he answered formally. "How do things fare at the base?"
"Been cleaning up all week!" The man let out a strained laugh. "Good holy crap, we're gonna be cleaning up for years to come. But"—the man dropped his voice—"if you hadn't saved our asses, Bennett, I'd be dead right now. I think a lot of us would."
"Earth holds a … very special place for me, Colonel." Jared chose his words with extreme caution, thinking of Kelsey, aching to protect her—and her world. "I've long regarded myself as your protector, and never wanted my own planet's fate to befall your own. I hope you see the truth of that now."
"Not only do I see the honor of your intentions, Commander, but words can't adequately convey my gratitude." The colonel's voice assumed an even more serious timbre. "We need to meet and open better lines of communication, wouldn't you agree?"
Jared glanced over his shoulder and briefly met Nevin's eager gaze. "I have been thinking along those same lines myself. Yes."
"Oh, damned glad to hear that," Colonel Peters barked in a gravelly voice. "Cause we need to find out what else you know—and exactly what we don't. Which, judging by current events, is obviously a shit pile worth of danger and trouble. I don't want to find myself staring down the barrel of another set up like Warren, not if I can avoid it." Peters whistled into the phone. "Holy mother, you must have some military operation. We need to align our forces, that's what we need, Bennett."
Jared pressed fingers at the bridge of his nose, swearing that a headache had suddenly begun to swell behind his eyes. Everyone was telling him what to do lately, commanding him, molding his policies. Maybe deep down, he truly did crave his own kingship—maybe he'd given Daniels pushback moments ago because he feared submission on some very primal level. The thought made him shudder right there in his soldier's boots. "I'm not sure you're in a position to dictate what we need, sir," Jared said archly.
But the colonel didn't seem affronted. "Yes, Commander," he said evenly, "I think you know that's exactly what we need."
Jared leaned his shoulder against the wall. "Well, what I need right now is a favor."
"What do you have in mind?"
"Special Agent Chris Harper. Can you put me in touch with him?"
"Never heard that name before in my life." Jared might not be highly intuitive, but he could smell the lie in the man's quick dismissal.
"Well, then, we have nothing more to discuss," Jared announced coolly, already positioning his finger over the disconnect button.
"Hold up there, Commander Bennett … he's an FBI agent, you say?"
"I have a feeling you know him. He's on the alien squad; that's his division within the FBI."
"Whoa, you're talking deeper shit than I'm into there, son. I'm with the United States Air Force—"
Jared cut him off. "You are very aware of the facts about this war, Colonel. Don't tax my patience. You held two of my men there on your base, and from what I hear, nothing about our existence was a surprise. Are you or are you not aware of an alien squad within the FBI?"
"I'm aware of Chris Harper."
"Now we're making progress."
"What do you want to say to him? He's low down in the chain, Commander. He's not the one you want."
"And who is?"
Hesitation, a cough, and then: "We're not to that point yet."
"Give me Agent Harper on this line, and maybe we'll start talking. I think you're smart enough to realize I have information that you want—but are you smart enough to get me a phone call with the agent?"
"Call me again in five."
"Done." Jared ended the call and slid the iPhone into the front pocket of his uniform pants. Very slowly he rotated and found every eye in the room fixated right on him.
"Alien squad? What the hell?" Chris planted gloved hands on his hips, wondering if the snow he was standing in could possibly turn into a deeper pile of fucked up shit. Seriously.
"I'm just relaying the man's words," Colonel Peters countered on the other end of the line. "You're briefed in on this case, and you've got high enough clearance that I want you to push ahead with Jared Bennett."
Chris stared down at the busted-up alien craft that lay charred on the snow before him. Mirror Lake spread frozen and gleaming around him, a giant set of klieg lights illuminating the otherwise darkened, snowy landscape. At least seventy-five workers from a variety of federal agencies had been on the scene for hours, the whole place looking pretty much like a bad outtake from 2001: A Space Odyssey.
They'd discovered these two black machines, blown semi-apart, right here on Mirror Lake. The investigative teams had spent hours bagging and tagging every blown-up bit of the things, but none of their crew—not one—had a reference point in terms of identifying the crafts. Overland vehicles had been brought in, ready to cart the alien snowmobiles off, but now this—a call from Colonel Peters, asking him if he had the first idea what an alien squad might be.
Chris pressed the cell closer to his ear. "Honestly, Colonel, I don't know what in hell you're talking about."
"I said you wouldn't—unless the FBI was keeping secrets, which I doubt, not when we're running this thing."
"What thing, sir?"
"This is our man, Harper, and he wants you," the colonel explained, breaking up a bit over the connection. "He didn't ask for your SAC or your ASAC—he asked for you, a simple special agent within the FBI." He recited the last with precision, drawing out each letter with his indelible Southern accent. FB … ayyye. "Not sure what it means, Agent Harper, apart from the fact that you're now our A-number one most interesting guy."
"You think I can get a meeting with him?" Chris asked, wondering whether Bennett had his sister. If he was lucky, maybe this whole conversation was about to give him the bead on his twin that he needed. "That what you saying? That you think this Bennett and I can have a sit down?"
"I know you can." The line crackled and part of what the colonel said was cut off. "… on our terms."
Chris rolled his eyes. Pissing. Contest. Hello, federal bureaucracy. After forcing himself to stay frosty, he asked, "So your crew is calling the shots now?"
"We are always calling the shots in this particular show, son."
"Understood."
"Stand by. Expect a call and be ready to fly—wherever or whenever this Bennett wants to meet."
The hotter and sweatier Scott and Hope became, the more slack his confinements grew. He alternated between glancing about the dark in fear, and feeling the throbbing need to finally take her. His body temperature had been righted already, a wonderful side effect of such devastating and lustful need.
The floor was cold and hard, the only real discomfort other than the welts on his back from the beating. The two of them slid together, her delicate, feline body fitting perfectly atop his.
"Clothes?" he whispered in her ear, panting insanely. "Where are yours?"
She gestured to the side, cradling the back of his head with her other hand. He stared up at her, able to see the outline of her body, limned by the moon high above the overhead windows. Cupping her face within his hands, he stilled her.
"You sure?" He studied what he could see of her face. "Like this … our first time?"
"I want to help you get free." She kissed his forehead, letting her lips linger against his sweaty brow. "It's not about your body temperature anymore; you're fine, I can tell, being the strapping alien man that you are. It's about.…" She slipped her fingers into the slack area of his neck cuff, demonstrating her meaning.
He swallowed hard, nodding. "Then let's spread your clothes out. Use them to soften things for you."
She shook her head. "Not a moment to lose, Scott. Not one moment."
He could feel the heavy weight of the chain that ran from his neck to the wall, pinning him like a naked slave. But he closed his eyes, felt Hope as she straddled him, and gave into the abandon of her body. Of loving her.
With one easy thrust he drove up inside, hard, feeling her warmth and wetness. So sweet. Gods, sweeter than any woman he'd ever been with.
She clasped her thighs about him, arching her back so that the golden strands of her hair appeared like cascading moonlight in the semidarkness. They might never have a moment like this again; or perhaps this tender taste of freedom they were each discovering was the first promise of true liberation.
Grasping his hips, she lifted, rocked, took him to the edge and beyond. This woman knew exactly what his body demanded, the pleasure that he was always driven to find with her kind. Only now it was all about the two of them, not mindless sex with a one-night stand. It was all about finding release in Hope's arms, the woman he knew was meant to be his wife.
Release! Gods, sweet release! The words burned on his lips and he drove upward, into her, over and over. She rocked atop him, instinct guiding her every movement. She knew his tastes, what turned him on beyond reason because she'd been dreaming about making love to him for what might as well have been a lifetime. It was more than just this moment together; it was everything they'd each seen could happen.
Parallel Seduction Page 24