Chapter One
“There’s a big universe out there. You’ve got to keep an open mind and a watchful eye if you’re going to explore it.”
—Captain Starblade, The Tentacular Tales of Captain Starblade,Ch. 1
RIVER
I’m about ninety-eight percent sure my new neighbor is an alien.
That’s why I’m following him super-covert-Mission-Impossible-style down a deserted highway at 3:00 a.m. on a Wednesday night as one naturally does if one’s a believer in all things extraterrestrial.
“Don’t you have work in a few hours?” Uncle Benji asks from the passenger seat as he pops a cannabis edible gummy into his mouth, chewing on it with an air of nonchalance.
Benji, like me, is still wearing his pajamas since we had to vamoose to follow our new neighbor/secret-alien-in-our-midst tonight. I’m stylin’ in my super-sexy TARDIS PJs, while Benji’s sporting his favorite ratty orange cardigan over a faded Beavis and Butthead T-shirt and striped cotton pants. Like all of his well-worn clothing, they’re liberally flecked with a rainbow array of paint from past and present paintings he’s been working on. His long, lustrous brown hair, tinged with gray, is pulled up in a messy man-bun, looking like something that took hours to perfect but only took him ten seconds to create. It’s like he’s a freaking runway model or the lead in a sexy shampoo commercial. Even though he’s in his early forties, his mane of hair, turning a stunning silvery gray, brings out his pale green eyes and makes him appear mysterious.
In contrast, my hair is a wild nest of crazy blonde curls with a mind of their own. I’m lucky if I can get a comb through my mop of hair most days. It’s so cosmically unfair.
The truth is Benji doesn’t care about things like his appearance. He’s a total Gen X hippie pothead. A lot of people dismiss him as ‘too quirky,’ but he’s an incredibly successful artist—and the best partner in crime. Especially when it comes to stalking possible aliens.
I hunch my shoulders at his question about work. “No. They didn’t renew my contract.”
Benji hums thoughtfully. “Why not? I thought it was a done deal after the probationary period?”
I sink down into my seat, keeping my eyes fixed on the tail lights I’m following. “Apparently, I don’t fit into their ‘cohort dynamic’ or some corporate buzzword bullshit.”
What my now former boss had added ‘off the record’ was that my co-workers thought I was super fucking weird—I never should have talked about my alien neighbor at work—and that my technical writing veered into ‘unnecessary flamboyant embellishment’ or ‘poetic whimsy’. Sue me for trying to make technical writing more interesting. I know I would enjoy a bit of whimsy the next time I have to put a stupidly complicated desk together.
“They didn’t even give me the chance to change or improve anything.” I scowl. “Nope. Just let me go instead.”
Benji clucks. “They sound like a bunch of dickbags.”
I can always rely on him not to judge. His solidarity is touching, and I feel momentarily better. We’re totally one another’s kind of weird. Even if stupid, boring coworkers don’t get me, Benji does.
“Maybe this is a good thing? I was so fucking bored there. Technical writing seemed like a smart way to make money until my fiction career took off, but it’s utterly mind-numbing.”
Benji strokes his short beard and yawns. “It’ll be okay, Tigger. I make more than enough money from my art. I can help you out for a while until you find something better. It’s all good.”
I give a resigned sigh. Benji has called me Tigger since I was a toddler. I’ve always had a lot of excess energy. But as a child, it was even more over the top. According to Benji, the mix of my enthusiastic talking-a-mile a minute personality, and my tendency to bounce all over the place with an unmatched level of boisterousness, solidified the dreaded Nickname-That-Will-Not-Die.
Even my parents had started using it before I lost them.
“I have some savings. Until I find something else, I’ll be able to get by on that for a while. I already get to live with you rent free. That’s more than enough.”
“As they say, mi casa es tu casa.” Benji shrugs. “The house is paid off, anyway. It was your parents’, and now it belongs to both of us.”
“Thanks, man.”
I dart a glance at him, a familiar warmth blooming in my chest as I watch him pop another edible with a contented expression on his face. I always marvel at how chill he is about so many things in life. Granted, I’m sure being semi stoned most of the time helps, but still. He has the looks of a scruffy Keanu Reeves à la Ronin and John Wick but the utterly laid-back personality of The Dude in The Big Lebowski.
More than a few of my friends have had the hots for him over the years. I’m not surprised, but it’s always weird as fuck.
Tonight, as usual, Benji seems entirely at ease even though we’re on the trail of a bona fide extraterrestrial—a brother from another planet—hiding among us. For Benji, it’s apparently just another night.
He pops a third gummy in his mouth and chews it with a mellow smile. Looks like he’s trying to taste the entire rainbow this evening, so I’ll need to keep him on task.
“Did you bring your Polaroid?” I ask for the umpteenth time. I don’t want to leave anything to chance.
Of course, I have my cell phone, but I sure as shit don’t trust capturing evidence of alien life on digital technology alone. Too many ways for stuff to get wiped or altered. Polaroid pictures are a pretty good, if hella ancient, back up option on the fly, and…well…we really didn’t have time to grab anything else on the way out of the house. Hate to admit it, but this tailing adventure was a wee bit rushed.
Benji gestures toward the rucksack at his feet. “The Polaroid’s ready to rock and roll, kiddo.”
I nod, feeling a bit more reassured. “Good. You need to be ready to use it once you can get a clear shot,” I remind him.
He gives me a slow thumbs up and a hazy smile. “I got you covered on the photography front tonight. Don’t worry.”
I mostly believe him. My uncle isn’t exactly the most reliable guy in the world, especially now it looks like the edibles are kicking in, but at least he’s also a believer.
In aliens, I mean.
He leans back in his seat with a slightly fuzzy gaze, the picture of serenity. “It’s like we’re on our very own X-Files adventure.” He giggles. “I still remember when I introduced you to that show. You immediately had the hots for Fox Mulder.”
My nostrils flare. “Excuse me, but you also thought he was hot like fire.”
“Nah. Krycek was more my type—dark, suave, and dangerous.” Benji gives a lazy shrug. “But I wouldn’t have kicked Mulder outta bed, if you know what I mean.”
I snicker and nod at that undeniable truth. It was seriously amazing being raised by my gay uncle after my parents died. Coming out was not even a thing at home. We had a lot of shared interests—including the megahot men of sci-fi movies and television.
I roll my eyes and unleash the snark. “Bitch, please. You’d be lucky to bag Skinner.”
Benji arches an eyebrow at my teasing tone, a glint in his eyes—an even paler shade of green than my own. “Hey, I’m down for that. Now that I’ve hit my forties, I can totally appreciate the understated sexiness of Skinner. He was actually pretty damn hot. And most definitely rockin’ a fit bod under those suits.”
I shake my head as I ponder this revelation. “Maaaaaybe? I still say my number one bald heartthrob will always be Captain Jean-Luc Picard.”
We immediately high five in agreement.
“Classy. Can’t disagree with you there,” Benji murmurs, then snorts. “Dude, I still remember when you wanted to create your own queer X-Files fan convention. You took your love of the show to a whole new level with that one.” He muffles another giggle-snort behind his hand.
I sniff and straighten in my seat. “Okay, sure, maybe I had a slight obsession with the X-Files and Fox Mulder in my middle school years, but that’s neither here nor there. Also, I still stand by my plan for Rainbow Foxy-Con 2013. It would have brought together all the queer fans and celebrated our respective loves for Scully and Mulder—or both. No bi erasure permitted.”
Benji slowly shakes his head in what I like to think of as complete awe of my ingenuity and brilliance. “It would have been amazing to witness, that’s for sure.”
“No shade, honey. But, who needs Rainbow Foxy-Con when we have a real life alien in our very backyard!” I wiggle in my seat and grin.
“It’ll be the story of a lifetime if we can prove neighborman is an extraterrestrial. It’ll change everything, kiddo.”
“Exactly. We may not have any actual evidence of alien life yet, but that’s all going to change tonight.”
As if to prove my point, I hit the accelerator of my old hatchback and doggedly follow our sketchy new neighbor’s trail as we move deeper into the desert, leaving the bright lights of Vegas far behind. Thankfully, our quarry doesn’t seem to notice he’s being followed.
Mr. Tom Jones, as my neighbor introduced himself—an obviously fake name if I’ve ever heard one—moved into the beige stucco two-story house right next to us three months ago and pinged our radars from the get-go. Ever since then, we’ve been covertly observing him.
We’re not creepers. We’re astute detectors of anomalies that could be extraterrestrial in nature.
Sure, on the surface Mr. Jones appears human, but that doesn’t mean squat. We’ve watched enough sci-fi movies and TV series between the two of us to know plenty of aliens look just like us. Hello. Timelords anyone?
But I digress.
Mr. Jones, I’m sad to say, is not a sexy-as-fuck Timelord. Why does reality never live up to my fantasies? He’s actually a rather ordinary-looking guy with a bad penchant for dressing like his namesake. You wouldn’t immediately see him and think—Boom! Proof of alien existence on Earth right here, folks.
But his behavior is really fucking bizarre.
At first, it was little things that seemed out of the ordinary. Like the strange looking satellite Mr. Jones mounted on his roof shortly after moving in. The thing is massive. Look, I’m not a nerd for nothing. I know a thing or two about satellite dishes, and I’ve never seen one like this before. When I tried to ask him about it, he laughed and told me he had insider connections with a friend in Japan who hooked him up with the latest satellite technology that hadn’t even made it over here yet.
I don’t think so, Mister Alien Neighborman.
Benji suspects the device is actually a beacon to our neighbor’s comrades in space. I’m inclined to agree.
But what made us most suspicious of Mr. Jones was the fact he never turns his AC on.
In Vegas.
In the middle of summer.
“I like it hot!” He told me with awkward finger guns and a chuckle one day.
I like it hot? Seriously? I do not exaggerate when I say Sin City turns hotter than Satan’s asshole from May to November. In high summer, no one, and I mean no one, can live without AC. It’s a legitimate health hazard. Buffy the Vampire Slayer got it wrong—if a Hellmouth were ever to open here on Earth, it would happen in Vegas. Temperatures regularly stay in the 110s here, the sun beating down with scorching ferocity. You can cook eggs on the freaking sidewalk, for fuck’s sake. There are plenty of YouTube videos to prove it. Despite all this, Mr. Jones not only doesn’t turn on the AC in his house, he also spends all day outside in his backyard without seeming to break a sweat. Meanwhile, the rest of us melt just walking from our homes to our cars.
Super. Fucking. Sus.
I’m ashamed to admit I didn’t connect the dots at first until one night when I was talking with Benji about all the oddities we’d observed with our new neighbor. Tom Jones was out for the evening doing who-the-hell-knows-what, and we were outside on our patio watching the night sky together when Benji took a hit off his favorite bong and then said, out of the blue, “Dude, maybe he’s an alien?”
And that was the eureka moment.
My jaw dropped open in amazement, and everything started to click. A lightbulb turned on in my brain, burning bright enough to rival the neon lights of Vegas. Quite frankly, I was amazed I hadn’t thought of it first. That was when our covert alien investigation was born. We’re doing this in the name of science—and for all our fellow conspiracy-loving alien believers, of course.
We’ve been observing Mr. Jones for weeks now, watching for anything unusual or any noticeable disruptions to his schedule. And tonight, it finally happened.
I’ll admit I didn’t expect the perfect opportunity to materialize quite so soon.
Shortly before 3:00 a.m., I was jolted out of sleep when I heard the unmistakable sound of Mr. Jones’s garage door opening. It’s been in need of some WD-40 for a while, producing a horrible, cringe-worthy screech every time it opens and closes.
I practically levitated out of bed, shoved my glasses on my face, and raced downstairs. After all, there are only so many opportunities in one’s lifetime to find evidence of alien life on Earth.
“Benji!” I shrieked as I flew into the living room. “He’s going somewhere!”
My uncle’s a bit of an insomniac, so he was actually awake on the couch drinking a beer and watching old reruns of some weird animated show from his teenage years called Daria.
He blinked at me. “Dude, are you sleepwalking?”
I hopped from foot to foot. “He’s getting away!”
“Who?”
“Mr. Jones! Didn’t you hear his garage opening just now?”
He took a slow sip of beer. “My bad. I was totally absorbed in my show.”
We both heard the car start next door and the loud notes of a Tom Jones song—oh the irony!—blasting from the stereo. We were in luck. Our unusual neighbor hadn’t left yet.
I tapped my foot. “No time to waste. We have to tail him.”
Benji blinked at me owlishly and belched.
“I’ll explain in the car,” I said, yanking him up off the couch and dragging him toward our garage.
I turned to my dog, a bizarre looking mutt of advanced years who can best be described as a cross between a miniature hairy Wookie and a feisty Terrier. He lay comfortably stretched out on the couch. Amidst all the commotion, he had deigned to crack one eye open to observe us.
“You stay here and guard the house, Chewy.”
He let out a chuffing noise in what sounded like annoyed agreement before closing his eye. Poor little guy doesn’t enjoy having his sleep disrupted at his advanced age.
Once Benji and I got in my car, I hightailed it out of our sleepy suburban housing complex, barely managing to catch our quarry’s trail as he exited the neighborhood and turned onto the main road.
“Tonight we get definitive proof aliens do exist. Fuck yeah!”
“Right on, man.” Benji reached into the rucksack he’d brought along and pulled out a battered CD case. “I got some perfect tunes for us.” He slid the disc into my CD player, the relic of a bygone era, and a testament to the fact my poor car is older than I am.
The familiar opening chords of the Beastie Boys’ “Sabotage” started playing, and I grinned back at him. “Awwww, yeah!”
Our heads nodding along to the unstoppable beat, we bombed along the highway—high on the thrill of the chase and our quest for truth.
We’ve been following Mr. Jones for a good while now, though, and some of my initial excitement has waned, especially as we’re getting farther and farther away from civilization.
Living in Las Vegas is a surreal experience on an almost daily basis. But, it’s also easy to forget the city is basically out in the middle of nowhere in the desert. Hop on the freeway, and it’s not too long before you leave the bright lights of civilization far behind and find yourself alone in the desolate, dusty vastness with nothing more than rocks, dirt, and cacti to keep you company.
I glance at the busted-up digital clock on my dashboard, the numbers hard to read without squinting. We’ve been following Mr. Jones on the I-15 N for forty minutes or so, but my heart starts pounding like the bass in a Britney dance song when I see his blinker signaling his intent to get off on exit 75.
“OMG, he’s going to the Valley of Fire.” I’m barely able to contain my renewed excitement.
Benji whistles, his pupils huge, as he gives me a dopey grin. “What do you wanna bet we’re heading to the freaking mothership?”
The very idea sends prickles of exhilaration through me, and I bounce a little in my seat. “You think? Holy fucking shitballs. That would be epic.” I pause for a moment, considering. “But how do you suppose he’s hiding it out here?”
Benji ponders this, but then shrugs. “Aliens got their damn cloaking devices and shit, right?”
“According to Star Trek at least. And Star Wars.” I nod to myself. “So, basically sci-fi gospel.”
“Exactamundo.”
It doesn’t take long before we leave the interstate and merge onto the more remote highway leading to the Valley of Fire. But, after about ten minutes, Mr. Jones pulls off onto a dirt road heading to Who-the-Hell-Knows-Where.
I glance over at Benji. We give each other a silent nod of agreement, and I prepare to follow.
“Turn off the headlights. We gotta be stealthy and all.”
“Good call, OBenji-Wan Kenobi.” I flip off the lights, allowing darkness to further engulf the world around us as we bump down the road, the shocks on my poor car squeaking in protest with every dip and pothole.
The farther we drive, the creepier things get. Out here, far from the bright lights of Vegas, it feels as if we’re being swallowed up by the blackness of the night. As my eyes adjust, the moon casts enough of a pale glimmer I can sort of see where we’re going. Barely.
Mr. Jones’s tail lights are a faint red homing beacon in the distance leading us toward whatever we’re going to discover. Possibly something no human has ever witnessed before.
A thrill courses through my body as I whisper, “I want to believe.”
Benji pops one last gummy in his mouth—presumably for good luck—before putting the packet in his cardigan pocket for later. I guess he’s finally starting to get serious now we’re closing in on our target.
I gently tap my cell phone screen on the mounted dashboard holder only to have my worst suspicions confirmed. No signal. We’re in a dead zone. This can often happen in parts of the desert, but considering what we’re doing, it gives me the willies.
A thought enters my brain unbidden. And, it’s one I realize really should have occurred to me much sooner. Nervous sweat forms between my shoulder blades, and I shiver as a drop trickles down my back.
“Uh, Benji?” My voice didn’t just squeak, did it?
“Yeah?”
“You don’t think Mr. Jones is…a dangerous alien, right?” I clear my throat, my mouth dry. “He’s not, like, bent on replacing us with pod people?”
He stares at me, eyes widening. “No idea. Let’s hope not.”
I let out an awkward chuckle that catches in my throat. Maybe following Mr. Jones on our own was a bad idea? It’s an inconvenient moment to realize we aren’t equipped to handle potential alien invaders. And haven’t I seen enough movies to know this could be an actual possibility?
But before I can worry about this startling prospect any further, Mr. Jones’s tail lights disappear around a rocky outcropping ahead, and my attention returns to the task at hand.
We hold our breath as we continue to follow at a safe distance. When we reach the rocky outcropping, I gulp. “I’m going to slow down. We don’t know what’s around this bend, so let’s be cautious.”
“Smart thinking, Tigger.”
I slow my hatchback to a crawl. As we creep closer, we spy our target a short distance down the road, stopped at a metal gate.
Squinting in the dark, I watch from the faint illumination of his headlights as he unlocks the gate before hopping back into his car and driving through. I inch forward in pursuit.
Then, as Mr. Jones’s car passes beyond the gate, it seems to disappear into thin air.
I slam on the brakes. “What the actual fuck?”
“Whoa. Careful, man.” Benji rubs at his eyes and stares at the empty desert before us. “What the—?”
We turn and mirror each other’s slack-jawed looks of confusion.
I blink. “What the hell happened?”
Benji shakes his head. “No idea. That was some trippy shit, though.”
Pulling my glasses off, I rub my eyes before putting the frames back on and squinting at the spot where our neighbor disappeared.
I wasn’t hallucinating. That was for real.
“Alien technology. It’s got to be.” I tell Benji this with growing conviction. “Some kind of cloaking mechanism like we thought. There must be something awesome past that gate.”
“Most likely,” Benji agrees. He leans over, plucking his Polaroid camera out of his bag. “I’m ready, young Padawan.”
I nod with the appropriate solemnity for this once in a lifetime event. “Let’s do this, OBenji-Wan.”
With my heart hammering, I pat my steering wheel. “Come on Serenity, don’t fail me now.” I nose her forward and turn onto the dirt path where we saw Mr. Jones disappear. Upon closer investigation, the gate only extends over the dirt trail, and Mr. Jones left it open in his haste.
Score.
From our vantage point though, there’s a whole lot of nothing beyond the gate. Just desert rocks, dirt, and scrub brush. At least that’s all I can see in the faint light of the moon.
Taking a deep breath, my hands gripping the wheel until my knuckles whiten, I tap the gas. I resist the urge to squeeze my eyes shut as we cross the boundary.
And that’s all it takes. One moment we’re surrounded by the arid desert landscape with nothing around for miles, and the next we’re looking up at an imposing concrete edifice I can only hypothesize is a covert alien base.
Armed men and women in strange uniforms patrol the perimeter of the building and staff the checkpoint entrance several hundred yards ahead of us.
And there, beyond the base, looming impossibly large in the background, is a freaking spaceship. It looks like something out of my Star Trek and Star Wars fantasies. Only cooler, if that’s even possible.
I can’t help the loud gasp that escapes my mouth. Even after all these years, a tiny part of me never thought this moment was possible. Tonight, we’ve hit the motherfreaking jackpot.
“Wicked.” Benji’s whisper drifts off as he lifts his Polaroid and snaps a picture.
My hands are shaking as I raise my cell phone and capture half a dozen digital pictures of my own. “We just hit the damn mother lode.”
Benji snorts. “Mothership, more like.”
We immediately high five one another in solidarity.
“I’m going to start recording this motherfucking moment of a lifetime.” I turn the video recording function on as I direct my phone back at the checkpoint in time to see a guard wave Mr. Jones forward in his vehicle before glancing in our direction.
Abort! Abort! My mind screams at me.
Of course, my brain’s a few milliseconds too late because that’s when a blaring siren starts going off.
Benji and I turn to one another with matching expressions of dawning horror. “Shiiiiiiiiiiit.”
A loud rapping at my driver’s side window has me jumping and shrieking like a three-year-old in Target.
An armed guard in a blue and gray uniform materializes out of nowhere, pointing his big—that’s no euphemism—deadly-looking weapon at me. “Out of the vehicle. Hands in the air!”
I gulp and let out another strange, yet totally manly, squeak. I sure hope these aliens are friendly, or I’m afraid our luck may have run out.
Chapter One
FutureHusband: Why are you messaging me unsolicited tentacle pics?
TentacleDemon: Just wanted to remind you of what you’re missing.
FutureHusband: I don’t miss your tentacles at all.
Tentacle Demon: You keep telling yourself that, darling.
—The Tentacular Tales of Captain Starblade, Ch. 108
KAI
“I'm impressed by your willpower, my dear Captain,” Lord Vardox said with a smirk.
Starblade lay naked on the bed, his arms and legs shackled and spread-eagle on the silk sheets, displaying his battle-honed, muscular body to Lord Vardox’s avid perusal.
“No matter how hard you try to get the secret location from me, I will not betray the Beninu people!”
Lord Vardox made a ‘tsk’-ing noise and then said in an amused drawl, “Oh, my sweet Captain, whoever said I cared where that ship full of dirty colonists has gone?”
Starblade jolted with shock. “What the hell do you mean? Isn't that what this is all about? I risked my life to ensure they could get away safely! You were after them!”
Lord Vardox shook his head, a pitying look on his cruelly handsome face. “I let you think that to serve my purposes. I never had any interest in those foolish creatures.” He leaned over and ran a dark, claw-tipped finger down Starblade’s bronzed muscular chest, sending a shiver through his prisoner. “I have always, only, ever been interested in you, my fair Captain.”
Starblade paled, and his jaw clenched tight. “What on earth do you want with me then?”
Lord Vardox chuckled, a wicked note in his voice. “Come now, Captain. If you haven't figured it out yet, I'm afraid I will have to work harder to ensure your body knows the answer.”
Starblade’s eyes narrowed. “I already told you I am no one's sex slave, and I certainly won't be yours.”
Lord Vardox trailed a hand down Starblade’s naked thigh, grinning with delight at the tremor his touch elicited. “And yet, Captain, you seemed to so thoroughly enjoy the tender touch of my tentacles earlier.”
Starblade flushed and thrust his chin out defiantly. “I don't know what you're talking about.”
Lord Vardox chuckled again in evident amusement. “You can play outraged innocent all you want, dearest Captain.” He bent closer, running his forked tongue from Starblade’s neck to his rugged jawline, savoring the stubble there. “But we both know better. You want me just as much as I want you. We were meant for one another.”
Starblade choked in outrage. “Never!”
Seemingly unperturbed by his prisoner’s reaction, Lord Vardox stepped back and untied his robe, letting the black silk garment flutter to the floor. He stood before Starblade completely nude, his enormous ridged cock eager and erect.
Starblade could not keep his gaze from the tantalizing sight. His nostrils flared as he inhaled sharply.
With a knowing smile, Lord Vardox called forth his tentacles, allowing them to move toward the prone man in his clutches. Starblade struggled against his restraints, but to no avail.
“Release me, you evil, tentacled scoundrel!”
His captor could not contain a grin of satisfaction. “I love that you’re using pet names for me now, darling. That said, I think it's time for another round, don't you, captain?”
Starblade skewered him with a defiant glare, but he could not stop himself from moaning at the first touch of those talented tentacles on his sensitive flesh again.
“Let’s begin,” Vardox said with a deep growl.
“Whatcha doing?” River asks, suddenly materializing out of nowhere like a bloody ninja.
I let out a far too shrill shriek and jolt from my position on the bed before hastily slamming shut the laptop perched on my knees. “Nothing!”
I mentally cringe. That sounded guilty as hell.
River narrows his shrewd green eyes at me, immediately suspicious. He glances at the laptop I’m clutching in desperation.
“Isn't that mine?”
I feel blood rushing to my cheeks, practically writing an admission of guilt all over my face. “Maybe?”
River puts his hands on his hips, and I can’t stop myself from ogling him. He's standing there with a towel wrapped around his waist and nothing else. His usual wild mop of golden curls are now wet coils, dripping water down the smooth skin of his chest. He’s much smaller than me, but he has a tight, compact body that appeals on every level. The recent training he’s been doing with our team under Zamir’s guidance has turned his limber body into an even more sculpted and strong one.
Just looking at him makes my cock and tentacles throb. I was already half hard from reading the start of the latest installment in River’s story, but seeing him nearly naked and wet from his shower, I lose all interest in Lord Vardox and Captain Starblade’s adventures. The man in front of me is far too tempting to ignore.
A slow grin spreads across his face as he realizes what’s going on. “You couldn’t wait, could you? You were totally sneaking a peek at the latest chapter.”
“I should get to read it before anyone else, anyway,” I mutter. “This seems like a perk your boyfriend ought to have.”
“What did you think? Did you like it?” He leers at me, and then he says in a strange voice, “Did it make you horny, baby? Yeah!”
My confusion must show on my face because he lets out a very loud and put upon sigh. “You seriously haven’t seen Austin Powers? Come on! You’re older than me, and I’ve seen those movies. With Benji, of course.”
Ah, more elusive human pop culture. “I don’t share your obsession with movies.” Technically true, but I do enjoy messing with him sometimes and pretending I’ve never seen things I actually have. This is not one of those times, though.
Some of River’s cinematic viewing choices are highly questionable. I’m still trying to recover from having to sit through some ‘80s sci-fi film atrocity called Earth Girls Are Easy. River claims it’s campy and brilliant. I thought it was a cheesy, low-budget waste of almost two hours of my life. The aliens weren’t even remotely believable!
Although I will admit that Mr. Jeff Goldblum was very easy on the eyes. River and I agree on that.
My boyfriend gets a determined glint in his eyes. “I’ll woo you to the dark side one of these days.”
On the heels of that proclamation, he saunters toward me, and my gaze fixates on the beads of water dripping down his naked chest and trailing under the band of the towel riding oh-so-low on his hips.
Temptation, thy name is River Sullivan.
“Like what you see?” he asks, his voice deep and his tone sultry.
I set the laptop aside in a hurry. “You know I do.”
River comes to stand between my legs where I’m sitting on the edge of the bed. I lean forward to lick several of the water drops trailing down his chest. He shivers in pleasure. Inhaling deeply, I groan at the amazing smell wafting off his body. It’s the most tantalizing scent of warm vanilla mixed with cinnamon, sugar, and a masculine base of sandalwood.
I pull River closer and nuzzle into his neck, sniffing the alluring aroma. “What’s this heavenly smell?”
He purrs with satisfaction. “It's my new body wash and cologne.” He lifts my head up to look into his eyes. “I got them just for you.”
With a growl, I pull him down onto the bed next to me and splay him out, leaning over his delectable body. “How did you know I’d like this?”
River grins. “Because it makes me smell like a giant snickerdoodle. Duh.”
I feign being affronted. “Are you trying to arouse me by smelling like…manly baked cookies?”
He arches a mischievous eyebrow at me. “It worked, didn't it?”
Dark matter and damn it! It totally did.
I growl again and lean down to claim his mouth in a kiss. Delving deep, I taste him thoroughly before nipping his juicy bottom lip and sucking on the tender flesh. When I pull back, I’m satisfied to see he has a dazed look on his face, and his lips are swollen and wet with my saliva.
“It most certainly did,” I admit, my voice husky with desire.
His eyes clear and he cackles. “Mwahahaha! My evil plan worked.”
Mine, my tentacles seem to whisper.
I feel the hard length of River’s erection pressing against me, barely covered by his towel. I thrust my own hard-on against his, making him gasp. “You’re trouble.”
He smirks. “I’m exactly the kind of trouble you like, and you know it.”
I nip his earlobe and tug on it with my teeth, eliciting a moan.
Excellent. I have the upper hand this time.
River pulls back and flutters his lashes at me. “We can role play Captain Starblade and Lord Vardox if you want to.”
He offers that tantalizing proposition in a breathy voice that makes my tentacles go wild. Damn it all to the Nelfulgar Nebula! He just turned the tables on me, my sexy little snickerdoodle.
“If you aren’t going to play fair, then neither am I,” I tell him before redoubling my efforts. Leaning down again, I take one of his perky nipples into my mouth, my teeth grazing the hard nub before my tongue swirls around it to cool the sting.
“No fair!” River groans. “You know how much I fucking love that.”
“Shall I stop then?”
“Fuck no. As Saint Britney would say, hit me baby one more time.”
With a firm yank, I remove his pesky towel. “I think we can save the role play for another night. I'm more than inspired by you at this moment.”
River’s eyes turn molten with desire, and he pulls me to him for another kiss, ravaging my mouth with enough enthusiasm to make my tentacles wriggle inside me, begging to be let out to join the fun.
The shrill ring of my cell phone interrupts us with the force of a bucket of ice-cold water to the groin.
River grunts in frustration. “Ignore it.”
Luck isn’t with us, unfortunately. My cell keeps ringing, and I sigh with regret before sitting up. “I'm sorry. It could be headquarters. I need to take it.” Ever since we extradited the Groxil who was supplying drugs to aliens on Earth, our investigation has hit a dead end. Wilder has disappeared without a trace and we still have no idea who he or the Groxil are working for. We’ve been searching like hell to find any new leads we can but with no luck.
River lets out a long, forlorn sigh but offers no further protest. He’s getting used to this. Sort of.
I pluck my cockblocking cell phone up from the nightstand and stare at the caller ID, frowning.
River notices my expression and sits up as well. “What is it? The Alliance?”
I hesitate for a moment. “No, but I think I need to take this.”
He gives me a quizzical look, and I answer the phone with trepidation. “Hello?”
There’s a moment of silence, then, “Kai. It's me.”
The sound of that familiar voice after so long is unsettling. I feel a slight pang remembering the less than pleasant circumstances of our last parting. “Fabian. Why are you calling?” I pause before asking, “Are you okay?”
There's another moment of awkward silence on the other end before he responds. “Sorry. I’m fine. I'm calling because we had…an incident at the bar tonight. Given the memo the Alliance sent out, I figured I should call you.”
I straighten, all senses on alert. “What kind of incident?”
His voice lowers. “Wilder Vadera showed up and got into an altercation with another patron.”
I inhale sharply. This is the first sign of movement in weeks. But the mere mention of Wilder’s name makes my gut twist with worry and anger. Once a part of the Alliance and a member of my team, Wilder went rogue and vanished several years ago. A few weeks back, he popped up again and in the most upsetting way when we found him responsible for drugging a number of aliens in Vegas. To make matters worse, his recent illegal actions are affecting the emotional well-being of other members of my team. His twin sister, Roxy, is a walking tower of rage and frustration these days. And Zamir, Wilder’s ex-boyfriend, has retreated behind his protective wall and refuses to talk about Wilder unless it’s related to our case. In other words, Wilder has made a big mess that I’m responsible for dealing with as my team’s captain.
Fabian continues. “Fortunately, word had gotten around from the Alliance to be on the lookout for Wilder, and several customers recognized him once he started arguing with the patron.”
I frown. Why would Wilder have shown up at Fabian’s bar as himself? As an Osairan shapeshifter, he could have used another physical alter that would be less easily recognized. Warning bells start going off in my head.
“Do you have him under guard?” I ask, hoping against hope.
Fabian sighs and I know we won’t be lucky this time. “There was a bit of a scuffle when Wilder’s altercation spilled over and angered several other people at the bar, causing a bigger fight to break out. Once my bouncer stopped things and got everyone separated, Wilder had already slipped out without anyone noticing. We wanted to follow up with the Alliance even though he managed to get away. I did catch him on the security cam footage, though. I thought that might be useful.”
I sigh. “Good. I definitely want to see the footage. Thanks for calling. You did the right thing. My team and I will be there in about twenty minutes. Is the patron Wilder argued with still there?” I cross all my tentacles.
“Sorry. Once the fighting broke out, people scattered. He got away as well.”
Double damn.“Try to keep as many of the remaining witnesses around as you can. We’ll want to interview them.”
“Sounds good. Thank you, Kai.” Fabian lets out a relieved sigh. “I feel better knowing you’re on the case.”
“Of course. See you soon.”
I hang up and turn to River who's already pulling on his clothes. “Where are we going?” he asks.
I grin, knowing he’s ready and willing to follow me into almost anything. “A bar. It's sort of a secret one.” I pause for effect, knowing he’s going to ‘lose his shit,’ as he likes to say. “Specifically for extraterrestrials.”
River’s answering squee of excitement is loud and immediate. “A super-secret alien bar? OMG! How did I not know about this? So freaking cool. I can’t wait to see it!”
I can't refrain from chuckling. He’s always enthusiastic about anything that has to do with aliens. It was somewhat overwhelming when we first met, but I find it utterly adorable these days. “I don’t think it’s going to meet whatever grandiose expectations you likely have, but it’s one of only a handful of places where extraterrestrials who need company can find it here in Vegas, and safely. One of very few establishments where they don't have to hide their true identities once inside.”
River pulls a shirt over his head and tucks it into his jeans. “So, what's the problem at this bar exactly?”
“Wilder showed up and got into a brawl with another patron.”
River’s expression sharpens in recognition. “Holy shit! What the heck do you think he’s up to now?”
“No idea.”
“It sounds like the folks at the bar didn’t nab him, huh?”
“Unfortunately, no. But they did capture him on the security camera footage, which I want to see. I need to figure out who he argued with and why. I’ll call the rest of the team and have them meet us there.”
River grabs the car keys. “I'll get the SUV started.”
As he goes out to the garage, I quickly call Roxy, Zamir, and my brother, Mal, to give them the lowdown. Although the mention of Fabian doesn’t go over well, they all agree to meet us at his bar right away. They’re as invested in finding Wilder as I am.
Since I know the way, I drive. It takes us about twenty-five minutes to reach Fabian’s hole-in-the-wall establishment. The bar is situated in a nondescript building well off the Strip and in a slightly less savory part of town where no one is likely to approach camouflaged extraterrestrials heading into a seedy and rather rundown looking building.
We're getting out of my SUV just as Mal, Roxy, and Zamir pull up. United as a team, we make our way to the front door. There’s no sign for the bar on the building, but there is a large and intimidating looking bouncer on duty. Thankfully, he’s also extraterrestrial. He looks over our IDs and ushers us inside. I'm glad to see that Fabian has stepped up his security quite a bit. In the past, he didn’t have any help at the door, let alone a security system of any kind. It used to cause occasional problems between us when I urged him to be more careful about ensuring his safety and that of his patrons.
The bar looks far better inside than out. It’s fairly clean and has had a facelift since the last time I was here. It’s also a decent size and can hold a hundred patrons comfortably. That said, the setup is very basic. A few non-descript booths line one wall of the room, and the bar is at the far end with round wood tables and chairs scattered throughout the main floor of the space. A large back room has a couple of pool tables and a dart board for those looking for more entertainment with their drinking. Despite what happened earlier, the L-shaped bar is still doing a brisk business.
Fabian must have been on the lookout for us, because he spots me almost immediately and leaves his position behind the counter before coming straight toward us. He's still a handsome man, about my height with a swimmer's build and wavy chestnut hair long enough to reach his chin and tuck behind his ears.
He embraces me in a warm hug that leaves me feeling rather nostalgic but also vaguely uncomfortable. I haven't seen Fabian in several years. Our last encounter had been…painful. One might even say volatile. I'm hoping time has healed the wound between us.
When he pulls back, his purple eyes search mine. “It’s good to see you.” There’s a noticeable catch in his throat.
I cough and step back. “Good to see you too, Fabian.” I gesture toward my friends. “You know my team.”
Fabian nods at them.
Roxy crosses her arms, unimpressed.
Mal and Zamir have identical disgruntled expressions on their faces as they glare at him.
I should have known they’d be like this. No doubt they remember how it all ended between us.
“Oh, wow. This is supes awkward,” River chimes in, and I blanche. I forgot to introduce him.
This is not going to go well for me later.
He puts a possessive arm around me and boldly extends his free hand to Fabian. “I’m River, the newbie. I’m also Kai’s boyfriend.”
Leave it to River to cut to the chase.
Fabian does a double take before staring at River’s hand and then shaking it briefly. The smile on his face is tight and forced. “Nice to meet you, River. I’m Fabian. An old...friend of Kai’s.”
Mal gives a dismissive snicker. “Friend. Yeah, right.”
I shoot him a quelling glance that he ignores. When I turn my gaze back to River, my brow scrunches in concern. It's a bad time to realize I probably should have told him about my past history with Fabian before we got here. My only excuse is the fact that I was so caught up in this new lead on Wilder that I didn’t consider my past with Fabian to be an issue.
River’s sharp, knowing gaze darts between both me and Fabian for a moment, and I start to sweat. He’s figured out enough, and he doesn’t look particularly happy with me for not forewarning him.
Before I can say anything in my defense, River plasters on a bright smile and turns his attention back to Fabian. “So, this is your place? I was so excited when Kai told me we were going to a super-secret extraterrestrial bar.” He looks around, taking in the diverse array of clientele. “I mean, I will admit I’m mega disappointed it’s not like the Mos Eisley cantina in Star Wars, which is totally where my brain went when Kai told me about this place. But it’s…nice?”
He says that last bit as more of an unconvinced question. Even I can feel the shade in that statement.
However, Fabian doesn’t seem to be listening. Instead, his eyes are focused on River’s chest. Where my amulet is clearly visible. My amulet that’s the extraterrestrial equivalent of a human engagement ring.
Crap on a cosmic cracker.
A tumult of indecipherable emotions washes over Fabian’s face, and I witness a brief flash of anger before his expression goes blank.
I know that look, all too well, and wince internally. I’ve royally mucked this up and been an idiot about the whole situation. Not only should I have told River about Fabian, but I should’ve realized my current relationship with River might be a shock for Fabian, too.
I owe my boyfriend an apology, and from the hard side-eye he's giving me, I'll be groveling quite a bit in the near future. As for Fabian, the logical side of my brain reassures me there’s no need to stress. He and I haven’t spoken in years. I was by no means obligated to keep him up to date on my current relationships.
But, I probably could have given him a heads up so he wasn’t blindsided upon our arrival.
Ugh. What a mess.
To his credit, Fabian recovers quickly. He gives River a somewhat convincing smile. “I do enjoy the Star Wars films, but I’d prefer not to run an establishment as prone to violent outbursts as that one.”
“Fair enough,” River says. “You’d need hazard pay for sure.” He shakes his head at the thought then directs a blinding grin on Fabian. “Can I just say, I’m beyond excited to finally meet an extraterrestrial who’s actually seen iconic sci-fi films and knows my references. Can I get an amen?”
From his bewildered countenance, I can tell Fabian is already overwhelmed by River. “I’m not as well versed in human pop culture as I’d like, but I try. I find many humans’ ideas about extraterrestrials to be...entertaining.”
River snorts. “I bet! I’d love to pick your brain about that some time.”
I clear my throat and try to get things back on track and under control. “What can you tell us about what happened tonight, Fabian?”
He casts me a grateful look before explaining. “Wilder was pretty inconspicuous at first. He was wearing a hoodie and baseball cap, as well as sunglasses. Not uncommon attire for some of my clientele who need to hide from human eyes. Anyway, he took a quiet booth across from the far end of the bar and stayed there alone until another man arrived about ten minutes later and joined him.”
I frown. “Did you recognize this other man?”
“No, I’m afraid not. I was busy serving drinks and we had a full house. Anyway, the two men talked for a few minutes and everything was fine until they started arguing. Before anyone knew what was happening, they were out of the booth and taking swings at one another. That’s when Wilder’s lost the glasses and baseball cap, and people started to recognize him.”
This all sounds very bizarre and once again I have more questions than answers.
Seeming to sense my thoughts, Fabian offers, “If you want to follow me, we can look at the security camera footage in my office.”
“Sounds good. I'm going to leave Mal and Zamir out here to interview the other patrons, as well as your bouncer. Roxy and River will come with us. I need Roxy to ID whether it is in fact her brother.”
Fabian gives her a sympathetic look. “This must be very difficult for you.”
Roxy nods, her expression determined but grim.
River places a gentle hand on her shoulder and gives it a squeeze. “It's gonna be okay,” he whispers.
Roxy’s smile is sad as she leans into his touch. “I don't know if it will be. Wilder’s really fucked things up this time.”
River grabs her in a side-armed hug. “We're gonna do everything we can to try to help your brother and save him from his own bad choices.”
“Somehow, I think if anyone could set him straight it just might be you, River,” Roxy says with a sniffle.
Fabian makes a noise that sounds suspiciously like a scoff but turns it into a cough.
I frown.
As Mal and Zamir go to interview the witnesses, we make our way into the back office, where Fabian pulls up the security footage on one of his computer monitors. “We have a pretty good system,” he explains. “I’ve got cameras on the outside of the building in both the front and the back, as well as in the side alley. Oh, and several positioned discreetly inside the bar.”
“That's good.” I nod approvingly. “You can't be too safe these days. Besides, you have to be even more cautious to protect your special clientele.”
“I've come to realize that over the years.” Fabian gives me a sheepish look. “I want to apologize for not listening to you sooner. You used to harp on about this all the time, and I didn’t want to hear it. I was wrong, and I should have taken your advice.”
I wave a hand dismissively. “Don't worry about it. I'm just glad you have it now. It's going to come in very handy tonight.”
Fabian plays with the controls on the computer for a few seconds before fast forwarding the footage to the moment Wilder arrived outside the club. Fabian points to him. “Look. He seems to be riding a motorcycle but he parked far enough away that the cameras didn't catch his plate.”
We watch as the figure moves closer to the door. He's wearing a dark hoodie with the hood pulled up over a baseball cap, and sunglasses that are obscuring half his face, which is pointed away from the cameras.
“Damn. He knew exactly where the cameras were,” I mutter.
Fabian nods, unhappily. “He was doing his damnedest to avoid them capturing his face. He must have scoped out the place in advance.”
“Agreed.” I scowl. “Given the risk of being caught on camera, why did he take such a gamble coming into the bar in the first place, especially as his most recognizable human alter?”
Fabian taps his chin, considering. “Good point.”
“Why make a reappearance here and now? That’s the question. Is it desperation or something more specific?” River asks, appearing perplexed.
Fabian darts his gaze between us. “What are you talking about?”
“This is most likely part of a bigger case we've been working on for several weeks.”
Worry mars Fabian’s face. “Really? How so?”
“I can't go into details, but someone was trying to sell a dangerous narcotic to extraterrestrials on Earth. We also had several incidents of people who were unknowingly dosed with the drug against their will.”
Fabian's mouth drops open in shock. “Galactic gods. That could be catastrophic!”
“Let's just say we've been having to put out a lot of fires lately,” Roxy says. She's watching the computer monitor with an eagle-eyed focus.
“Is it Wilder?” River asks her.
She squints at the monitor. “I'm not sure. I can't get a good enough look at him from these external cameras. He’s about the right height but…” She trails off in uncertainty.
Fabian fiddles on the keyboard before pulling up a second window that begins playing new footage, this time from the interior of the bar.
Once inside, Wilder keeps his hood up, but as he moves toward the booth, he inadvertently turns his head at the wrong moment. One of the cameras captures his visage.
“Freeze!” Roxy shouts. “Right there.”
Fabian obliges her.
Roxy tenses and then her shoulders slump in defeat. “It's him. It's my brother.”
River places a hand on her back and rubs it. “I'm sorry, sweetie.”
Roxy very rarely shows true vulnerability in front of others, so I'm not surprised when she swallows back tears and regains her composure. “It’s okay,” she replies in measured tones, “this is the first solid lead we've had in a couple of weeks. That’s good.”
River strokes his chin, deep in thought. “Agreed. But again, I ask—why here?
Why now?”
Out of the corner of my eye, I swear I see a faint sneer on Fabian’s face, but it vanishes so quickly it must have been a trick of the light.
“Perhaps he was trying to sell drugs,” Fabian says slowly, as if River might be lacking in intelligence.
My hackles raise. Maybe I didn’t imagine that nasty look.
“You said he got into a fight with someone who came to meet him. That. Doesn’t. Sound. Like. A. Drug. Deal. To. Me,” River retorts with even more exaggerated slowness.
I cough back a laugh. He’s so sexy when he’s being sassy.
Roxy gives him a high five and Fabian scowls.
River continues. “This would be a foolish place to try and do a drug deal, anyway. No, we need to figure out who he was meeting and why. Maybe it was whoever he’s working for?”
I nod. “I was thinking the same thing. He knew the risk. He knew this bar has cameras and was likely being monitored by the Alliance. It almost seems…deliberate. But I don’t know why.” And that’s what’s bothering and worrying me in equal measure.
Roxy crosses her arms and frowns. “I agree. He had to know we’d be called right away if he was discovered. It doesn’t make sense.”
River bounces on his toes. “Exactly! Maybe Wilder wanted us to know he’d been here.”
Fabian startles. “What? Why?”
River shrugs. “The whole fight in a bar scenario reads like something out of Roadhouse, and I’ve seen Wilder—he ain’t no Patrick Swayze. I don’t envision him kicking ass and taking names. No, I suspect he started the fight precisely to draw attention and get it on video!”
I consider this and my mind starts racing. I think River’s on the right investigative trail. “Perhaps he’s had a falling out with his employer? Or maybe he’s trying to send us a message?”
“A warning, maybe,” Roxy muses, frowning. “My brother may be an idiot who’s made a lot of questionable life choices, but he’s not evil.”
“Hmmm,” River muses, “maybe he’s trying to get out of whatever situation he’s gotten himself into, or, this could all be a smoke screen to distract us from something else we aren’t aware of.”
Roxy snorts. “You are the king of conspiracy theories.”
River grins. “I was well educated by The X-Files in my youth.”
I turn my attention to Fabian. “Let’s see this fight you told us about.”
We watch as Wilder’s companion appears and makes a beeline for the booth.
“Dude definitely knows Wilder,” River says. “Doesn’t even hesitate. Goes straight to him.”
The man looks strangely corporate, from his expensive suit to his sensible haircut. Although the video isn’t the greatest quality, I am certain I’ve never seen this man before.
“What’s with the prick in the suit?” Roxy asks, frowning. “Not my brother’s usual kind of business associate.”
They talk for a few minutes until Wilder starts to become agitated. Before long, he’s up and out of the booth, and taking a swing at the other guy. They scuffle for a couple of moments, each getting in a few hits, before they tumble into the table of some other patrons and spill their drinks. That’s when a larger melee breaks out.
It’s hard to keep track of Wilder and his companion on the video at this point, but when the bouncer comes over and starts breaking things up I catch a glimpse of someone heading toward the far end of the bar, en route to the back door.
“We need to review your security footage for the front and rear doors to the bar. Wilder’s companion could have only left via one or the other.”
River raises his hand and demands a high five, which I give just to have him beam at me. “Good thinkin’ good lookin’!”
Fabian’s expression isn’t pleased. “Whoever it was couldn’t have gotten out the back door. No one has the access code to deactivate the lock but me.”
“That wouldn’t be a barrier to certain species. I could get through that door,” Roxy says.
Fabian crosses his arms. “I highly doubt that.”
I hold up a hand. “Let’s go take a look at what you’re working with and we’ll see how secure it is before we do anything else.”
Everyone agrees and Fabian leads us to the back door of the bar and points to the fingerprint scanner connected to it. “Intergalactic Grade A tech. It’s set to my fingerprints. No one can deactivate the door without them. Otherwise, it sets off an alarm.”
I examine the scanner carefully. “Roxy, come take a look at this.” I have a bad feeling, but I need her observational skills for confirmation.
She steps forward, her eyes narrowing as she scrutinizes the device before turning back to me.
“Are you thinking what I'm thinking?” I ask.
Her mouth becomes a grim line. “Very likely, but I don't know who it could be.”
River looks between us, confused. “What are you two talking about?”
“We'll explain after we review the security footage. Fabian, we need to see what your cameras captured at this door.”
He nods reluctantly and we all troop back into his office. With appropriate haste he pulls up the camera footage. We watch as the man Wilder was with approaches the rear door quickly, looking back over his shoulder.
We all stare in shock as his skin ripples and his body morphs into Fabian.
Fabian gasps in outrage and grasps my bicep in a firm grip. “What the hell? That wasn't me!”
I pat his hand. “We know. Calm down. Just watch. I suspect he turned into you for a very deliberate reason.”
The figure extracts some kind of glove from his pocket and pulls it over his hand.
He then removes a small bottle of what looks like aerosol hairspray from his pocket and sprays it over the tips of his gloved fingers before delicately placing them over the fingerprint markers on the scanner.
“Look,” I point at the screen. “This is how he lifted the imprint of your previous fingerprints with the glove. Now that he has them, along with the correct size and weight of your hand, he has all he needs.”
We watch as the man in question presses his gloved hand with the newly acquired prints on the scanner. The sensor scans his prints and turns green before the door opens and he hastily slips out, letting it close quietly behind him.
Fabian sputters, looking flabbergasted.
“Another Mystique-esque X-Men alien, but not Wilder,” River murmurs as he pushes between us, breaking Fabian’s hold. “Do you think he’s the mastermind behind our case?”
“I’m not sure.” My mind’s whirling with possibilities, none of them good.
Roxy folds her arms over her chest. “This is seriously bad news, Kai. I don't know who this guy is. Not at first glance anyway. My people can take on many forms, and I don’t know everyone’s physical alters. Many of us keep certain ones in reserve to use for special circumstances and that no one else knows about.”
Damn.
“So freaking cool,” River says.
Roxy flashes a smile. “On the plus side, there aren't many of my people here in Vegas, so we should be able to investigate them all and search the Alliance database for info on their known physical alters.”
“It was a long shot that you might know this guy anyway. We’re going to have to do some digging via the Alliance databases, as you suggested, and we’ll make arrangements to talk with the consulate from your home planet.” I turn to Fabian and find him standing right beside me. I take an awkward step back. “Uh, please get us copies of all of the security footage we've looked at. We'll need to take it back with us to Alliance headquarters.” He nods in agreement, still appearing stunned. “In the meantime, we're going to go back and meet up with the rest of our team to see if they’ve discovered anything from their interviews with the patrons.”
“Of course,” Fabian agrees, reaching out and stroking my arm. River makes a weird coughing noise and walks off.
As we return to the main area of the bar, River suddenly stops dead in his tracks and yells at the top of his lungs. “Tom Jones?! What the hell are you doing here?”
