Chapter 8

ChapterEight

“Why are you on Earth?”I demanded. My hand lifted like I wanted to touch his skin to see what it felt like. I flashed to last night and the silkiness of his cock in my mouth. Guess that wasn’t the result of a really good moisturizer. A shaky laugh erupted.

“I was pursuing a fugitive.”

Shocked, but encouraged that he answered my question, I stepped toward him. “Was?”

“I found my fugitive.”

“Where is he?” My vague recollection of bumping into another large man only yesterday popped up. “The guy I ran into the morning we… met.”

“Yes, him. He is no longer on this planet.”

I swallowed audibly. “What did the fugitive do?”

“He stole something he should not have.”

“Who did he steal from?”

“My boss.”

“Your boss is?”

Jax’s jaw clenched. “What are you doing in my room?” He reverted to his earlier question, then gave the plastic thing a shake. “Overall. Not related just to this.”

“I knew you weren’t a US Marshal,” I said, “so I was trying to find out the truth. Turns out the truth really is out there.”

“Now that you know?” An eyebrow rose above the rim of his sunglasses.

“What do I know, though?” I countered. “Yes, you’ve blown my mind with the news that you’re an alien from a planet named Brak. That’s beyond cool. You also said you were here tracking a fugitive who stole something from your unnamed boss. The fugitive who is no longer on the planet. But that just leaves me with more questions than answers.”

“Does it?”

His conversational approach was maddening. “Yes! I have so many questions.” I gestured at the bathroom. “Everything from why you have a giant box of baking powder by the tub to what happened to the fugitive.”

Jax tilted his head in an oddly human manner. “Baking powder added to the water creates a mixture more similar to the moisture on my home world.”

My jaw dropped open and I snapped it shut. “And the fugitive? Did you transport the fugitive back home? Or did you kill him?”

Jax released his clasped hands, allowing his arms to dangle at his sides. Something about the pose screamed menacing.

Fuck it. I tilted my head. “If I had to guess, you’re not law enforcement on your planet. Private security, maybe.” I scrutinized his body language on whether I was close, but he gave me nothing. A sigh slipped out.

“Is this boring you?”

“There are other reasons to sigh,” I retorted. “You’re frustrating. And terrifying.”

“How?”

“Really? You drop this huge bomb, and stop answering questions when we get to the good stuff.”

“Tell me why I should not just kill you for interfering.”

My legs turned to jelly, and I sat hard on the bed. Wide eyes stared at the giant before me. My thought that he could snap me in half resurfaced. “You could tell me everything I want to know, but then you’d have to kill me, huh?” I always laughed at lines like that in movies. After today, I never would. If I survived today.

Jax stepped toward me and lifted my chin with his fingers. “I would rather not kill you.”

“Why do you sound surprised by that?” I whispered, the silky texture of his fingers on my chin causing me to wish he was stroking other body parts.

He pulled his hand back and resumed his previous stance. “You are not wrong. I am an enforcer for my boss.”

On this planet, only two groups needed enforcers, mafia and street gangs. He didn’t strike me as a gang member. Not with those suits. “Intergalactic mafia?” I asked. “That’s a thing?”

“We do not call it a mafia.” He paused. “In your tongue, the Syndicate is the closest word.”

“It is the mafia,” I said, oddly proud of myself for learning this, while also increasingly terrified that he’d kill me, despite his apparent desire not to. Understanding dawned. “Oh. Yeah, that’s not good. Your fugitive stole from a mob boss.” I shook my head. “That’ll definitely get you dead on my planet.”

His mouth twitched like he wanted to laugh. “It did for my runner.”

“Runner? That’s what you call—called—him?”

“Yes.” His lips curled in apparent irritation. “He had already sold the information he stole.”

“That’s what you thought he might have passed to me?”

“Yes. Something like a thumb drive here.”

“Oh.” His comment about hiding objects in vaginas popped into my mind and my sexual need roared back at the memory of him frisking me to find it.

“He not only already sold the information, he already blew the money on a game of urze.” The disgusted tone in Jax’s voice was unmistakable, even between species.

“Er-whatsa?”

He spelled it. “It is similar to poker. He had a gambling problem.”

“Oh. What was the runner doing on Earth?”

“Hiding. Like a coward.”

“In his defense, he wasn’t wrong to hide,” I said. “You found him and, um, he’s no longer on this planet.” My voice faltered as I repeated his exact language.

“You are argumentative.”

“Thanks?”

“Earthlings are a combative species.”

I harrumphed. “Well, one, we aren’t just the species Earthlings, we have millions of different species on Earth. And two, we humans believe in expressing ourselves.”

“Indeed, you do. We are much more matter-of-fact where I come from. Not so much back and forth, so much chatter.” He waved his hand dismissively, a remarkably human gesture, as far as I was concerned.

“Gee, sorry to be such a bother,” I snapped. “Maybe if you’d chattermore—”

He stepped toward me again, now invading my personal space. I dropped my head back to stare up at him. I could almost see the bottom of his eyes behind the sunglasses.

Fear and desire flared. His nostrils flared in response, and I wondered if he could somehow detect my body’s reaction to him. I wouldn’t ask, wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of knowing the effect he had on me. Instead, I stood. Mere inches between us, my height, while tall for a human female, still dwarfed by his. “I’ll be leaving now.”

“Tell me why I should not kill you for interfering,” he repeated his earlier statement. His breath smelled like mint, and I idly wondered if that was natural or an earthly mouth spray.

“You said you didn’t want to kill me.” A shiver ran through me.

“I do not.” He curled a finger around a lock of my hair. “But, my boss does not like loose ends.”

I reached up to cup his hand. “I’m a loose end?”

“Yes.”

I touched his cheek, the silkiness causing my breath to hitch. “Don’t kill me.”

“I have never left a loose end before,” he said. Was there a change in his voice as well? Would I even be able to tell the difference from his usual flatness?

My mind raced. I wanted his hands on me, wanted to know what caused the double shaft feeling of his penis (my analytical brain challenged whether that was even the right word).

With a shock, I accepted that I wanted him to take me. The loss of control excited me. Even now, the wish for him to touch me won the war against the fear that, in the end, he’d still kill me. Everything about my life screamed control. From my job to my home to my personality. I liked control.

Ordered to acquiesce to another’s sexual appetite… I hated to sound like a romance novel, but damn if that didn’t create a pool of desire.

“I can show my loyalty, convince you it isn’t necessary to kill me.” My pussy dripped in anticipation. “Perhaps we can barter, strike one more bargain.”