Chapter Eleven

“If you’d like to clean up, you’ll find a selection of garments in the sanitation room cabinet,” Maxx called as I headed down the hall.

Was he insinuating I needed to bathe? Of all the nerve! But I responded sweetly, “Thank you. I think I will.” Just because he said I couldn’t get out didn’t mean I wouldn’t try. Maybe he’d overlooked something. If he thought I was showering, I’d have time to search.

“While you clean up, I’ll prepare something to eat. What would you like?” he said.

“Lasagna,” I replied flippantly, doubting he would have it. He probably wouldn’t know what it was.

Some houses on Earth had had attics. Nobody built homes like that anymore, but often builders did leave storage space atop the house for electrical and communications equipment. That “attic” space was almost always vented. If I could climb up there, maybe I could knock out a grate and jump off the roof.

I noted an access panel in the hall ceiling, but it appeared to be sealed shut—and out of easy reach. But maybe there would be a way to break through? I’d need something to stand on. However, I didn’t have enough time. Maxx was too close. He’d catch me for sure.

Opening a door, I found a bedroom furnished with two twin beds. I ducked inside to check the window. The solid pane of frosted reinforced glass provided natural light, but nobody could see in or out—or get out. Testing, I tapped the window with my fist. Solid as a rock. Breaking the glass would require a battering ram. He hadn’t lied about the windows.

Reentering the hall, I could hear him banging around in the kitchen and singing. The Ara-Cope lyrics were incomprehensible, but he had a rich, deep, masculine—I hated to admit—sexy voice. My heart skipped a beat, and my stupid stomach fluttered.

I must be nuts. What’s wrong with me?He could still be a trafficker. And even if he is LOP, that doesn’t mean he’s one of the good guys.

With respect to trustworthiness, the league rated higher thana slave trafficker, but the bar was set pretty low.The league wasn’t exactly known for its scruples, principles often giving way to expediency as its agents seemed to follow the adage of the ends justifying the means. In practice, their methods tended to be nearly as dodgy as the criminals they targeted. Like using innocent, unsuspecting humans as bait.

Hence, I could accept him being an agent. Was I sure? No. But a preponderance of the evidence supported it. His methods weren’t out of line with how the league operated. His credentials had appeared authentic. His arguments sounded logical.

I would give the LOP the benefit of the doubt and agree the league was trying to end alien species trafficking. However, in addition to their Machiavellian methods, their own policies had facilitated the slave trade, and they were playing cleanup—racing around to rectify a problem they’d had an indirect hand in creating. The embargo had only stopped law-abiding aliens from visiting or contacting New Terra. Isolated and ignorant, we had become like fish in a barrel for the slave traffickers.

So, sue me for doing what the LOP should have done—alerted New Terran authorities. Unfortunately, the president hadn’t had a chance to act yet. She still had to meet with her defense advisors. Once she did, I guessed she would mobilize security, which might prevent the mass kidnapping, thus interfering with the LOP’s plan.

As for Garrison, well, either he had thought I was nuts, or he was involved in slave trafficking.

Quickly, I checked two bedrooms. One contained another set of twin beds, the other a massive king that took up the whole room. But neither room had an exit.

Dammit. May as well wash up a little to account for my time.

Entering the bath, I gasped at my reflection in the mirror over the sink. My face heated with mortification. No wonder he suggested I bathe.

The dark cell must have been filthy. Grime and who-knew-what had been transferred to me, smudging my face, body, and clothing. In the well-lit “safe house,” I should have noticed my dirty hands, filthy broken fingernails, and stained clothing, except I’d been preoccupied after being paralyzed, dubiously rescued, and then shocked by the revelation my latest kidnapper maybe worked for the League of Planets.

In a cabinet, I found stacks of drawstring pants and long-sleeved pullover shirts. After shaking out a couple of gargantuan garments, I surmised they were one-size-fits-none. Beggars couldn’t be choosers. They were clean.

As for my clothes, I didn’t care if I ever wore them again. I stripped, deposited my filthy clothing into a chute I assumed was for dirty laundry, and stepped into the shower. I groaned with appreciation of my second shower since arriving home. The spray wasn’t as strong as in my own bath, but the water was hot, and shampoo and body wash were provided in a dispenser.

If I hadn’t spent so much time searching for an exit, I could have lingered, but I did a quick wash and jumped out and donned the borrowed pajama-like clothes sans underwear.

I didn’t want to put my dirty panties and bra back on, and in the months I’d been on Nomoru, I’d gotten used to not wearing undergarments. The people on Nomoru didn’t wear undergarments, so none had been available.

In a drawer, I found individually packaged combs and toothbrushes like one would find at a hotel. How nice.Welcome to the Kidnap Inn. Guests check in, but they don’t check out.

I didn’t see a hair dryer, so I ran a comb through my wet hair and then brushed my teeth. My mouth still felt a little fuzzy, but I guessed that was a residual effect from being stunned.

There weren’t any socks either, so I donned my shoes without them. At the first opportunity to run, I had to be ready. There wouldn’t be time to put on my shoes. I did not intend to wait around while the LOP bumbled along. Somebody had to stop the ship. Let it land. But it would not launch. Not if I had any say about it.

I opened the bathroom door, and a delicious aroma wafted on the air. Stomach rumbling, I followed my nose to the main room where Maxx had set the table. He was behind the bar in the kitchen. He saw me and smirked. “Did you check everything out?”

Admit nothing. Lie and deny. “What do you mean?”

“Everything in the sanitation room. You were in there a long time.”

That wasn’t what he meant. But we could both pretend. “It felt good to clean up,” I said.

I doubted I looked much better in shapeless, oversized clothes with wet hair plastered to my head. The baggy pants had bunched up around my waist after I’d cinched and tied the drawstring. The long-sleeved V-neck T-shirt fit so loosely, if I leaned over, he’d get a glimpse of the goods.

“You’d gotten rather dirty.”

Of all the nerve! I couldn’t deny I’d needed to bathe, but how rude to say so. Would it kill you to say, “You didn’t look that bad?”

Why should I care what he thought? He’s LOP. Or a kidnapper. The jury’s still out. The fact that he was tall and good-looking, and we were alone together shouldn’t factor into any equation.

My stomach growled again. “What’s for dinner?”

“Lasagna. It’s what you said you wanted.” He motioned to the dining table. “If you’re ready to eat, sit. The food is ready.”

I started to ask if I could help but then shut my mouth. This wasn’t a date or a get-together with a friend. I’d been dragged here against my will; the only difference between being a detainee in protective custody and a kidnapped prisoner was who had done the abducting.

And maybe the chance of survival.

And the meal. No dry cat food. Lasagna. My favorite.

I took a seat and saw he had opened a bottle of red wine. “Would you care for some wine?” I asked politely.

He hesitated and then said, “Yes, thank you.”

I filled his glass halfway then poured myself some and took a tiny sip, cognizant I was drinking on an empty stomach. The wine tasted velvety and smooth, and its plum bouquet smelled delightful.

He brought in two plates of steaming, cheesy lasagna and set one in front of me before sliding into the opposite seat. My heart fluttered. The only thing sexier than a muscular handsome man was a muscular handsome man who brought food. Don’t forget how he shocked you and then said you looked like a pig. Feeding me is part of his evil plot to win my cooperation.

He started to eat, and I did the same. I stifled a moan of pleasure at the meaty, cheesy layered pasta. He’d gotten the good stuff. Most people ate meals concocted at giant food formulation plants. How much you were willing to pay determined what you got. At the budget end, food was lab-created and artificially flavored, although fortified to provide essential nutrients, while at the high end, you got the good stuff. Genuine food. Cheese made from cow’s milk. Real meat. Sun-ripened tomatoes.

“Clothing, food, wine—your safe house is well-stocked,” I commented, wondering how many people had been brought here. The house slept six if two people shared the room with the big bed, and there was no reason why they couldn’t. It was massive.

“It’s important to be prepared for any eventuality.”

“Is this place used often? Who stays here?” Why does the LOP need a safe house?

Instead of answering, he forked a bit of lasagna into his mouth and chewed.

Sometimes silence unearthed the best answers, so I didn’t probe further, just let my question hang out there. Tangentially, I wondered if he liked our food. Did Copans eat what Arasetans ate? I had no idea. Araset food had been different from ours; it had taken getting used to. How long had Maxx been stationed on our planet?

I took another bite and watched his mouth move as he chewed. He had full lips. A strong jaw. Golden eyes. Cute, rather than massive, horns. Watching him, it struck me that he reminded me of somebody? But who? The only two Copans I’d met were Joule, Giselle’s bond-mate, and Nadir, who was half Arasetan.

“Whoever needs to remain hidden,” Maxx said.

I swallowed. “What are you talking about?”

“That’s who stays in the safe houses.”

“And then what happens to them?”

“When the danger is past, they return to their lives.”

“So, you’re going to let me leave?”

“Eventually.”

Could I believe him? And how long was ‘eventually’?

“Provided you don’t do anything stupid and get yourself killed first,” he added.