Chapter Eighteen

Don’t worry. I’ve got Jessie contained…enough information to win her compliance…she doesn’t suspect…Garrison.

Omigodohmigod. Bile surged into my throat.Maxx ended his conversation with Garrison. I clapped a hand over my mouth and ran to the bathroom. I turned on the shower and vomited into the sink.

Lies! All lies! He’s not LOP. Maybe Princess Imana isn’t involved with the cartels. His mother probably isn’t human.He told me that shit so I’d trust him. Or if she is, she’s a slave.He’s a trafficker. A lying, morally bankrupt slave trader.

I’d slept with him.

I yanked the pajama top off and jumped into the stall. Tears flowed with the water as I scrubbed away traces of his touch. I’m such an idiot. Stupid. Stupid. Gullible.

The man had broken into my apartment, later shocked me with the stun stick, and locked me up. Lied to me. I’d caught him at it. And still he’d managed to fool me. He’s good, very good.

Persuasion was always more effective than brute force. Force controlled behavior. Persuasion captured hearts and minds. You didn’t resist if you didn’t know you needed to.

But how could this have happened to me? I considered myself to be a sharp, savvy, perceptive woman. I’d been suspicious of Garrison’s out-of-character behavior right at the start. Yet I’d accepted the lies of a stranger, an alien.

Certain mind-control chemicals weakened resistance. Was that why he’d insisted on making all the meals? Had he slipped something into my food?

He’d acted so damned nice. It was still hard to reconcile his seeming concern, attentiveness, and passion with what had to be the cold heart of a slaver.

Or was I jumping to conclusions? Could I be wrong? I only heard half the conversation. Maybe it wasn’t what it sounded like. Should I give him the chance to explain? Confront him and ask him about the conversation?

But if I’m right about what I heard, he’ll know I’m on to him.

Occam’s razor postulated that if faced with two competing explanations, the simpler one was usually the best.

Complicated: The alien, who landed on my planet illegally, burglarized my apartment, shocked me, stunned me, locked me up, and then seduced me is a legit undercover government agent.

Simple: He’s a slave trafficker.

Can I get any stupider? I have to use my head, not my aching heart. There is little evidence he’s LOP, and overwhelming evidence he’s a trafficker. I have to get out of here! I’d stopped trying to find a way out after succumbing to his seduction.

Trust had a flip side. As long as he thinks he still has me snowed, he might relax his guard.He might become less vigilant. Leave his handheld unattended.

The device probably locked and unlocked the doors. If he forgets to log off, and sets the device down, I might be able to open the doors. Or the safe where he put the stunner. We’ll see how he likes receiving a paralyzing shock.

He rarely let the device out of his sight, but a couple of times, he’d left it on the counter and gone into another room. He’d have to shower sometime.

He’s going to wonder what’s taking me so long. I shut off the water and stepped out of the stall. Hurriedly I toweled off and dressed in a clean top and pants. I donned my shoes. No more walking about barefoot and half dressed.

Be cool and calm. Act normal. Taking a grim, deep breath, I exited the bath.

“I was starting to wonder if I should check on you. Everything okay?” Maxx’s forehead crinkled with fake concern as I entered the kitchen.

“Fine.” I forced a chuckle. “I lost track of time. The hot water felt so good, I hated to get out. I couldn’t shower when I was abducted.” I emphasized the word while watching his face, but he didn’t react one way or another. “I’ll never take bathing for granted again.”

His gaze dropped to my feet. “Going somewhere?” His lips quirked. This was the first time I’d worn shoes all day.

“My feet were cold.” I swept my gaze over the kitchen, alighting on the handheld on the counter. The screen had gone into sleep mode. Using it would require a password again. Had I not wasted so much time in the bathroom, I might have devised a ruse to send him into another room and accessed the device. Good reminder that any chance to escape will be fleeting, and I must stay on my toes.

He’d set the table, but I didn’t see or smell food. “What did you decide to fix for dinner?” How would I manage to eat and chit chat like nothing had changed? How would I keep the food down? Ugh. I no longer wanted pizza. I didn’t want anything.

“It doesn’t take long, so I decided to let you choose your own. It’s a good thing I did. The food would have gone cold by now.”

To feign normalcy, I had to pick something. Peering into the freezer, I spotted a chicken and veggie casserole. “I’ll have this.” It seemed to be the lightest option. “What would you like” you lying rat bastard?

“Surprise me,” he said.

Oh, I intend to.

I picked chili con carne for him. The box gave it a five-chili pepper rating. I hoped the chili lit his mouth on fire and caused excruciating heartburn. When he pooped, I wanted flames to shoot out of his ass.

“I’ll fix the meals tonight. You go sit down.” I truly doubted he’d been drugging me—I didn’t feel doped up—but better safe than sorry.

“I’ll get the drinks, then. Would you like a glass of wine?”

“Mmm…” I pretended to consider it. “No, not tonight.” I needed to be sober and clearheaded. “You go ahead.” Have a glass or two or three. Have the whole bottle. If he got drunk, maybe he’d pass out.

I zapped the meals. When they were hot, I slid his plate across the counter. “Here you go!” Then I poured myself some water and carried my glass and meal into the dining area.

“I got the water.” He motioned at my place setting. Once again, he hadn’t bothered with a shirt. Staring at his lightly furred naked chest would have seemed cozy and intimate a mere hour ago; now, it seemed like a deliberate attempt to seduce. He knew I’d found him sexy and hot.

“You did say you were going to get the drinks.” I forced a wry smile and took my seat. I noticed he’d opted not to have wine.

“This smells good.” He picked up his spoon.

“I hope it’s not too spicy for you.”

“I’m sure it’s not. I love chili, the hotter the better.” He took a bite. “Mm. Perfect.”

I took tiny bites of my casserole, mostly pushing the food around to avoid further upset to my churning stomach. I hated that he could act so normally when he’d shattered my trust.

“You’re quiet,” he commented.

“Am I?” I shook my head as if mystified by the observation.

In truth, words failed me. I had no idea how to go about making normal conversation. Any teasing repartee had been erased from my memory banks. I didn’t want to flirt with him.

But questions? Dozens flooded my brain. But how deep could I probe without arousing suspicion? That hadn’t been a concern before, but everything was different now. And before, I’d given him the benefit of the doubt. Now that I knew he’d lie, what could be gained from asking?

In the distance, I heard a rumble.

“There’s supposed to be a storm tonight,” he said.

There’d been a mention of a storm in his conversation with Garrison. “What makes you say that?” I asked, watching his face.

He looked at me. “Didn’t you hear the thunder?”

“Is this your first experience with thunderstorms?” I patted myself on the back for how casual I sounded.

“No. Other planets experience thunder and lightning, too. I’ve been on a lot of worlds.”

I’ll bet when you left, those planets had fewer people than when you arrived.

“Where do you think you’ll go from here?” I asked, curious to hear what story he’d come up with. I took a tiny nibble of my flavorless meal. The problem wasn’t the food; it was me. Even the five-alarm chili would have tasted like sawdust.

“It’s too soon to know. Higher-ups will wait for tomorrow’s outcome before notifying me where I’m headed.”

“Assuming everything goes as planned, you’ll leave tomorrow?”

“Probably the next day. I expect there will be some residual matters I’ll need to deal with.”

“At what point will I be free to leave?”

“As soon as I receive notification Imana is in custody, and the ship has been impounded.”

Given how much I knew of the cartel, he couldn’t release me. He would have to put me on that slave ship or kill me. My heart pounded. I must get out of here tonight!

“And what happens tomorrow if the humans don’t get rescued and/or Imana isn’t arrested?”

He averted his eyes for a moment before returning his attention to me. “You mean in general, or what will happen to you?”

I’d meant my situation, but the big picture mattered, too. More, actually. “Both.”

He rubbed a horn. “We have a lot of manpower assigned. More than me and my partner are working on this,” he said. Yeah, he has a whole cartel behind him. “The chance of failure is remote.” Remote, but not impossible? Can this evil plot be stopped? “To use one of your sayings, we’ll cross that bridge when we get to it,” he said and swallowed the last mouthful of chili. He’d scarfed the fiery concoction down like a starving man.

He was still playing the secret agent angle, still trying to keep me ignorant and compliant.

If I don’t act now, tomorrow I’ll find myself on that slave ship. My gaze slid to the handheld on the counter. I jumped to my feet. “I’m sure you’ll want to shower. I think I left you some hot water.” I faked a laugh. “I’ll clean up here while you do that.”

He swept his gaze over the dirty plates, lingering on my dish. I’d hardly touched my meal. “Are you sure? Would you like something else to eat?”

“I’m sure. I wasn’t as hungry as I thought.”

“Okay, then. I won’t be long.” Snagging his handheld, he headed down the hall.

Dammit! I grabbed the dirty plates and stomped to the kitchen. The stratagem hadn’t worked, but it did yield an important tidbit of info. He trusted me quite a bit less than I thought. But I would keep trying. One of these times, he might forget his handheld.

However, that didn’t mean I’d be able to get into it.

Thunder rumbled. From the waning light filtering in through frosted windows, I could see the sky had prematurely darkened. Without a clock, I couldn’t tell the exact time, but I guessed it wasn’t that late.

It’s going to be a long night.How am I going to get through this? Had I not overheard the conversation, we would have snuggled up on the sofa or in bed, laughed and talked, had sex again. He would still be expecting that. I rubbed my eyelids, feeling the beginning of a stress headache. Would he buy a headache excuse?

I’d no sooner cleaned up the kitchen when he emerged in a pair of clean pants. His still-damp chest fur had darkened from the water. He set his device on the counter.

“There’s a hair dryer in the cabinet. You don’t have to go around with wet fur.” I seized another opportunity to separate him from the device.

“I might try that next time, but I’m okay.” He smoothed a hand over his furry pecs. “I produce a lot of body heat, and my fur is very short, so it dries fast.”

I’d slept next to him, slept with him. He wasn’t lying about the body heat.

He cocked his head and looked at me. “Are you all right? You seem…preoccupied.”

“I’m worried about tomorrow.” Truer words never spoken.

“I know you are.” He enveloped me in an unwelcome hug. I didn’t want to feel his hard body beneath the quick-drying, soft fur or smell his enticing musk, but I forced myself to hold him around his waist.

“I am getting anxious. I could use a distraction,” I said and then silently cursed. I could guess what he’d say.

Right on cue, he pulled back and waggled his eyebrows. A suggestive smile danced on his lips. “I’ve got an idea.”