Parallel Seduction (20 page)

Maybe it was God who supplied it, but a very fast and clever one popped into Hope's mind. "Because I met this man in a bar," she answered evenly, remembering the dream about the motel. "One-night stand, you know how it goes." She smiled up into Kryn's face, playing the gal-pal card. "Anyway, yeah, I found out that he's an alien, and realized pretty quickly that his people could heal me. So I followed him, and that's how I wound up on the transport and out here. He was going to have me shot because I know too much."

"That's why he argued that you needed your pack?" Kryn sounded amused that Hope's story was filled with so many holes. Hope assessed the alien, how she towered over her, her long length of dark brown hair. Probably attractive, maybe beautiful, not that any of that mattered at this particular moment.

Hope flashed her best and most winning smile. "Well, correction. I think the lieutenant
wanted
to have me shot, but"—she leaned in close to Kryn, who instantly stiffened—"you know, the sex was just white-hot."

Hope was ready to embroider the details, to really take things up a notch, but another soldier interrupted them. "The pack's clear, Kryn." The grunt thrust her med supplies back into Kryn's clutches. "It's only medicine and stuff, like she says."

Kryn shoved the pack against Hope's chest. "Here, take it," the woman said emotionlessly.

Hope wanted to weep from gratitude and relief; she wouldn't have made it another hour without a snack. She'd been losing control of her glucose levels all day, and her recent bursts of activity already had them diving once again.

"Thank you." Hope bowed her head slightly in acknowledgment, but Kryn had already moved away from her.

Yes, Hope was certainly grateful, but it was far more than the return of her med supplies for which she rejoiced. Deep within her sack, sewn into the lining, she held a secret—one that might just save both of their asses.

T
he FBI was bringing them
into Jackson by commercial jet, and Chris handed over his flying armed form, already filled out with his badge number and detailed information. As special agents, he and Blake were bypassing the usual security line, walking in where all the departing civilian passengers were exiting. Whenever they flew commercial there was always paperwork, the assessment of whether air marshals would be on board, the usual government red tape. Once they cleared security, both Chris and Blake stepped through the gate.

Chris stuck his boarding pass into the back pocket of his pants, impatient and restless. The next few hours would take everything out of him. Hope was his best friend, his twin, his other half. Maybe it was unhealthy, but he could never truly stop worrying about her, all the more given her illness—and her propensity for trouble. He shook off his familiar fears, staring at the gateway straight ahead.

Together he and Blake walked the long concourse, passing Domino's and Burger King, but the only thing on Chris's mind was getting up to Yellowstone. Blake stared wistfully at one of the coffee shops, and Chris was about to give him hell over his yuppy-man addiction to chai lattes when his cell jarred him.

"Harper," he said, whipping the phone to his ear.

It was the Denver office. "We've got a fix on your sister," his SSA told him. "She's not at Mirror Lake. Well, not anymore."

Chris stopped in his tracks, Blake walking ahead without him. "Not anymore? What do you mean?"

"She turned on her cell about twelve minutes ago, but her position has been shifting ever since. We triangulated her not far from Yellowstone, but she's in motion—and fast. It's got to be some kind of transport."

Up ahead, Blake turned back, impatience written on his face until he got a look at Chris, and concern instantly replaced annoyance.

"So what do you want us to do, sir?" Chris asked.

"Get your asses on up to Mirror Lake."

"But if she's gone—"

"Chris, do I have to remind you that this isn't about your sister?" his boss asked briskly. "You have a job to do, so get going."

J
ake paced the interior of
the mitres chamber, trying to arrive at a plan. So far, however, his big "plans" had led to disaster. Hope and Scott had been captured; he and Anna were locked inside the mitres, and there wasn't a damn thing he could do to help either of those two situations from within here. All this time he'd been pushing toward this very moment, to be able to return to the future; now he just wanted to get the hell out and do something—anything—to help Hope and his younger self survive.

Meanwhile Anna eyed him warily, her dark eyes wide and furious as she followed him in circles about the rounded perimeter of the chamber. When the Antousian soldiers had appeared on the path, blocking Hope and Scott's retreat, he'd made a split-second decision: He allowed the portal to open, transporting both himself and Anna inside of the mitres to temporary safety. Anna had been questioning his sanity—and his strategy—ever since.

"You just left them out there, to those
vlksai
freaks. Do you have any idea what's going to happen to them now? The first clue of what kind of danger you've put them in?" she ranted.

Jake held a hand up, silencing her. "I need to think, Anna."

"How do you even know my name?" She planted one hand on her hip. "You seem to know all of us—and very well."

He shook his head, staring down at the data collector; if he'd been able to upload the codes twice now, surely he could make the damned thing work one more time.

"Why did you transport us in here when they needed our support? Maybe you really are our enemy, though I'd been inclined to think otherwise."

This caught his attention, and he glanced up from his handheld. "And what makes you so sure of that?"

Anna rubbed a smudged finger over her nose. "Two things, actually. The first being that you love Hope Harper,
and
the second being that the universe won't tolerate you and Scott being in proximity—well, which raises a third. You're an Antousian shifter who's traveled back from the future. Your physical nature makes the possibility of a body switch quite real."

Dumbfounded, Jake gaped at the soldier. Anna had always been his friend, had been loyal and devoted, especially after Hope's death. But this woman had no memory of that; this was the woman he'd kissed not so long ago in this world, and who had laughed in his face. It was a reaction that had hurt him deeply—not so much because he had cared for her romantically, but because it made him feel dreadfully ugly. Awkward.
Hybrid
, from the top of his head to the leather in his boots, and like the last sort of man any of their female ranks would want to claim as mate.

"I'm on
the
right track, aren't I?" she pressed, her large dark eyes narrowing on him.

There was no reason to hide the truth anymore; Hope knew his terrible, sordid secret, and now this friend had intuited the facts as well. "You're on it."

"Then,
sir,
how about you tell me one sure fact that will prove you're who I think you are."

He stared at the polished floor of the chamber. "Why does it matter?" he asked, suddenly more exhausted and worn down than he'd ever felt, not even during the endless days of their endless war.

She stamped her boots in exasperation. "Because you're either my enemy or you're my very good friend. I need to know which one for sure. You owe me that."

"Okay, I can prove it with certainty." Even now, it was an embarrassing thing to discuss, but nobody else would have this particular kernel of knowledge, the one he could use to authenticate his identity. He sucked in a breath and then rushed out his confession on a quick exhale. "When we first arrived on this planet, you and I were on a surveillance mission. The night just went on and on, nothing much happening," he said. "It was hotter than hell, too, a big heat wave going on. So … I kissed you." She flushed instantly, chewing her lip. "I kissed you because, you know, I really had a thing for you back then. But you know what you did? You laughed at my advances."

Anna closed her eyes. "My gods."

"Yeah, you laughed in my face, and it led me to a pretty strong conclusion: that my fair-skinned human looks didn't do one thing for my Refarian comrades. I started looking for companionship among the humans right after that. Night after night, bar after bar."

She rushed him, flinging her arms about his neck. "Oh, gods, Scott. What have you been through?" she whispered, holding him tight. It was utterly unexpected, such an outpouring of emotion; Anna was a smart-ass, hardened soldier. Slowly he closed his hands around her back.

"I've been through hell," he whispered. The embrace felt so good, so comforting.

Slowly she released him, staring right up into his eyes. "And that kiss? Sweet gods of the universe, how could you have ever thought I was ridiculing you?"

He lifted an eyebrow. "Urn, because you laughed? Right in my face, as a matter of fact. I know I wasn't a gorgeous guy, especially not to our people. I've always been a
vlksai
cuss, and half-human at that. It wasn't a pretty sight, and I'm not stupid; I got it. No wonder you laughed."

She regarded him for a long moment, then gently touched his cheek. "You really don't know, do you?" He shrugged, confused, and she continued. "You really have no idea how beautiful you are. How beautiful we all think you are—every single woman under your command?"

He felt his face grow hot. "Don't stroke my ego, not now, Anna. Besides, I'm not that man anymore. You can see that just by looking at me."

This time she was the one who blushed, and dropped her gaze. "I laughed because I thought you handsome," she explained quietly. "You were my friend, Scott." She lifted her gaze, searching his face as if she needed him to understand. "And I laughed because no man—not in the ranks or back home or anywhere—had ever once kissed me. I was such a trembling little virgin in those days, I had no idea what to do, especially not with a real man like you."

It was the last thing in the universe he'd expected. "That can't be true."

"No, it is true." She shook her head vehemently. "I had the biggest crush on you, but you were my commanding officer. My friend. I was scared to death of you, too, because I didn't know you very well yet."

Slowly he backed away from her, fiddling with his handheld all over again. Strange, but his face burned and he felt inexplicably awkward, and just couldn't look into her eyes.

"So you believe me about who I really am, then?" he murmured.

"Scott, yes, of course I believe you. There's no other way you could have known about that kiss."

"One of your friends might have told me," he disagreed, still training his gaze downward.

"I never told anyone." Her voice was hushed, sincere.

"Neither did I." The blush on his face deepened, even though it wasn't from attraction to Anna, not at this point, with so much behind them. 

"Well, now that I've confirmed your identity, Dillon, we've got to find a way to get out of this place and save their asses."

"Look, I'm not Dillon anymore—that's really important to me." He dared to meet her gaze. "I'm Jakob Tierny. It's the only name I've gone by ever since.…"

"He's the man whose body you took?"

He nodded, swallowing. "I'll save that story for another time."

"No matter. If you did it, there was a good reason." She stuck her stubborn chin into the air. "I'm already settled about that fact."

"You seem to have a lot of faith in me."

"Always well-placed, sir, always. And I know you'll help us figure this crisis out."

H
ope sank into her seat
aboard the Antousian battle cruiser. Scott was buckled in beside her, both hands bound, as were her own. They'd allowed her to down a package of crackers and some juice; her test strip had shown what she already knew: that her glucose levels had dipped low. If they didn't let her eat a real meal soon, though, her levels would get seriously out of control.

And when they'd let her have the pack, she'd implemented the one safety valve she figured she and Scott had going for them: She'd powered up her phone where it was secretly stashed in a hidden pouch within the pack. Thank God the alien goon who'd inspected it hadn't discovered her slim cell. It was the latest government-issue, and super lightweight; otherwise it would undoubtedly have been discovered. She only hoped that at this altitude the FBI could still get a reading on her signal; coverage in midair was usually so unreliable, cutting in and out, if she got any signal at all. Still, maybe if fate had decided to be kind just this once, they had a prayer of getting some help.

"Where are we?" she asked Scott under her breath. Beside her, she could feel his body heat, could sense the way he struggled within his bonds.

"Heading straight into the stratosphere, most likely. Nobody will ever get to us up here, and that's the way these freaks want it."

Thinking of her cell signal, she felt a wave of nausea overcome her. "What're the specs on this thing?"

He pushed his shoulder against hers significantly, falling quiet as one of the Antousians walked past where they sat. Beneath her, all around her, she could hear and feel vibrations. An engine, powerful, rumbled throughout the whole craft. Somewhere near them a door slid open, then immediately closed. After that, silence. Scott still waited, and then leaned much closer toward her ear. She closed her eyes, catching his scent.

"It's a powerful, massive battle cruiser," he whispered. "Like the one they put in position over Warren. A real beast."

"What do they want with us?"

He blew out a hesitant breath, then replied, "To drain us of every last bit of intel we might possess. Then kill us—me especially."

She jerked her head toward him. "Why especially you?" Her voice sounded overwrought, emotional; the idea of Scott dying made her feel just that way, so what was the point of pretending?

Scott pressed his forehead lightly against hers; it killed her that she couldn't touch him, couldn't reach for his hand. For the moment this was the extent of their ability to connect physically, and being unable to see much tore her apart inside.

"Because aside from Jared Bennett," he told her quietly, "I'm the number one guy on Veckus's kill list. He's the guy in charge of their Earth strategies. And no other creature has ever despised me as much as he. I'm a turn-coat in his mind, remember. A traitor to the
vlksai
race."

She pressed her eyes shut, willing the entire moment to be nothing more than a nightmare, one of their shared dreams gone awry. "We can't let him hurt you."

Scott nuzzled her gently. "I doubt we've got much choice right now, sweetheart, but I'm open to any ideas."

At that precise moment the sound of heavy footsteps filled the area around them as several people marched up to them. "Separate!" a voice she recognized as belonging to Kryn called out. "Who put these two right together like this?" All at once rough hands took hold of her, jabbing at her restraints, and she was splayed face-first in the aisle.

"Go easy on her!" Scott yelled. "Your beef's not with her but with me."

Hope drew up on her knees, shaking her head to clear it as Kryn laughed. "Well, we already know that you're into the little human, so I'd say she's exactly the one we should focus on …
Lieutenant
."

With that, Hope found herself being hustled down the aisle and into a small side compartment, thrust down on a bench seat. The door closed, and Kryn stood before her. Hope sucked at air, trying to think, but she feared that if things kept up like this, she was going to be in a world of hurt with her diabetes.

"What do you want with me?" she demanded of the other woman. "I don't know a thing! I've told you that already."

Kryn dropped down in front of her, leaning close enough that Hope could almost see her. "Cutie, all I want is for your boyfriend to talk. We've been after Dillon for a long time, and right now I see you as the best avenue for that."

Hope began to tremble. "If I can't keep up with my meds.…"

But Kryn cut her off. "I'll make sure you get what you need."

"Why?" Hope asked, unable to contain her surprise.

Kryn extended her hand, feeling for Hope's until they made a connection. "Kryn Zoltners," she announced. "And you are…?"

Something weird and instinctual—that same old voice that had guided her all along—led her to say, "Hope Harper."

"Hope, if you don't know about the virus that destroyed the majority of my people, then you don't know a hell of a lot about this war. I've had far too many friends—terribly sick friends—who relied on medication not to take pity on a prisoner of war like you."

With that the woman rose abruptly and exited the room, not speaking another word.

"W
here are you transporting
us?" Dillon stared down the tall brunette soldier, the one he'd heard referred to as Kryn. For several seconds her hate-filled gaze locked with his while she stood in front of him, and without taking her eyes off of him, she slid into the seat harness across the aisle.