Domestic Duet: Domestic Alliance & Asset (14 page)

Montage straightened tall and proud. “Promotion?” he asked, cautiously, his mouth moving slowly as if tasting the word on his tongue. Montage drew a hand down his face. “A promotion,” he continued on a stammer. “You’re promoting me?”

“I can’t watch every bay or sector, and every level, and raise a daughter.” If he lost Sadie he’d have to adjust his schedule to spend more time with his daughter. It would break her little heart.

“True. Norese does grab the attention of many with her round little face and red hair. She will attract the males in less than a few years.”

“I know, don’t remind me. Plus, we’ve doubled in population on the planet and the stations. I can’t do it alone.” He pulled out a pin from his vest, and then attached it to Montage’s vest breast pocket. “I’m assigning you Sector Two.”

Montage touched the metal with an appreciation. “I accept with honor.”

“Good. Now, we have a lot to go over. We’ll do the formalities later. Right now, we have a meeting with the human board next week before all space travel is shut down for two weeks, and I need a list of all the karuntees that will be on the dark moon and not on the space station.”

Montage stood taller. “I can have it sent over this evening, before we accept the next shipment from the humans.” Montage keyed in a code on the electronic device and a list popped up on Aroc’s screen. He leaned in and scanned a finger down the screen. The patrolled areas around the station, the number of ships in repair, and the number of arrests were down. It made for a quiet week. “Good, good. Keep me informed of the shipments coming in and the investigation of the rogue faction.”

“On it,” Montage assured. “Your human female, will you bring her up for the two-week shut-down?”

He steepled his fingers under his chin. Rolling the muscles in his shoulder, he eased the tension. “I think Cantrell is going after Sadie.”

Montage paused. “I can have him taken care of by midnight.”

Aroc waited for any inflection on the male’s face… Nothing, not even a blink.

“No, I’ll take care of this one myself.” He had an arrangement with Sadie; they weren’t dating as humans do. If she wanted Cantrell over him, he would have to respect that. And he hadn’t marked her as his so she was fair game. “I’ll handle it.”

Chapter 3

Saturated with the scent of lilacs and freshly mowed lawns, the night air danced over Sadie’s face as she descended the sidewalk to catch the 7pm bus home. The warm evening breeze ruffled the fringes of her untidy hair. It didn’t matter, she had other things on her mind and on her way home; there was no point in fussing over it now. It all added to her look of exhaustion.

Theresa’s party was not for another hour. With a bag of groceries from her earlier trip to the market perched on her hip, she stepped out of the way onto the grass before Sally Mercer and her new bicycle mowed her down. The streetlights were beginning to flicker and any kid with a lick of sense would have his behind on the front porch before they came on.

“Hurry home, Ms. Sally, you know better than to play so far from home,” she called after the fleeting blur.

“Yes ma’am, Ms. Sadie,” the little girl hollered back over her shoulders, brown pigtails whipping wild and free. Sadie watched the little spit fire. Her knees pumping fast, the buttercream dress catching air as she hightailed it home. All the children of the neighborhood loved and respected Sadie. And it was that reason she needed for them to see her ride the public transport. She couldn't just vanish. Besides, she knew most of the women on the shuttle. They were all Domestic Assets with families they either spied on or lived with to spy on others.

Ready to get out of the hot sun, Sadie searched through her purse for her bus transfer. She missed the big Plymouth idling beside the curb. Rock Hudson’s twin leaned over the passenger side to speak to her. At least in Sadie’s eyes, Oliver favored Rock Hudson.

“Hello, Ms. Sadie.”

A lump knotted in her gut. Why would he do this out in the open? This was going in her report to the captain later. He could jeopardize the mission if she were to be fired. Instead of showing her irritation at his ignorance, she put on a mortified grimace. He was shamelessly flirting with her out on the street
. Remember you're Sadie, the humble maid, right now.
Straightening the paper bag of groceries, she glanced past the row of open curtains across the street then said, “Evening, Mr. Cantrell.” She tried not to seem startled as her heartbeat thumped like a June bug trapped in a mason jar. He was just too handsome to be toying with her. Dark almost black hair, neat and trim atop a hard forehead, set off his chiseled features as he nodded at her packages.

“Those bags look heavy. Get in. I’ll take you home.”

She shook her head. “My bus will be along momentarily.”

The passenger door swung wide open along with Sadie’s eyes. Was he offering her a ride in broad daylight? She’d be the gossip on the stoop and the beauty parlor tomorrow accepting a ride from a white man. She had to get out of there.

“C’mon, Sadie, get in.”

“No, I’ll wait. It’s a lovely evening.”

“Nonsense. You live on the other side of the tracks. Let me at least see you to your door.”

What was he doing?

“Just how, may I ask, do you know where I live?”

He held a hand up and gave her a sideways glance. “Last month…Savannah hospitalized…You kept Timothy…”

Caught up in her theatrics, she’d forgotten. “Oh…right. I’d given you the address to pick him up. I forgot about that.” The tight braid she wore down her back felt like a rope around her neck now. If he knew her secret would he blow her cover by coming across as uninterested now?

Her face dropped as she watched him set the parking brake before he jumped out and came around to stand in front of her. Old Spice cologne claimed her attention. “Let me take these from you.” At over six feet, he stood at least a head above her. Navy pinstripe suit with a white shirt and blue and grey tie fit perfectly. The signs of a tailored suit, no stress lines.

She held the grocery bag and her tote. “Mr. Cantrell, I appreciate the offer, but my shuttle is here.” The two looked up at the city bus that stood behind his car. The driver eyed Mr. Cantrell with a look of disdain on his stern old chocolate face.

“Oh, well maybe next time, Ms. Sadie.” His blue eyes moved over her face, making her blush. The heat bled across her cheeks, assuredly leaving a flush stain of red on her face. He was just too handsome to be flirting like that. “Hey, why not come back to the party with me? I’m sure you made all the food; why not come enjoy some. Besides, you can hear the bragging first hand. Savannah is a most gracious host, but we all know who cooked.”

Oh, she should shoot him with her phaser. “That’s very kind of you to say, but no thank you.” She sidestepped him as the driver blew his horn. “I have another engagement tonight.”

“Is a few minutes of your time too much to ask, Sadie? I’ll take you home.” He touched her forearm then drew back. “Pardon me…” He was hitting on her. “Can I take you to dinner this Saturday, my treat?”

Surprise—if that wasn't the name of a blush, it should be. Her skin sweltered under his piercing stare. Sadie couldn't believe his selfishness, putting her in a situation like this. Maybe she should give him a mirror to remind him he's a white man in the 1960's. “No thank you, Mr. Cantrell.” Adjusting her bags, she made to leave calling over her shoulder, “You have a good evening at the party and make sure to compliment Mrs. Edwards on the house. She worked really hard decorating and getting things in order.” Sadie hurried to climb the steps of the bus, with Cantrell close on her heels.

The driver’s wide eyes said he thought Cantrell was a threat to her and he lurched forward, coming to her aid.

“Mr. Pete, please don’t concern yourself. Mr. Cantrell was just seeing that I made it onto the bus okay, weren’t you, Mr. Cantrell?” she said shyly, peering back over her shoulder.

A crack in his flirty personality revealed something dark then it disappeared. He didn’t like being turned down.

“Okay…a picnic? Salem Park has a fountain in the center of the courtyard. We can try out that new Kentucky Fried Chicken place. I’ll pick up a bucket.”

Now he’s insulting me, serving somebody else’s fried chicken, when mine is known around town as the best.

She turned on her toes to watch him sulk behind his serious intelligent eyes. What was he hiding about himself? “No thank you, Mr. Cantrell. I can fry my own chicken and let’s be honest, we should stick to people we can date…openly.” He stepped back as the doors closed, and watched with pained eyes as the bus eased around his car and drove off.

Did I get through that thick skull? I’ll find out in the morning from the grapevine of gossipy neighbors.

Chapter 4

Commander Oliver Cantrell mused inward and thought the party lasted too long. No, it wasn’t the party; it was Sadie’s subtle floral scent lingering in the air of the kitchen when he’d gone to get a glass of water. The second he stepped across the threshold and into her domain, the space she’d worked in left him hungry to see her again.

Oliver left needing to get away from her sweet aroma and seeing her earlier on the sidewalk hadn’t helped. The easy sway of her soft full hips as she mounted the stairs on the city bus filled his memories. The simple maid’s uniform had twisted on her hips creating a complete distraction. Those deep brown, almond-shaped eyes and the way they slanted up at the corners shook his composure. The way she smiled, open and inviting, left him famished with a longing he’d been without in a long while.

Parking the car in the rented garage, Oliver removed his duffle and anything personal and locked the door. Pulling out his transporter, he found a private corner then depressed the button.

Clenching his teeth, Oliver cursed the freakish sensation of his body, forced violently through a vacuum organ by organ. Hell, he hated that.

Within the containment wall, the touch of the hard surface under his boots grounded him. Reaching between his legs, cupping his boys, he did a quick roll call making certain everybody made the journey intact: present and accounted for. He released the breath he held.

Stepping from the transmission pad, he dialed in his personal code then waited for it to cycle through. Hearing the mechanics click and chime, he crossed to the sliding doors to exit the bay.

Commander over the Earth to Planet fuel exchange dock stationed outside of Sector Five, Oliver Cantrell came to Earth to get information on who financed the illegal fuel trafficking sold on the dark side of the planet away from the space station. Only a few companies could afford to finance such an expense. This also was in violation of the treaty between humans and the karuntee. One he knew personally, Stadium Bank Corp, where he’d kept Richard Edwards under surveillance for a month before introducing himself as his cousin through marriage.

As always, Oliver had a plan. If everything went according to schedule, Sector Three through Five would not only be free of Earth’s pollution, but he would have someone to share his solitary life with. Failure was not an option he worked with on this mission. He’d save his planet from greed and his heart from despair. By one thick-hipped, alluring, black Asian southern flower at a time.

Oliver changed out of his pencil suit, grabbed a bite to eat, then headed to the cargo bay. Inside the bay, he studied the day’s entries from his crew. Echoes bounced off the walls of the cargo bay with shuttles coming and going between Earth and Sector Five. The bay doors slid shut and he continued with his rounds, checking for consistency within the shipments. Taking count, Oliver noticed a smudge on the lip of the tall cylinder and rubbed a hand across his face. He kept his bay spotless considering the nature of the cargo—fuel.

Four of the twelve tanks that came from Earth carried unusable elements. This might be number five. He stepped around the gray tanks and checked the logs, verifying shipment numbers with the tracker. After scanning the barcode, he checked in the items one by one, carefully examining the contents. It took a while, but he paid close attention to each name and serial number before transferring the data to his permanent files.

A second light flared as he waved the wand over the smudge on the one lid. The blue light glowed bright; changing to a fluorescent green, indicating the container had not been properly decontaminated. Oliver shut down the bay and signaled his staff. After informing them of the long night ahead, he began to log his findings.

Tension tightening the skin around his eyes, he widened them, stretching the muscles. Now he knew why he had crow’s feet—tension. He needed rest. He’d been up for two solid days.

Visually thumbing through the cargo bay contents, he caught a glimpse of four large letters printed on the side of a cylinder.
O.C.H.I.
Too exhausted to make sense of the letters, he jotted them down in his electronic pad to research later. He’d seen them somewhere before. What did they stand for? He’d look it up tonight. Right now, he wanted a hot steam, some dinner, and a glass of brandy…in that order.

A scratching noise eased from the back of the bay to the office catching his attention. Oliver closed a hand on the handle of his weapon in his holster on his hip, and inched around the bay contents keeping his back to the walls. He crept down the center stairs, crouching low to peer through the aluminum grates of the stair rail down to the first floor. A large body sprinted through the space. He hustled down the stairs, uncaring of the noise his boots made. Jumping over the last two steps, he ran down between the tall cylinders, his finger poised over the trigger of his weapon, pushing the setting to stun.