His Human Hellion (Ultimate Passage Book 2) (3 page)

Finn

Finn returned at noon, his stomach rumbling. The pickup was gone, and this was unusual. He and Marissa always went to town together. She was living under an assumed identity, they agreed to never go without each other. Maybe she came looking for him? Last time she did, she left a note.

He looked for a note on the kitchen table. Was she okay? Maybe she went to the doctor? Curses, don’t let that be what she’d done.
He pulled his cell phone out of his pocket, pressed on her name. Phone to his ear, he went from room to room. Instead of Marissa answering, the phone went straight to voicemail, not even ringing. That meant either her phone battery had died or she’d turned it off. Damnation. He ran to the bedroom. That’s when he saw it. A piece of paper on his pillow. Not a good sign. His stomach clenched, knotted. His pulse raced. He picked it up.

A note that she was going to Houston to visit her father’s grave. Finn crumpled the paper, threw it on the floor. His wings throbbed with the desire to go get her. She couldn’t have more than four hours
’ head start on him. He could do it. He would fly directly. He would fly high enough not to be noticed. If he took a pair of binoculars with him, he could see her.

W
hat if someone sees you? Pursues you in a helicopter? What kind of help would you be to her then?
He picked up the note, laid it on the counter, and using the heel of his palm, straightened it, removing the wrinkles as much as he could, studying her words. His heart ached with worry, regret, and mostly from missing her already.

He would fly as soon as the sun set.
He hoped she’d stop to rest. He’d fly directly and wait for her at her father’s gravesite. He struggled, trying to remember where she said he’d been buried. Somewhere near the coast. Somewhere near cotton fields. Damnations. He had no idea. It would come to him, he’d recall before he arrived. He could scan the computer for cemeteries near Houston. Maybe one of them would bring his memory back.

He logged on to the
computer. Maybe Kal had finally contacted him. Not that it mattered now, since the very reason for contacting Kal had taken a road trip.

He did have mail from Kal. Sent less than a minute ago. In his email, Finn had made sure not to be specific. He wasn’t sure who might read it. He had told Kal that what he’d warned him not to let happen had happened. He didn’t mention specifics. He asked when the next
Wave would be coming and if a doctor could come too. He also asked Kal for a plan of action, if he had one.

Kal’s email read:

Are you saying she is expecting? If so, then you must keep her from venturing out, in case anything should happen. We will have to bring her back here. The next Wave will be in nine months and in all likelihood, the timing would not work out. Let me check. More later.

Finn fired a quick response, hoping that Kal was still there:

She is worried what kind of response we will have. Specifically my status and hers when it comes to the Asazi people. Is she still to be considered a target for harvest? Am I considered AWOL? What’s my status with the military and the government?

He punched the send button quickly.

Tapping the mouse impatiently, hoping that Kal was still waiting by a computer. He wondered how they managed to connect by internet. How could he be able to converse by email with someone who was on another planet, so very far away?

A slight ding signaled a response from Kal:

I will look into sending a vessel for you. Let me talk to my father first. Are you alright otherwise?

Finn replied:

I am fine but have to take a small journey. Will be back in three days. Don’t schedule a vessel before that
.

Finn
pressed send and logged off quickly. He couldn’t afford to have Kal send a response that could sway him from the decision he’d made. He had to get Marissa back.

Marissa

Marissa rubbed the grit from her eyes from sleeping on the side of the road. It was a mind-numbing, boring straight drive of a road and had worn her out. She looked at the gauges, the pickup wasn’t nearly out of gas, she could get it later. She had enough money to buy another meal and enough gas to get back, assuming she didn’t want to use the Asazi-provided credit cards. And she didn’t. She couldn’t get a hotel room. She didn’t trust the identification and credit cards the Asazi had provided.

She was sure that she could trust Finn, but she wasn’t sure she could trust the ones he trusted. What if they had traced her whereabouts? What if she created trouble for him for being gone? Nope. She couldn’t have that. So she slept in the front seat of the car. She was almost there. She wouldn’t have to go through Houston itself, she’d pass by the restaurant and see what had happened to it. A wave of sadness passed over her. She hoped her father had peace with the deci
sion she made. Leaving
Two West Two
had been hard.

She turned down the familiar road
, slowing as she approached
Two West Two
. It was gone. Completely. Not even the foundation was in place. Tears burned her eyes, emotion stung the bridge of her nose, signaling that she was about to go into an emotional outburst. She stopped at the light, and rubbed the tears back.

She had the oddest sensation, like she was being watched. She turned her head slowly,
to the left. Nothing. Right. Nothing.

Oh. Wait. Something.
That face in the crowd at the light, waiting to cross the other way. Asazi. One of the guards from that night she and Finn met with Parn and Kal. He was looking right at her. His eyes piercing, analyzing, recognition evident. Yes, he definitely recognized her. She didn’t want to run the light, but she was worried he’d catch her.

He turned her way, put a phone to his ear
, his lips moved. He was saying something, and it had to be about her, she knew it. Why were the Asazi still here? Didn’t Kal say that their next attempt would be in Arizona? It seemed she recalled hearing that, either from Kal or Finn.

Screw the light. She punched the gas and peeled out. In the rearview mirror, he was giving chase on foot. She took a sharp right, then down a street, then a left.

Whew.

He wasn’t anywhere in sight.

She couldn’t do this. She had to call Finn and tell him.

She pulled over, dug her phone out of the bottom of her purse. God, it took forever to power up. Then it seemed like it took just as long to find a signal. What the hell. Other species like Finn’s could travel to
Earth and yet it seemed to take forever for her provider to get a signal. Jeez.

Finally. Then it had to download what seeme
d like a ton of texts and voicemails. All from Finn. Guilt flooded her. She’d really worried him. Pushing that emotion aside, she pressed his name on the screen. He answered so quickly it didn’t even ring on her end.

“Marissa.” His voice was breathless with concern. “Are you okay? Where are you?”

Now she really felt like shit. “I’m fine.” She took a deep breath. “I’m in Houston. I just had to come. I’m sorry.”

“I’m coming to get you. I’m renting a car.”

“What? Not a direct flight?” She tried for a joke.

“No. I do not need the exposure.” He paused. “Oh, that was a joke. Sorry. My mind’s not all here.”

Now she felt doubly bad. It was all because of her. Because she was pregnant, because she vanished. All her fault. “I saw an Asazi soldier.”

His breath intake was sharp and loud, even over the cell phone. “What? That shouldn’t be. Are you sure?”

“Positive.” She didn’t want to tell him the rest, but she knew it would validate her story. “He chased me.”

“Find a safe place to stay. I’ll find you. I’ll be there as quick as I can. I’ll call you when I get there. Text me where you are, and if you leave there, text me where you go. Okay?”

Marissa wanted to cry. Was this hormonal? Why was she so emotional? Why did she feel so bad?
Because you suck. Because you left him behind and made him worry.

“And Marissa?”

“Yes?”

“I love you, too. More than anything. More than you’ll ever know. I don’t understand it, and I can’t explain it, but
. . . there you have it.”

Tears escaped her eyes, though she’d closed her lids to seal them in.

“Me too. I’ll stay in touch.” She pressed end before he could hear in her voice any of the tears that were now close to a flood.

She grabbed a napkin from the last food stop and wiped her face. Where could she go? She didn’t want to get a hotel room. She was still worried about Asazi tracing her. Now more than ever since that one chased her. She didn’t want to stay in a car either. A hot shower and a soft bed sounded perfect.

She wondered if she could contact Belle. When she left town, Belle wasn’t happy about the restaurant closing. Marissa hadn’t stayed in touch with her because Finn said that it would be best for Belle. Probably better not to involve her.

A thought flashed through Marissa’s head.
Ugh. Her brother. Really?
She didn’t want to talk to him, but then another part of her said she should, plus now her brother would be an uncle, and Marissa didn’t have other family. Maybe for the baby’s sake she should forgive her brother. Make amends.

She called his number, hoped he hadn’t changed it. He answered on the third ring, his voice questioning, and she wasn’t surprised since this was a number he wouldn’t recognize.

“Danny.”

“Marissa? Is that really you?”

“Yes. Can we talk for a bit?”

“Well yes, but you—the cops said you were—I thought you had—I’m surprised, I guess I didn’t think you were around.”

Clearly he thought that with the whole missing person thing, when she vanished with Finn, that she’d died . . . or something.

“Is the Starbucks around the corner from your house okay?”

“Sure. When? Tomorrow night is good for me.”

Stunned
, she couldn’t answer for a moment. Tomorrow night? “No, I was thinking like in the next thirty minutes.”

“Well, the game’s going to start
. . .”

“A sport? On TV?”
Was he serious? He was becoming exactly who she thought he always was. Exactly who he’d always been. “I really need to see you now, if possible.”

On the other end, he sighed. “Okay. I’ll be there. Not sure I can stay long though.”

Marissa almost talked herself out of going, but comfort and hygiene called. She drove to the Starbucks and picked up a coffee, waited in the corner.

Dan walked up to the counter, corporate haircut and shoes intact. Dressed like the up
-and-coming urban professional that he was. He ordered, flirted with the barista, not the one with the tattoos and piercings, the one that looked like she would evolve into a soccer mom in a few years. Giving her his card, he turned and scanned the lobby. Seeing Marissa, he nodded an acknowledgment and joined her.

“Hey, what’s up? You look like hell.”

Wow. What could she say to that? Thanks? “Yes, it’s been a rough couple of days.”

“Couple of days? You’ve been gone a couple of months. Where have you been? The cops came by checking on you. They mentioned that they thought you were involved with drugs. One detective has been very regular at keeping me updated. He said you vanished in thin air, like addicts generally do.
”

“What?”
Where the hell was this coming from? “I’m not into drugs. I never have been. You know better.”

“So where have you been then?”

“Traveling with a friend.” Now she sounded shifty.

“Does your friend have a name?”

Marissa found herself not wanting to tell him. Alarm bells were going off. But yet, this was her brother. Her blood. “I need a place for a night. That’s it. Was hoping you could help out. I’m passing through.”

“Where are you passing through to?”
He took a drink of his hot coffee concoction, fastidious, careful not to get milk foam on his face.

He had to ask that. Didn’t he?
“I’m pregnant.”

“What? What the hell? With some dealer or pimp’s baby?”
His voice was loud, and as if he realized it, he lowered it mid-sentence.

“Jesus. No.
What are you thinking?”

“Then whose is it?”

“My boyfriend’s.”

“Yeah, right.” Doubt colored his voice. “Same old Marissa, getting into shit and wanting
someone to bail you out. Always, huh?”

“I’m not involved in any kind of shit, Dan.”

“That’s not what Detective Jones said. He also said that you were involved in a ring and I should let him know if I hear from you.”

Fear planted itself in her mind. His words, they made her worry. What detective, why would the police spread those lies about her? And why would a detective stay in touch with her brother? “Did you?”

“Did I what?”

She wanted to scream at him for being so damned dense, for not knowing what she meant, for being duped by the cops, and why they wanted her anyway, for being shitty and not wanting to be there when Dad died. For being a douche to her. God, she had way too many reasons. She bit back her anger, took a deep breath and enunciated her words slowly, carefully, controlled. “Did you tell them about me calling you? About us meeting, now. About anything.”

“Well yes. I don’t break the law.” His voice was definitely accusatory. As if he were saying ‘that’s what you do.’

Great. Just fucking great. She looked around
, saw nothing suspicious. Wondered if she was being too paranoid.

“So is it too late to get an abortion?”

That was the nail that the coffin of her relationship with her brother needed. “Nevermind. Sorry I bothered you.” She’d rather sleep in the car for a month than ask him for a place to spend the night.

Screeching the table legs on the shiny tiled floor, she shoved her chair away from the table and headed out the door without a backward glance.

She grabbed the keys from her purse, juggling the coffee, and fumbled with the remote. Her vision was blurry from tears and most importantly of all, she was pissed that he had the power to still upset her to this degree. How could he look so much like their dad, and be so much like the mother that walked out on them so long ago.

“Marissa Sanchez?”

“Yes?”

Before she could realize that no one should be using her name, that no one should be calling her by a name she no longer used, she’d answered.

“You are under arrest.” Behind her, slightly to the right, a rough hand seized her arm, the jingling of handcuffs heralded the slam of the cuffs on her wrist. Her coffee crashed to the asphalt. Her purse followed, the keys too. He grabbed her other hand and pulled both behind her back, slipping the cuffs on before she could get a glance at his face.

She turned around, trying to break his grip.

She recognized him. She screamed. “Let me go. You bastard.”

Everyone in the parking lot turned to look at her.

“Don’t hurt my baby.” God. Why did she say that? Why did that slip out? She cussed herself out.

The Asazi soldier
opened the back door to her rental and shoved her inside, slamming the door.

Marissa
’s face ate the upholstery of the seat, she tried to right herself, but with her arms behind her she couldn’t get to a sitting position before he started the car and pulled away. The sharp turns he took offset her balance and threw her into the door, head first.

Shaking her head to clear it, Marissa tried to rise again. Just as she’d righted herself, he slammed on the brakes, throwing her into the seat in front of her. A grunt escaped her as all of her air was shoved out of her body from the impact. He slammed it into park, got out and opened the door to the back. Marissa kicked at him. He punched her in the face. Her head flew back, she fell against the seat laying down. In less time than she could get up again, he’d duct-taped her legs together at the ankles. He took a final strip and put it over her mouth. Grabbing her by the arm, he pulled her out, half-carrying, half-dragging her to the front seat. He shoved her in, strapped the seatbelt on her, got back in and took off.

The handcuffs bit into Marissa’s hands behind her back. Her growls and muttering were muffled by the duct tape on her mouth. Tears of anger sprung to her eyes. She’d had enough of crying, whether from being sad or from being angry.

She started to scream under the tape. The Asazi soldier slowed a bit. “You have something to say?”

She nodded.

“I won’t tolerate screaming. Understood?”

She nodded. Yeah. She’d pretty much learned that lesson.

He ripped it off.

She held back the expletive she wanted to scream out when the fabric pulled off more skin than being waxed would have.