Siren's Surrender (16 page)

“Can I ask if Lucky knew about the, ah, mermaids?” The word sounded strange rolling off his tongue.

Gwen glanced up. “Sure, some people knew. I mean, know about us.” She thought a moment. “Lucky, of course, and most of the members of his family. A couple of the guys Addie works with know. Since she works underwater rescue, someone’s got to keep an eye out when she’s under. Jake, he was engaged to Tessa for a little while. He was one of the few who actually tried to tell the world about the Mer and all it got him was bounced out of the archaeological community.”

“Nobody believed him?” Observing her every change of expression, it wasn’t difficult to figure out she wasn’t lying.

Gwen shook her head. “Not a bit.” She cocked a finger toward her temple, twirling it around. “Everyone thought he’d lost all the marbles in his head.”

Blake motioned toward Tessa and Kenneth, sitting a few seats away. “I suppose Randall there knows what he married.”

Gwen laughed. “Of course Kenneth knows. And in case you’re wondering—and I know you are just by the look on your face—yes, humans and Mers are biologically compatible. There are no Mer-
men
. We have to mate with human males to reproduce, just like any woman does.”

Blake eyed the couple. “They look happy enough.”

Gwen looked fondly at her sister and Tessa’s new husband.

“They’ve been married less than a month. Still in that newlywed phase where they’re all kissy-faced and goggle-eyed over each other.” She made a face. “Sometimes it’s disgusting to see two people that much in love.”

Blake knew exactly what she meant. “Little jealousy simmering there?”

She sighed. “I suppose there’s a bit. I can’t complain, though. They’re perfect for each other.”

“So what about you? Any perfect man in your life?”

Her nostrils flared. “Not even close. No time really. The hotel’s taking every spare minute, and most nights I’m too tired even to eat dinner. It’s straight to bed. All alone.”

She might have been describing his routine. Most nights he didn’t even bother with bed, collapsing on the couch in front of the television. The drone kept him company. It had gotten to the point where bars were boring and the women uninteresting. He’d rather sleep. “Sounds like everybody who has a job.”

She moistened her lips, a naturally glossy shade of pink. “What about you? This must be hard on you, too, having to make a sudden move.”

“It’s a little tough,” he admitted. “I’ll miss seeing my kid.”

She looked surprised, then delighted. “You have children?”

Blake mentally chalked up a point. Nothing made a man more attractive to women of a certain age than children and pets. He’d have to plead the Fifth if asked how many times he’d used cute snapshots of Trevor to get in good with a woman.

It was an awful thing to do, but he had. Back then he’d had an itch to scratch. Sex satisfied the physical, chased away the loneliness for a few hours. It wasn’t something he made a habit of these days, though.

Digging out his wallet, he flipped it open. “That’s Trevor. He’s four—almost five—now.”

Something close to delight glimmered in her eyes. “He’s cute.”

Blake couldn’t help puffing a little with pride. “Yeah, he is. And smart as a whip. He’s in pre-K now and already has his letters down cold.”

She pointed to a picture of Trevor with his mother. “That must be your wife. She’s pretty.”

Blake looked. He’d been meaning to cull that one from his collection but hadn’t gotten around to making the cut. As much as he hated to admit it, the woman was Trevor’s mother. He might not love her, but he had to respect her. The unintended accident between them had resulted in his son being born, and he wouldn’t give his child up for the world.

Trevor was his lifeline, his touchstone to leading a seminormal life. Lose his son and he’d be totally cut adrift.

He endured the momentary discomfort, then answered. “Um, we’re not together anymore.” No reason to explain that not only had he not married his ex-girlfriend, but he’d moved out ten months after their son was born.

Her gaze briefly flickered over the picture again. “Sorry it didn’t work out.”

Blake flipped his wallet shut. “You never know someone until you live with them.” He tucked it away. “We were just incompatible, you know?” He shrugged. “Debra got married a couple of years ago.”

“Do you see your son often?”

He forced back a quick rise of resentment. “I see him as often as the court allows, which means from Friday at six to Saturday at six, every other week. I’ve got every other holiday and summer vacation, too. I’d like to have more time with him, but it looks like Debra’s going to be leaving Boston soon. Doesn’t look like I can stop it, either.”

Gwen frowned. “That’ll cut out your weekends,” she murmured drily.

Blake scowled and pushed his drink away. He didn’t need any more liquor. Drinking and brooding didn’t mix well. “Damn right. We’re fighting it out in court, but the law just isn’t on the father’s side.”

She smiled with genuine sympathy. “I guess now isn’t a good time for you to be dragged off to Virginia.”

A grunt rolled past his lips. “Didn’t seem to be any way to get out of it, or I wouldn’t be here now,” he answered flatly. His discontent with the entire matter wasn’t faked.

Gwen’s hand settled on his arm, giving him a little squeeze of reassurance. Her grip was firm. The warmth emanating from her palm filtered through his sleeve. “I’m sorry.” A look of quiet sympathy surfaced in her emerald eyes. “I can’t imagine how hard it must be for you. I think it’s admirable when a man tries to hold on to his kids. Too many are willing to walk away to avoid the hassles.”

Blake was surprised. As frightened as she was, she had still managed to pull herself together and offer him reassurance. His heart lodged at the base of his throat, stealing away all the air in his lungs.

Gwen Lonike was something else.

Another tremble of response moved him.

Blake quickly shifted his gaze away from her face. It was all he could do to hold his wits together. There was no doubt in his mind that he did, indeed, want to seek comfort in her.

He just didn’t want to do it as a part of his job.

Blake curled his fingers to stop himself from reaching out and touching her. Misleading her, deceiving her, would be wrong.

Shit,
he thought.
I’m getting in too damn deep
.

T
he enormity of Blake’s latest assignment didn’t fully begin to sink in until the plane began circling the base, preparing to land. Then it kicked in. This was real, and there was no turning back. There was no way he was going to get out of the assignment.

It bothered him more than a little that the place looked like a prison. The impression didn’t bode well in his mind, either. He could almost imagine iron bars swinging shut, locking them all in.

Forever.

Virginia greeted them with a soft drizzle from a low, leaden sky. The wind pulled at their clothing, reminding everyone present that no one had packed for chilly, depressing weather. The gloomy dusk perfectly suited everyone’s mood.

From long habit, Blake performed a thorough visual sweep of the place as he followed everyone off the plane.

The A51-ASD sciences center in Belmonde, Virginia, had first served the government as Lawrence Air Force Base. Decommissioned in 1990, the on-site property totaled over ten thousand acres. Major components of the base included an airfield, an Alert Area, and a Weapons Storage Area. It also had a large industrial area and two large hangars. Administrative, institutional, recreational, and residential areas were located at the western portion of the base.

The area was originally an undeveloped tract of dense forest, shallow marshes, and densely packed wild blueberry bogs, covering rolling hills with virtually no obstacles to construction. A slight plateau provided distance from nearby tobacco farming areas. Sources of hard bedrock and limestone supported the construction of the runways, taxiways, and parking aprons.

Remote, the base was heavily guarded. Border and warning signs proclaimed PHOTOGRAPHY STRICTLY FORBIDDEN and USE OF DEADLY FORCE IS AUTHORIZED. Security agents lined the perimeter twenty-four hours a day, seven days a week.

Nobody got in or out of the facility without a top-secret clearance and proper authorization.

Blake was already aware the hostiles they’d taken into custody had been transferred to the facility a few days before. Unlike Gwen and her family, they hadn’t gotten the first-class treatment. In fact, handling them had presented a whole hell of a lot of problems, which had filtered back to him in hourly reports. His BlackBerry regularly buzzed with yet another status update, to the point where he’d had to put it on vibrate instead of ring. The continual noise was starting to get on his nerves.

The last message had come in before landing. Just as soon as he settled Gwen and her family into their quarters, he was to report to the lead scientist, Dr. Hali Yadira. Dr. Yadira would be leading the team through their research of the Mer species.

As for their captive subjects—

Not only were the women totally hostile toward humans, they were utterly vicious creatures to deal with. And even though they’d been stripped of all their weapons, they still packed a hell of a wallop. Their psi-kinetic abilities went through the roof, and the only way to manage it was to keep them sedated.

In order to work with them, they’d have to be allowed to resume a fully conscious state. His latest orders had instructed him to begin pumping Gwen and her sister for information as to how the Mer could be subdued without blunting their abilities.

The corpse of the civilian and the Mer killed in the fight had been sent for autopsy. Doctors there were practically salivating to get their hands on an alien life-form they could hack into tiny little pieces.

Though he knew it to be a necessary part of research, Blake thought it more than a little gruesome that anyone might enjoy cutting into dead bodies. The vision of a Nazi concentration camp flashed through his mind. It was easy to make the comparison, for both places worked with calculated precision to suppress and decimate anyone or anything deemed to be strange or different.

He grimaced. The Mer on the coroner’s table would be coming in two pieces. Tessa Randall had practically blasted her in half with that odd bejeweled weapon she’d identified as a Ri’kah.

A cadre of black midsized sedans were lined up on the tarmac. Black-suited agents with radios and head-sets hustled to collect their bags, loading them efficiently into the waiting transportation.

One agent approached, taking Whittaker aside. Portly and bald, he wheezed out his words with the effort of a man who’d long ago given up any attempt to keep himself physically fit. “Agent Whittaker,” he said, offering his hand. “I’m Special Agent Dennis Thompson, director in charge of this ASD facility. Anything you need, bring it to me and it’ll be taken care of.”

An eerie feeling raced through Blake, hot and electric. He pulled his hand away. He couldn’t help it. Thompson gave him the willies. “Thank you, sir. I’ll be sure to keep that in mind.”

Special Agent Thompson snatched a quick sideways glance at the small group of people accompanying Blake on the flight. His face scrunched. “My goodness, they pass well for humans,” he shared under his breath.

Refusing to be intimidated, Blake tilted forward. “You don’t have to talk about them like they’re freaks.”

Thompson’s beady gaze shifted over the women. “I’ve never been this close to an alien,” he confessed. “The few I’ve seen are usually in a deceased state.”

Blake’s jaw tightened. The man needed a few hospitality and etiquette lessons. Alien or not, the Mer deserved to be treated decently, and with a little respect. In Thompson’s mind they probably all needed to be dissected or shoved into a test tube. Blake could honestly admit he didn’t care for either notion.

He cocked his head to indicate their guests. “They might not have the same DNA we do, but they do have feelings.”

Thompson tensed. “Ah, of course they do. My apologies. I didn’t mean to be rude to those, um, people.”

To make good on his apology, Thompson stepped over to introduce himself to the new arrivals. Hands were shook and greetings exchanged.

The director indicated the waiting cars with a sweep of his hand. “If you would care to go with these agents, they will get you settled in to your new quarters.” He smiled benignly. “I think you will find our accommodations are quite comfortable. We’re putting you in the Jefferson complex.”

Agents herded Gwen and her sisters toward the waiting cars. She turned when he didn’t walk along with them. “Aren’t you coming, too, Agent Whittaker?” she asked.

Blake shook his head. “I’ve got some other matters to take care of,” he explained without going into detail.

Kenneth caught their conversation. He stopped, refusing to get in the car. “What kind of matters?” he asked suspiciously.

Blake blew out a breath. Unlike the sisters, who had begun to somewhat accept the inevitably of their situation, Randall questioned or protested every move they made. No doubt the man would step in front of a speeding freight train to protect his wife or one of her sisters. He was that devoted.

Because he’d been ordered to do everything he could to gain their trust and cooperation, Blake decided not to lie. “Actually, I’m going to pay a visit to the two ladies who attacked you. They’ve been kept under sedation and are starting to awaken. We’re in the process of arranging for them to be confined to an environment we hope they will find more suitable.”

Tessa stepped up. “Is there a chance we could go, too? I thought I recognized a couple of them, but I’m not sure.” She shrugged apologetically. “If they’re who I think they are then I am sure Jake Massey is still alive.”