Underneath the orders to kill and to f**k was an emotionally scarred woman who craved affection and acceptance. What every human craved. She’d been denied both from infancy. She probably feared those orders as much as he did, which was why she had pushed him away and denied herself.
As always, thinking about Mishka’s dire circumstances filled him with fury. Not with her but with her boss. Fucking Estap, he thought darkly. I know it’s you. You’re the one. No one else had their hands in the cookie jar. Soon. Oh, yes, soon they would have a reckoning.
“Uh, yo, Dr. Chatty,” Mia said dryly, drawing his attention. “You going to pay attention anytime soon?”
He shook his head and looked over at her. She was smearing butter over a piece of bread that had not been on the table a few minutes ago. The waitress must have brought it.
I’m a sucky agent. “Sorry. What were you saying?”
“I asked you if you love her, decided I didn’t want to know, then told you that you’re a lame-ass date.”
“But you love me anyway,” he told her, and he knew it was true. When the time came, he’d set her straight about Mishka without betraying Mishka. To hurt Mishka was to hurt him, and that’s all there was to it.
“I loved the old you,” she said. “This new you I’m not so sure about.”
“Please. You’d be lost without me. Only five men on this planet can stand you, and I happen to be one of them.”
Her lush, red lips edged into a genuine smile, lighting her entire face. “Damn, but you’re right.”
She possessed a delicate beauty, soft, almost fragile. His first year on the force, Jaxon had asked her out. She’d turned him down flat-out with a disgusted “Hell, no” that made him laugh every time he remembered it.
She was good for controlling his ego, if nothing else.
The double doors pushed open. Jaxon clasped Mia’s hand and leaned back in his seat—relaxed, casual—pulling her knuckles to his mouth as if he hadn’t a care. As if she were the center of his world and he had no other thought but romancing her. Would this be Nolan?
A fiftysomething human male sailed inside, a thirtysomething human female at his side.
When would Nolan get here?
A moment later, the waitress arrived with their food. Heaping bowls of pasta alla Pecoraro. The scent of hearty sauce drifted to his nose, and he inhaled deeply. His mouth watered, though he wasn’t hungry.
“Can I get you anything else?”
“We’re good,” he said, and the waitress wandered off.
Mia forked a bite, chewed, swallowed. “This is tasty shit. I’ll be coming back for sure.”
He agreed. This was his first time here, but it wouldn’t be his last.
“So,” she said after consuming another bite. Her gaze shifted to the kitchen door, and he knew someone was exiting. When she continued speaking without pause, he knew it was merely a member of the staff. “Your girl gave you some weird information I’m not sure I understand.”
He knew the girl in question was the infected human he’d interviewed. “I’m not sure I understand, either.” Unless the virus somehow allowed infected humans to communicate with one another through their minds.
Seemed impossible. But impossible things happened every day. Aliens, once considered something of myth and fiction, now walked the Earth. Dallas had once been resurrected from the dead. Mia had a steady boyfriend who didn’t want to kill her.
Only way to confirm the possibility of mind-talk, however, was to join the infected and thereby the conversation. No thanks. If the women could communicate with each other, could they also communicate with the Schön?
And if they could, what were they telling the aliens about A.I.R.?
So many questions, so few answers.
Two waiters holding large trays of food passed him. Jaxon performed a quick, stealthy scan of the restaurant, looking for anything out of the ordinary. All was still in order. People were still eating, drinking, and laughing. There was a line of patrons winding to the ladies’ bathroom, and there was a small mass congregated in front of the doors, waiting for a table.
“I think we’ve spotted him,” Eden suddenly said in his ear.
Both Jaxon and Mia stiffened, looked at each other.
“If it’s him, he just turned the corner down the street and is heading your way.”
“You sure?” Mia asked, though she directed the question at Jaxon as if they were still in the middle of a stimulating conversation.
“I was told to watch for an alien that was handsome beyond belief and tempted me to leave the love of my life, so yeah, I’m pretty sure.” The last was uttered with a dreamy sigh.
“I’ll kill him,” Lucius growled in the background.
He must have gone back to the van, Jaxon thought.
Eden gave a delighted little laugh. “He’s not alone, kiddies.”
“How many?” Jaxon asked, a ball of dread sinking to the pit of his stomach.
“Three. Two human men and a human female.”
Under the table, his hands curled into fists. No. Fuck no! She wouldn’t have; she couldn’t have found Nolan first. “Describe,” he managed to grit out.
“Tall, muscled and—”
“Not the men.” His gaze latched onto Mia, who was watching him intently as she forked another mouthful of pasta. She did not look smug. She looked murderous.
“A prostitute, from the appearance of her. Thin, wearing a napkin instead of a dress and a fake-fur jacket, even though it’s summer. Booted heels the size of a mountain. Without them, she’s probably…five ten, five eleven. With them she’s a giant. Short black hair, cut like a boy’s. Tan skin. Dark eyes, I think.”
Wrong hair, wrong eyes, wrong skin tone. Right height. And he knew well how gifted Mishka was at disguises.
“Rings?”
Pause. “Three on one hand. Two on the other. I might not recognize the woman, but I recognize the rings.”
Shit. His dread intensified.
“Entering the restaurant in five. Four. Three. Two.”
The doors swung open and yep, in stepped Nolan. He looked the same as before, too handsome to be mortal, only there were dark shadows under his eyes. He had his arm slung around the prostitute’s shoulders, his big body blocking her from Jaxon’s view. Every nerve ending he possessed was on alert as he waited. Move!
Nolan spoke to the hostess.
Earlier, they’d hidden a mic there.
“We now have his voice in the database,” Eden said excitedly. “Maybe we can use it to track the others. Maybe there are similarities in their voice frequencies.” Crackling static, then, “He’s requested his usual table in the center.”