Alien in the Family

“No, you do. I know you’re not as confident as everyone else thinks you are. Hell, I’m not, either. We both know how to pretend effectively. So does Jeff. You think you’d have said yes to Reynolds if he’d proposed before you met Jeff, but my money says you would have said no.”

“How so?” My money didn’t say no, but maybe Reader was right.

Reader shrugged. “He’s too laid back for you. That’s a great trait in a close friend, and for some a great trait in a mate. But you’re attracted to Jeff because he’s intense. That happy, jokey, ‘it’s all good’ attitude is a sham, and you know it. Reynolds never loses it—I’m sure he can, but I interacted with him when Reid was after you. He was as upset as the rest of us, more so, really, but he never lost his cool, never panicked. On the other hand, if Jeff had kept his cool you’d be dead.”

“I suppose.” It was something to think about, though I knew Chuckie better than anyone, and there was absolutely an intense side to him. I was just one of the few people who ever got to see it. Because Chuckie only let the people he really loved and trusted see that side, which was why Reader didn’t think it was there.

Chuckie was indeed laid back, but he’d learned how to be, how to keep his cool when bullies wanted him to lose it so they could pound on him. The drive that made him constantly successful came from the intense part of him. I knew the intensity was there—I’d seen it up close, personal, and naked, after all.

Guilt, of course, chose to share that my being with Martini in front of him was probably trampling Chuckie’s heart. Guilt also reminded me that, despite Reader’s thoughts to the contrary, if I’d been even remotely clued in, I’d have married Chuckie and never have met Martini. Stress suggested it was only a matter of time before Martini figured this out, too.

Because Guilt was an Equal Opportunity Emotion and didn’t like to pick sides, it shared that the moment Martini realized I might have even a shred of regret related to marrying him, his heart was going to be trampled, too. Stress also mentioned that there was no way Martini wasn’t going to pick up that I’d been thinking about having had sex with Chuckie, and that he’d be less than thrilled that my thoughts about sex with Chuckie were and remained extremely positive.

“James, I’m honestly not feeling any better about this.”

Reader hugged me yet again. “Someone always loses in a love triangle. That’s the way it works out. You just have to be honest with yourself—who do you love more? Who do you want to spend the rest of your life with? Whose children do you want to have?”

“What if I say Chuckie?”

Reader was quiet for a moment. “If that’s your real answer, I think my plan would be to get you and Reynolds as far away from Jeff as possible.”

“I don’t think Jeff would try to hurt either one of us.” Because he’d be too hurt to do anything other than walk away. “Christopher might, of course.”

“You trying to tell me I need to charter a jet? Or just grab the fastest car we can get our hands on?”

I looked down. No Unity Necklace. I’d gotten used to looking at it any time I’d felt romantically insecure in the past months. But it was now part of a metal ball of spying badness. I knew I’d never be putting it on again. I looked at my hands. No ring, either. Nothing that said who I belonged to, or who wanted me to belong to him.

I looked at the picture on my chest. Steven, Joe, and the rest of my boys stared back at me. What would the guys in Aerosmith suggest at a time like this? The first song of theirs that popped to mind was “Love in an Elevator.”

I laughed and looked up at Reader. “No. I do love Chuckie, and I always will. But . . . no one compares to Jeff.”

Reader gri

I hugged him as tightly as I could. “I love you, James. I don’t know what I’d do without you, and I never want to find out.”

“No worries, I promise you’ll never have to.” He patted my butt. “Now, go try on the clothes. You’ll feel better, and then we can get out of this store and find your wedding dress.”

CHAPTER 18

I WENT INTO THE DRESSING ROOM as suggested. There had been plenty of times during the past year when I’d thanked God Reader was around, but none more than right now.

I took a deep breath, then undressed. This was a no-bra outfit, but we’d managed to find an almost-as-sheer spaghetti tank to go under the main top. I was still basically naked with fabric, but it was a tad more subtle. The skirt was tight, short, and silky. I would need the right pair of hooker-heels, but I had to admit I looked hot in this outfit.

I wandered out of the dressing room to find Reader, since I wasn’t buying a thing without his okay, but I didn’t have to go far. He was waiting for me, about three steps away. “James, what do you think?”

He gri

The mind can move fast, and while this was happening, mine was whirring at its version of hyperspeed. Two things screamed at me—Reader was gay, and he had to kiss better than this. He was really strong. I couldn’t get away, so I slammed my knee into his groin. He pulled away, laughed, and kissed me again.

Kung fu time. I’d studied the art in my younger years and had taken it up again in earnest once I realized my life was going to involve a lot of scary things trying to kill me on a regular basis.

I dropped into a horse-stance, did an arrow point with one hand and slammed that into his throat and another arrow point into his side into a pressure point. He released a bit, and I grabbed his i

I forced myself to focus on terror and Martini. I knew I needed backup.

Reader shook his head, and as he did, the image shifted. It wasn’t Reader, but then I’d already figured that. It also wasn’t a guy.

I’d also figured that, but it was still kind of icky. I had no issue with lesbians, but I didn’t swing the bat that way, and I kind of resented getting molested. Willing experimentation was one thing, but attempted rape I had an issue with regardless of the sex of the attacker. “Listen, space bitch, keep your mitts and your lips off.” I was in a squat on the ground and sent up a rising kick to her stomach, just in case she wasn’t clear.

She took it like a champ, gri

And slammed back into the wall. Her nose looked broken, and she was out. I looked up to see Martini standing there, fist still out. “Good emotional signal. Potentially your best yet.”

“Thanks, I’ve been practicing.”

He put his hand down, I grabbed it, and he pulled me into his arms. “Did she hurt you?”

“She kissed me. I feel like I just went on stage with Mado

“How’d she get to you?”

“Oh, hell.” I pulled out of his arms. “Stay here and keep her out. Call for backup. Pay them for whatever it is I’m wearing. She impersonated James.” I grabbed my purse and took off.

“Kitty!” Martini was calling after me, but I didn’t stop. Reader was nowhere in the shop.

“My boyfriend’ll pay for this!” I shouted to the clerk.

“But he left,” she said.

I stopped. “No, the guy in the dressing room is my boyfriend. The other guy is my friend. Where did he go?”

She gave me a look that said this wasn’t the first time someone had said something as odd as this to her. It was Vegas, after all. “Some black guy came in and he left with him.”