Alien in the Family

“Big, bald, and totally hot?”

“Yeah.”

“Oh, God. Look, the guy in the dressing room is my boyfriend. I was just attacked by some lunatic. Help him, and he’ll pay for whatever it is I’m wearing.” I ran out of the door. The store alarms went off immediately. Oh, yeah, I was wearing the antitheft tags. Well, hopefully I’d get them off legally later.

I didn’t see anyone who looked like Reader or Gower. So I had to think, not just run. I assumed my attacker was here alone, because the other one was off causing havoc elsewhere. She was an A-C, based on strength and imageering ability. She was also rare, because I knew females didn’t normally get empathic, imageering, or troubadour skills. So she was strong and fast and really well trained. But she’d had to get back in time for me to walk out of the dressing room and see her impersonating Reader there.

I started praying Reader was still alive and only knocked out somewhere. So if I were disposing of a body, please, God, an unconscious body, where would I stash it?

I looked around for the refuse. Saw a young, pretty cute, Hispanic maintenance guy pushing a trash cart and ran to him. “You got a body in there?”

“Um, no?” He looked at me like I was from another planet. If he only knew.

I looked in, no, no body. “Where are the big cans?”

He started to point, and I dug into my purse. My mother had given me a P.T.C.U. badge. I wasn’t an agent, but as Reader and Christopher both said, if the head of the agency gives you one to have and to hold, feel free to use it. I opened it in front of him. “Federal officer. My partner’s been kidnapped. I think they took him out and dumped him somewhere, and it has to be close. Take me to the closest dumpsters to that store,” I pointed to where I’d just come from. “And make it fast, because if he’s dead when we get there I’ve got the potential to take it out on you.”

The maintenance guy nodded, and we took off at a dead run. Fortunately, he was in decent shape. “Why’re you in those clothes if you’re an officer?” he asked as we raced along.

“Undercover.”

“Not really.”

He had a point. “Look, can we just try to save my partner’s life?”

“Sure, sure.” We were behind the stores. Once you were away from the glitter, the backside of any mall was the same, apparently. He led me to a set of double doors, and we smashed through them. To see a lot of garbage cans and a big garbage truck.

“Oh, great.” The truck had a can on its forklift. I knew how our team’s luck ran. “STOP!” They didn’t.

“They can’t hear you!” the maintenance guy called. He ran toward the can and leaped. It was amazing—he was about my height but damn if he didn’t catch the can and get up there. The drivers saw him and stopped.

I ran around to the side. “Federal officer! Stop and put that can down!”

The driver looked at me. “Are you kidding?”

I waved the badge. “Can down now! I’ve got an officer missing.”

“He’s in here!” the maintenance guy shouted.

“Put the damn thing down now, or I’ll shoot you in the head!” I pulled out the Glock and aimed. I never remembered to set the safety, so that saved a step.

The driver lowered the can and put his hands up. “Don’t shoot, lady. I got no money.”

“What part of the term ‘Federal officer’ do you not understand? Get out of the damn truck.” The maintenance guy jumped into the garbage. I saw him struggling. “Get in there and help him. Now!” I pointed the gun at the other guy in the garbage truck. “You, too.” They both got out slowly. I could tell they wanted to run. “You run, I shoot you. It’s that damn simple.”

The maintenance guy started shouting to them in Spanish. They both started moving now and crawled up.

“Holy Jesus!” the driver shouted. “There’s a man in here.”

“No, duh. Get him out!”

They lifted the body up—it was Reader. My chest felt tight, and I was having trouble breathing. The maintenance guy looked at me. “He’s hurt bad, but he’s alive.”

I burst into tears. “Get him out of there.” I dropped the Glock back into my purse and found my cell phone. “Jeff, are you okay?”

“Yeah, baby. We’ve got the agent tied up, literally. Where are you?”

“James is hurt.” I was sobbing.

“Hang on.” He hung up, and I went to help them get Reader’s body down without hurting him more.

The maintenance man took a look. “Head trauma.” Even I could have called that one—there was blood on Reader’s forehead. He opened Reader’s eyes and took his pulse. “I think he’ll be okay.”

“Um, don’t take this the wrong way, but—”

“I’m a med student. This is my third job. I’m a bartender at night and I deal blackjack swing shift. Tito Hernandez, by the way.”

“Kitty Katt. I’m not a stripper.”

“Yeah, can’t tell in that outfit, of course.” Tito was checking Reader’s neck and limbs. “You have a phone. Call an ambulance.”

“How? I’m not from around here.”

Tito rattled something off in Spanish. One of the trash men pulled out a cell phone and dialed.

I realized the trash truck guys were staring at my chest. “Um, I wasn’t pla

“Don’t plan to wear it out without armed guards.” He looked up at the trash guys and rattled something off in Spanish again. They nodded and backed away.

“What’d you tell them?”

“That you’re a crazy hooker and this guy’s your pimp.”

“Seriously?”

“Yeah. It’s more believable than you being a Federal officer.” He took my arm and placed me. “Want you blocking the sun from him.” My shadow fell across Reader’s face.

“How’d you do that jump?”

“Training. I also cage fight.”

“Jesus.”

“I like to think of him as my copilot, yeah.” He looked up at me. “You guys have some serious enemies here?”

“I think my boyfriend took out the enemy.”

“He’s not your boyfriend?”

“No . . . but she thought he was. Interesting.”

“You want to explain that?”

I took a good long look at Tito. “Maybe so.” I dug into my purse. “Mister White?”

“Yes, Miss Katt. Christopher called me somewhat hysterically. What’s going on?”

“I want to hire someone.”

CHAPTER 19

“COME AGAIN?” WHITE SOUNDED CONFUSED. “I want to hire someone onto the team. What’s the standard procedure?”

Tito raised his eyebrow at me. Reader groaned, and Tito turned back to his patient. I took Reader’s hand. Groaning meant coming back, I hoped.

“Normally they kill a superbeing.”

“How about if they know how to react in a crisis, don’t argue about things being dire, can leap twice their height to save one of our agents from being smooshed in a trash compactor, and are fluent in Spanish? And if they’re,” I let go of Reader’s hand to feel Tito’s bicep, “pretty damned buff, in med school, holding down three jobs, and also a cage fighter?”

“Who was almost smooshed?”

“James. He’s alive, thanks to Tito much more than me.” I took Reader’s hand again. Tito had a great bicep, I had to admit.

“Tito is our new recruit?”

“If I get to ask him, yeah.” The adrenaline was starting to wear off, and I was starting to shake.

“If Paul and Jeffrey approve.”

“Paul’s not going to be in any condition. James is hurt.” My voice was moving up to the dog-only register.

“Ah. And this Tito is taking care of James?”

“Yes. Look, yes or no?”

“I’ll trust your judgment. Please go ahead. Remember, however, most people don’t believe in aliens without seeing the proof.”

“Chuckie did.”

“Fine. Carry on, and please keep me posted on James’ status.”

“Will do.” I hung up and wondered where Martini was. “Tito, got a proposition for you.”