Alien in the Family

“We’ll find you a nice girl.”

“No. I found a nice girl. She just chose a nice alien instead.” I opened my mouth, but he put his hand up. “You don’t apologize for falling in love with a good man who’ll take care of you and die for you if he has to, Kitty. Real men know how to take it.”

I leaned down and hugged him tightly. He held me, but not too long. I straightened up and went to the bedroom. “You are a real man, Chuckie. You always have been, since we were thirteen years old.”

CHAPTER 59

I GOT INTO THE BEDROOM and was rather proud of myself for not feeling overwhelmingly weepy. I was glad I’d had this talk with Reader already, because there was a part of me still afraid of getting married. I wasn’t afraid to marry Chuckie—the comfort level was so high with him that it wouldn’t seem awkward.

On the other hand, the uncertainty and potential risks that would come with Martini were both appealing and a little scary. On the other hand, the sex more than made up for a little apprehension.

I went to the closet. The sexy outfit I now owned two of was there and clean, and there were shoes to match. The A-C Elves really were top-notch. Decided to go for it and hoped Martini would get out of isolation soon and be happy about my outfit choice.

“Chuckie, do I have time to take a shower?”

“Yes, please,” he called. “The others might lie to you, but, trust me, you need one, unless your new fragrance is Eau de Rank.”

“Thanks ever, Mister Smooth Operator.”

“If I were smooth, I’d have told you I’d shower with you. Close the door—I’m human, and there’s only so much temptation I can take.”

I shut the bedroom door and the bathroom door. Took one of the faster showers of recent times. Of course, the rare showers without Martini were, by their very nature, faster than what I’d become accustomed to. Dried off, combed the hair into a severe ponytail, found lingerie in the drawers that matched the naked with fabric outfit. It made me look only slightly less naked, but I decided to call it a win. Shoes fit, all was well. Poofs and iPod transferred from Martini’s bedraggled jacket to my purse, ready for action.

“Good lord, do you hate me or something?” Chuckie asked the moment I was out of the bedroom.

“What? What’s wrong with how I look?”

“Not one damn thing. God, you like to torture a man, don’t you?”

I rolled my eyes. “Oh, cut it out.”

Chuckie sighed and stood up. “You need some sort of covering if you’re going to wear that.”

“We’re going to Vegas, right? I’ll fit in there.”

He took my shoulders and turned me around. “God, it’s as bad from the back. Really, go put on some clothes.”

“I don’t have a wrap, okay?”

“Find one. Before I rape you.” He gave me a gentle push toward the bedroom.

“Fine, fine.” Went back to the closet. The Elves had been by. There was a light jacket that could work with the outfit, at least as a cover-up. I put it on. “Thanks, uh, whoever you are.”

Went back out. “Better,” Chuckie said. He shook his head. “And you wonder why Martini’s the most jealous man on the planet? Good lord.” He took my elbow and led me out of the room.

We got in the elevator, and I was happy to realize I just wanted Martini out of isolation and in here with me. “We are going to Vegas, right?”

“Yes. All your bridesmaids are there already.”

“Doing what?”

He gri

“James is having fun, isn’t he?”

“Yeah, I think he is. It’s hard, transitioning from a regular life into covert ops. Some, like your mother, do it naturally. Some, like me, learn it easily enough. Some, like you and Reader, do well with it but have a strong need to still feel like ‘regular’ people.”

“You go through this a lot with your operatives?” We got out at the launch level.

“Yeah. Not everyone can be an operative, not everyone can last as an operative.”

“You think I’ll last?”

He shrugged as our gate was calibrated. “You have the genetics for me to say yes. On the other hand, your husband may not want you to.”

“You think Jeff’s going to make me stop being the head of Airborne?” Chuckie made the “you first” gesture. I groaned and stepped through the gate. Icky as always. The stall was really nice again and familiar, so I knew we were in the Mandalay complex. I stepped out, Chuckie right behind me. The several men in the place all stared. “Wow, that was great, stud,” I said as I wrapped my arm around Chuckie’s waist and headed us for the door. “The earth moved.”

“For me too.” We managed not to laugh until we were out. “I hope that’s recorded somewhere so I can torture Martini with it.”

“Uh-huh. So, my question?”

“Yes, I think he’s going to ask you to stop being an active agent. I would.” He steered us through the casino. Like Reader, he kept a firm hold on my shoulders so I couldn’t detour to a craps table.

“Why?”

He rolled his eyes. “Well, I’d want to keep the mother of my children safe and protected and all that.”

“I guess I’ll cross that bridge when we get to it.”

“Yeah, since I blew it by admitting I’d do the same thing, and so can’t use that as leverage to get you to say yes and run into the Blue Velvet Chapel.”

“See, now, that’s the difference between you and Jeff.”

“Gee, that’s all? Maybe I still have a chance. How about it?”

“Lemme ponder.”

“Take all the time you need.”

We sauntered through the casino, and I felt comfortably dressed again. I had more on than the cocktail waitresses, after all. I felt someone watching us, so I did a casual scan of the room. No one seemed to be taking that much of an interest.

“What?” Chuckie asked quietly.

“See anyone watching us? Specifically, Mister Joel Oliver anywhere? Or more potential A-C spies?”

He did a similar scan. Well, his was a lot more casual, but still, a scan. “Nope, no one out of the ordinary. What’s your spider-sense picking up?”

“No idea. I guess nothing. Probably just tired still.”

“Maybe.” Chuckie didn’t seem to dismiss this, which was kind of flattering. Or would have been if I had any clear reason for feeling that we were being watched. I looked around again, but I couldn’t spot anyone paying us undue attention, not even our personal paparazzo.

We were near the Sports Book, and Chuckie turned in. “Need to bet on the ponies before we catch up with everyone else?” For all I knew, that was another way he kept the millions rolling in.

“No.” We went up to someone whose back was to us. All I could see was that the person wore a hat and trench coat. Chuckie tapped a shoulder. “Oliver from the World Weekly News, I presume?”

Sure enough. He turned around and heaved a sigh. “Mister Joel Oliver. Please. It’s only polite to address someone in the ma

“If I were concerned about being polite to you, that could matter to me.” Chuckie sounded calm but quite unfriendly. “What are you doing here?”

“Not taking pictures.” This seemed true. I couldn’t spot anything remotely cameralike on him.

“I’ll bet.” Chuckie looked around and waved down a security guard. “This man has a hidden camera on him.”

The security guard looked at Oliver. “Oh. Him. We searched him before he came into the Sports Book, sir.”

“Search him again,” Chuckie said, patiently but with authority in his tone.

“Yes, sir, Mister Reynolds.” The guard started to pat Oliver down.

“I note you have a good deal of influence,” Oliver said to Chuckie. “Must be because you’re C.I.A.”

The security guard snorted. “No. It’s because he’s got more money than God, and all the staff’s on alert to do whatever the hell he wants.” The guard looked over his shoulder. “No offense meant, Mister Reynolds.”