Chapter Five
Mackie shut off the music—again—so he could demonstrate the steps.
With a groan, Demi flopped down on a nearby chair. “Come on, you guys. This is getting boring.”
Mackie twirled around and leveled a killer stare at him. “I’m sorry, Demi, that we mere humans lack your alien grace and perfect timing. We need to practice.”
“It’s my fault,” Jase said with a grimace. “I’m not very good at dancing.”
“You’re doing fine, sweetie. Better than,” he added, shooting Demi a stern look. “We’ll have these routines down before the club reopens, no problem. There’s plenty of time. It will be a wonderful surprise for the members. And it has the added benefit of letting you dance without those men pawing over you and making Emil lose his shit.”
“That’s right,” Quinn added and gave Jase a pat on the back. “They can shower us with money on the dance floor and we can divvy it up.”
Jase hunched his shoulders. “I don’t know. The kitchen will keep me pretty busy, you know, when it’s finished. Dancing isn’t necessary.”
Demi groaned again and slid down even more in the chair. “Oh my God, can we get on with it?”
He knew he was being a brat, yet couldn’t help himself. Ever since the latest round with Dracul and his part in it, he’d been a prisoner in the club. His fathers wouldn’t let him step foot outside, even chaperoned. He was going stir-crazy. And it wasn’t fair. Just because he’d taken the initiative and gone beyond the scope of his parents’ permission, he was being treated like a felon. He had saved lives and yet that didn’t matter because he was still only a child and shouldn’t have put his own life at risk.
It was enough to make him scream and tear out his hair, except he would never do that because it was so fabulous. It was the only part of him that felt right. Everything else infuriated him. His skin was too tight and even though he was knocking Mackie’s dance routine out of the park, he felt clumsy and out of sorts. His thirst for blood had increased a lot lately and the bags of blood his father gave him weren’t satisfying his hunger. He would typically ask his fathers if what he was feeling was normal for a human or his other half, but he wasn’t talking to them much. Every discussion seemed to devolve into an argument. Sure, that was mostly on him. Still, they had started it with this keeping him shut away shit.
He twisted to hang his head over the arm and stared upside-down at the boys on the floor. It was impossible to appreciate how these simple dance moves could be hard for them to learn instantly and execute flawlessly. It all came so easily to him. The stupid thing was that he wouldn’t be able to perform. He was only killing time doing it with them. Once the club reopened, he would be stuck upstairs in the family’s apartment, never joining in—always the outsider.
Suddenly, he couldn’t stand it anymore. With another twist, he was upright and on his feet. “This is boring. I’m going.” He stomped over to the elevator.
He could hear Jase saying he hoped it wasn’t his fault and Mackie reassuring the boy that Demi was being his usual difficult self. He almost returned to them. They were as close to friends as he’d ever gotten. His childhood had been pathetically lonely. There had been no other hybrids to hang with and, of course, he had to stay away from human children. He had always been too fast and strong and everything else, along with being unable for a long time to understand why he had to pretend to be something he wasn’t. Now that he did get it, it was still risky for him to hang with anyone other than those who knew his secret.
Not that he fit in with his family members’ lovers and husband… He was far older than them by human standards but also younger in some ways. It was hard to relate to them and the adults treated him like he was nothing other than a kid. One man in particular came to mind, not that he was going to let Trey Duncan occupy his thoughts. The man was frustrating, although Demi had gleaned some interest in his eyes. Or maybe Demi was fooling himself.
He stomped out of the elevator and into the family living room. His fathers stood squaring off, clearly in the middle of a tense discussion. That was his fault, too. Dad was mad at Papa for involving Demi in the scheme to bring down Marius and he wasn’t over it by a long shot. His normally submissive human father had been uncharacteristically confrontational with his husband. They’d been careful, as always, not to fight in front of him, yet he could tell there was friction between them.
Demi refused to feel guilty about it. He’d also become so annoyed at the both of them that he’d defaulted to calling them both ‘father’ and speaking to them as little as possible. Childish? Yes. He couldn’t help himself. His fathers stopped talking the moment they noticed him and stood in a deceptively unified front to stare at him. Ignoring them, he walked across the living room to head for his room.
“Demi!” His dad’s sharp tone had Demi’s feet stopping before his brain registered the command. Such was the nature of his upbringing. He turned and waited. “Why are you dressed that way?”
Demi glanced down at his yoga pants and crop top. “I was dancing. You know, with Quinn, Mackie and Jase. Why? Is that something else I can’t do? There aren’t any club members around to see. My virtue remains intact.” He folded his arms and glared.
Papa moved with a speed that even Demi couldn’t track. The smack on his ass was unexpected and stung like a bitch. He gasped and, dropping his arms, rubbed at the sore spot. Papa was back by Dad’s side before Demi could blink.
“Do not take that tone with your father. Apologize.”
Demi sniffled back sudden and embarrassing tears. That was another thing he’d been doing too much of lately—crying. That part of him was very human. “I’m sorry. I wasn’t doing any harm. I’m just bored.”
His dad’s expression softened. “Of course you are. Being cooped up inside is trying for anyone—and for a teenage boy, even more so.” He huffed out a breath. “That is why I’ve asked Papa to take you shopping.”
Demi’s tears dried in a split-second. He smiled. “Really?”
“Yes, go change into something more appropriate.”
“Yes, sir.” The sting of his ass forgotten, Demi hurried to comply, ridiculously happy to be able to leave the club, even if it meant shopping with the father who absolutely loathed the activity and had no sense of style. Any amount of strain was worth the chance to get outdoors.
He changed quickly and conservatively into True Religion skinny black jeans and his Tom Ford cashmere-silk turtleneck that his fathers had given him as a Christmas present. He wanted to look fly for his outing without giving Dad fits. He knew when to pick his battles. He slipped his phone and wallet into his back pockets and returned to the living room.
“All set.”
His dad gave him the once-over and nodded. “Very nice, Demi. I like that look better than the slutty clothes you wear when you’re with the other boys.”
Demi bit his tongue. He didn’t like his friends being dissed like that, especially when he believed his fathers cared about the boys who had entered their familiar orbit. Not to mention the fact that while it wasn’t something anyone had ever told him directly, he knew how his parents had met. His human father had been forced to whore at a hideously young age. The guy should be more sympathetic to how hard it had been for those boys before their lives with the Stelalux clan. Perhaps he was, but his determination to raise Demi properly made him harsh about the others.
“Here.” His dad approached with a jacket outstretched. “Put this on. It’s very cold outside.”
“I know. That’s why I wore this shirt. I’ll be fine.” God, he was hot already and couldn’t wait to leave.
“It’s not sufficiently warm for this time of year.” Dad shook the jacket at him in mute command. Not wanting a fight that could lead to his outing being canceled, Demi allowed him to help him put on the coat. “There now… Have fun.” With a quick kiss on Demi’s cheek, his dad stepped aside.
“You’ll want to go to Copley, I suppose,” his papa said with a forced cheer.
“Yes, please.” It was his favorite place to shop indoors.
“Very well. I’ve ordered a Lyft to pick us up outside the front of the club. We’ll be back in time for dinner, my dear.” He kissed Dad on the cheek with a formal stiffness that was met in kind.
As bad as Demi felt about that, he couldn’t afford to dwell on things he couldn’t control. So, he followed his father down to the first floor. The boys were still rehearsing and for a second, he wished he could rejoin them. But the lure of spending money on new clothes and maybe grabbing some frozen yogurt was too great. He simply waved at them as he passed and headed out on his father’s heels. The Lyft came within minutes and while it was cold, Demi couldn’t help removing the jacket before getting into the car.
His father eyed him. “You’re feeling particularly hot these days?”
Demi folded the jacket carefully in his lap before buckling up. “Yes. Why? Is that bad?”
“No. It’s normal.”
Demi wanted to ask why. With the human in front able to hear every word, he didn’t dare, of course, and his father was too circumspect to answer anyway. He resolved to remember to bring it up later when they were home again. In the meantime…shopping.
He hopped out of the car with an almost giddy lightness. It had been weeks since he’d seen the light of day and nothing was going to mar his enjoyment. His father slid out after him, thanking the driver. Too antsy to wait for even a few seconds, Demi took out his phone to keep his hands busy. He returned his attention to the car at the sound of his father clearing his throat. He stood in front of Demi with a look on his face like a condemned man trying to act brave.
That expression morphed in the next second, going from indulgent father to fierce warrior. His pupils turned red, and despite the fact that they were on a public sidewalk, his fangs gleamed past slightly parted lips. At the same moment, something hard poked into Demi’s side and a man—no, an alien—sidled up next to Papa.
“Be good, little hybrid,” a nasty voice whispered into Demi’s ear, while the hard thing poked him again. “That’s a gun.”
The guy next to Papa leaned in. “You understand, Horatiu, that the boy’s life will be forfeit before you can take a single step to save him.”
Papa’s eyes turned a deeper red, if that were possible. The way his chest heaved, it was obvious he struggled to contain himself. “What do you want, Petru?”
“You.”
Demi froze in fright and confusion. His mind couldn’t process how his lovely day had turned suddenly deadly. It had never occurred to him, either, that his alien father could be taken by surprise and outmaneuvered. He wouldn’t have been, if not for his useless hybrid kid giving Dracul’s goons leverage. There was nothing he could do to help except stand there and continue to be a liability.
Except…using his thumb, he opened his phone without looking at it. With his hand down by his side, it was obvious he carried it. They’d figure it out eventually, but in the meantime, he could do something useful. There was only one number in his favorites section. He pressed that app open, or hoped he did, then, using memory alone, pulled up the contact number. It surprised him how steady his hand was. He should have been shaking. His heartbeat was jackrabbit fast, yet the rest of him was weirdly calm.
Papa took a shuddering breath. “You have me. I will not make a fuss. Let the boy go.”
Petru chuckled and grinned. “Don’t be stupid. He’s our insurance.”
God. He’d heard of this guy, like, his entire life. He’d never imagined he’d be truly this creepy. Demi wanted to punch his face in. Knowing he stood no chance of succeeding, even without a gun against his side, he continued to do the one thing possible and hoped that he was texting Trey something halfway intelligible. If nothing else, the cop would realize something was wrong. It was a long-shot, but maybe he could at least alert the others and mount a rescue.
Yeah, right. As they stood there, a big SUV pulled up, driven by another one of their kind. Petru opened the door. He took Papa by the arm and shoved him in. The guy menacing Demi pushed him forward, as well, just as Demi hit send. His one glimmer of promise was hearing the tiny swoosh to tell him his message had been sent. He tried to stick the phone back into his pocket as he allowed himself to be muscled along. Petru saw him, however, and grabbed the phone from him.
“Uh-uh, bitch. There won’t be any need for that.” He tossed the thing on the ground before Demi was rammed in beside Papa and squished between him and the goon with the gun.
His father wrapped him into his arms. “I’m sorry. I thought I could protect you.”
Demi had never heard such fear in his father’s tone before. “It’s okay.”
Petru turned from his seat up front as the SUV took off. “Touching. I’m sure I don’t have to explain the rules to either of you. Behave or I will let Kronid take him as his fuck toy.”
“As if he could handle me,” Demi sneered, fear making him idiotically suicidal, apparently.
“Demi!” His father held him tighter.
Petru laughed. “He’s got more fight in him than you ever had, Horatiu. Are you sure he’s yours or did our dear captain have at your slut? Or maybe it was Valeriu.” With another bark of laughter, he turned to stare out of the windshield.
The car sped on, weaving in and out of traffic and leading them Demi knew not where. Rather, he did. Eventually, they were going to Dracul. There was no other explanation. The why of it was the mystery, but even that would become clear in time. He shuddered at the thought and took comfort in his father’s embrace and the hope that Trey had gotten the message.
* * * *
Malcolm slapped his palm against the shower wall and leaned in. The steaming hot water beat down on his head while he worked his dick with a clenched fist and a whole lot of self-loathing. What is the matter with me? That was a useless question and one that he’d been asking himself for the entire night and well into morning. He’d lost count of the number of times he’d drained his balls since his encounter with Brenin in the observatory. Saying he’d emptied anything was inaccurate, as there continued to be an endless reservoir of cum and need.
He’d blamed the first urgent orgasm on the blood intake and the heady aroma of Brenin still permeating the room. The boy had barely shut the door before Malcolm had staggered to a chair and freed his hard cock from the confines of his smallclothes. Thank God he’d worn something and not let his nether bits hang free. With only the kilt on, his arousal would have been that much more noticeable. While he didn’t know for sure, he believed that Brenin had been aware of this situation anyway.
Poor wee laddie, the last thing he needed was a reminder of his torture at Dracul’s hands. Another alien coveting him would be terrifying. Although, if he tried, Malcolm could imagine that the human hadn’t been afraid of him regardless. Hadn’t Brenin come closer a time or two instead of turning and running? Perhaps he thought he had to appease Malcolm. There was nowhere for the lad to go, after all. He was completely dependent on Malcolm, the same as he had been on Dracul.
Thoughts of Brenin led to visions of him, which wasn’t helping matters at all. Malcolm grimaced and grunted as he worked his cock. He pumped the shaft with punishing strokes, while his hips snapped with fervor. He didn’t want to picture the human. He didn’t want to imagine that instead of his fingers, it was Brenin’s tight hole that he thrust into. The way the boy’s jeans had hugged his arse, it wasn’t hard to conjure up the delights waiting within. So small and high and tight… He could easily convince himself that he’d find a warm welcome there.
Malcolm heaved and shuddered. He pictured the way Brenin had looked at him with his rosy lips parted in a slight smile, his brown eyes wide with wonder as he listened to Malcolm speak of galaxies. There had been compassion, as well, in his expression. The human should hate everything alien and yet he’d shown genuine concern over Malcolm’s sadness.
What would he look like when in passion? Malcolm had had an almost overwhelming urge to find out. He’d wanted to sweep up the boy in his arms, strip him bare and bury himself inside him until those brown eyes closed and those lips parted on cries of pleasure. Against the wall, over a chair, in his bed… It didn’t matter where they would do it. All Malcolm wanted and needed was the boy to wrap his legs around Malcolm’s waist and allow him to ride them both to ecstasy.
He gritted his teeth and groaned as his balls tightened and cum spurted out and over his fingers. The water washed away the evidence of his climax the moment it appeared. He curled his fingers against the tile wall and planted his feet more firmly to keep himself upright. With an ever-tighter grip, he milked his shaft until there was nothing left. There was a pain to it, like an overworked muscle, which he supposed it rather was. If he didn’t let up, the thing was going to fall off.
That would be for the better. Now that he’d allowed his mind to picture what it could be like with Brenin, he wasn’t sure he could manage to lock those thoughts down again. He was afraid to see the boy for fear that something of what he was thinking and feeling would show through his gaze. God knew, he’d rather cut off his dick than scare the boy.
The bathroom door opened and he abruptly let go of his aching dick and stood to face his visitor. He knew, naturally, who it was. Not only were the footfalls as familiar to him as his own, but only one person would dare to enter so. Shutting off the water, he shoved open the shower door and glared at his visitor.
“This better be good, Darling.”
His majordomo glanced down at Malcolm’s pesky and still semi-hard cock. “Indeed, sir, it is. I have no interest in voyeurism of any kind, yours in particular. You’ve had a difficult night, I imagine.”
Malcolm frowned. “I’ll take that as a rhetorical question and a cheeky one at that.” Sudden alarm shot through him. “There’s naught wrong with the laddie, is there?”
“Of course not, sir,” Darling replied with a sniff. “As if I would stand here bantering if Brenin were in distress. No, he’s happily eating his breakfast, as Cook went to the trouble of making laverbread.”
Malcolm made a face. “Give me a proper haggis any day instead. I don’t understand the Welsh palate.”
“Indeed, but she’s also starting in on some pannenkoeken, so I think you’ll be best-pleased.”
That got his attention. “Och, Willem has arrived.” He shouldn’t have been surprised that the guy had made haste after Alex had recruited him. The pilot wasn’t one to dawdle once he’d made up his mind.
“Yes, sir, and he’s brought a companion.”
“Yeah?” Malcolm stepped out of the shower and grabbed a big towel. With Willem in residence, it would hopefully be easy to keep himself in check. On the other hand, now he couldn’t put off asking Brenin to leave for the States sooner rather than later. “He’s got another lover, does he?”
Darling retreated toward the bathroom door. “Not exactly.”
Malcolm paused while rubbing the water off his chest. “Don’t be inscrutable, Darling. You know it stretches my infinite patience.”
“I’m sorry, sir. You are going to have to see this for yourself.” With that, the man turned tail.
Malcolm stood fuming as he dried off, not liking surprises and half-mad with thoughts of Brenin…again. They’d roared back in the moment he didn’t have anyone or anything else demanding his attention. Well, Willem’s surprise would have to do. He stomped into his bedroom, and after throwing on his kilt and a T-shirt, he made for the door, stopped, grabbed the tightest pair of boxer-briefs he could find and raced down to the breakfast room.
He heard giggling before he reached his destination. The sound was so unexpected, he stumbled to a halt and listened. There it was again, a high-pitched expression of joy that couldn’t have come from Brenin. Mystified, he continued, catching the unmistakable tenor of Willem’s voice. He was commenting on Brenin’s astounding bravery at eating the laverbread. And there now was the boy chuckling. Hearing it lightened Malcolm’s heart as he strode into the room.
He stumbled again at the sight that greeted him. Willem was indeed there, sitting opposite Brenin. But it was the source of the original laughter that caught Malcolm by surprise. He was absolutely gobsmacked to see a little girl with white-blonde hair pulled back in two braids next to Willem. She was smiling and laughing through her mouthful of pannenkoeken. She seemed entirely comfortable in the unfamiliar surroundings and she was clearly at complete ease with Willem. She was waving her forkful of food within a hand-span of his plate while she focused on Brenin.
“What’s all this then?” Malcolm asked, finding his feet again and approaching the table.
Willem pushed his chair back. “Malcolm!” He intercepted him and gave him a thumping big hug. “It’s been too long.”
“Aye, it has. Good of you to lend a hand.”
“The respite couldn’t last forever,” Willem said, pulling away. “If we can end the fucker for good, then it’s worth the try.”
“Agreed.” He smiled at Brenin. “Gud morning to you.”
Brenin’s gaze dropped and there seemed to be a faint pinkness to his cheeks. “Good morning.”
He wanted to stand there and stare at the boy to glean something of what he was thinking. Had he been remembering their time together the previous night? And what if he had? There was no reason to believe he thought of it fondly.
Malcolm focused on the girl instead. She was staring back at him with a frank expression and no shyness at all. “And who is this?”
Willem returned to his seat and put his hand on the girl’s shoulder. “This is Annika. She’s my daughter.”
Malcolm didn’t bother to hide his surprise. “Is she now?”
“Yes. That is to say, she’s my late lover’s daughter.”
“I see.” Malcom made his way over to his seat at the head of the table. “Welcome to my home, Annika.”
“Thank you, Mr. Malcolm. I’m very pleased to be here. Willem was ever so worried about leaving me back in the Netherlands while he helps you deal with that awful Dracul. And I wanted to stay with him, naturally. You see, I never knew my mama, but Papa promised me before he died that Willem would always take very good care of me.” She gave him a gap-toothed grin before stuffing more of the Dutch pancake into her wee mouth.
Malcom shot a look at Willem before saying, “Oh, aye? You speak excellent English.” As if she’d been to the manor born, not a trace of an accent. “You know about Dracul, do you?”
Darling came in at that moment and placed a plate loaded with everything needed for a good Welsh breakfast, minus the laverbread, but also including the pannenkoeken. Then he poured coffee into Malcolm’s cup from the pot on the sideboard before disappearing back into the kitchen. Annika’s sharp blue eyes tracked the majordomo’s movements. She didn’t respond to Malcolm’s remarks until the four of them were alone again.
“Willem says we must be careful about what we say in front of others,” she intoned. “Does Mr. Darling know?”
“He does, but you’re right to be circumspect.”
Annika nodded while she cut a piece of sausage. “That’s good. Willem said I’m to stay here while you all go Boston, so I want to be sure about what I say around those who will be taking care of me.”
Brenin spoke up. “What’s that then?”
Shooting Willem a stern look, Malcolm turned his attention to the boy. “Aye, we need to take a wee trip across the pond.”
“Why?”
Without pausing to consider the wisdom of it, Malcolm placed his hand on top of Brenin’s. “It’s all right. Nothing to fash yourself over. You don’t have to go if you don’t want to. My captain, Alex, thinks it’s best if we go to them and see what we can plan based on your knowledge of Dracul’s castle.”
The good news was that Brenin didn’t seem to mind the touch. He didn’t jerk away or even try to move his hand at all. He merely gazed at Malcolm intently. “You think I can help you?”
“Aye. You lived there for a wee while and you managed to escape, so you can maybe tell us things that I couldn’t determine from my outside observation. It would help to learn about their routine or if they spoke of plans in front of you.”
Brenin shifted his gaze to his plate. “I didn’t hear much. There wasn’t a lot of, you know, talk with me.” He glanced meaningfully in Annika’s direction.
Malcolm squeezed his hand in an effort at comfort. Again, Brenin didn’t shy away from the contact. “Aye, I know. It’s okay no matter what you have to say. Anything might help, and if nothing else, it will give you a chance to see a wee bit of America. A short holiday, if you like.”
Brenin hunched his shoulders and shot him a brief smile. “That would be grand, except I don’t have a passport.”
“Och now, Darling can handle that problem easily enough. Don’t worry.”
“Really? He’s handy, then, is he?”
“He is that.” With a reassuring pat, Malcolm made himself let go and picked up his fork instead of clutching at the lovely warmth of Brenin’s hand. “Maybe you can describe the route you took to get to the bolthole?”
Brenin also started in on his plate again. “I can do better than that. I can draw it.”
* * * *
Trey hated how happy he was to be wrapping up a simple murder in which one hopped-up junkie had killed another over a quarter gram of meth. It was a sad and messy affair, but at least it was utterly human with no otherworldly components to keep him up at night. And it meant he could go home at a reasonable hour, maybe get takeout from his favorite Chinese restaurant and watch the Celtics game on TV.
“Almost done with your report?” Karl asked from his desk.
“Yeah. Not much to say. Pretty straightforward, just the way I like it.”
“For a change,” his partner added, clearly thinking the same as Trey had been.
His phone made its whooping sound for an incoming text. With one eye on the screen, he picked up the phone and glanced at it. He did a double-take. It was from Demi, and seeing that, his heartbeat skipped. He frowned as he tried to understand the message.
Fracuk haa ud
Trey blinked and was already rising from his chair as his brain made sense of the letters. “Karl!”
“What’s up?”
Trey didn’t bother to answer. Grabbing his coat, he opened his favorites app and pressed Alex’s number. And what did it say about him that he had an alien on the same list as his parents? He raced for the stairs, not wanting to waste time with the elevator. Karl pounded behind him. His breathing became labored as he listened to the rings with mounting agitation.
“Come on, come on, pick up.”
“Trey, what’s wrong?” Karl asked.
“Sergeant, how can I help you?” Alex’s calm, measured voice did nothing to alleviate Trey’s worry.
“Where’s Demi?” he demanded as he hit the door leading to the garage.
There was a pause. “I couldn’t say. Why?”
“He just texted me. I think he’s in trouble. It was jumbled but I think he was saying ‘Dracul has us’. Who’s us? Is he out with one of the other boys?”
“Not Quinn, he’s right here. And Harry wouldn’t let him go out without acting as his escort, regardless.”
“Then the asshole has both of them. If we hurry, we can maybe find them. Save them.” He was close to babbling and he dropped his key fob when he tried to take it out of his pocket.
“I’ve got it and I’ll drive,” Karl said, scooping up the fob and unlocking the car.
Too grateful for the help, Trey didn’t hesitate to get in on the passenger’s side. He put the phone on speaker while he buckled up. “Alex, are you still there?”
“Of course. I’m on my way to Harry’s suite and Quinn’s texting the others to see what they know.”
Trey took a deep breath to rein in his mounting panic. “Find out where they were headed. Karl and I are leaving the station right now. We’re coming to the club, but if you can get another location, we’ll change course.”
He jiggled his leg and worked to get his breathing in check. As fast as the aliens were, it felt like Alex was meandering to his destination. Please let this be a sick joke. He wanted to learn that a bored and bratty Demi was doing this only to get attention and force Trey to come for a visit.
“I’m here and putting you on speaker. Lucien, where is Demi?”
“Shopping with Harry. Why?”
The alien doctor’s human husband didn’t even try to hide his sudden worry. Trey could hear it in his voice. And the ‘why’ was the buzzword of the moment. Alex answered based on what Trey had told him.
“They went to Copley Place less than an hour ago.”
“Karl.”
“On it.” The guy didn’t hesitate to put on lights and sirens and banged a Uee sharp enough that Trey had to hold on to the grab handle.
More voices came over the connection, Quinn, Val, Mackie, Emil and Jase. Trey had no trouble distinguishing them and every single one was already at Defcon One level, testament that this wasn’t some joke. Trey’s stomach lurched and he had to swallow back the nausea climbing up his esophagus.
Trey forced himself to stay calm. He was a fucking cop, for God’s sake. He knew how to keep it together. Raising his voice to cut through the chatter, he asked, “What entrance would they use?”
“Stuart Street,” Lucien replied with enviable calm. “Demi loves Nieman-Marcus.” Now, the man’s voice shook.
Trey looked at his partner. “Karl.”
“I heard.” The man’s expression was stony. His wheel skills were also unparalleled, however, and within minutes, he pulled up to the curb in front of Demi’s favorite store.
Trey didn’t wait for the car to come to a complete halt before he was out and scanning the area. The wind whipped open his coat. He barely remembered putting the thing on and ignored the bite of cold hitting him. Not many people were out and about. Those that were stopped and stared at him. He wanted to grab each and every one and ask if they’d seen a tall, dark-haired boy being… What? Forced into a vehicle of some sort, no doubt.
He didn’t bother, though, because his attention was taken almost at once by a phone lying on the street against the curb. Two steps and he was picking it up. With an unsteady hand, he disconnected the call to the club and called Demi with his own phone. He watched with a sinking feeling in the pit of his roiling stomach as the other phone lit up.
Sergeant Hottie
Trey silenced both phones and closed his eyes. He took in deep, stinging breaths of cold air through his nose, trying to keep his shit together, when all he wanted to do was roar out his rage and frustration. That wasn’t going to help Demi, though, nor was there any point in denying further that the boy meant something to him. Despite all efforts to the contrary, Demi had gotten under his skin.
Now the alien war had taken on a new meaning. It had become personal.