Chapter Ten

 

Mira stared at the amplifier pieces without seeing them. It was almost functional—a fuse had blown out, but it had worked for a moment. She couldn’t focus on it, today, though.

That morning, after returning from dropping the girls at the academy, she’d researched the home address for the general magistrate. Unbelievably, Jakk had it programmed right into her communication device, which used to be his.

All she had to do was remove her collar and get in the shuttle and she could visit Brinley. The general magistrate was probably at work. Maybe she’d be home alone, like Mira. The idea of seeing another human—a friend—had her buzzing like an addict about to get a fix. So, yes, that meant she couldn’t stop thinking about it, her mind looping on a single track.

She packed the amplifier parts and found the pair of bolt cutters she’d set aside after her first exploration of the shed. With the jaws open, she worked the lower blade under the collar at her neck.

The blade was too thick, though. Ouch. The tip of it cut the underside of her chin. Her throat spasmed, and suddenly the collar felt too tight, as if strangling her breath. She had to get the fucker off, now. With a snap of the jaws, she dug into the fragile skin at her throat again, slicing it open, but the collar also fell off.

Relief coursed through her. Chucking the bolt cutters, she jogged upstairs to the house to grab a washcloth for her cuts then back down to the shuttle. She had three-and-a-half hours before she needed to pick up the girls. She didn’t know how far away the general magistrate lived, but hopefully it would be enough time.

She climbed into the bullet shuttle and programmed the general magistrate’s address into the dash, which took a considerable amount of time, since she had to hunt and peck the characters she didn’t recognize. Eventually, it seemed to work.

She drew a deep breath, fighting back the guilt.

No, she needed this. She didn’t deserve to be held prisoner in Jakk and Gav’n’s home. And if she played her cards right, they’d never know. Yes, she’d have to explain the severed collar. She would just say she felt like she was going to choke, which was true, and it had to come off. They’d punish her, but it wouldn’t be the end of the world. Not like if they found out she’d gone to visit Brinley.

That would be bad.

She jumped the tracks onto the speedway and let the controls take over. Scenery flashed by as the shuttle drove toward the coast.

After about a half hour, she merged onto a speedway out of Endermere. She gasped once more at the incredible view she’d seen on her drive from prison. Turquoise water sparkled below. The shuttle zoomed along a set of coastal tracks hugging the edge of the cliffs.

But instead of feeling exhilarated as she sped along, her anxiety grew. A sense of dread expanded until it filled her, welling up to her throat. She ought to feel free. Joyful. Ecstatic to be her own master for a change, on her way to see a friend and fellow human. Why, then, did a foreboding sense of dread fill her gut? She’d felt more free that night at the beach, with her keepers.

Her masters.

Her lovers.

Shit.

Gav’n and Jakk would be furious and disappointed if they knew what she was doing. Coming here today was a violation of the trust they’d shown in sharing Brinley’s location with her. The trust they’d given her to act as a parent to Darley.

Yes, that trust was still unsteady. But they’d asked her to believe in them. They’d promised to have her happiness and well-being at heart—to try to arrange a visit when timing was better. Did she believe they knew best? They certainly had about the grocery store visit. How had going rogue gone for her that time?

Fuck.

She didn’t want them to lose faith in her. She tapped her fingers on the steering wheel, trying to make up her mind. Judging by the map program on the screen, she was almost there. But a lot of things could go wrong when she arrived. The general magistrate might be home. Or he might have some kind of staff or guards. And despite the fact she’d been thinking about finding her friends since the moment she left prison, it felt all wrong.

Clicking off the auto-programming, she spun into a turnabout track and punched up the program for home.

 

~.~

 

Gav’n watched the tracker belonging to the family shuttle move along a map on his communication pad along the coast out of Endermere.

Meanwhile, the tracker in Mira’s collar sat perfectly still at their home.

So, she had either removed the collar and was making a run for it, or their shuttle had been stolen.

Damn.

He was in the middle of an important police call—someone had broken in and stolen all the account cards from a bank during the night. Jakk was in court and couldn’t be reached. He didn’t want to send one of his men to investigate Mira and risk the Council finding out he and Jakk couldn’t control her.

He shoved the communicator back into his pocket. He’d have to find her as soon as he could get away from this crime scene. He prayed she stayed with the shuttle or he’d have no way of finding her.

Where could she be going? Running away? Or was this just another one of her impulsive excursions, like flower picking or the grocery store visit? He sure as hell hoped it was the latter, but something in the way she’d wept and argued the night before made him think—

Yes.

That was it. She’d gone in search of her friend—what was her name? Brinley? He’d been to a party at the general magistrate’s once. It was down the speedway she’d taken.

His relief at realizing her destination was short-lived, though. If the general magistrate caught her there, they stood a very good chance of having her taken away from them.

Damn.

He yanked his pad out again to study the tracker. Spinning it, he checked and rechecked her direction. She’d turned around since the last time he looked. What did that mean? Had she planned a secret meet-up with her friend? Had they passed some kind of information or materials? The detective in him dragged out every suspicion under their sun, each one making the stone in the pit of his gut grow heavier.

He shoved away the thoughts and marched through the crime scene, barking orders. The sooner they wrapped up their clue-gathering and packed to leave, the sooner he could find Mira and figure out what in the hell was going on.

An hour later, his police scanner buzzed with an incoming call from headquarters. “Commissioner, officers are responding to a call related to one of aliens. Neighbors report she has a bomb or some kind of weapon and is unsupervised and highly dangerous.”

His ears buzzed. “What location?” he practically shouted, causing all his officers to stare.

“Three twenty-one Old Town Rd. Officers are responding, sir.”

His world swooped and tilted. He raced toward the shuttle. The shouts and questions from his officers came as through a haze, sounding far away. He ignored them all, somehow making his hands work to open the door.

How had he missed this? His worst suspicions were playing out in the most public way. His career would never recover. Nor would Jakk’s.

Jakk.

Mira’s betrayal would kill him, his dream of having a female forever dashed.

Even Gav’n had been blinded by his desire for the little human. He’d somehow failed to see her duplicity, despite the fact she’d given plenty of warnings. The picked lock on her collar. The searched computer files. The need to connect with her shipmates.

Oh hell. What was Mira up to? He hated being blindsided like this.

His communicator buzzed again.

The academy. Aw, hell—nobody had picked up the girls. He let it go unanswered. They’d have to call Jakk this time.

He pushed the police shuttle to its maximum speed, screaming along the tracks, swerving to pass shuttles in his way. When he arrived at his sister’s townhouse, twenty other police shuttles had surrounded the place, and news organizations crowded everywhere.

In the thick of it, Linat, their elderly neighbor, gesticulated, speaking rapidly to Binnix, his Chief of Civil Police. Mira lay face down on the ground, her wrists bound with plastic restraints used for juveniles, her legs spread. Her bare ass and pussy showed beneath the short dress they made her wear, and he cursed inwardly at his own idiocy in prohibiting underclothing.

He’d been so stupid. Toying with her like some kind of sexual plaything, when, in fact, she was a dangerous terrorist. Like his brother, he’d been thinking with his dick instead of his head.

But, as angry as he was—with himself and her—the sight of her being held that way enraged him. He didn’t want everyone staring at her. And if anyone had hurt her, Gav’n would bash their teeth straight through their skulls.

He climbed out and slammed his shuttle door.

“Commissioner Ereen,” one of the men sang out, announcing his presence, as was customary.

The crowd parted to let him stalk through. “Where’s the weapon?” he demanded. “Show me.” He purposely avoided addressing Mira. He couldn’t even look at her, though he sensed her jerk of recognition when he’d spoken.

“It’s right there, Commissioner,” Chief Binnix said, pointing to a box of what appeared to be old electronics. He recognized it from his sister’s cupboard. “What is it? What does it do?”

“We don’t know, sir. The neighbor called in the emergency, sir.” He pointed at the elderly neighbor still giving her report.

He picked up the wired device and examined it. “It’s not a bomb. I don’t believe it’s a weapon of any kind, but we’ll bring it in for a full examination.” He spoke in a clear, authoritative voice, fully aware the news cameras recorded every bit of the drama. He wanted to give the message he saw no real danger but was taking the matter seriously and would thoroughly investigate to ensure public safety.

“We found these, too, Commissioner.” One of the men showed him the bolt cutters and Mira’s severed collar.

He steeled himself against the fresh wave of pain that cut him. “Get her up and into a shuttle.” His voice came out cold and detached, though, inside, a torrent of emotions threatened to topple him. “We’ll sort this out at headquarters.”

Two men dragged her roughly to her feet, and it took every bit of willpower not to lunge forward and take custody of her himself. Not to yank their hands off her, smash their teeth in, and make certain no one ever touched her again.

But she wasn’t his. She’d proven that. He and Jakk had fooled themselves into thinking they could tame her, keep her as their own. She’d never be theirs.

“Gav’n—?”

The wobble in her voice gutted him. He couldn’t talk to her now, though. Not in front of all his men. Maybe not ever. He ignored her plea, didn’t meet her gaze when she sought his eyes, tripping as they dragged her to the shuttle.

“Gav’n.”

“Get her out of here,” he growled, afraid he would come apart right there, ripped at the seams by his feelings for—yes, his love for—this human and the agony of losing everything. Her, his career, his brother’s happiness.

She twisted, wrenching her shoulders against his men’s hold on her, and the fear and pain on her face slammed through him like a stun gun.

He stumbled back, breath knocked out of him.

Mira…

But, no. He hardened himself against all the places she’d made him soft for her. He needed to be strong now.

For Jakk.

 

~.~

 

Jakk shoved his way into the police headquarters, the three girls in tow. He knew he should have brought them home, should have given them the illusion nothing had gone wrong, but he couldn’t do it.

His life—their life—was in total crisis. The general magistrate would be here any minute, and he didn’t even know what had happened yet. All he could gather from Gav’n was it was bad. Very bad.

“Uncle Jakk, why are we at police headquarters?” Pritzi asked. “Where’s Mira?”

“She’s here. Something happened—I don’t know what.”

Pritzi started crying softly, and he scooped her up into his arms. Her eyes widened in surprise. Had he never held her before? If he had, it hadn’t been for comfort. Maybe to move her from one location to another. Like out of the shuttle. He suddenly realized how much he’d held back in his life. He’d never given affection freely, always ready for rejection, he supposed. Strange how Mira’s easy acceptance of his care, his touch, had changed him.

He strode through headquarters and into Gav’n’s office. His brother had some kind of electronic device and other parts and equipment strewn across his desk. Several policemen and a civilian, maybe an engineer, were examining the items.

“What happened?” he demanded.

“Find him an office,” Gav’n barked at his men, indicating the engineer. To the civilian, he said, “I want to know exactly what that thing is and what it can do.”

“Yes, Commissioner.” The men exited and shut the door on their way out.

“Mira cut off her collar and drove somewhere up the coast. Probably to meet her shipmate. Then she came back and was working on building something. The neighbor called the police, saying it was a bomb.”

He set Pritzi down, not wanting to squeeze her too tight as the tension in his body ratcheted higher. “What is it?”

“I don’t know. Not a bomb. Maybe a communication device? Could they be trying to transmit back to Earth?”

His heart thudded hard against his chest. “Where is she? What has she said?”

His brother’s jaw clenched. “I haven’t been alone with her—it’s been damage control from the moment I got the call.”

“Take us to her.”

“Why is Mira in jail, Uncle Gav’n?” Pritzi asked, her lower lip trembling again.

Gav’n picked up her hand. “We have some things to figure out, Pritzi. Mira may not be able to come back with us.”

He’d known it was true, but hearing Gav’n say it out loud, like he’d already accepted it, turned his limbs to ice. They followed Gav’n through the halls to the holding cells, where Mira paced, wearing one of the yellow juvenile prison jumpers she’d had on when they first met. Two gashes marred her lovely throat where the tracking collar used to be.

“Mira,” he croaked. “What in the hell is going on?”

Pritzi ran to the bars and stuck her little hand through, trying to reach Mira.

Mira whirled, eyes blazing. “Why don’t you ask your brother?” she spat. She didn’t take Pritzi’s hand, but heartbreak crumpled her mouth when she faced the child.

“Mira, what’s happening?” Darley asked.

Mira’s jaw thrust out in a stubborn angle, and she crossed her arms over her chest. She glared furiously at Gav’n.

“Uncle Gav’n?” Darley prompted.

“Mira will probably be tried for treason.”

The words shot across the prison and punched him in the face. He was surprised there wasn’t blood dripping from his nose. Treason?

“We haven’t determined yet what she was up to, but all of Endermere expects me to ensure their safety, and it’s my job to keep Mira locked up until we understand what’s going on.”

“But what is going on?” Darley’s voice rose in pitch.

“She was building some kind of electronic device in the shed. We believe she may be trying to communicate with her planet. In addition, she cut off her tracking device and went on unauthorized travel, possibly to visit one of her shipmates. We’re investigating everything now.” Gav’n sounded like he was reporting to the magistrate, rather than the family members who lived with and had grown to love Mira.

Mira covered her mouth, turning pale. Tears spilled down her cheeks and over her hand. She turned away from them, offering her back.

“What was the device, Mira?” Jakk asked.

She turned her back on them, shoulders hunched up to her ears.

“Get them out of here,” Gav’n said.

He couldn’t move. Nothing about this situation was right, yet he couldn’t see any way out of it.

“Let’s go,” Gav’n said sharply, herding the children in front of him, out of the holding prison. “You shouldn’t have brought them here.”

Somewhere inside of Jakk, rage at his brother sparked and turned over, but icy cold devastation kept it from erupting. He felt numb, deadened.

Jan resisted Gav’n’s shepherding, pulling away to run back. Gav’n picked her up by the waist, and she screamed, “No!”

Mira whirled, her expression registering the same shock they all felt to hear Jan speak. She rushed to the bars, but Gav’n was carrying Jan away.

Jakk stood frozen, staring at his female behind bars, lost.

“Jakk,” Gav’n hissed.

He shook himself, turned, and followed his family out, away from the woman he loved.

Away from his ruptured heart.

Away from any chance he’d ever had at happiness.

 

~.~

 

The only things keeping Mira from falling to her knees were her sweaty palms hanging onto the prison bars. Had she really just lost her new family? And over what? A fucking shuttle ride that hadn’t even ended with a visit to Brinley.

Where was that trust they were supposed to be showing each other?

Hell, she supposed she’d violated it one too many times. And the highly public nature of her capture put both her men—God, were they still hers?—in a bad position.

Gav’n hadn’t even looked at her during the arrest. He’d abandoned her completely, already written her off. Did he really believe she’d been trying to communicate with Earth with that primitive technology? The idea was ludicrous.

And while rationally she understood if he accepted that explanation, he must feel completely betrayed by her right now, nothing softened the bite of his complete lack of caring.

She slid to her knees on the floor, blessed numbness setting it. She’d fucked everything up. She shouldn’t have driven out to see Brinley, should’ve waited and trusted her men, her masters, to arrange something.

Her mind ran over the time she’d spent with Jakk and Gav’n and the girls, remembering every day. In hindsight, she wished she’d done a million things differently. Why had she resisted Jakk and Gav’n and the place they tried to provide for her? Now that she stood to lose it, to lose everything—probably even her life—she wished she’d appreciated what she’d had. Two men who paid more attention to her and her pleasure than anyone had in her life. Three children who needed her. Friendship. Family. Love. Steaming hot sex. What wasn’t to love about all that?

If she had it to do over, she never would’ve chipped away at their trust by picking the lock on the collar that first week, or disobeying orders by going into the store or gathering flowers. She would’ve had more faith in Jakk and Gav’n from the start and opened up about her difficulties and desires.

Now it was all too late. They thought she was a terrorist. The citizens of Endermere hated and feared her. Without Jakk and Gav’n to defend her, she was done. She just wished the girls hadn’t had to see her like this, didn’t have to lose another person in their lives. It wasn’t fair to them.

 

~.~

 

Gav’n carried his kicking niece out into the hall. Jan cried, her little face pale and drawn.

“Get them home,” he barked at Jakk, furious with his brother for bringing them there in the first place. They shouldn’t have seen Mira like that.

Jan and Pritzi clung to each other, weeping. Darley appeared lost, her customary scowl gone, brows drawn up together.

Jakk wasn’t any better. He’d vacated his body, which stood as an absent shell.

He tugged them all down the hall, toward the front door, just in time to meet the general magistrate.

“What in the hell is going on?” Rowth growled.

“General Magistrate, we’re getting to the bottom of things right now.” He attempted to exude confidence and capability. Like he wasn’t about to lose his job and Mira in one fell swoop.

“Uncle Gav’n.” Jan tugged on his sleeve.

“What happened, exactly?” Rowth barked.

He opened his mouth, preparing to launch into a rehearsed explanation.

“Uncle Gav’n.”

He froze, realizing why the rest of his family had gone dead silent. Jan was talking again--beyond the single utterance she’d yelled back in the jail. Jan.

Her tear-streaked face tipped up to him, desperation apparent in the crinkle of her brow. “I know what Mira was building in the shed.”

The air left his lungs in a whoosh. “One moment, Your Honor,” he said to the general magistrate, lowering to one knee in front of his niece. “What was Mira building, sweetheart?”

“Something to make Uncle Jakk’s music louder. She called it an...amfliyer, I think.”

His body turned to stone. “Amplifier?”

“Yes. We gave her the parts Mama had put in the cupboard—the broken stuff. She liked to take things apart to see how they worked. Like the way she fixed the oven. She was working on a surprise for Uncle Jakk. She told me not to tell until it was ready. She needed a new part.”

Relief coursed through him. Relief and dread at what he’d done to Mira—was it too late to fix things? He straightened up and faced the general magistrate. “Your Honor, it seems my niece has solved the mystery. Our elderly neighbor called the police today when she saw Mira tinkering with old electronics. Apparently, she thought Mira was building a bomb. We had to be sure, of course. Better safe than sorry. So we brought the equipment and the human in here until we’d sorted things out. I will have our expert engineer verify what my niece has shared, but it sounds like we have a satisfactory explanation.” He attempted what he hoped was an affable smile.

The general magistrate narrowed his eyes. “Why didn’t she tell you that herself? Surely you questioned her. What did she tell you she’s been building?”

His stomach twisted. “I hadn’t had a chance to question her yet, Your Honor.”

Rowth gave him a cold stare. “I see.”

“The press were there when I arrived, so it’s been damage control until now.”

“Get the child’s word verified immediately so the public can be calmed. The last thing we need is more hysteria around the aliens.”

“Yes, Your Honor. Right away, sir.”

The focus had finally returned to Jakk’s eyes. “I’ll get the children out of here, then. We’ll be waiting for you to bring Mira home before bedtime.” He caught the blame in his brother’s tone. Not that he wasn’t already wallowing in a whole pile of it.

He had made a terrible mistake. At least, he hoped. There was still the matter of where Mira had gone, and he would question her about it. Which is what he should’ve done in the first place.

He bowed to the general magistrate and headed to the office where the expert engineer examined the equipment. When he verified Jan’s story, exclaiming over her ingenuity, and even installing the missing part—a fuse—to make the thing work, it took all he could do not to run to Mira’s prison cell.

Oh hell.

Mira’s blonde head was bowed and leaning against the bars where she knelt.

“Open her cell,” he barked, stepping through the door the moment the guard opened it. “Lock us in.” The door clanged shut behind him. “Mira,” he said softly, lifting her to her feet.

She came back to life, then, shoving him away.

“You were making a surprise for Jakk. For his music? Jan told us.”

That got her attention.

“Yeah, she’s speaking full sentences. For you, pashika.”

Mira’s lips trembled, eyes swimming with tears.

“I’m sorry I didn’t let you tell me sooner.”

She abruptly turned away and, when he touched her, retreated into the corner of the cell, her back firmly to him.

“Okay, I know you’re mad.” He followed her there, tried to turn her around, but she resisted. He covered her eyes with his hand and spun her to face him. “You don’t want to look at me? You don’t have to, baby. But I need to see you.”

She submitted to his touch, facing him, but her mouth formed an angry pout.

“Forgive me, baby,” he said softly, not wanting the guards to hear their private conversation. “I didn’t know what to think. Tell me where you drove today.” He inched his hand away from her eyes, and she blinked up at him.

Her face screwed up. “I wanted to visit Brinley. I drove most of the way there, but I changed my mind and came home. Please believe me—I never saw her. I’m sorry, Gav’n.”

Her story aligned with what he’d seen on the tracking device. He wrapped his arms around her and pulled her little body against his.

“It’s all right, pashika. I’m going to get you home now. Where you belong. We’ll work everything out, I promise.”

She pressed her face against his chest, dampening his shirt with her tears.

“Come on, baby. Jakk and the girls are waiting up for you. Let’s get you out of here.”

The guard responded to his call and opened the gate. She changed back into her clothing, and he picked up the now-functioning amplifier. He had to resist the urge to carry her out of there. He wanted to feel her close, to know she was really still his—theirs. Because one thing he knew for certain—he would never let her go again.