Awaken Me Darkly (Alien Huntress #1)(5)
Author: Gena Showalter

“This doesn’t make sense. Alien assault is punishable by death, and only death, yet Lilla was released and her record buried.”

“Why bury it?” Thoughtful, Dallas worried a hand over his shadow beard. “I mean, someone obviously wants her information to remain hidden, so why not destroy it?”

“Blackmail, maybe?” I turned my head and glanced outside. Several agents were packing their gear and loading their vehicles. Pieces of this puzzle just didn’t fit, and I pinched the bridge of my nose, trying to make sense of what I was learning. I returned my attention to Dallas. “Does the database list who Lilla solicited and who she trashed?”

Another pause, then, “Shit, Mia. You’re not going to believe this. The man Lilla beat within an inch of his life was William Steele. And the man she propositioned was none other than—”

He shot me a glance, and we said in unison, “William Steele.”

“So there’s a connection,” I breathed, brushing a hand down my face.

Slowly, he nodded. “Looks like we’ve got our killer.”

“Yes, it looks that way, doesn’t it?” Yet suddenly something didn’t feel right, and my mind whirled with probabilities. Here was an Arcadian female who’d desired Steele enough to try and seduce him. When that failed, she beat him. This was a female perfectly capable of murder, and the simplest answer to our investigation.

Occam’s razor.

Except…everything inside me was screaming Too easy!

Oh, I was willing to bet my savings account she was involved. Had to be. But…

“Got anything else on her?” I asked, hoping to assuage my concerns. “Is her name linked with any of the other missing men?”

“Not that I can see. The only other bit of info here is the fact that she works at Ecstasy, and is dating the owner.”

I pursed my lips and flipped through my mental files. “That name sounds familiar.”

“You need to get out more, woman. Ecstasy is the most exclusive nightclub in New Chicago, and host to a slew of alien sympathizers. Mark St. John, the owner, is a hard-ass bastard with more money than God.”

So the boyfriend had money and power, probably kept a few officials in his pocket. That explained Lilla’s confidential file and the fact that she was still alive. “Let’s go after Lilla first,” I said, “and then Hudson.”

“Beauty before brawn, eh?”

I rolled my eyes. “Think she’s working tonight?”

“According to this, she works every night.”

“Doing what, exactly?”

“Tending bar.”

“It’s a damn good thing I wore my dancing shoes, then,” I said, leaning back in the seat, “because we’re going to crash the party. And don’t kill her, Dallas,” I added quickly. “I want her alive.”

“As if you have to worry about me. You’re the one who’s trigger-happy.” Grinning languidly, he programmed the club’s address into the console. “I do believe this night is about to get interesting.”

CHAPTER 2

Ecstasy perched atop a perfectly manicured hill in the upper East District. Moonlight cast an unholy frame around the three-story building, illuminating the deceptively virginal white walls, stained glass windows, and hanging pottery filled with bright green faux foliage. A cross rose from the roof like a direct antenna to God.

A f**king chapel, I thought. A nightclub infamous for illegal drugs and made-to-order sex was housed in a f**king chapel. I shook my head, marveling at the defiance such an act required. It was like saying, “Screw you, God.”

Something about the place prodded at the corners of my memory. I stared at the silk flowers twined around the tall alabaster columns, searching my mind for…what? What was I forgetting?

It hit me in the next instant, and I almost groaned. I’d forgotten my brother’s memorial was tonight.

My parents had me in their late thirties. My mother ran off not long after, but my dad stuck around. For many years, he’d been a wonderful father. Loving, supportive. It was only after my oldest brother’s death that he became an indifferent, sometimes cruel bastard.

The only thing that seemed to give him joy was this annual midnight vigil on the eve of Kane’s death. So what that my brother had died twenty-three years ago. So what that Kane had been seventeen, and I’d been five and therefore didn’t remember him. My dad expected me to be there.

Anger spun a treacherous web inside me as I considered the situation. I was still alive, but my dad basically treated me as if I was dead; Kane was dead, but he still lived and breathed in my dad’s heart. Maybe that was because Kane’s body had never been found. I didn’t know and tried not to care. I was going to take a lot of shit for missing.

Had the service been for my other brother, Dare, I would have obliterated any obstacle to be there. Dare had been my hero, my lifeline. Whenever Dad punished me, it was Dare who comforted me. Dare who made sure I had enough food and blankets.

And he’d been tortured and killed by a group of aliens on his eighteenth birthday. The date of his death was stamped in my mind like a physical brand.

Had my dad ever once held a memorial for him? Hell, no.

“Looks like we’re gonna have ourselves some trouble,” Dallas said, capturing my attention.

I realized my hands were clenched, almost snapping the bones. Thinking of Dare’s death always had that effect on me. “Nothing we can’t handle,” I said absently. My dad hadn’t called yet, but it was just a matter of time before he did. This was the only night of the year he acknowledged me.

While I usually (secretly) looked forward to his call, I didn’t need the distraction right now. I slipped out my cell unit and switched the tone to silent. I forced my body to relax and my mind to clear. No thoughts of my dad tonight, and certainly no thoughts of my brothers, either. I had to focus on here and now. Human lives depended on me.

At the gated entrance, Dallas eased his sedan toward the security booth. Before the wheels came to a complete stop, a uniformed guard appeared at the driver’s-side window. The guard had dry, yellow skin, almost reptilian. He had no nose, and his cheekbones were so sharp they could have cut glass. Ugly as putrid water, with a smell to match, he peered into the car with wide golden eyes.

An Ell-Rollis. He was definitely an Ell-Rollis. Their race wasn’t known for creativity; they rarely possessed an original thought, so they relied on the exact directives of others. And those directives were usually nefarious. Except for their physical strength, they didn’t have any special powers. That I knew of. Perhaps one day there would be a manual outlining every alien species and their abilities, but until then, we operated on what little knowledge we possessed.