Gryke: A SciFi Alien Romance (Enigma Series Book 6) Read online

  Gryke

  By Ditter Kellen

  www.ditterkellen.com

  Copyright © by Ditter Kellen

  All rights reserved. This copy is intended for the original purchaser of this e-book ONLY. No part of this e-book may be reproduced, scanned, or distributed in any printed or electronic form without prior written permission from Ditter Kellen. Please do not participate in or encourage piracy of copyrighted materials in violation of the author's rights. Purchase only authorized editions.

  Image/art disclaimer: Licensed material is being used for illustrative purposes only. Any person depicted in the licensed material is a model.

  Published in the United States of America

  Ditter Kellen

  P.O. Box 1764

  DeFuniak Springs, FL. 32435

  This e-book is a work of fiction. While reference might be made to actual historical events or existing locations, the names, characters, places and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales are entirely coincidental.

  Warning

  This e-book contains sexually explicit scenes and adult language and may be considered offensive to some readers. This e-book is for sale to adults ONLY as defined by the laws of the country in which you made your purchase. Please store your files wisely where they cannot be accessed by under-aged readers

  Dedication

  For the beautiful Cathe Green. I wrote this story especially for you. You are the best friend anyone could ask for. I love you…

  Chapter One

  Gryke sat on the back of the human device known as an ATV while Anthony Vaughn maneuvered them through the halls of Aukrabah. He had never seen anything quite like the ATV before, and he was grateful that Vaughn knew how to control it.

  “Fiona can’t be too far ahead of us,” Tony barked over his shoulder. “She doesn’t know her way around Aukrabah as well as we do.”

  Gryke wasn’t so sure. Fiona hadn’t been chosen by the human president for her diplomatic skills alone. No, she was a crafty female, and no doubt a deadly one also.

  “If she has made it to the surface, you cannot follow,” Gryke responded, watching and learning Tony’s every movement on the machine. “The human military will apprehend you the moment you are within sight.”

  Tony glanced back over his shoulder. “Hopefully it won’t come to that.”

  Gryke hoped so too. Tony and Naura had a child on the way, and Naura would never forgive Gryke if something happened to her mate.

  The two of them rode in silence for the next couple of hours, stopping only once to replace the fuel in the ATV with the small red can strapped to the side.

  The entrance to Aukrabah came into view, as did the ATV that Fiona had taken. “This is as far as I can go.”

  Gryke bounded off the back. “I will have the human soldiers take me to Braum. Together, we will find Fiona and the scrolls.”

  Tony pulled a cell phone from his shirt pocket, popped off the backside, and plucked out a small black square object. He then replaced it with another black square identical to the first one.

  “I changed out the battery,” Tony muttered when Gryke looked at him questioningly. “I’m notifying Melvin that you are surfacing. If you need his assistance for anything, go to Chen’s Cleaners on Pompano Street and ask for Lou. Tell him that Tony sent you. Lou will know how to contact Melvin.”

  “Chen’s Cleaners. Lou. Pompano Street,” Gryke repeated. “I understand.” Gryke paused. “I thought that area had been evacuated.”

  “It was, but Lou wouldn’t have left. He lives above the store. Be careful, Gryke. And trust no one.”

  Gryke nodded once and moved to turn toward the ramp leading up to the entrance.

  “Wait,” Tony called, pulling a handgun from beneath his shirt. “Take this. You’ll probably need it.”

  Accepting the weapon from Vaughn, Gryke spun around and jogged toward the lights in the distance. Fiona was out there somewhere with the ancient scrolls of the Bracadytes in her possession.

  Gryke blasted up the ramp toward the dozen or so soldiers guarding the entrance, rage powering his every step. Fiona had betrayed the Bracadytes just as Gryke always knew she would. And for that, she would pay. With her life if necessary.

  “Where is she?” Gryke snarled, nearly slamming into the group of soldiers.

  The one Gryke remembered as Roosevelt stepped forward. “Where is who?”

  “You know to whom I refer,” Gryke growled, fighting the urge to wrap his hands around the guy’s throat.

  Roosevelt smirked. “Ah, you must mean Miss Henagar. She came through here about thirty minutes ago.”

  Gryke took a step toward Roosevelt, his voice deadly soft. “Did she say where she was going?”

  “No, she didn’t,” Roosevelt responded, uncertainty flickering in his otherwise steady gaze. “As a matter of fact, she didn’t speak to any of us. She just marched through and disappeared into the night.”

  “Take me to your president,” Gryke demanded without preamble.

  Roosevelt’s eyebrows shot up. “I’m afraid that’s not possible.”

  Gryke gripped the soldier’s shirtfront and jerked him up onto his toes. “You will take me to him now if you wish to live.”

  A dozen rifles were instantly trained on Gryke.

  “Lower your weapons,” Roosevelt ordered, glancing at the surrounding soldiers. He met Gryke’s gaze once more. “Take your hands off me.”

  Gryke only tightened his hold.

  Roosevelt visibly swallowed. “Let me go, and I will put in a call to the president for you.”

  Gryke abruptly released him, but continued to loom over him in case the guy decided to try something.

  Roosevelt retrieved a phone from his side and pressed some numbers before lifting it to his ear.

  Only able to hear one side of the conversation, Gryke had no choice but to trust the man had made the correct call.

  After a moment of speaking, Roosevelt pressed a button and returned the phone to his hip. “Follow me.”

  Without waiting to see if Gryke would comply, the tall lanky soldier spun on his heel and marched off into the shadows. “The president has ordered me to take you to Braum,” he called over his shoulder. “He will contact you there within the hour.”

  Gryke caught up with him in a few steps. “Why can I not speak with him now on your phone?”

  “I don’t know,” Roosevelt answered, stopping next to a truck and opening the door. “I’m only following orders.”

  Without waiting for confirmation, Gryke climbed into the passenger side and shut the door. “This had better not be a trick, or your president will find you gutted on the side of the road.”

  Chapter Two

  Fiona waited for the truck carrying Gryke to pull away from the entrance before slipping out the back door of the house she hid inside.

  She’d been watching through the window for the past thirty minutes, waiting on the psychotic Bracadyte to appear. And she knew he would show as surely as she knew that climbing into that truck with Roosevelt was a bad idea.

  Guilt assailed her as she tucked her head down and scampered across the lawn to the fence out back. The Bracadytes thought she’d betrayed them, and she had in a sense. But Doug Jefferies had left her no choice.

  She climbed over the fence, landing lithely on her feet, and darted toward the empty street ahead. The neighborhood had been deserted since the evacuation order went into effect several months ago.

  Fiona stayed to the shadows, making he
r way to Clover Street where a car would be waiting for her.

  Her mind drifted to her six-year-old son, and anxiety twisted her gut. If Jefferies had touched one hair on Andrew’s precious head… She couldn’t finish the thought.

  Fiona’s brother, Brant Henagar, had recently taken Andrew to a remote cabin in the mountains of Tennessee to keep him safe from the Incola virus, while Fiona had been ordered to play diplomat with the Bracadytes.

  Andrew’s father had died four years earlier, serving his country, and Fiona had been left to raise their son by herself. If not for Brant’s help, Fiona wasn’t sure what she would have done. Both of their parents had died many years ago, and they had no other relatives that Fiona knew of.

  After serving four years as a Marine, Fiona had been accepted into the CIA, which was where she’d first learned of Anthony Vaughn. And why she’d been chosen to intercede on behalf of the Bracadytes. Not only was she qualified for the job, but she happened to be a female to boot. And Fiona had no doubt that her gender played a big part in the reason for her being selected.

  Nausea rolled as every scenario she could imagine tormented her mind. Had Jefferies hurt her brother? Fiona knew that Brant wouldn’t willingly hand over Andrew. He would die to protect his nephew.

  Fiona thought about the day she’d found out that Jefferies had taken her son. She’d approached the entrance to Aukrabah with Oz, Maria, Vaulcron, and Gryke the night they’d returned from Cuba. Roosevelt had pulled her aside to inform her of Jefferies’s demands, ending with the news of Andrew’s abduction.

  Fiona had never been more afraid in all her life. She’d spent a week attempting to get the scrolls from the catacombs, but Gryke had blocked her at every turn, always there, watching her every move.

  The two or three times she’d managed to give Gryke the slip, Zaureth had been in attendance in the catacombs, leaving Fiona no choice but to retreat.

  She’d hated like hell hitting the blind girl in the back of the head, but desperation and fear for Andrew’s life had left her no choice.

  What did Doug Jefferies want with the Bracadytes’ scrolls? Fiona wondered, keeping to the shadows. And more importantly, how did he know of their existence?

  The car came into view a few minutes later. Fiona hurried across the street and climbed behind the wheel. She snatched up the folded piece of paper that rested in a cup holder in the console and read it with trepidation.

  Caliber Hotel on Main Street. Room 102.

  That was it. Nothing about Andrew or Brant. Only the name of a hotel and a room number.

  Dropping the note onto the seat, Fiona began searching for the car keys. After finding them above the visor, she started the car and drove toward Main Street, thoughts of her son and brother plaguing her.

  She arrived at the hotel in record time. There were only two vehicles in the parking lot and no lights on in the lobby. It had obviously been closed down due to the evacuation.

  Fiona switched off the engine and jumped from the car, rushing to the front doors with her heart in her throat.

  “You’re late,” a tall, angry-looking man with a deep scar on his jaw pointed out as he opened the door.

  Fiona pulled up short. “I got here as fast as I could. Where is my son?”

  “In room 102. Get inside.”

  Brushing past him, Fiona hurried through the lobby and headed off in the direction of room 102, with Scarface tight on her heels.

  She stopped outside the designated hotel room, moving aside as the guy knocked.

  Jefferies opened the door with a cat-that-ate-the-canary expression. “It’s about time.”

  “Where is my son?” Fiona bit out, attempting to see around Jefferies.

  “Mommy!” Andrew cried, running across the room, only to be stopped by Jefferies’s suddenly extended arm.

  Fiona took a step forward, fighting the emotion she was certain showed in her eyes. “It’s okay, baby. Mama’s here.”

  “You have something for me?” Jefferies questioned, glancing at her empty hands.

  Fiona lifted her chin. “The scrolls are safe. Hand over my son, and I will take you to them.”

  The force of a fist slamming against her chin sent Fiona flying against the man standing behind her. Pain shot through her skull, temporarily graying her vision.

  The sound of Andrew’s cries poured through Fiona’s veins like acid, eating away at her insides. “It’s okay, Andrew,” she wheezed, gaining her feet and fighting the urge to run to her son.

  Angry Scarface Guy shoved her forward, sending her stumbling deeper into the room. The door closed behind her.

  A vein bulged in Jefferies’s forehead. “Do you really think I’m that stupid? Either tell me where you hid the scrolls, or I kill the boy, now.”

  “If you so much as scratch him, you will never get the damn scrolls. I’ll take them to the grave with me.”

  Jefferies stared at her so long Fiona began to wonder if she’d overplayed her hand.

  “What do you want me to do, sir?” Ugly Scarface Guy asked from behind her.

  Doug ran a hand down his face. “Go out front and keep an eye out in case this twit was followed. I’ll call if I need you.”

  Fiona slowly skirted Jefferies and dropped to her knees in front of Andrew. She wrapped him in her arms and blinked back the tears that threatened. “Did he hurt you?”

  Andrew shook his head against her shoulder, his tiny hands locking in a tight grip behind her neck. “I missed you, Mommy.”

  “I missed you too, baby. Everything is all right now. I won’t let anything happen to you. I promise.”

  Jefferies gripped Fiona by the arm and forced her back to her feet. “Go sit over there.” He pushed her toward the bed against the opposite wall. “And keep your mouth shut.”

  Keeping her arms around Andrew, Fiona moved toward the bed, her gaze scanning the room for any possible sign that Brant had been there.

  “Looking for your brother?” Jefferies taunted. “Did you really think I’d bring him here?”

  “Where is he?” Fiona held her breath, fearing his answer.

  “You’re wondering if I killed him.” It wasn’t a question.

  “Did you?”

  The corner of Doug’s mouth lifted. “Not yet. But I imagine he’s probably wishing I had.”

  Fiona kept her expression blank. If there was one thing the CIA had taught her, it was to guard her thoughts. A good poker face could mean the difference between life and death.

  Doug pulled a cell phone from a clip on his belt and made a call. Though he spoke in a soft voice, Fiona could make out most of his words. “There’s been a change in plans. Bring him here at once.” He disconnected the call and returned the phone to its holder.

  Fiona’s heart pounded. Had Jefferies sent for Brant? And if so, was he planning on killing him in front of her and Andrew?

  Chapter Three

  Gryke remained quiet as the truck rolled through the shadowed streets of Destin. He couldn’t take his mind off the red-haired female who’d managed to steal the ancient scrolls of his people right from under his nose.

  He’d watched her closely, forgoing sleep in order to keep an eye on her. Yet she’d somehow managed to slip past him and make her way unseen to the catacombs.

  “Braum?” Gryke mentally called, watching the streetlights dance across the truck’s windshield.

  “I am here, my friend. Is something amiss?”

  Gryke kept his expression blank, unsure of how much Roosevelt knew of the Bracadytes’ telepathic abilities. “The female soldier is missing.”

  A brief pause ensued. “She is lost in Aukrabah?”

  “No,” Gryke returned, shifting in his seat. “She took the scrolls from the catacombs and escaped to the surface with them.”

  Braum growled through their connection. “I will leave here posthaste.”

  “Stay where you are. I am coming to you.”

  “You are traveling to Washington?” Braum questioned, surprise in his
voice.

  Gryke glanced at Roosevelt before replying. “I am certain that Fiona will take the scrolls to the human president. Are you not with him?”

  “I am,” Braum confirmed. “But I do not think that President Pratt is aware of Fiona’s agenda. I will speak with him at once.”

  “You did not speak to the president,” Gryke accused, turning to face the soldier.

  The truck came to a stop in the parking lot of a tall building. Roosevelt opened his door, jumped out, and brandished a handgun. “Get out. Nice and slow.”

  A growl rose up in Gryke’s throat. He should have known the land walker couldn’t be trusted. He opened his mind completely to Braum, allowing the other Bracadyte to witness what took place.

  “Go peacefully,” Braum instructed, his rage seeping through their connection. “I will be there as quickly as possible.”

  Gryke scanned the area, giving Braum a good look at his surroundings. “I have a feeling that Fiona is behind this.”

  “Move!” Roosevelt barked, raising the gun to Gryke’s head. “And leave your weapon on the seat.”

  Without taking his gaze from the human soldier, Gryke removed the pistol from the waistband of his shorts and laid it on the console. He opened his door and slowly climbed out.

  Roosevelt rounded the front of the truck. “Hands above your head.”

  Gryke did as he was told, lifting his arms and locking his fingers behind his head. “You will die by my hand.”

  Fear flickered in the soldier’s eyes, however briefly. He jerked his chin toward the tall building in front of them. “Get inside. If you try anything, I won’t think twice about shooting you in the back.”

  “Coward,” Gryke snarled, moving around the guy. “Your weapon gives you power. You would be nothing without it.”

  Roosevelt pulled back the hammer. “I said move.”

  Gryke marched toward the building, keeping his hands behind his head. He would take great pleasure in killing the cowardly human. And he would kill him.