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

  “Open it,” the soldier ordered as Gryke stopped in front of the doors.

  Lowering one arm, Gryke gripped the door handle, pulled it wide, and stepped inside.

  “Down the hall and to your left,” Roosevelt insisted, staying far enough back that Gryke couldn’t reach him. “Room 102.”

  Gryke did as he was told, coming to a stop outside the correct room.

  “Knock.”

  Fighting back the urge to snarl, Gryke rapped on the door with his knuckles.

  It immediately opened. “Why is he not bound?” Doug Jefferies demanded, glancing around Gryke to glare at Roosevelt.

  “Jefferies,” Gryke growled, his lip curling in disdain.

  “It looks as if we need no introductions.” Doug paused. “You remember Fiona?”

  Gryke’s gaze instantly sought out the object of his ire before lowering to a small child standing next to her, holding tightly to her leg.

  “I’m sorry,” she began, only to be cut off by Jefferies’s hand slicing through the air.

  Roosevelt gave Gryke’s back a nudge, pushing him farther into the room. He shut the door behind them. “It would have been impossible to bind him and hold onto my weapon, sir. Look at the size of this thing.”

  Gryke shifted his gaze back to Fiona. The side of her face appeared swollen, and a dark bruise covered her chin. Anger swirled through him—at her, Jefferies, the entire situation.

  “She’s a delectable little morsel, isn’t she?” Jefferies taunted, a pistol suddenly in his hand. “Why do you think Pratt sent her? A pretty redhead with innocent eyes. Sucked you right in, I’m sure.”

  There was nothing innocent about Fiona’s eyes, Gryke thought, staring into her golden gaze. Seductive, intelligent, and lethal, but never innocent.

  “Roosevelt?” Jefferies snapped, pulling Gryke out of his staring contest with Fiona. “Grab that rope from the chair over there and tie the alien’s hands.”

  Gryke returned his attention to Jefferies, telling him without words what he had in store for him while Roosevelt secured Gryke’s hands behind his back.

  The door suddenly opened, and Doug addressed the tall, wiry-looking man who slipped inside. “String?”

  “Sir?”

  “Secure Miss Henagar to that chair over there.”

  String moved to do Doug’s bidding. “And the boy, sir?”

  “Leave him be. If she fights? Kill him.”

  Something flickered in Fiona’s eyes, but she remained still, her chin held high. “I won’t fight.”

  Gryke glanced at the boy clinging to Fiona’s leg. He could see a resemblance to the female soldier in the boy’s face. Gryke hadn’t known she had a child. And if she had a son, then she must have a mate.

  A strange feeling overtook Gryke, something deep in his gut tightening at the thought of Fiona with a mate.

  The little boy began to cry, refusing to turn his mother loose. String batted him away with the back of his hand, sending the child sprawling to the floor.

  Fiona cried out, rushing to her son’s side.

  A snarl ripped from Gryke. He bounded across the room, his fangs descended, barbs erect, and muscles straining against his bonds. He slammed into String hard enough the guy’s head cracked the sheetrock behind him.

  “If you even so much as breathe, I’ll pepper this room with your alien brains,” Jefferies swore, pressing his weapon against the back of Gryke’s skull.

  Gryke stared down at the child now staggering to his feet with his mother’s help, and more rage surfaced. All children were cherished in Aukrabah. To mistreat a child showed cowardice. And cowards were dealt with accordingly.

  Without warning, Gryke kicked out, slicing through String’s arm with the erect barb on his ankle.

  String screamed, slapping a hand over the now bleeding gash in his arm. His eyes were wide with fear as he scrambled out of harm’s way.

  An explosion suddenly split the air, sending pain shooting through Gryke’s eardrums. It took a moment for Gryke to realize he’d been shot. White-hot pain erupted in his shoulder, forcing a hiss from his parted lips.

  Gryke slowly cranked his head in Jefferies’s direction, his teeth bared and his gaze zeroing in on the guy’s throat.

  Doug jerked the gun in the child’s direction. “I’ll kill him.”

  “Please!” Fiona cried, jumping forward, her hands held out in front of her. “I’ll do anything, just please don’t hurt him.”

  “We have to get out of here!” Roosevelt abruptly announced, holding his fingers against a small device in his ear. “We’ve been made.”

  Jefferies spoke without taking his gaze off Gryke. “How?”

  “I don’t know, sir. But according to what I just heard over the radio, they know the alien is here. We only have minutes.”

  “Get the boy,” Doug ordered, snatching up a black bag that lay on the bed.

  “No, please!” Fiona begged, holding tightly to her son. “Take me, instead. He’s just a little boy. He’ll only slow you down.”

  Jefferies glanced at the door, indecision swimming in his glassy eyes. “Don’t make me regret this.”

  “I won’t,” she swore, kissing the top of the child’s head. “Mommy loves you, Andrew.”

  Fiona lifted her determined gaze to Gryke. “Take care of him for me.”

  Chapter Four

  Fiona’s stomach lurched as she shoved Andrew toward Gryke and rushed to the glass sliding doors with Jefferies. String and Roosevelt followed close behind.

  Her breath came out in a shudder as she slid the door open and stepped outside. No matter what happened to her from here on out, she knew Andrew would be safe with Gryke.

  “To the water,” Jefferies ordered, shoving Fiona forward. “And move. If they catch up to us, you die first.”

  Fiona broke into a run, kicking up sand as she scrambled across the dunes without looking back.

  Jefferies was close enough she could almost feel his breath on the back of her neck. “Go to the boat to the right of the yacht named Killin’ Time.”

  Fiona flew across the beach toward the small boat anchored next to the yacht. She didn’t slow until she was seated inside.

  Jefferies, Roosevelt, and String boarded behind her.

  String started the engine and took off at full speed, leaving the lights of the harbor far behind.

  * * * *

  Fiona shifted on the hard bench she sat on and studied her surroundings. String had driven them several miles out before turning the boat inland near Fort Walton Beach.

  Jefferies nodded toward the water. “We get out here. Roosevelt? Hide the boat and meet us at the Diver’s Inn at the foot of the bridge.”

  “Yes, sir!” Roosevelt responded, moving to trade places with String.

  Fiona followed Doug and String over the side into the waist-deep water, moving quickly toward the shore. Minutes later, the three of them emerged on the beach in front of the Diver’s Inn.

  Jefferies hurried around to the side of the old motel and broke the glass on one of the room’s windows.

  “Get inside,” he ordered Fiona, sliding the window frame open.

  String’s eyebrows shot up. “Won’t that set off an alarm?”

  “If we’d broken through the entrance, it might,” Jefferies impatiently explained. “But the individual rooms aren’t normally wired into an alarm system. At least not on the older motels such as this one. This isn’t the Hilton, String.”

  Fiona wondered how Jefferies had gotten into the hotel back in Destin without triggering an alarm, but she kept her thoughts to herself. All she cared about at the moment was doing everything she could to be sure that Andrew and Brant were safe.

  Once inside, Jefferies pulled the curtain closed and pinned Fiona with a crazy-eyed stare. He pointed to a table with a couple of chairs resting next to it. “Sit down and keep quiet.”

  Fiona did as she was told, glancing at a pale-faced String, who seemed to be sweating profusely.

  “W
hat’s wrong with you?” Jefferies questioned an obviously sick String.

  String staggered forward and dropped heavily onto the bed. “I don’t know, sir. It must be something I ate. I’m feeling sick to my stomach.”

  “Or you’ve contracted the Incola virus,” Fiona taunted, her gaze lowering to the cut on String’s arm.

  The scar on String’s face turned white as he paled even more. “That alien cut me!” he snarled, jumping to his feet, his eyes huge with panic.

  Doug shot Fiona a pissed-off look before turning his attention back to String. “The Incola virus is a result of a CDC’s screw up. You can’t get it directly from the Bracadytes.”

  “Yes,” Fiona piped in, studying her nails. “You can. The venom in the barb that he cut you with does contain bacteria that could kill you all the same.”

  Doug was instantly in her face. “I said shut up!”

  The crack of his palm across her already bruised cheek sent pain shooting through Fiona’s skull. But she’d be damned if she would give him the satisfaction of hearing her cry out.

  Fiona glared up at him, daring him to strike her again. “Go to hell.”

  “Oh, I plan on it, sweetheart. But you can bet your sweet ass that I’m taking you with me.”

  Jefferies straightened, his breathing coming in short bursts. “Where did you hide the scrolls?”

  “Where is my brother?”

  “Fine,” Doug snarled, snatching his cell from its holder. “But if those scrolls aren’t produced in the next twenty-four hours, I’ll kill him in front of you. Slowly.” Jefferies dialed a number and brought the phone to his ear.

  Fiona listened as Jefferies barked out orders to have her brother brought to the motel, ending with, “Hurry. Time is of the essence.”

  Disconnecting the call, Doug returned the phone to its holder and ran a hand through his disheveled hair. He jerked his chin in String’s direction. “Is he contagious?”

  Fiona shrugged. She wasn’t about to make things easier for the asshole. “I have no idea.”

  “Damn it,” Jefferies growled, spinning to face String. He gripped the gun at his waist, lifted, and aimed.

  Fiona nearly jumped from her chair as Doug fired without further warning, sending a bullet into String’s forehead, killing him instantly.

  “Was that really necessary?” Fiona whispered, staring at the spatter of blood on the wall where String had been sitting.

  “I couldn’t risk it. From what I hear, they become rabid after a day or two.”

  Fiona decided not to point out that those were symptoms of the CDC’s mutated Incola virus and not the Bracadyte venom. She also neglected to mention that she’d been vaccinated by Abbigail Sutherland and therefore had no reason to fear the virus. “Not my problem.”

  “It would have been your problem in another twenty-four hours,” Doug snapped, holstering his weapon. “I should have shot that damn alien right between his eyes. If for no other reason than for the men I lost in the gulf because of them.”

  The corner of Fiona’s mouth lifted. “The boat of rebels that were toasted a couple weeks back?”

  Doug narrowed his eyes.

  “That was my handiwork, Dougie, not the Bracadytes.”

  Jefferies strode to the table where Fiona sat and backhanded her across the face hard enough her tooth split her bottom lip.

  Pain exploded through her skull, and the copper taste of blood filled her mouth.

  Fiona clenched her teeth and rode out the pain in silence.

  “You think playing tough impresses me?” Jefferies sneered, staring down at her from his superior position.

  Fiona curled her top lip, boldly holding his gaze. “We’ll see how tough you are when the Bracadytes find you. If I don’t kill you first.”

  Doug had the audacity to laugh. “I’ll be long gone from here once I have those scrolls in hand.”

  Fiona decided to keep him talking for as long as she could. “How did you know where to find us? We told no one we would be on that yacht.”

  Jefferies laughed. “The CIA has been tracking your every movement. It was easy enough for me to obtain that information.”

  Fiona’s stomach dropped. “Tracking me? How?”

  “Don’t play dumb with me, girl. You should be smarter than that by now. Weren’t you sent in as a spy?”

  Guilt settled in Fiona’s gut. She had been sent in to keep an eye on the Bracadytes. But not as a spy, more of a precaution. So, how had the CIA managed to track her? She glanced down at the watch she wore, and realization dawned. It was, after all, a gift from the CIA.

  She changed the subject before Jefferies figured it out as well. “How did you find out about the scrolls?”

  Jefferies’s lips twisted into a manic smile. “I have Doctor Henry Sutherland’s journal. You’d be surprised at how much useful information he’d penned onto those pages.”

  “Nothing surprises me anymore,” Fiona admitted, resting her head in her hands. She said a silent prayer for Andrew, hoping against hope that he wasn’t afraid. Surely Gryke would take him back to Aukrabah where he would be safe.

  Chapter Five

  Gryke’s shoulder throbbed to the beat of his heart as he held Fiona’s child and explained to the military everything that had happened leading up to their arrival.

  The little boy had fallen asleep in Gryke’s arms during the extensive explanation and hadn’t moved since.

  Fiona had called her son Andrew.

  “President Pratt will be arriving in Destin sometime in the morning,” one of the soldiers informed Gryke. “If you will come with us, we’ll get someone to look at that wound and see to it that you and the child remain safe for the night.”

  Gryke wanted to point out that he didn’t need the land walkers’ help to stay safe, but the child in his arms would need food and shelter, so he held his tongue.

  “I’ll see to them,” a tall, commanding presence announced, striding into the room. It took a moment for Gryke to recognize Melvin’s face partially hidden beneath a hat.

  Melvin turned to the man in charge of the military group. “We’ll be staying at the Red Top Inn. Room 115.”

  The soldier nodded. “The president sent word that you would be arriving.” He stepped back to allow Gryke and Melvin to exit the room.

  Gryke waited until they left the hotel and were seated inside the big military-style vehicle before speaking. “How did you find us?”

  Melvin kept his gaze straight ahead and backed out of the parking lot. “I got a call from Tony, informing me that you were on the surface. I’ve been in Navarre all week, which worked in your favor. Once the calls began coming in from the White House with the information you’d given Braum, you were easy enough to find.”

  “I am grateful.” Gryke paused for a second. “Will Braum be accompanying the president to Destin?”

  “So I’ve been told,” Melvin responded, speeding onto the empty street. “You’ve been shot.”

  “I will survive.” Gryke stiffened as Andrew sighed in his sleep, wrapping his tiny arms around Gryke’s neck. He’d never held a child before or had anyone trustingly cling to him as Fiona’s son did.

  Gryke glanced down at Andrew’s innocent face, and his heart twisted.

  “Is that Henagar’s child?” Melvin inquired, turning onto the main road.

  The mention of Fiona’s name did strange things to Gryke’s stomach. Anger surfaced. “It is.”

  Melvin peered over at them before returning his gaze to the road. “What is a little boy doing in a situation such as this?”

  Gryke wished he knew. “I do not know. But I blame Fiona for it. A Bracadyte mother would never willingly allow her child to be exposed to such danger.”

  “Perhaps it wasn’t willingly,” Melvin murmured.

  Gryke thought about the bruise he’d seen on Fiona’s face, Jefferies’s threat to kill her son, and her reaction to it. Maybe Melvin was right. There had to be more to the story than Gryke had been made aware of.
“Perhaps.”

  They arrived at the Red Top Inn a few minutes later. Gryke adjusted Andrew in his arms, climbed out of the vehicle, and followed Melvin inside.

  “I’ll place a guard outside your door,” Melvin announced, coming to stop in front of room 115. “I’ll be in the room to your left.”

  Melvin unlocked the door and pushed it wide. “There’s some food in the mini fridge, along with drinks. Once you get the child settled into bed, come through that connecting door, and I’ll have a look at your wound.”

  Gryke nodded his thanks as Melvin disappeared into the hall.

  Moving silently to the bed, Gryke pulled back the blankets and laid Andrew’s tiny body in its center. He gently removed the child’s shoes and tugged the covers up to his shoulders.

  Where was the boy’s father? Gryke wondered, studying Andrew’s small face. Did the man not understand that his son needed him? Gryke would have been there had it been his child in the same situation.

  Gryke stood and trailed over to the mini fridge to check its contents. Milk, bottled water, and some kind of packaged sandwiches similar to the ones he’d eaten on Oz’s yacht rested inside.

  His stomach growled instantly, but he resisted. He wasn’t sure how long they would be here, and Andrew would need to eat when he awoke.

  Gryke switched off the lamp and trailed over to the connecting door to Melvin’s room.

  “Have a seat.” Melvin pulled a chair out from under the table.

  Gryke sat, watching quietly as Melvin placed a big white box on the table. He opened the lid and began pulling items from its depths.

  “Would you mind removing your vest?”

  After shrugging out of his vest, Gryke tossed it onto the bed behind him.

  “This is going to burn like hell.” Melvin uncapped a clear bottle and poured the pungent liquid over Gryke’s wound.

  Gryke’s teeth clenched, but no sound left his mouth.

  Melvin picked up a syringe. “Do you know what this is?”

  “Yes,” Gryke affirmed with a nod. “I have seen Abbie use one on the sick.”