Carter Baigneaux shifted uncomfortably in the
auditorium-style seat. Being back in a college classroom
felt like some sort of weird time warp. Several hundred
students in front of him squirmed in their seats, too.
Although given how hot the professor was, he figured their
squirming had more to do with hormones than
flashbacks.
The lecturer was Lily James. From up here
she looked waiflike and fragile and impossibly young to be a
Dr. James, assistant professor of astronomy at a major
university. Or maybe he was just getting old. Lord knew he
felt ancient sitting among these pimply teenagers. Who knew
the longhaired, tie-dyed hippie craze was on its way back
in? It didn't help that his hair was cut in a military buzz
and his shirt was crisply starched. At least no one had
called him a pig or railed at him about the system
yet.
Professor James said something about a quiz and a
collective groan went up around him. Her sweet voice
announced over the loud speakers, "I'll see you next
Tuesday. Don't be late. You'll need the whole hour to get
through the test."
The students around him surged out
of their seats. Anticipation quickened his gut. He was
looking forward to meeting the young professor up close and
personal. Just how attractive was she at arm's length?
Carter moved into the aisle to make his way down to the long
lab table stretching across the lecture hall. But he'd
failed to take into account the flood of students rushing up
and out of the double doors behind him, and he floundered
like a salmon trying to make its way upstream to
spawn.
He looked over the sea of heads sweeping toward
him and saw Dr. James stuffing her lecture notes into a
leather satchel. Dodging and weaving, he progressed only a
few rows toward her before she slung the bag over her
shoulder and turned to her right. She was heading for a door
behind the podium marked Staff Only. He pushed harder, and
only succeeded in making a bunch of students complain at
him. Screw this. He stepped into an empty row and threw his
leg over the seats into the next row. Descending awkwardly
over the rows of seats, he made his way to the front of the
auditorium. But he wasn't fast enough. She'd
disappeared.
The door she'd used led to a storeroom
crammed with supplies for science experiments. He looked
left and right. There. A red exit sign. He dashed to the
door and shoved it open. A glare of sunshine blinded him,
and he squinted across the parklike expanse of grass before
him. Hundreds of students crisscrossed it, hurrying to and
from classes. Where was the petite frame and long brunette
locks of his quarry? He thought he spotted her and took off
running.
His thigh muscles twinged warningly. Not
now, dammit! He wasn't even in combat. There was no
reason for them to lock up. Concentrating hard on keeping
Dr. James in sight and reminding himself continuously he was
merely jogging across a college campus, he managed to keep
moving, to stay functional.
She might be walking, but
she was moving at a brisk pace, forcing him to run at a good
clip to catch up to her. He pulled close enough to see that
he had, indeed, spotted the right woman. But a street loomed
ahead, lined with parked cars. If she'd driven here, she
could get into her vehicle and be gone before he could get
her attention and speak with her. Irritated, he put on a
burst of speed that sent his entire body twitching in a
threatening seize-up. Not. Now.
She turned
toward the street as if to cross it. "Dr. James!" he
called.
She slowed down. Started to turn her head
toward him. That was when he registered the van sitting at a
stop sign across the street. It surged forward and swung
around the corner, pulling to a stop directly in front of
Lily. The side door of the van slid open and two men leaped
out in a jerky, stop-action sequence.
Two things
happened simultaneously in Carter's head. First, he
swore—violently. And second, time shifted into distorted
slow motion around him. He sprinted toward the professor
full-out. The men ducked between the parked cars as Carter
launched himself toward the professor in a desperate bid to
keep her out of their clutches.
Impact. He slammed
into Lily James, who was every bit as slender as she'd
seemed, just as the first man reached out for her. Carter's
momentum sent her flying beneath him and he clutched her
close as he twisted in midair like a cat. He crashed, back
first, to the ground, the concrete sidewalk knocking the
wind out of him and sending time rushing forward to normal
speed all at once.
"What the—" Lily gasped, the wind
knocked out of her as well.
The first man's arms
closed on empty air as the second would-be assailant smashed
into him from behind. The two men staggered as Carter
rolled, depositing Lily on the ground before leaping to his
feet.
Snarling, he stalked toward the two assailants
as they untangled themselves and simultaneously spotted the
large, angry man advancing on them. And he wasn't alone.
Passersby were gathering quickly, buzzing with
consternation. The men whirled as one and raced for the van.
They dived into its dark interior and the vehicle peeled
out, tires screeching, and turned the corner. Who in the
hell were they? And why had they just tried to kidnap
Lily James? He knew good and well why the U.S. government
wanted to talk to her, but what did these jokers want with
her?
Carter caught the license plate and memorized it
as he turned to check on the woman he'd just laid a killer
tackle on. A crowd of people had already gathered around the
spot where she'd gone down, and panic kicked him in the gut.
What if he'd seriously hurt her?
The same crowd that
had chased off the other men was turning on him now. What?
They thought he was one of the bad guys? But he'd kept her
out of their clutches!
"I stopped them—" he started. A
man grabbed his upper arm. "The campus police are on the
way, young man."
Dammit. He needed to talk to
her. But he also emphatically did not need to make a scene
about it. Although he supposed he'd already blown that right
out of the water with his spectacular flying
tackle.
He watched, frustrated, as someone assisted
Dr. James to her feet.
"Dr. James!"
She glanced
back over her shoulder in his direction and made eye contact
with him. Lights exploded behind his eyes and his body felt
as if it had been struck by lightning. Her dark, huge eyes
pierced him accusingly until his very soul bled. Aw, crap.
He'd terrified the poor woman. And then she was gone,
someone's arm looped solicitously around her shoulder,
leading her away.
More people closed in on him,
demanding, questioning. "I was only trying to
help—"
But the crowd wasn't in much of a mood to
listen. Maybe the campus police would be calmer. A quiet
call to his headquarters to verify his identity, a quick
statement explaining how he'd saved the professor—not
assaulted her—and he'd be cut loose. He hoped.
But in
the meantime, Lily James was gone. The crowd thought he was
one of her attackers. The van was long gone. And
worst of all, he'd totally screwed up the first operational
mission he'd been given since…well, since. Disgust rolled
through him like acid. All he had to do was find a woman on
a nice, safe college campus and talk to her, for God's sake.
And he couldn't even pull that off.
He closed his eyes
and prayed for the earth to swallow him whole. No such luck.
The people around him began to make increasingly radical and
ugly comments, and he was actually relieved when the campus
police arrived and escorted him to a squad car.
His
supervisors at H.O.T. Watch headquarters were going to kill
him. The Hunter Operations Teams that ran out of the
supersecret facility were not in the habit of failing in
their missions. And as of now, a serious national security
problem was going unsolved because he couldn't manage to
find and talk to one lousy scientist.
Not to mention
he was deeply alarmed by his near freeze-up back there. If
he couldn't overcome his humiliating affliction, and soon,
he was well and truly done as a Special Forces operator. Any
dreams he'd ever harbored of getting back out into the field
would be irrevocably smashed to smithereens by a brown-eyed
assistant professor of astronomy.
Lily James paced her
living room, eyeing the sky outside out of long habit. The
night was clear and crisp, the heavens dusted with twinkling
stars just begging her to come out and play. And on any
other night she would have packed up her gear, driven out
into the desert and done just that, spending the entire
night gazing up into their fathomless wonder, imagining who
might be out there gazing back at her.
Except today, a
bunch of guys had tried to kidnap her and, had the biggest
attacker of the three not knocked himself silly by tackling
her like a madman, they might have succeeded. The walls of
her house were closing in on her, suffocating her by slow
degrees. But for once, she didn't run from the
claustrophobia. For once, it felt safe to be trapped inside,
locked in this little box.
Not that it was a bad room.
Her books lined two walls from floor to ceiling. The sofa
was a sloppy, down-stuffed affair perfect for stretching out
on to read or take a nap. She had a nice flat-screen TV, a
combined Christmas/birthday gift from her parents last year,
but she didn't watch it often.
And then, of course,
there was the huge skylight in the ceiling that opened up to
her beloved skies. It had been a royal pain finding a
contractor who would install an actual window in her roof,
but she didn't want the view distorted by a domed skylight.
It was nearly the size of a double plate-glass door, and she
could see a substantial chunk of the northern hemisphere
through it while lying on her sofa.
The phone rang and
she checked the caller ID to see who it was. Ugh. She didn't
feel like talking to her mother tonight. Her parents had,
understandably, been deeply alarmed when she'd told them of
the attack upon her. But then, in their usual hopelessly
intellectual fashion, they'd rationalized the whole thing as
some sort of misguided student prank.
Lily rejected
the notion. She'd seen the looks in those men's eyes. They'd
been dead serious and had emphatically not been students.
But her parents lived in their own clueless bubble, safe
from reality, and she knew better than to try to change
their minds. Sometimes she wondered if they'd both done just
a little too much LSD in the sixties and fried a few too
many mental circuits.
She headed for the sofa to lie
down and stargaze when a new noise stopped her in her
tracks. Who could be at her door at this hour? She didn't
have the kind of friends who would come over to check on her
after her harrowing experience. Not only were most of them
online buddies, but they were hardcore scientists who tended
to run a little thin in the sympathy
department.
Frowning, she moved over to the front
door. "Who is it?" she called through the panel.
"My
name is Carter Baigneaux, Dr. James. I work for the United
States government and I need to speak with you."
The
U.S. government? What could they want with her? Were the
stories about extraterrestrials hidden away in government
facilities true after all? Maybe they'd seen her paper on
what aliens might look like and needed help analyzing one.
Or maybe they'd received a transmission of some kind. She
was an expert in radio signal analysis, her current work in
superfast intergalactic particle smashing notwithstanding.
Or maybe—
"Dr. James? Are you still there? If you'll
open the door, I can show you my identification."
Oh.
Right. Let the government man in so he could tell her what
was going on. She unlocked both of the dead bolts and threw
open the door. She recognized the big man instantly from his
earlier tackle and tried to slam the door shut. But he was
too fast and shoved a foot into the doorway. Even though he
grunted as she slammed the door on his shoe, he didn't
withdraw the block.
"Dr. James. I really am a
government agent. Here. Let me pass my ID card to you. I
swear I'm not going to hurt you."
She leaned against
the door with all her weight—which wouldn't do a lick of
good if the giant on the other side decided to shove back.
Her heart slammed against her ribs in panic. What to do? If
she quit pushing, the door would fly open and he'd be on her
in a second. Her cell phone was on the coffee table halfway
across the room. Should she make a jump for it and try to
dial 911 before he caught her?
But she wasn't on
campus, now. The local police would take several minutes to
get here. Plenty of time for her attacker to drag her out of
the house and into his van. She didn't stand a chance of
overpowering him. The guy had to be at least six foot four.
And it didn't take an astrophysicist to see he was seriously
buff.
As she frantically tried, and failed, to come up
with a plan, a white-and-green plastic card poked through
the narrow opening in front of her nose. She stared at it as
she continued to push with all her might against the door.
Captain Carter Baigneaux. United States Army. She noted his
date of birth—he was thirty-three years old. Brown
hair.
Blue eyes. Cute picture. Okay, not cute exactly.
Handsome and all-American were more precise descriptors. But
neither of those captured the sheer physical power and
intimidation factor of the man.
Still. He was in the
army? Why did the army need to talk with her? She pushed a
little less urgently against his foot. "What do you want?"
she demanded. Rats. Her voice sounded all squeaky and
terrified. No help for it. She was
terrified.
"To talk, ma'am. Just to
talk."
"About what?"
"Your work, ma'am. You may
have discovered something of interest to us."
"Us
who?"
"I already told you. I work for the government.
It's classified, and I can't exactly yell about it while
standing on your front porch."
"Why did the government
try to kidnap me, then? They could've just asked me about my
work. I'd have told them."
"The government did not try
to kidnap you, ma'am."