“It’s not all about serving coffee and typing reports.”
Working for a secret organisation specialising in alien cover-ups, Connor Smith is no stranger to the abnormal or dangerous. His love life on the other hand… not so exciting. Until he reluctantly agrees to a blind date and meets the perfect bloke, Jason.
Things are finally falling into place for Connor, so of course that’s when he attracts an alien stalker.
Noah Jones, ex-alien, has been stranded on Earth and forced to live as a human since 1648. Alone and detached from the world around him, Noah has spent centuries observing and recording humankind. In all that time, he’s only experienced a connection with a human once… until he finds Connor.
Even knowing Connor is in a relationship, Noah can’t ignore their potential bond, or stay away.
While dealing with missing alien artefacts, a dangerous and shadowy group of collectors, and the ever-present Noah, Connor finds his orderly life crumbling around him. At least he still has the perfect boyfriend…
When Noah goes missing, Connor is forced to face the feelings growing between them and the mounting evidence that Jason isn’t who he says he is…
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How Isa Met Jason
“So, who is he?”
Isa didn’t look at him. Instead, she fiddled with her drink. “I met him at Ellen’s.”
Seriously? “Ellen’s?” Connor cried out. “As in dating-anything-that-moves Ellen?”
Isa nodded, still not looking at him.
“You thought it was a good idea to set me up with another one of her friends?”
“He seemed quite nice when I met him a couple of weeks ago.”
Connor groaned. Isa was a good friend, his best friend, but a lousy judge of character. Her choice in boyfriends was terrible. Her matchmaking skills were even worse. For some reason, she thought he needed a boyfriend who was exactly like him, or rather, who she thought was exactly like him.
*.*.*
The conversation above is from Aliens, Smith and Jones inspired me in writing this little story. It started out as a throwaway line, the bit about Ellen, never to be mentioned again. So, this story shows a bit more about Isa and her history with Ellen. And maybe something else.
*.*.*
Isa rang the bell as she stared down at the bouquet of pink and red flowers. She never quite knew what to give Ellen for her birthday. The flowers were a cop out, really. Partly because she left it late to find a gift, again, but mostly because Isa refused to buy one of the tacky CDs Ellen always put on her list.
She wasn’t against giving a dear friend what she wanted, but those CDs appeared on the list after every break-up, and Isa wasn’t going to enable her. Still, flowers were on that list as well.
The door opened, and Ellen beamed at her. Her red curls framed her face in some sort of vintage bob, Ellen-style, fitting with the 20s style dress. “Oh, you brought me flowers,” Ellen gushed. Then she pouted. “No one else brought me flowers, you know. You always were the most attentive one.”
Ellen took the flowers from Isa and grabbed her hand with the other. “Come on in. We were just starting on the cake.”
The large open living space was filled with people lounging on the roomy sectionals and throw-pillows. Isa was greeted almost in unison as she followed to the kitchen area, where she was promptly hugged by Darius, Ellen’s husband.
“You look more gorgeous every time I see you,” He said as he handed her a plate with a generous piece of red velvet cake. He leaned closer and whispered, “Just a head’s up, there’s new blood swimming about, and he’s been staring at you since you walked in.”
Staring at Isa with Ellen around? She raised an eyebrow.
“Truthfully. Not even sure why Ellen invited him, she doesn’t seem all that interested in him.”
Nibbling her cake, Isa checked out the room. The only one who didn’t seem familiar was a curly blond across the room. Not bad looking at all.
That was the crux of these parties. The whole room full were exes deemed worthy of becoming friends, or new blood she was scoping out. Though for herself, not for others. Ellen wasn’t in the matchmaking business, yet some of her exes found lasting relationships among themselves. They were a weird but interesting group. Isa enjoyed hanging out with them, despite Connor’s judgemental reactions. He got aliens, but he couldn’t grasp their dynamics. She couldn’t really blame him, dating Niall had skewed his opinion of Ellen. Maybe it was time Isa told him that Ellen had never invited Niall again after he had dumped Connor.
Isa became a part of the group after dating Ellen so, so long ago, when Darius was still figuring out where he fit in the equation. He was Ellen’s primary. Everyone getting into a fling with Ellen knew that. It had been Darius, in fact, who had introduced Ellen to Isa, back when they were both temping for the same company.
She didn’t often fall for women, to be honest, but Ellen’s vibrance had swallowed her up, and they spent a lovely couple of months together.
Someone set an empty plate next to hers. It was the blond, smiling at Isa.
“Ellen is a crackin’ baker, isn’t she?” Smooth, Isa, very smooth.
The blond nodded, though, as if he were agreeing. “The hint of elderberry was a really nice touch.”
“Isn’t it?” Isa wiped her hand on her trousers and held it out. “Isa Griffin.”
“Jason Powell.”
“Enjoying the party?”
“Queer sort of group, isn’t it?” There was no judgement in his voice.
“And yet we all get along fine.” Aside from Ellen and Darius’ birthdays, there were the yearly get togethers, too. Everyone at least tried to be there. “We don’t bite, you know.”
Jason raised an eyebrow. “You don’t?”
Isa laughed.
They moved towards a corner of the room where a small sectional was free.
“So, Isa Griffin. Tell me something about yourself.”
That questions always made her pause. Her cover was solid, had been for years, yet, she’d never been completely comfortable with it. She was proud of what she did, of the work Primrose did, and it seemed silly to hide it. Still, the world wasn’t ready to learn aliens were among them. So, until then… “I’m a PA at a security company and in my free time I practice Tai Chi and dabble in painting.”
“Tai Chi. Interesting. Such a graceful sport. I’m more of a triathlete myself. I pull off the lycra-look very well,” he said with a wink.
“I’ve never much liked cycling in the rain,” Isa quipped. It was obvious he was hitting on her, but…she just wasn’t feeling it. “too chilly for me.”
Jason laughed. “It’s the lycra comment, right? Too much?”
“A bit,” she lied. Connor would have checked him out in a second, though. She wasn’t sure why she thought of Connor now, but Jason might be just what Connor needed. And nothing like Niall…or Zach, for that matter. “I have a friend who doesn’t mind a bit of mud, though.”
“Hmm. She’s not a wrestler, is she?”
“He, and no. He played rugby for a long time.”
Jason quirked an eyebrow again. “Not anymore?”
“He’s a colleague, and our doesn’t leave us much time off, I’m afraid.”
There was something in Jason’s eyes Isa couldn’t decipher, but it was gone when he blinked, and threw her a slow smile. “Colleague huh? Cute?”
“In a very neatly dressed and intelligent package.” What more could she say about Connor?
Jason’s smile widened. “That cute, huh? I might have to check him out myself.”
Yes! She could so make that happen. Connor was going to kill her, especially when he found out where she met Jason, but Connor needed something to take his mind off Zack. He didn’t pull off single very well, no matter what he said. “What about next week?”
“Am out of the country, then. Sorry. Will the week after work for him?”
Oh, she would make it work for him. “Perfect.” Isa settled back into her chair, and asked him about his job.
Agent Connor Smith, personal assistant of Chief Security Lieutenant Natalie Tallis of Primrose UK, yawned. The lingering mist clung to his ankles as he tightened the straps of his field gear. He took his tranq out of its holster and flicked his torch on. The dense, tall trees hampered visibility, and the smattering of shrubs didn’t help, either. The path, at least, was wide enough for two.
“How many were there again?” Agent Simpson, team Alpha’s leader, asked. His dark, bald head gleamed in the early dawn as he moved to stand next to Connor.
“Ten, I think.” Or eleven. Connor hadn’t been awake enough to pick up everything during the interview with the Cleaton brothers, two aging sheep farmers, who had called it in. Why have a sheep farm so close to this vast and dense piece of forest? It was asking for trouble.
“They kept them in the stables, right? So, what happened?”
“Broke out,” Connor said as he trailed into the woods after Simpson. Though Connor outranked the stocky but agile team leader, Simpson had at least a decade of field experience on him. Simpson’s torch lit up the uneven, knobby-rooted ground, and Connor used his to search the shrubbery next to the path. He wished he’d brought an extra coffee, because he was not awake enough for this. Hopefully, the pale colour of the creatures made them easier to spot.
“So, broke out?”
“Have you seen the thing they called stables? It’s nothing more than a rickety old shed. Even one-armed creatures would have had no problem breaking out, let alone these… Noren, I think the brothers called them.”
“All I understood was that we’re here to catch us some aliens.” Simpson veered left, following the whimsical bend in the path, and looked back. “It was a late night.”
“Right, you were chasing another missing artefact. Lieutenant Tallis filled me in. File’s probably making its way to my desk as we speak.” Connor squinted, aiming his torch at the shrubbery to his left. A mix of red, yellow, and purple flowers brought some colour to the otherwise dreary looking forest. “It’s the eighth time this has happened. It’s becoming a problem.”
“Don’t I know it. So, did they say how big these fellas are?”
“Chest height or about. Why? Spot something?” Connor pointed his torch along Simpson’s.
The shrubs shuddered and shook until Simpson stepped forward. A twig snapped, followed by meowing. A cat. Just a cat.
Connor shrugged at Simpson and they moved forward again.
Somewhere a shout rang out: a high-pitched screech that caused goose bumps.
“One down!” someone called through the commlink—team Bravo’s Forente or Briers, Connor guessed. “There are at least two others here.”
“That way,” Simpson said, pointing to their right, onto a narrow path overgrown with creepers.
Connor nodded, but Simpson had already turned away.
Step by step, they followed the narrow path, the darkness only broken by the light of their torches. They were hampered by the creepers as they moved along—listening, stopping, and listening again—as well as having to push low branches out of their way every other step.
One by one, more teams called in their catches.
“They seem to like sheep,” Forente commented after his first catch. “I heard one bleat, and the next thing we know, one of those Noren is coming right at us.”
“Good to know,” Simpson said. “Keep up the good work.”
“How many is that now?” Connor eyed the shrubbery in front of him, squinting as he pointed the torch at it. Eerie how dark a forest could be at daybreak. He preferred the smell of fresh moss to the damp, woodsy smell that now hung around him.
“Seven. I think.”
So, three to go, and he and Simpson had yet to run into any.
Something rustled behind them, and Connor turned, aiming his tranq. He hoped it wasn’t another cat. More rustling, but no movement in the shrubs. The foliage was denser here—they must have reached the middle of the woods by now.
Satisfied a Noren wasn’t stalking them, Connor went to catch up with Simpson. when a sudden crunching of leaves to his right stopped him again. Something whitish moved behind a tree, too large to be a rabbit. He wished he’d paid more attention when Tallis had told them what to look for. Not that she’d been any more awake than he was. Simpson wasn’t the only one who’d been working late. The—
Another crunch, nowhere near, though. If there were two Noren around, he’d need Simpson. He tapped the commlink. “Simpson?”
“That was me. The path circles back onto itself.”
That was a relief. “There’s one behind a tree in front of me.”
“Right. Want me to move around it?”
“Good idea.” Then he remembered the comment about the sheep. “Wait. You don’t have to. Draw it out, bleat if you have to. All I need is a clear shot. I can’t take a shot as long as it’s hiding behind that tree,” Connor said, keeping an eye on the tree the Noren hid behind. He hoped it was just the one, even though they didn’t seem violent towards humans.
Simpson’s imitation of a sheep sounded nothing like the real thing, yet the Noren thought it genuine enough, since it came out from behind the tree, straight into the dense shrubbery next to it.
“Bugger.” Connor tracked the movement, but the shrubbery blocked his view. “I don’t have a shot. It fled right into the bushes.”
Simpson didn’t reply. Instead, he made his way around Connor, judging from the flashes of torchlight jumping around, and repeated his sheep imitation.
The leaves shuddered, and Connor narrowed his eyes, hoping to get a clear shot.
Simpson bleated again, and this time the Noren came running out of the shrubbery. Connor aimed and pulled the trigger. The Noren went down hard. Hit in one. He knelt next to the creature, taking the cuffs out.
“Nice shot, Smith,” Simpson said when he reached them.
“Thanks.” Connor cuffed all three sets of arms. It seemed like overkill, but he knew better than to take any risks. He was about to activate his earpiece to ask how many were still on the loose when a shrill whistle sounded, calling them back.
“Well,” Simpson said as he helped Connor pick the Noren up, “I guess that’s that.”
“All in a day’s work, Simpson, all in a day’s work.” At least, for a personal assistant at Primrose.
Born and raised in Zutphen, the Netherlands, Blaine spent many hours of her sheltered youth reading, day dreaming, making up stories and acting them out with her Barbies. After seeing the film “An Early Frost” as a teen in the mid-eighties, an idealistic Blaine wanted to do away with the negativity surrounding homosexuality and strove to show the world how beautiful love between men could be. Our difference is our strength, is Blaine’s motto, and her stories are often set in worlds where gender fluidity and sexual diversity are accepted as is.
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