Page 49 of Kissed By the Alien
“As I said, this is none of your concern.”
“You’re in pain.”
“I assure you, I’m in perfect condition.”
“Not here.” I place my hand over his heart. “Something is consuming you. Let me help you.”
He’s searching my face for something. I wish I knew what.
“I will consider it,” he finally relents.
As I smile, celebrating this small win, he adds, “If you tell me about your family and who’s forcing?—”
“No one’s forcing me to do anything. My dad deals in assessment, strategy, and risk control. He’s a Fixer, as some in government call him. A brilliant guy who hires himself out as a consultant to any government or entity that needs him to solve unusual problems. Mostly problems created by the Coalition. Infrastructure issues, supply lines, how to mitigate supply shortages while keeping the masses from rising up, how to balance the needs of the planet as a whole with the families who are struggling to pay for food, or those who can’t get medicine because the governments have too many other issues and let the Brotherhood take control of that vital resource. Earth has many problems with no easy solutions. But he finds them. He creates them, Lutan.”
“I thought he was part of the Brotherhood.”
I cover my mouth to squelch my laugh. In being so secretive, I’ve allowed him to devise the worst possible theory.
“Those men you saw following me at the ball... I recognized one of the guys from my dad’s security team. Somehow they found me. I’m guessing they used a tracker, but I haven’t checked my clothing from that night. Anyway, I work for my dad. I’m one of several who gather intel for him. He thinks I do it online, hacking government systems. The truth is our data and communications networks are rather pitiful following the occupation. Key systems are not connected. In many areas, including some government agencies, people have reverted to using paper files. The datapads your people use are rare here. All tech is.”
I take a deep breath, gathering the courage to tell him everything.
“My dad has money, connections, and through that, he made sure my brothers and I received an education. But unlike my brothers who when they’re older can get any job they want, I can’t. Not many places will hire a woman. It’s a dangerous world, which is why my dad hired private tutors to train me in computers, so I could work for him. From the safety of his home. I learned to hack, but there aren’t many systems worth hacking. The real intel, thegoodintel is found on the streets. The men I meet, like Moses, have connections and access to real-time information, better and more reliable than most of the systems I hack. No one forces me to scour the streets for intel the way I do.”
“Then why do you?”
“Because it’s what my father needs. I believe in what he does, in the people he helps. Our world is broken in so many ways. If I have to risk myself to get him the information he needs, that’s fine with me.”
“It’s dangerous,” Lutan growls. “If you must go out to obtain the intel, then he should give you guards, and weapons. Why does he send you alone?”
I close my eyes, unsure if I should tell Lutan the rest.
A thumb strokes my cheek. “Lexi, please.”
That soft look in Lutan’s eyes warm me. Hecaresabout me.
“My dad doesn’t know I sneak out,” I confess. “Try to understand. I’m living in a nice, soft, cushy prison, but a prison just the same. I want to make a difference, be useful, and I can’t get the information from hacking. That means going out to get the intel. But if I told him that’s what I’ve been doing, he’d fire me.”
“Maybe that would be best.”
“And then what would I do? Sure, I can live at home, but I’d have no purpose. I’d sit there, rotting away. Without the money, I can’t leave. Though I guess I could live at my hideout. Except there’s no heat there, and it gets really cold at night.”
“You need to tell him.”
“No, I don’t.” I close my eyes again, ready to walk out of here rather than confront what I’ve been avoiding for the past two years. Lutan’s hand travels down my arm until our hands meet. He twines his fingers with mine.
“Is this type of touching acceptable on your world?” I ask, raising our clasped hands.
“Touch is not forbidden.”
“But dancing is.”
“Dancing is reserved for the proper time and place.” His other hand takes mine, and we start swaying together to non-existent music. But we don’t need any, or a fancy ballroom, or beautiful clothes.
His touch ignites something in me I want to explore. And I want to understand why my walls crumble so easily with Lutan.
His hand moves down my back, to the top of my ass. I’m wearing a pair of men’s jeans, two sizes too big for me, held up by a belt, with a long-sleeve, red and black flannel shirt. My logger look. I’m not sure what happened to my hat, but I braided my hair back while still in the cell, in case I had the chance to escape.
