Ultimate Passage: New Beginnings: Box Set ( Books 1-4) by Elle Thorne Page B
Authors: Elle Thorne
Tags: Science-Fiction, Romance, Fantasy, Military, Science Fiction & Fantasy, Genetic engineering, multicultural, Multicultural & Interracial
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email. Kal again.
The commander wants you to come in. Someone else will finish your job.
Too late. He was already in, but he wasn’t about to tell them that. And there was no way in the Sacred Writings he’d ever allow anyone else to take over his mission. They’d bring Marissa in. Not a chance he’d let that happen.
He turned the phone completely off without responding and took up a spot behind a tree. He focused on the entrance, waiting to see what would happen when the Installment team came out. He’d follow them all the way in to Houston to see if they dropped off a live woman or if he’d been lied to.
Finn didn’t have to wait long to see the Installment team come out carrying a woman. They paused outside the entrance and had a short conversation. But it was long enough for Finn to see one thing: she was breathing. Her chest rose and fell with each breath.
Relief flooded through his body. Kal had not lied... but that didn’t explain what had happened with 42. It did tell him that his people weren’t killing the human women. He could go back to the woman now. To Marissa. To 41.
Chapter 13
T he lunch rush was a bitch that day—the good kind of bitch. If only every day was like this, Marissa thought as she pushed in the till drawer on the register. If only. But she knew better. This used to be the trend, but not lately. Now it was the exception. And since it was an exception, that meant she didn’t staff her restaurant accordingly, which meant she busted her ass waiting tables, washing dishes here and there, and bussing most of the plates.
As she passed the mirror on the wall in the smaller dining room she caught a glimpse of herself. Holy buckets . Oily sheen on her face, no lipstick left over, even her blush had sweated off. No point in making repairs now. It was two in the afternoon. Not likely they’d have any visitors. Not many, anyway. An occasional late straggler and then the early-birders around four to four-thirty.
Oh, well. As soon as she finished bussing these last few tables and put away some dishes, she’d cut the staff down to bare bones—meaning just her and Belle, and she’d run the kitchen while Belle ran the dining room. Maybe she could slip in a trip to the bank, or her car payment would be two months behind. She’d use the drive-thru so she didn’t have to run into the jerkat the bank. She grimaced at herself in the mirror.
The bell signaled the door opening. She did a one-eighty.
Oh god.
No. No. No, god, no. It was him.
And he seemed fresh and—
She looked down at the stains on her top from a plate that had slid off a tray, and had ended up retexturizing and recoloring her blouse. Red pasta sauce almost resembled a blossoming gunshot wound. And then there was her face. God.
Relax. He’s here to see Belle. Yes, that’s right. But he asked for you the other day. BY name. He said Ms. Sanchez.
Stupid damned voice. If shaking her head would shake it away she’d do that, but it wouldn’t. And she’d look weird on top of nasty, grimy, and oily. She slunk toward the kitchen, avoiding eye contact, hoping that would keep him from noticing her. Six yards away. She had only six yards to go and she’d be free and clear.
Five.
Belle was giggling that cute giggle of hers, a tinkling little laugh. Forgetting or forgiving—or both—that he’d stood her up for dessert.
Four yards to go. Just four; surely she could make it.
His response to Belle, whatever it was, was low, and even though she wasn’t going to look at them, Marissa would have sworn it sounded... intimate. Ugh. And worse, why did that bother her?
Three.
Oh, yes. Almost there. Almost.
Two.
“Ms. Sanchez? Marissa?” Him. God. Ugh. His voice. Double-ugh!
She whirled around. Shit . He was practically on top of her. When she turned, she was looking right at his chin. And a nice, tan, strong chin it was.
Marissa chanced a look into his eyes. Amusement? He was amused? What the hell?
Suddenly her embarrassment
The commander wants you to come in. Someone else will finish your job.
Too late. He was already in, but he wasn’t about to tell them that. And there was no way in the Sacred Writings he’d ever allow anyone else to take over his mission. They’d bring Marissa in. Not a chance he’d let that happen.
He turned the phone completely off without responding and took up a spot behind a tree. He focused on the entrance, waiting to see what would happen when the Installment team came out. He’d follow them all the way in to Houston to see if they dropped off a live woman or if he’d been lied to.
Finn didn’t have to wait long to see the Installment team come out carrying a woman. They paused outside the entrance and had a short conversation. But it was long enough for Finn to see one thing: she was breathing. Her chest rose and fell with each breath.
Relief flooded through his body. Kal had not lied... but that didn’t explain what had happened with 42. It did tell him that his people weren’t killing the human women. He could go back to the woman now. To Marissa. To 41.
Chapter 13
T he lunch rush was a bitch that day—the good kind of bitch. If only every day was like this, Marissa thought as she pushed in the till drawer on the register. If only. But she knew better. This used to be the trend, but not lately. Now it was the exception. And since it was an exception, that meant she didn’t staff her restaurant accordingly, which meant she busted her ass waiting tables, washing dishes here and there, and bussing most of the plates.
As she passed the mirror on the wall in the smaller dining room she caught a glimpse of herself. Holy buckets . Oily sheen on her face, no lipstick left over, even her blush had sweated off. No point in making repairs now. It was two in the afternoon. Not likely they’d have any visitors. Not many, anyway. An occasional late straggler and then the early-birders around four to four-thirty.
Oh, well. As soon as she finished bussing these last few tables and put away some dishes, she’d cut the staff down to bare bones—meaning just her and Belle, and she’d run the kitchen while Belle ran the dining room. Maybe she could slip in a trip to the bank, or her car payment would be two months behind. She’d use the drive-thru so she didn’t have to run into the jerkat the bank. She grimaced at herself in the mirror.
The bell signaled the door opening. She did a one-eighty.
Oh god.
No. No. No, god, no. It was him.
And he seemed fresh and—
She looked down at the stains on her top from a plate that had slid off a tray, and had ended up retexturizing and recoloring her blouse. Red pasta sauce almost resembled a blossoming gunshot wound. And then there was her face. God.
Relax. He’s here to see Belle. Yes, that’s right. But he asked for you the other day. BY name. He said Ms. Sanchez.
Stupid damned voice. If shaking her head would shake it away she’d do that, but it wouldn’t. And she’d look weird on top of nasty, grimy, and oily. She slunk toward the kitchen, avoiding eye contact, hoping that would keep him from noticing her. Six yards away. She had only six yards to go and she’d be free and clear.
Five.
Belle was giggling that cute giggle of hers, a tinkling little laugh. Forgetting or forgiving—or both—that he’d stood her up for dessert.
Four yards to go. Just four; surely she could make it.
His response to Belle, whatever it was, was low, and even though she wasn’t going to look at them, Marissa would have sworn it sounded... intimate. Ugh. And worse, why did that bother her?
Three.
Oh, yes. Almost there. Almost.
Two.
“Ms. Sanchez? Marissa?” Him. God. Ugh. His voice. Double-ugh!
She whirled around. Shit . He was practically on top of her. When she turned, she was looking right at his chin. And a nice, tan, strong chin it was.
Marissa chanced a look into his eyes. Amusement? He was amused? What the hell?
Suddenly her embarrassment
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