Perfect Specimen (4 page)

“Tell us about that, Sara,” Mark suggested. “Why would they choose your husband over you? I’ve only known you for fifteen minutes and I’m already sure you’re a loving and gentle mother. I don’t know how old the girls are—”

“I had the first one when I was fourteen.”

“God
dam
mit it! I’m gonna
kill
this guy!”

“Clay!” Mark’s growl was every bit as fierce as his brother’s. “I can talk to Sara alone if this is too much for you.”

Sara bit her lip, wondering what Clay would think if he knew the truth. She hadn’t been fourteen, she’d been much younger. But she hadn’t been raped. Her eggs had been harmlessly removed from her body and had then been fertilized under a microscope with Ga’rag’s never-before-used sperm. Thereafter, he had also planted a chip in her face so that he could always find her and, more important, so that he could inflict massive pain on her whenever she got out of line.

So yes, she had been molested and violated, but not in the way Clay meant.

In a way, you’re lucky compared to the kind of abuse victim you’re describing to Mark,
she told herself philosophically.
They don’t have to participate in experiments, or suffer the fate you’re going to suffer in three years, but their lives are worse. It’s something to remember when you’re feeling sorry for yourself, Sara Kent. So just finish this story, get the journal, and get the hell out of here.

Turning to Clay, she patted his arm. “It wasn’t what you think. I promise. I’ve never in my life been subjected to sexual violence against my person. My relationship with my husband might not be a loving one in the traditional sense, but it’s a partnership, and it’s based on mutual need and mutual respect. That’s more than some married couples can say. Right, Mark?”

“Yes,” Mark murmured. “That’s more than some can say.” He cleared his throat, then leaned forward. “What about your parents?”

“Mom died during childbirth. Dad died when I was eleven. Then I went to live with my grandparents. On my father’s side.”

“Did your father abuse you?”

“No. Of course not.”

“Did you have any brothers and sisters?”

“No. I’m an only child.” She licked her lips. “I’ve been honest, just like I promised. Can’t we stop? It’s getting us nowhere and it’s making me a little uncomfortable.”

“Is it?” Mark pursed his lips. “Let’s go back to your father, shall we?”

“Why?”

“Your mother wasn’t around. He was lonely—”

“Stop talking about him that way,” she warned. “You’re so far off base it isn’t even funny. He loved me so much, he would have done anything for me.
Any
thing. The irony being, if he really
had
come to my bedroom once in a while at night, maybe—” She stopped herself, horrified by what she had almost said.

Maybe he would have seen the overlord
. . .

And then what? Gotten himself killed even earlier than he had?

Just shut up, Sara! Ga’rag’s probably listening to every word of this, so be careful, please!

“Interesting,” Mark murmured. “If he had come to your room, he would have seen the old family friend—your future husband—bothering you? And maybe stopped him? Doesn’t it seem more likely that he knew about it? And chose not to stop it?”

Her gut twisted with guilt to hear her father maligned this way, and she longed to explain that he had been following
her
instructions. Ga’rag had warned her about what would happen if her father learned the truth, so she had insisted from an early age that a little girl needed her privacy. And her father had respected her wishes.

Yet a part of her had hoped that he would burst in one night and slay Ga’rag like a dragon in a fairy tale. It couldn’t have happened, of course. Ga’rag would have just dissolved, then returned later to lace Robert Kent’s food with the drug that would cause him to have a stroke.

At least Sara had had eleven full years with her dad before that happened. And another twelve before it happened to Daniel.

“Sara?”

“Oh, sorry. What did you say?”

Mark smiled. “You seem tired. Let’s make Clay talk for a while, shall we?”

“Thanks, I’d like that.”

Clay slipped his arm around Sara’s waist and informed them cheerfully, “I don’t have any secrets. Ask me anything.”

Mark arched a disapproving eyebrow. “No touching the patient on my watch, buddy.”

When Clay scowled but moved away, Sara bit back a laugh, loving the way the brothers interacted—grown men one minute, kids the next. Affection, respect, and a healthy dose of rivalry. They clearly enjoyed each other’s company, especially because they had no idea what was at stake.

But Sara knew. She couldn’t be sure whether Ga’rag was actually in the Ryerson house, listening, or was just trusting her to report the truth to him later that morning. Either way, the danger was palpable.

She only hoped that if the Ra-ahli
was
hiding nearby and listening, he’d see what was so obvious to her. Clay—and Mark—were too upstanding and decent to ever read a word of her diary without her permission.

Now if only they could make it through this therapy session without saying or doing anything to arouse suspicion.

“Okay, Clay,” Mark was suggesting. “Tell me about the night you met Sara.”

“You were there,” Clay retorted, adding for Sara’s benefit, “All three of my brothers were there watching a game on the big screen.”

“I heard all the cheering,” she said, remembering the bar’s raucous atmosphere. “But I was preoccupied. Because of the blind date.”

“Yeah, you didn’t know we were there. But
we
noticed
you
. You were impossible to miss. For me especially. From the minute you walked in and looked around, all shy and pretty, I was hooked. And I was instantly jealous of the guy you were supposed to meet. Plus, I thought he was a jackass for not being there on time, especially since you seemed so—well, out of your element. I had this fantasy that I’d steal you away from him, but I figured, no such luck. Then you sat down, and waited, and fidgeted, and I realized I actually might have a shot, because this guy was actually stupid enough to stand you up.”

Clay paused to give her a sheepish grin. “You walked over to the bartender and told him to be on the lookout for someone asking about Sara. Then while you were in the restroom, I asked him what you’d said. So when you came out—well, you know the rest. I called you Sara and you looked so happy to see me. Man, it still gives me goose bumps. I was going to buy you a drink, but you said you wanted to go to my place right away. By then, I was pretty sure I was dreaming—or drunk—but it was fate. I see that now.”

Sara stared at him, honestly stunned. “You make it sound so romantic.”

“It was.”

“Sara?” Mark asked her quietly. “Why don’t you tell Clay how
you
remember it?”

“Okay.” She took a deep breath. “I wanted to have an anonymous sexual fling. Something to distract me from the rough patch I was having with my husband. So I found a guy on the Internet who sounded close to my own age, normal enough to be disease-free, and just looking for casual sex. We arranged to meet at the sports bar. I was supposed to wear a pink dress so he’d recognize me, but he knew my first name too, and I knew his. It was Adam, by the way. Anyway, I waited a while, and it looked like he wasn’t going to show up. I was disappointed, then Clay walked up and it was such a relief, because I didn’t want to have to go on the Internet and start all over again.” She flushed and added simply, “That’s how I remember it.”

The psychologist leaned forward again. “That’s not exactly how
I
remember it.”

“Huh?” Clay interrupted. “I thought you didn’t remember anything about it.”

“I lied,” Mark said with an unapologetic grin. “Sara’s too pretty to ignore, even during a great playoff game. I definitely paid attention to her. And I didn’t see a girl who was looking forward to an anonymous sexual fling. I saw a girl who was dreading it.”

“I was not!” Sara scolded him.

“You looked nervous until it was obvious the guy wasn’t going to show. Then you relaxed. Then my brother walked over to you, and you looked surprised. Like you had been expecting someone else, and were delighted to see Clay instead.”

“Well, you’re a wonderful Monday morning quarterback,” Sara drawled, hoping he couldn’t see how truly accurate his perception had been. “Yes, Clay’s good-looking. I
was
delighted. But there’s no reason to think the Internet guy wouldn’t have suited me just as well. Anyway, I don’t get the point.”

“The point is, you wanted a casual relationship. But you got something more. You seem afraid to acknowledge that—”

“Yeah, Sara. Acknowledge it,” Clay urged.

“I’m a married woman. I don’t have love affairs, I have meaningless ones.” She stood and glared at Mark. “I’ve cooperated, right? Now make Clay give me back my journal.”

Before Mark or Clay could respond, the door to the study opened and a strapping young man in a football jersey and cutoff jeans strode into the room, his green eyes flashing with excitement.

“This is unbelievable, guys!” the newcomer began. Then he stopped in his tracks and stared at Sara. “Oh, wow. You’re
here
?” Striding over to her, he grappled her into a hearty bear hug.

Then he proclaimed in a husky voice, “You’re safe now, Sara. You know that, don’t you? You’ve got
us
now. The Ryerson brothers. We’ll make sure that asshole never gets near you again.”

Chapter 4

“Geezus, Randy, what the hell are you doing?” Clay demanded. “Let go of her, pervert.”

Stunned, Sara managed to wriggle free of the youngest brother’s embrace. Then she stared into his eyes—eyes almost exactly like Clay’s in color and intensity—and tried to fathom what he had just said to her.

“We’re having a session here, Randy,” Mark warned.

“Without
me
? You guys don’t know jack about this stuff.” Randy flashed a confident smile toward Sara. “These losers have razzed me for years about being a Trekkie and a geek and a comic book freak, but now it’s gonna come in handy. Right?”

Clay stepped closer. “What the hell are you talking about?”

“Don’t answer that!” Beyond frantic, Sara sandwiched Randy’s face between her palms and instructed him tersely. “Not another word. Do you hear me? Not one.”

“You think he’s
here
? Listening? Wow!” Randy jumped back and scanned the room. “Hey, asshole, if you’re here, show yourself. Let’s do this once and for all!”

“No!”
Sara threw herself at him, grabbing his shirt in one hand and plastering her other palm across his mouth. “Please shut up! Oh, God, please, please just let me think.”

“Sara?” Clay laid a reassuring hand on her shoulder. “What’s going on?”

“She’s protecting me, doofus,” Randy explained. “Just like she’s been protecting
you
. And her daughters. And everyone, really. But not anymore, Sara. You’ve got us now—”

“Stop saying that. Let me think.” Covering her face with her hands, she ordered herself to stop panicking. If she didn’t gain control of this situation immediately, this brave, misguided idiot was going to get himself and his brothers killed. She had to find a way to shut him up. Or to get Clay to do it for her.

So she turned to her ex-lover and reminded him unhappily, “This is
your
fault. I trusted you when you said my journal was in a safe place.”

“Your journal?” The truth seemed to dawn on Clay finally, and he spun toward Randy. “You
read
it? That’s what you’re babbling about? Protecting her from her husband?” Before Randy could answer, Clay told him bluntly, “Thanks a lot. What the hell are you doing up before noon anyway?”

“I smelled turkey.
My
turkey to be exact. Mom left it for
me
.” The young man’s twinkling eyes contradicted his accusatory tone. “Then I saw that diary in its fancy case. It smelled like perfume. Which made me think it might have X-rated stuff in it. Not X-
file
stuff,” he added with a grin. Then his expression softened. “You’re unbelievable, Sara. I see why the Ra-ahli chose you. You’re a survivor. But it’s over now. I promise.”

Her eyes filled with tears, knowing that Ga’rag would now kill this boy. It all seemed so hopeless. How many people would die before the experiment was over? Sara wanted to protect her babies, but at the cost of how many lives?

“Sara?” Clay wrapped his arm around her shoulders. “Don’t cry, honey. I’m sorry this idiot read it, but—”

“It’s okay. Just don’t listen to him, please? And Randy?” She reached out to touch the younger brother’s cheek. “You think you know the truth, but you don’t. The truth is uglier, but much less interesting. I just told the whole story—the real story—to Clay and Mark. What you read in my diary was fiction.”

Forcing herself to take a breath, she resurrected the lie she had invented in the car during the drive over. Clay had promised not to read the journal, but if the worst had happened and he’d broken that promise, she had planned to salvage the situation by convincing him the diary was a fake. A work of fiction she intended to market.

“I should be angry with you,” she told Randy quietly. “But if you’re really a geek who loves comic books and goes to science fiction conventions, you’re actually my target audience. And it sounds like you found the journal convincing, so I’m going to take it as a compliment.” She patted his cheek again. “Just promise me you won’t spill the beans before I get it published, okay? Don’t talk about it at all. If you do that for me, I’ll mention you in my dedication. How’s that?”

“What the hell are you two talking about?” Clay asked again, his tone grumbly and complaining.

“She’s trying to convince me the diary’s not true. Because she’s afraid the alien asshole will kill me if I know the truth.” Randy grinned. “Which means, you two don’t know. Unbelievable.” He gave Sara a wink. “Too bad I wasn’t the one who picked you up at the Finish Line last month. I would have figured this out by now and sent that guy flying back to his own planet. Courtesy of my foot. Plus, the sex would’ve been better.”

“All right, that’s it,” Clay said, laughing. “Randy? Shut up. Sara? What’s he talking about?”

She forced herself to smile as though the whole matter were a hilarious misunderstanding. “My diary isn’t really a diary. It’s a fictional account of a girl being abducted by little green men from outer space who want her eggs because
their
DNA is all screwed up so they need fresh genes. You’ll appreciate this next part, Mark,” she added in the psychologist’s direction. “I originally started this project on the advice of a therapist. He wanted me to keep a journal, but everything I wrote about my childhood sounded so melodramatic, it occurred to me that if I pulled out all the stops, I might be able to make it publishable. I knew what it felt like to have a stranger visiting my bedroom when I was a little girl, so I didn’t have to make that part up, unfortunately. Believe it or not, it wasn’t much of a jump to make it all about extraterrestrial geneticists. What began as a cathartic exercise became a real project. One I hope will make a lot of money for me and my children someday.”

As Mark stared, Randy whispered, “She’s amazing, isn’t she? She had to learn to do this—to make up lies fast—to cover up the truth so he wouldn’t kill anyone else the way he killed her father and mother.”

She wanted to jam her hand against the sci-fi enthusiast’s mouth again, but knew it might send the wrong signal to Clay and Mark, so she just scowled. “You’re giving it all away. Puh-
leeze
be quiet. If they want to hear the story, they’ll have to buy the book.” With a laugh, she added quickly, “Just kidding, guys. Complimentary copies all around. I promise.”

Each of the three brothers was staring at her so she kept smiling, even though her face was beginning to ache from the strain. She could see that Clay was working things through, trying to sort fact from fiction—literally. Meanwhile, Randy was simply beaming, as though this were the very best day he’d ever had.

Mark was the most difficult for her to read. Then he made things easy by pulling out his cell phone and pressing a single key.

Without taking his gaze off Sara’s face, he drawled into the mouthpiece, “Julie? Cancel all my appointments for the day.”

* * * *

The seating arrangement was the same, except now Randy was sitting on the other side of Sara with his arm around her shoulders. He had clearly usurped Clay’s role as protector, and she imagined it bothered Clay almost as much as it bothered her. Still, she kept smiling, pretending to be amused over the misunderstanding and anxious to clear it up. And meanwhile, as a precondition to allowing Randy to participate in the “session,” she had managed to extract a promise from him not to reveal any other details from the journal.

For the moment, that was the best she could do.

“So, Sara.” Mark eyed her warily. “You’ve written a fictional diary based on your childhood experiences? But instead of a family friend visiting your bedroom, it’s an extraterrestrial. Is that what you’re saying?”

When she nodded, Randy chuckled. “Then why is the girl in the diary named Sara? That doesn’t make sense if it’s fiction.”

Sara rolled her eyes. “You obviously don’t know anything about method writing. I needed to identify with the girl in the story so I used my own name. I was going to change it at the end. Before I submitted it. Obviously.”

“You’ve got an answer for everything,” Randy admitted. Then he arched a teasing eyebrow. “I suppose your husband’s name is Ga’rag?”

“Close. It’s Edward.”

“Edward Kent?” Mark asked.

Sara hesitated. She hadn’t thought this far ahead, and the lies were growing too complicated for her to manage effectively. She needed to regroup, so she stood up and announced, “This keeps getting more and more personal. I promised to answer your questions honestly for one hour, which I did. You promised not to read my diary, and to return it to me at the end of the session. Instead, you not only read it, but you’re trying to dissect it, word by word. And you haven’t returned it to me yet.” Jutting her chin forward, she added defensively, “I feel like a prisoner here.”

“She’s like Joan of freaking Arc,” Randy whispered to Mark.

“Would you please
stop
that?” she told him in disgust.

“Yeah, Randy.” Clay stood up and wrapped his arm around Sara’s waist. “Get lost for a few minutes, will you? Go have breakfast or something.”

Sara bit her lip. It would be too easy for Ga’rag to pick off the youngest brother if he wandered to the kitchen alone. So she murmured, “I don’t want him reading any more of my diary. Mark, could you keep an eye on him please? I want to talk to Clay in private.”

“Sure. Just don’t make any side deals.”

“What’s the point? You guys don’t keep them anyway,” she retorted.

“We didn’t know Randy would read it,” Mark said soothingly. “I apologize for that. And so does Clay. Still . . .” The psychologist’s gaze locked with hers. “This alien-abduction fantasy of yours is useful information. And it changes things a little, at least in my opinion.”

“It’s not a fantasy. It’s a work of fiction.”

“But given your background, it’s somewhat troubling. You see that, don’t you?

Randy raised his hand. “Can I say something? It’s important, Sara.”

When she scowled but nodded, he stood up and faced her. “I know what you think. That Ga’rag can hurt us. But it’s not true. I can kick his ass and so can Clay. Maybe even Mark.”

“Hey!”

“Sorry, bro.” Randy grinned, then turned back to Sara. “This Ra-ahlian creep has you psyched out because he claims he killed all those people. But maybe he didn’t. And even if he did, it wasn’t combat, right? He used drugs. Probably because the gilled freak can’t breathe our atmosphere too well.
We’ve
got the physical advantage here. So don’t worry. He won’t show his face in this house, I guarantee it.”

“Gills?” Clay murmured.

“It’s a work in progress,” she quipped, trying not to think about what Randy had just said, even though it had a nice ring to it. Ga’rag could make Sara’s nose bleed because of the chip implanted in her face, but could he hurt the big, strong Ryerson brothers?

He killed your mother, your father, and your lover,
she scolded herself.
Even if Randy’s right and he can’t blast in here with laser guns or something, he can kill your daughters without even leaving his ship. So stick to the plan, will you?

* * * *

Clay was glad to have a moment alone with Sara. Their therapy session had gotten completely out of hand, thanks to Randy. And even before that, Mark had been a little rough with her about her father. She had handled it well, but then, Sara was good at handling things, at least on the surface. But meanwhile, the issue of her husband had somehow gotten sidetracked, and to Clay,
that
was the danger that mattered.

Leading her back to the entry hall, he rested his hands on her hips and smiled down at her. “Hi.”

“Hi.” She draped her arms around his neck. “I love your family, but they’re nuttier than I am.”

“Yeah.” He grinned sheepishly. “The good news is, they make
me
look good, right?”

“You look great,” she agreed. Then she rested her cheek against his chest as she’d done when she first arrived. “This feels nice.”

“Good. I want you to feel safe with me.” He gave her a warm hug. “Hey, Sara?”

“Yes?”

“I was thinking about something Randy said.”

She raised her gaze to his. “You don’t think I’m an alien abductee, do you?”

Clay chuckled. “Hardly. What I meant was, Randy said you’re a good liar because you’ve had to learn how to lie quickly.” He cleared his throat. “It got me thinking about this morning. You lied to me twice. First when you promised to go on a picnic with me even though you knew you were going to dump me. That was a pretty expert con. I understand why, but still—”

“I shouldn’t have done that. I’m sorry, Clay.” She bit her lip. “You said I did it twice. When was the second time?”

“When you told me you weren’t falling in love with me. That was a lie too, wasn’t it?”

She eyed him sternly. “I’m a married woman.”

“That’s not the question.” He cradled her chin in his hand. “Were you lying, Sara?”

She bit her lip again, then nodded.

“Finally.” Exhaling sharply, he lowered his mouth to hers, kissing her hungrily. Her response was immediate—warm and loving—and he savored it, trying not to remember that she had kissed him this way earlier that morning, just before she called his office voice mail and told him to get lost.