Sweet Alien Savage (Zerconian Warriors Book 4) (11 page)

She turned to him, trying to keep herself composed. “I suppose you must have been horribly disappointed to find out I was your mate.”

“No.”

“No? But I am everything you didn’t want. I let emotions guide my actions. I’m not always sensible or logical and my features aren’t symmetrical!”

“Is everything all right here?” a male voice spoke up from the doorway. Mila turned to find Zac standing there, frowning down at her.

Great. Could her day get any better?

Knowing she was bright red, she couldn’t meet his gaze. Had he heard her humiliate herself?

Zac scowled at Koran. “Been searching for clues? Don’t think I can do a good enough job, huh?”

“It’s not that, Zac,” she said quickly. “Of course, you will. It’s just that Commander Al’a is worried about his warrior and I offered to help him.”

Zac grunted looking unconvinced and she didn’t blame him. He’d once had a thing with Aline. Mila had actually thought he might be someone Aline could settle down with and Zac had always been kind to Mila.

“We’re not trying to step on your toes in any way. Perhaps we could work together. Share what we know.”

Zac just scowled at Koran. Mila sighed. This wasn’t going to go well.

“There is no tablet here,” Koran stated. “Do you have it?”

Zac was silent for a moment and she thought he wasn’t going to answer. Then he shook his head. “I haven’t located her tablet.”

“What about fingerprints?” she asked.

Zac shrugged. “Couldn’t find any. None at all. I guess the killer wiped everything down. Not that it matters since we already have the guilty party.”

“Have you been able to retrace her final movements?” she asked him, ignoring his dig at Koran.

Zac glanced down at her with a small smile. “Been watching detective shows?”

She shrugged. “I rented a book on investigating crimes.”

Zac chuckled. “Right. Well, I’ll leave you to that.” With another chuckle that told her he wasn’t taking her seriously, he left.

“Let’s go,” she said shortly. “Zac obviously believes Darac is guilty. We need to solve this.”

Koran looked after Mila, puzzled. He almost got the impression that she was upset with him. He thought over their conversation.

Zoey hadn’t taken the news that she was Dex’s mate well. He should have been prepared for Mila’s hesitation.

But he had taken Zoey’s advice. He had compromised. Instead of taking her straight back to his quarters and joining with her, making her permanently his as he longed to, he had allowed her a day or two to get used to the idea of being his mate.

He had shown great restraint in making allowances for her feelings.

So he really couldn’t understand why she would be upset with him.

“I killed her! It was all my fault!”

Mila winced as another wail of despair erupted from Chantelle. Only another mouthful of double chocolate fudge cake managed to muffle the sound. The older woman chewed, her double chin wobbling back and forth.

She glanced over at Koran, who grimaced as Chantelle sobbed. Perched on her hard, floral couch, Mila wondered where the other woman had found such an ugly, uncomfortable piece of furniture. It wasn’t standard issue furniture, so she must have bought it from a trade ship.

Mila glanced around Chantelle’s quarters, taking in the overflowing cabinets filled with knick-knacks and china sets.

“What do you mean you killed her?” Koran asked sharply, eyes widening as Chantelle’s piercing cry filled the room.

Tears poured down her full cheeks as cried, holding a wad of tissues in her hand. She thumped at her chest dramatically.

“It should have been me! It should have been me! Oh, Sally!”

Mila sent him an impatient look. “Let me handle this.”

“She just admitted her guilt. We should restrain her.” Koran looked at Chantelle in disbelief as she started to pant.

“I can’t breathe! I can’t breathe!”

Mila glared at him. “Now look what you’ve done!”

“What did I do?” He held his hands up as Mila grabbed a paper bag—Chantelle kept a supply close by—and gave it to the other woman.

“Breathe into the bag, Chantelle. That’s right. Nice and slow.” Mila turned from soothing the other woman to scowl at Koran. “Just be quiet. You’re not helping. She didn’t kill Sally.”

“But—”

“Hush.”

From the scowl on his face, he didn’t appreciate being hushed, but she didn’t care. She’d had months of dealing with Chantelle’s dramatics; she knew how to handle the other woman.

Reaching out, she patted the other woman’s fleshy hand. Chantelle had to be fifty, but she had skin like a woman half her age, smooth and unblemished. A full-figured woman, she’d been a pastry chef all her adult life and she was an excellent one.

She was also a neurotic hypochondriac given to fits of drama and tears.

Aline couldn’t stand the other woman’s dramatics and had fired her five times already. It was Mila who’d had to soothe Chantelle’s hurt feelings and convince her to stay.

Mila knew Chantelle didn’t have anywhere to go. She also knew there would be a riot if her raspberry ripple tarts weren’t present after Sunday dinner.

“Chantelle, Sally’s death wasn’t your fault.”

“If I had just checked on her. If I had just been home, I might have prevented that bastard alien from hurting her.” Chantelle glared at Koran as though he was the anti-Christ’s more evil brother.

“We don’t know that Darac killed her, Chantelle,” she said gently, trying to hide her impatience. Had no one heard of innocent until proven guilty?

“But it had to be him. No one else would have killed my sweet, innocent Sally.”

“Wasn’t it just last week that you and Sally were fighting over the menu for the coming week?” Mila asked.

Chantelle waved her hand through the air. “That was a slight disagreement.”

“Uh-huh. You wrestled her to the floor and poured molasses in her hair.”

“She was being unreasonable.” Chantelle attempted to cross her arms over her wide chest.

“And then you poured a container of flour over her head. It took her days to get her hair back to normal.”

“She wanted me to create a low-fat option for dessert. Doesn’t mean I killed her!”

Mila patted her hand. “Of course, you didn’t. I’m not saying that. I’m just saying that there might be others who wanted her dead. Can you think of anyone?”

Chantelle frowned. “No. Everyone liked Sally. The night she died, she was supposed to come to book club, but she said she had something on. I thought her man was coming over. So I didn’t check up on her when I got home. Didn’t want to interrupt nothing. Not that I couldn’t hear most of it through the walls. When are you going to do something about insulating the walls better? I don’t know if I can stay in this apartment. Not with Sally’s death just next door.” She sniffled.

Mila sighed. “I’ll see what I can do.” She’d add it to her increasing to-do list. “Sally had a boyfriend? I didn’t know that.”

“I don’t know that he was her boyfriend on account of she never introduced him to anybody. But she definitely had a visitor most nights. Like I said. Thin walls.”

Another forkful of cake was shoved into her mouth, crumbs escaping as she chewed with her mouth open.

“Are you going to talk to Stefan?” Chantelle mumbled.

Mila nodded. “Yeah. We’re headed there now.”

“Good luck.”

She was going to need it.

***

Koran followed Mila down the hallway.

“Why did that woman say she was guilty when she was not?”

Mila stopped outside the door on the other side of Sally’s apartment. “Because she feels guilty that she didn’t check on Sally.”

“But how was she to know Sally would die? Why would that make her say she killed her?”

Mila sighed. “Chantelle is very colorful.”

He frowned. “She did wear bright colors.”

“No, I mean, she feels things deeply and her way of coping is to let everyone know how she feels. She feels guilty over what happened to Sally, even though it wasn’t her fault. And she’s also kind of milking it.”

“Milking it?”

“Never mind, it wasn’t very nice of me to say anything.” She raised her hand to knock on the door.

Reaching out he grabbed her arm, stilling her. “You are always nice. I am not sure how you have the patience.”

They had spent the morning together and she had answered endless calls, dealt with issues and complaints and spoken patiently with Chantelle, the doctor, and Zac.

She shrugged. “I’m used to it. All part of my job. I should warn you about Stefan, he can be rather … um, prickly.”

Prickly? He had prickly skin? Koran hadn’t realized that about humans. Mila knocked on the door and a deep, masculine voice called out to them.

Opening the door, she stepped forward. Koran clasped her around the waist and pulled her back. “I go first, remember?”

“Oh, right. I forgot. But Stefan isn’t going to hurt me.”

He didn’t care. If they were walking into an unknown space, with a killer on the loose, then he was going first.

The first thing that hit him was the smell. Sweat, garbage, and that drink the humans seemed incapable of surviving without, what was it? Oh, yes, coffee. Most of them seemed to be demonic before they’d had their first coffee.

“Stefan, where are you?” Mila moved around him. Her nose wrinkled, but otherwise, she made no outward sign that the smell affected her.

The reason for the stench was obvious. The apartment was a complete mess. Clothes lay strewn across the floor. A bag filled with garbage sat open in the corner of the room.

“Did someone destroy this place? Should we call security?” Koran asked.

“What?” Mila asked. “Um no. This is just the way Stefan lives. Stefan, where are you?”

“Coming.”

Koran glanced over as a large, muscular male stepped into the room. His hairy chest was bare and damp as though he’d just had a shower. A small towel rested precariously on his hips.

“What do you want?” he asked. He had a thick accent.

“We want to talk to you about Sally’s murder,” Mila asked. “We’ll wait until you get dressed.”

Leaning against the doorway, he shrugged. “You can talk now. I know nothing about her death.”

“When did you last see her?” Mila asked.

“Sally and I did not get on. She was frigid bitch.”

“Right, so she turned you down, huh?”

“Yes.” Stefan ran his gaze over Mila’s body. “But maybe you would like a piece of Stefan. You do not have the men knocking down your door.”

Koran scowled. He found it hard to understand the other male with his thick accent, but from the look of disgust on Mila’s face, he understood the other male was being rude.

“No, I do not want a piece of you, Stefan. Despite the generous offer.”

“Oh, it very generous. You want to see?”

“No!” Mila screeched as the other man reached for his towel. He dropped it, baring his shaft. Grabbing his cock, he ran his hand up and down its length.

“Like what you see?” Stefan asked.

Koran snarled and took a step forward.

“Don’t react,” Mila told him. “It’s what he’s looking for.”

“He is naked. In front of you.” Fury thrummed through him. How dare this male bare himself in front of his mate.

“Yeah, it’s not the first time.”

Had she slept with this disgusting, smelly male?

Mila yawned. “Stefan, you’ve got nothing that interests me. Now put on some clothes so we can talk about Sally.”

With a mumble, the other man turned and walked away.

Koran grabbed Mila’s arm, turning her. “You have seen this man naked? You have joined with him?”

“Huh? Uh, gross. Of course, I haven’t slept with him.” She shuddered. “Yuck! Give me some credit for good taste.”

His fury faded, but his confusion remained. “Then how have you seen him naked?”

“Everyone’s seen Stefan naked. He usually does a nudie run through the dining area once a month.”

“Nudie run?”

“Yeah, a naked run. He’s always propositioning women. No one wants to sleep with him, of course. He’s disgusting.”

Relief filled him. “That is good. But he should not bare himself to you.”

“No, he shouldn’t. But he was here when Aline took over this post and his uncle is on the Earth Council so we’re kind of stuck with him.”

“Ask your questions,” Stefan demanded as he walked back into the room. His chest was still bare, but at least he wore pants.

He sat on the sofa and a puff of dust filled the air.

“When did you last see Sally?” Mila asked.

Stefan crossed his arms over his chest with a smirk. “I don’t think that is the question you need ask.”

“What is the question we should ask?” Koran asked him.

“When did I last hear her?” Stefan laughed and made a sharp, back and forth gesture with his hand.

“What does that mean?” Koran asked.

“Don’t ask,” Mila said quickly.

“It means she liked to get him off,” Stefan told him crudely.

“Told you not to ask,” she muttered. “So you heard Sally through the walls with her boyfriend?”

“Hard not to. She was a screamer.”

“And what? When was the last time you heard her?”

“The night before she was found. She really screamed that night. Like a little piggy.”

Mila stepped out of Stefan’s apartment and took a deep breath, trying to clear her lungs. The disgusting smell seemed to have entered her very pores and clothes.

“I need a shower.”

“He should be forced to clean up. That smell was repulsive.” Koran followed her along the passage.

“I’m going home. Unless you have something else you want to do today?” She yawned.

“It is getting late. We will rest then start again tomorrow. Mila, come home with me.”

Yes, do it,
her body screamed.

“Not a good idea.”

“Why not? You are my mate.”

“Yes, and I’m sure that seems natural to you but not to me. I don’t know you. I don’t jump into bed with men I don’t know.”

She didn’t jump into anyone’s bed.

He sighed. “Female Earthers are hard work.”

Mila raised her eyebrows. “I’m not trying to be difficult. I know it must seem that way to you, but you hit some of my triggers earlier.”

“I would never hit you.” The insult on his face almost made her smile.

“Easy, big guy. I know that. But men don’t notice me. All they ever see is Aline. So while I should have expected it, I guess it just hurts that you thought Aline would have been perfect and instead you have to settle for me.”

“I am not sure what you mean by settle?”

“Well, look at me. I’m no supermodel, right? I’m thin and shapeless. No matter how much I eat, I never put on weight. I’ve got no boobs, no hips, and no butt. My hair is mousy brown and my complexion is pale. My nose is too big and my ears stick out too much. I mean, I’m not puke your guts out ugly, but I’m not beautiful either.”

“Your appearance does not matter.”

“No?” she asked.

“No. Your looks have nothing to do with us. They are unimportant. You have been chosen for me. No matter your looks, I want you.”

“Really? Wow, that’s big of you. So you won’t need to put a paper bag over my head to fuck me?” she asked.

He frowned. “That would be foolish and dangerous. Why would I do that?”