Alien in the Family

past months. But it was now part of a metal ball of spying badness. I knew I’d never be putting it on again. I looked at my hands. No ring, either. Nothing that said who I belonged to, or who wanted me to belong to him.
    I looked at the picture on my chest. Steven, Joe, and the rest of my boys stared back at me. What would the guys in Aerosmith suggest at a time like this? The first song of theirs that popped to mind was “Love in an Elevator.”
    I laughed and looked up at Reader. “No. I do love Chuckie, and I always will. But . . . no one compares to Jeff.”
    Reader grinned. “Good to hear, girlfriend. I wasn’t looking forward to that particular road trip. I’d have done it, mind you. Like I told you when we met, you’re my girl, and I’ll always be here to take care of you.”
    I hugged him as tightly as I could. “I love you, James. I don’t know what I’d do without you, and I never want to find out.”
    “No worries, I promise you’ll never have to.” He patted my butt. “Now, go try on the clothes. You’ll feel better, and then we can get out of this store and find your wedding dress.”

CHAPTER 18

    I WENT INTO THE DRESSING ROOM as suggested. There had been plenty of times during the past year when I’d thanked God Reader was around, but none more than right now.
    I took a deep breath, then undressed. This was a no-bra outfit, but we’d managed to find an almost-as-sheer spaghetti tank to go under the main top. I was still basically naked with fabric, but it was a tad more subtle. The skirt was tight, short, and silky. I would need the right pair of hooker-heels, but I had to admit I looked hot in this outfit.
    I wandered out of the dressing room to find Reader, since I wasn’t buying a thing without his okay, but I didn’t have to go far. He was waiting for me, about three steps away. “James, what do you think?”
    He grinned, grabbed me, shoved me back into the dressing room, and kissed me. With tongue.
    The mind can move fast, and while this was happening, mine was whirring at its version of hyperspeed. Two things screamed at me—Reader was gay, and he had to kiss better than this. He was really strong. I couldn’t get away, so I slammed my knee into his groin. He pulled away, laughed, and kissed me again.
    Kung fu time. I’d studied the art in my younger years and had taken it up again in earnest once I realized my life was going to involve a lot of scary things trying to kill me on a regular basis.
    I dropped into a horse-stance, did an arrow point with one hand and slammed that into his throat and another arrow point into his side into a pressure point. He released a bit, and I grabbed his inner thigh and gave it a vicious pinch, while I did a palm-heel strike to his chin. Knocked him against the wall, and, happily, his head hit, hard.
    I forced myself to focus on terror and Martini. I knew I needed backup.
    Reader shook his head, and as he did, the image shifted. It wasn’t Reader, but then I’d already figured that. It also wasn’t a guy.
    I’d also figured that, but it was still kind of icky. I had no issue with lesbians, but I didn’t swing the bat that way, and I kind of resented getting molested. Willing experimentation was one thing, but attempted rape I had an issue with regardless of the sex of the attacker. “Listen, space bitch, keep your mitts and your lips off.” I was in a squat on the ground and sent up a rising kick to her stomach, just in case she wasn’t clear.
    She took it like a champ, grinned again, and lunged at me.
    And slammed back into the wall. Her nose looked broken, and she was out. I looked up to see Martini standing there, fist still out. “Good emotional signal. Potentially your best yet.”
    “Thanks, I’ve been practicing.”
    He put his hand down, I grabbed it, and he pulled me into his arms. “Did she hurt you?”
    “She kissed me. I feel like I just went on stage with Madonna.” I gagged a little but kept it together.
    “How’d she get to you?”
    “Oh, hell.” I pulled out of his arms. “Stay here and keep her out. Call for backup. Pay them for whatever it is I’m wearing. She impersonated James.” I grabbed my purse and took off.
    “Kitty!” Martini was calling after me, but I didn’t stop. Reader was nowhere in the shop.
    “My boyfriend’ll pay for this!” I shouted to the clerk.
    “But he left,” she said.
    I stopped. “No, the guy in the dressing room is my boyfriend. The other guy is my friend. Where