Alien vs. Alien

time away from her husband than with him. But, as she said, that’s what you did when your best friends needed you.
    Amy made the mistake of offering her hand. Gadoire snatched it to his lips like he had to kiss hands or die.
    She gave me the “oh, my God, this is gross” look, but smiled sweetly Kmilp w at him when he straightened up. “Monsieur Gadoire, I’ve heard so much about you from Kitty.”
    Gadoire winked at me. “I’m sure you have.”
    I managed not to gag. “How’s Vance?” I hadn’t missed anyone from my Washington Wife class while in exile in Florida, but it was polite to ask about someone else’s spouse.
    “He’s well. Looking forward to seeing you again.”
    “Excuse me?”
    No sooner were those words out of my mouth than Vance Beaumont sauntered in. Vance was one of those perfectly put together people the rest of us privately hated. I wasn’t so private in my hatred, but that didn’t stop Vance from grabbing me and giving me a big hug.
    I managed not to go rigid or shove him away, but this wasn’t a typical greeting for the two of us. “Hi, Vance.”
    “Kitty . . . if there’s anything I can do, I just want you to know I’m here for you.”
    “Huh?”
    Vance put the Frowny Face of Concern on. I didn’t buy it for a New York Minute. “We’ll talk about it later.”
    “Talk about what?”
    Armstrong cleared his throat. “Guy and Vance are aware of the . . . situation I need to discuss with you, Ambassador.” He looked around. “Is there somewhere private we can go to talk?” He pointedly looked at Amy and the boys, and it was clear he didn’t want them along for whatever chat he had planned.
    “Whatever we need to talk about can be discussed with Amy, Len, and Kyle. They’re all part of our diplomatic mission.”
    Armstrong shook his head. “I believe you’d prefer to have this conversation in private, Ambassador. Very sure.”

    Yi

CHAPTER 3

    S OMETHING ABOUT HIS TONE and expression made me want to pull my Glock. However, my purse was in the room Amy and I were sharing, and besides, if I didn’t want the boys to use extreme force, it was worse if I did.
    What I really wanted was backup. I’d called for it. So why wasn’t it here already? Surely they’d had enough time to get to a gate and over here by now.
    The gates were alien technology that resembled airport security metal detectors more than anything else. They allowed you to travel pretty much anywhere in moments. The main gate hub was in the Dome, out in New Mexico, but there were gates all over. The majority of gates were in restroom stalls of every airport in the world, even the tiny ones. For homes, however, if the bathroom wasn’t used, the basements were.
    So Jeff and whoever else he was bringing along should have zipped down to the Embassy’s basement, calibrated, stepped through that gate and out the gate in the basement of Martini Ma Nmilp nt, calibnor. By my count, they should have been here by the time Armstrong got through the door.
    But no, I was still backup-less. There was also no way I was having a three on one meeting with this portion of the Cabal of Evil. “I like to live on the edge, Senator. Why don’t you share your news?”
    Amy cleared her throat. “Why don’t we get out of the hallway?”
    I really wanted to get Armstrong’s info and get him back out the door, but I had to admit I wasn’t being gracious or diplomatic. “Good point, Ames.”
    Amy led us to a nearby study. This was Martini Manor—there was a nearby anything depending on your definition of “nearby.” In this case, it was only halfway down the hall.
    As with every other room in the house, the study was done in what I called Early American Expensive. The older generation of A-Cs were traditionalists to their cores, and they’d happily adopted Earth traditions the moment they arrived.
    It was also decorated in Modern Hunk, since Jeff, Christopher, and Chuckie were sitting in the lovely club chairs this room contained, looking for all the world as though they’d been here for hours.
    Jeff was big and broad, with dark, wavy hair, gorgeous light brown eyes, and a mouth that said “kiss me” even when he wasn’t speaking. He was built like everyone’s male ideal—broad shoulders, perfectly cut, rippling muscles, without being overdone like a bodybuilder. Sure, I couldn’t see all that right now, since he was dressed, but I’d spent the last month fantasizing about him, so I was essentially seeing him