Read Online Her Alien Savior by Elle Thorne - Free Book Online Page B

Odd. Maybe it was a business? But one that was unmarked? What sort of business would that be? The green door had no identifying marks, not even a street number. In her state of mind, she’d be easy prey, probably not even paying attention. He couldn’t just let her be in there alone. Or maybe he was overreacting. Maybe he should go away.
    And go where? There was nothing else, nowhere else to go. He had one mission. Marissa. Leaving her would mean he wouldn’t be accomplishing his mission. Well, that and the fact he didn’t want to admit to himself he wanted to be where she was. That in itself was too confusing to deal with. So what else was there to do but go in?
    No, he’d wait and see if she came out. But first he had to make sure that there were no other exits. The building was two-story, white-washed brick, a metal staircase led to the second floor on the outside. Metal staircase with concrete steps and a metal, ornate handrail.
    A quick trip around the building assured there were no windows. Odd, a building without windows. It used to have windows but they’d been sealed with bricks.
    Finn took a spot across the street at a café and kept an eye on the green door. For more than an hour. No one came out, four more laughing couples went in. And a couple of unaccompanied women. And one man.
    Finn stretched in the chair, the human epidermis uncomfortable over his own skin in this heat. The sun was lowering. Thankfully. But not going down, not yet.
    Maybe he should make an entrance. Just to verify she was okay. For the mission , he told himself. Knowing he wouldn’t believe his own lie.
    He crossed over and approached the door. Not even a peephole for security reasons. He tugged on the handle. The door yielded without hesitation. Dimness greeted his eyes. And took some adjusting to.
    A bar.
    This place was a bar. Jazz music drifted throughout the sofa and love seat dotted place. Candles and overstuffed large chairs added to the ambience.
    But no Marissa.
    He made his way upstairs. More sofas. No bar. Couples were in the sofas, but no one who was unaccompanied. Did he miss those, where were they?
    He skimmed down the steps, two at a time. Around the corner. There she was. Her back was to him, but she was in front of the bar’s mirror. A drink in her hand.
    He stepped back—quick—but NOT quick enough. She frowned at his image in the mirror, as if to be sure she wasn’t seeing things, and turned around.
    She scratched her head, almost childlike in her action. He knew what that meant. Or hoped it didn’t mean what he thought it did.
    “Finn.”
    Her slurred word confirmed it. She was drunk.
    “You’re following. You. Are. Following.” She took a drink. “Me.”
    He didn’t know what to say. If he confirmed it would she accuse him of being a stalker? Would the bartender call the cops? That would be ugly. If he denied it—no point in that—she’d know the truth.
    “I was concerned.” Might as well go with the truth.
    “About me? Little ol’ me?” She set the drink down, and it splashed up, clearly a hard landing. “You’re a scout. For one of those developers.” A sneer marred her features.
    He was confused. What developers? Did he want to let her know he didn’t know what she was talking about? May as well, since her thinking that he was a scout for a developer wasn’t working out too well for him. “I don’t know what you mean. What developers?”
    She drew back, exaggeratedly so, almost theatrical. The stunned expression that replaced the sneer would have been funny, if the circumstances weren’t the same, if she didn’t hate him without a reason. “What do you mean, what developers? You don’t know? You didn’t—Belle didn’t—you—”
    Evidently she wasn’t going to assemble a sentence that made sense, so he would have to take the lead. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. I left right after you did. You didn’t seem to be okay.”
    “And you were worried about