A long moment passed. “How can you tell?”
Fred Glen turned slightly. “How can you tell if you’re in love?”
Was he in love with Nell? He’d never felt anything close to the way he felt when she walked into a room. Was that love? “Yeah.”
“When you can’t think of anything but her.” A mysterious smile curled his lips up, like he was lost in some ridiculously sweet memory. “When she’s the only thing in the world that matters. When you realize you want to be a better man, make the world a better place, because she’s in it. When the choices you make, about yourself, about the kind of man you are all boil to one thing—will she be proud of you? That’s when you know.”
Bishop took a damn long drink this time.
There was a loud beeping behind him. Holly rushed around the bar.
“Oh, dear, this is going to get bad,” Holly said.
Fred Glen’s face lit up. “Oh, this is going to be fun.”
Bishop opened his eyes, and the redhead was putting down her tray. She looked behind the bar. “Damn it, Lonnie. Get out here. We have real trouble.”
Lonnie poked his head out of the back and quickly disappeared again. “It’s just Mel.”
Holly practically vibrated as she stared out into the lounge. “I swear to god, I’m going to quit one day.”
“Who’s Mel?” Bishop asked, taking another sip of the Scotch. He tried his damnedest to stop thinking about what Fred Glen had said. He didn’t love her. He was just sleeping with her. He’d been her first man and he felt a responsibility toward her. That was all. He just wanted her.
If he played his cards right, he could find the bad guy and be back in time to have dinner with Nell before they explored a little bondage this evening. He was going to tie her to the bedposts, spreading her arms and legs wide, splaying her open for his very delicious torture. He would lick her from head to toe. He would get her so hot she would be begging for his cock. He might even clamp her nipples. That would be pretty.
“Mel’s a legend around these parts. He considers himself an alien hunter. Notice that he’s got tinfoil under that hat of his. Claims it keeps the death rays from taking him.” Fred was grinning, his weariness fading for the moment.
Bishop turned in his chair, watching the action out in the lounge. Mel was the man in the trucker hat with the weird beeping thing. It was going off like crazy as he stood in front of a young man with a shock of dark hair. His face was unlined, his eyes wide as he looked up at the lanky man. He had been talking to a pretty brunette who moved away the minute Mel walked up as though she knew disaster was about to happen and wanted to get clear of the blast radius.
“All right, you. You know damn well you’re not supposed to be here.”
The younger man shrank back a bit, clutching his glass. “I am only trying to enjoy my martimmy. Go away.”
Dude did not come from here. What was that accent? Croatian?
Mel didn’t seem to give a crap about the weird accent. “Not on your life, buddy. You are in direct violation of Intergalactic Council Order 100923-4821. This is protected ground. You’re not allowed to breed here.”
Holly rushed up, an envelope in her hands. “Oh, god, he’s talking about breeding. I am so sorry. If we don’t let him kick someone out about once a month, he gets really antsy, and that’s bad for everyone. The town got together a couple of months back and put together this really nice package for Mel’s victims.”
“Holly, he ain’t a victim. He’s a Sibalian male of mating age. That ain’t even his real form,” Mel explained.
“What is this man talking about? I’m here on vacationings. This is ridiculous.” The man set down his drink, his face flushing. “I demand to talk to the management.”
Holly pressed the envelope in his hand. “Management snuck into the kitchen to watch Internet porn. I’m so sorry. There’s no charge for the drink and the Trading Post has a free quarter pound of fudge for you. You can get your oil changed at Roger’s Garage for nineteen ninety-nine. Polly offers a free wax, but I kind of think she enjoys that. She’s a little sadistic if you ask me. And there’s free coffee for you at Stella’s. Please don’t sue us.”
The man huffed, grabbed the envelope, and stalked out.
“Nothing to worry about here, people.” Mel held up his detector thingy. “You’re all safe. You don’t have to worry about being overrun with Sibalian young. Whew. That was a close one. The vodka in the drink would have triggered his mating pheromones and then no woman would be safe. No need to thank me.”
Mel tipped his foil-lined hat and waved good-bye, his job apparently done.
“Nope.” Fred Glen was smiling broadly. “Wouldn’t change a damn thing. This is the place to live, son.”
Bishop slapped some bills on the counter. He needed to get to Seth’s and then get home to Nell. Well, get back to his room. Nell was waiting for him and he had plans on how to spend the night. It did not include watching an alien hunter threaten tourists. “Thanks, Fred. It was good to meet you.”
He grabbed his case, put on his coat, and headed out. Night had fallen and the cold blasted him. He wanted to be back with Nell where it was warm.
His phone buzzed, a text coming in.
It’s Lyle. Used a credit card in Alamosa two days ago.
Bishop sighed. One assignment down. He could find the fucker tomorrow and then bury him. There had to be plenty of places to bury a body out here. It had been a couple of weeks since he’d killed someone.
Nell would very likely protest him if she knew. He could hear the lecture on how he should rehabilitate criminals, not internally decapitate them. But he was really good at internal decapitation. It was his signature move. Bloodless. Usually no one got time to scream. And, when he really thought about it, it was likely fairly painless. Killing with kindness. Nell would approve.
And then she would protest.
Any way he looked at it, Nell would never be able to accept the real John Bishop. And what the fuck was he thinking anyway? That he could take Nell with him? He worked deep-cover assignments with some of the most dangerous terrorists and drug dealers in the world. He’d worked with female agents before. He’d used them as cover. They were beautiful and deadly and knew when to keep their mouths closed.
Nell would protest the terrorists and get her gorgeous ass shot in five seconds flat.
There was a quick, loud, sucking sound and Bishop’s eyes were flooded with a blue light. It was gone in an instant, but a cold wind blew him back. What the fuck?
Mel walked from around the side of the building. “He’s off. Gotta make sure with those boys. When they get the mating heat, they can take out whole cities. You ever seen the episode of Star Trek with the tribbles? Yeah, that’s what it’s like. Luckily I have a direct line to MI17, and they can open a wormhole.”
Bishop shook his head. What was the proof on the liquor again? “MI17?”
Mel nodded as though all of this was perfectly normal. “Sure. The Brits don’t acknowledge they have an MI17, but that’s just silly. Who else would have put down the Great Invasion of ’89? It sure wasn’t going to be that Star Wars defense project. Hell, no. Mayonnaise. That’s what scares those Orcanians.”
Bishop was pretty sure he was the one who had landed on a different planet.
His phone rang as he watched the deeply odd man walking toward an old pickup truck. He flipped the phone open. “Yeah?”
“John?”
Bishop froze.
“It’s Bill. I’m alone, but you need to get here and quick. Nell is missing, son.”