Claimed by the Alien Bodyguard - Tiffany Roberts Page 0,3

was becoming.

Gabby only wished she could give her daughter more.

The rest of the fifteen-minute drive was quiet save for the music. Ana sang along to the radio as she watched the snowy, wooded landscape pass by through the window. When they arrived home, Gabriela pulled into the driveway and killed the engine, handing the keys to Ana.

“We’re home!” Ana unbuckled her seatbelt, threw open her door, and hopped out, slinging her backpack over her shoulder as she ran toward the house.

“Ana, you forgot something,” Gabriela called.

Her daughter came to an abrupt halt, did a one-eighty, and hurried back to the car to shut the passenger door.

Gabby shook her head and smiled to herself. Unbuckling her own seatbelt, she picked up her purse, opened her door, and stepped out of the car. She stood up just in time to see Ana unlock the front door and disappear inside the house.

“Homework before TV!” Gabriela shouted.

“I know!” Ana’s muffled voice said from inside.

Gabriela locked the car, and just as she was closing her door, she glanced toward Mason’s house. The corners of her lips turned down.

Maybe I should have said something more? Something to reassure him that I am interested in him?

That she’d been interested in him for months.

Gabriela sighed, turned, and walked toward her house.

The blaring of a high-pitched ringtone broke the peaceful mountain quiet.

Stopping, she dug her phone out of the black hole that was her purse. The incoming call was from Paige, one of her long-time clients. Gabriela accepted the call and lifted the phone to her ear.

“Hi, Paige. How are you today?”

“Gabriela! Yes! So glad you picked up. I know this is last minute, but I have an emergency and I was wondering if you were free tomorrow. Turns out I’m going to be hosting a big Christmas dinner party this weekend, and my house is a mess. A total wreck! Please, please, please tell me you’re free. I will totally pay double for the inconvenience.”

Gabriela’s heart quickened. “I-I… Yes! I’m free.”

Paige’s breath whooshed out in a sigh. “Oh, thank you. Thank you! I swear, Gabriela, without you, my house would be a pigsty. You’d think I raised these kids in a barn.”

Gabby chuckled. “Kids will be kids. I can be there at eight, right after I drop my daughter off at school if that works?”

“That’d be perfect. You’re a life saver! Our kids will be at school, and my husband and I will be at work, so just come on in like normal. You’ll have the place to yourself.”

“Thank you, Paige. You have no idea how much this means to me.”

“No, thank you. I hope you have a great night!”

“You, too.”

Once the call was disconnected, Gabriela let out a little squeal. This was exactly what she’d needed—a break. Paige’s house was big, and it’d take Gabby most of the day to clean, but the pay would push her beyond what she needed for rent with a bit left over to pick up some food and a couple more Christmas gifts for Ana.

Clutching her phone to her chest, she closed her eyes and took in a deep breath, releasing it in a small, relieved, “Thank you.”

Two

Broxen kor’Stygos had spent countless hours of his life waiting. Waiting for opportunities, waiting for threats, waiting for word to act. If nothing else, he’d shown a talent for waiting. Some would’ve called it patience, though that wasn’t quite right—it was more a matter of quieting his conscious mind and shifting fully to sensory input and instinct.

He’d once waited beside a beaten-up blast door in a dark alley for three cycles—almost two full Earth days—while his boss at the time, Astius’s father, had conducted business in the back room of a club. Though that experience hadn’t been pleasant thanks to hunger and the alley’s lingering stench, Broxen hadn’t once been bored or restless. He’d simply done what he was good at. He’d watched and waited.

Astius would’ve called that being reactive instead of proactive or some kruk like that, but the ability to simply wait while remaining fully alert for such long periods had served Broxen well. When he was a kit, it had often been the difference between going hungry and getting some food in his belly.

So why was this wait so unbearable?

It was routine; he’d done this almost every weekday in the spring, fall, and winter over the last year. And because it was routine, he knew it was short. Just over thirty minutes most days, closer to forty every now and again.