Claimed by the Alien Bodyguard - Tiffany Roberts Page 0,67

dozens of cars to cross the intersection from every other direction, yet when it was time for Broxen’s lane to go, only four or five cars could proceed before the light changed again.

The six or so hours he’d estimated to travel to and from Boise was already far too long a time to be away from his females. A couple hours of shopping in between those trips was all he could’ve brought himself to bear, but at this rate, he was likely to be stuck in Boise for half the day.

It’s for them. For Gabriela and Ana.

He had a feeling he’d be reminding himself of that often today.

When he was finally able to turn into the parking lot, he was greeted by a sea of parked vehicles, hundreds and hundreds of them gleaming in the late morning sun. The two-lane road circling the outside of the parking lot was almost as busy as the city streets beyond it, and there were streams of people walking in and out of the mall.

Broxen clenched his jaw and—after another damned wait in a turn lane—turned down one of the rows of parking places. For what felt like an eternity, he wove up and down those lanes, seeking out an empty spot. Every time someone pulled out of a parking place, there was another vehicle ahead of him to claim it, or he’d already passed the spot and someone behind him swooped in to fill it.

He’d rather shovel snow from the driveway all winter—and risk attacks from hungry mountain lions—than deal with this regularly.

“Never realized how much I hate living in cities until I left Nakonin,” he muttered.

That thought only solidified what he’d already known—that house up in the mountains, surrounded by pine trees and fresh air and quiet spaces, that house where Gabriela and Ana were waiting for him…that was home. Not just a home, but his home. More than Nakonin or Turata had ever been.

When he finally found a place to park, it seemed as though he were miles from the mall building. He strode across the asphalt, passing other pedestrians and maneuvering around slow-moving cars whose drivers were seeking parking spots of their own, until finally he reached the mall entrance.

He hadn’t seen so many humans crammed into one place since he’d left New York City. They were walking alone, in pairs, in groups, adults and children, young and old, and every one of them had their own pace and seemed oblivious to everyone but their companions. Even with his height advantage—allowing him to see over the heads of most of the humans—it was difficult to navigate the crowd, especially considering just how many of those humans seemed to think it was okay to stop in the middle of walkways.

But Broxen held back his growing frustrations, once again reminding himself that this was for his females.

He waded through the crowd as gently as he could, mindful that his size and strength could lead to injuries were he to simply plow through these people. They were all likely here for the same reason he was—last-minute Christmas shopping. He couldn’t be irritated at them for that.

Broxen worked his way into a store that was packed with children and adults alike—a place that sold video games. He knew little about such things apart from them being popular. Fortunately, a couple of overheard conversations reassured him that he wasn’t the only adult in the store who knew nothing about the products it sold.

He wasn’t sure if Ana enjoyed video games, wasn’t sure if she’d ever even played them, but he was operating with only a vague sense of her interests—fueled by an immense drive to ensure her Christmas would be the best it could be.

Over the last few days, he’d done research. He’d read up on Christmas, its meaning, its purpose, on the associated traditions. Ana seemed the sort of child who’d be happy no matter what she woke up to on Christmas morning. She was grounded, grateful, and tougher than many of the big, brawny criminal thugs Broxen had associated himself with long ago. But he didn’t want her to walk out of her room in two days and find nothing but their squat, leaning tree.

She deserved better than that, much better. So did Gabriela.

The store’s employees were quite knowledgeable, and they recommended products that might appeal to nine-year-old girl—something called a Switch and a few games. They’d asked him whether he wanted to preorder one video game or another or sign up for