Fathom (Mermaids of Montana #3) - Elsa Jade Page 0,36

being caught with weapons would harm Tritona’s intergalactic standing if closed-world statutes were ignored. Which left him at a disadvantage.

Not that it mattered. There’d been many a time when the Tritonyri had no real weapons—but they’d had Sting.

Leaning forward to put his nose nearly to the front protective shield of the vehicle gave him a partially obstructed view into the shop—labeled as “Mr. Evens’ Odds & Ends Shop” in a decorative script that his universal translator had trouble parsing. An Earther male was coming around from behind the counter as Lana entered. The flash of his teeth was clearly meant to be welcoming, as far as Sting could tell, and Lana’s body language stayed loose and unworried except for the inevitable constriction of the protective e-suit under her Earther clothing. Why did she go around in so many layers of cloth that distracted him with thinking of all the ways that clothing could come off but somehow his minimal layers made him a liability?

The Earther male was speaking and gesturing with some effusiveness that was probably intended to convey an emotional reaction that Sting could not translate even with his implant. In response, Lana abruptly stiffened, her shoulders bowing inward. No implant needed to recognize the pained shock in her stance, as if she’d taken a blow to the center of her chest.

Sting was out of the vehicle and standing behind her before she found her breath to ask, “What did you say?”

It was a measure of her dismay that she didn’t respond to his unauthorized presence at her back. But the other male gave him a look—a look where his expression didn’t change, not even a startled flare of his pupils, Sting noted. This one was not surprised by his appearance, no matter what Lana had warned about the sudden appearance of an “alien merman” in Sunset Falls.

Evens returned his focus to Lana. “I’m not absolutely certain, you must understand. But I wanted you to be forewarned, just in case it’s her.”

Sting let out a soft noise of warning when Lana flinched again. Whatever the male had told her would not be allowed to hurt her.

But again she didn’t respond to him, caught up in some internal turbulence where he couldn’t follow, not even if she fell. “She’s here in Sunset Falls? My mother is alive?”

Chapter 8

Her mother, alive and in Sunset Falls. The impossibility spun around her brain like a whirlpool threatening to drag her down.

“What are the chances?” she wondered weakly.

Evens shrugged one shoulder. “High, actually. You were deliberately targeting the very people that Marisol Wavercrest couldn’t reach.” He peered at her. “Am I wrong in supposing that your mother is exactly who you had in mind when you suggested this unconventional alternative?” He half closed one eye. “Or was it just the sort of people who might be interested in…extraterrestrial activities of the romantic kind.”

As he threw in this new wrinkle, Lana straightened up so hard she feared her spine might snap. “You mean, um, extracurricular? Or maybe extraordinary? Or—”

Sting rumbled low under his breath. “He knows about the IDA.”

Lana hissed at him, as if he’d revealed more than way too much alien skin.

But Evens nodded. “I’ve known for some time that there was more going on in this quiet town than meets the unenhanced eye.” He gave her another half wink. “The Intergalactic Dating Agency center on the edge of town brought some…interesting opportunities my way. I was disappointed when it ceased operations. With the recent return of ships, I thought perhaps business was resuming.” He tilted his head. “But perhaps I was mistaken regarding the nature of the business.”

She bit the insides of her cheeks, disturbingly aware that anything she said could be breaking closed-world protocols. She didn’t want Sting or anyone else on Tritona to get in trouble because of her.

Not when that was the reason her mother had disappeared so long ago.

She swallowed hard and croaked out, “We can neither confirm nor deny…”

Evens cleared his throat in a little laugh, tucking his chin even as he flicked his gaze upward—and up and up—to the looming presence behind her. It wasn’t like she’d not noticed or suddenly forgotten Sting was behind her. How could she when his magnetic frequency, his specific gravity, the very charge of his electrons, seemed intimately tuned to her erratic powers?

Also, it was really, really hard to deny that she had three-hundred-something mostly naked pounds of alien standing right behind her.

She tried for a careful smile. “Cosplay accident? Overeager