He mentally kicked himself for even mentioning the R-word, just when he was finally succeeding in getting his mind off classified government secrets and their sale. "Say you got any plans for this afternoon?" he inquired impulsively, changing the subject. "Maybe we could go for drinks, or something?"This isn't too smart, he realized, even as he stepped closer to the alluring young woman, flashing his most ingratiating smile. Now that he knew she was local, he should just play it cool and look her up after his business with Morton was wrapped up. I can't help it, though, he thought, unable to resist the almost magnetic attraction drawing him onward. I mean, look at her! Unfortunately, her immediate response to his invitation was an embarrassed wince. "Gee, that sounds great, but I promised my friends I'd hook up with them uptop." She glanced at the paved walkway leading away from the Bottomless Pit. "In fact, I'm probably running late already."Damn! He knew a brush-off when he heard one. So much for a world outside of time, he thought irritably. His restored spirits, and mounting excitement, went into a nosedive. Time-wasting little tease! Don't tell me she wasn't flirting with me shamelessly this whole time.

Then, after he had already written her off, Isabel smiled slyly and said, "You know, Mr. Lieutenant, I'd love to see you in uniform sometime. I'll bet you look just like Tom Cruise." She reached over and adjusted the lapel of his flight jacket. "Maybe you can give me your phone number?"Maybe his lurid fantasies weren't quite dead after all. "Sure," he said, "if you'll give me yours."Another sheepish wince, followed by an inviting gaze. "I'd rather give you a call, if that's all right." She shrugged her shoulders, tossing her flowing blond hair at the same time. "It's complicated," she explained vaguely.

A jealous boyfriend? he speculated. Overprotective parents? Frankly, he didn't need those kinds of hassles, either. Seeing nothing to lose, and plenty to gain, he scribbled down his cell phone number on a scrap of paper he found in his wallet. "Here," he said cheerfully, handing her the improvised note. "You can reach me there most of the time, except when I'm on duty, of course."Naturally," she replied. She folded the slip of paper carefully and placed it in her back pocket. "I've got to run," she said, retrieving her jacket and slipping it back on. "But I'll be in touch, I promise!"I sure hope so, Ramirez thought, eyeing her hungrily as she hurried onto the trail back to the rest area and the elevator. Chances were, he might never hear from her again, but even still, his accidental meeting with this hot little number was the luckiest break he'd had in a long, long time.

Now he just had to get through this weekend without ending up behind bars.

Or worse.

Men! Isabel Evans thought with disdain. Human or alien, they were all the same; flirt with them a little, bat your big brown eyes adoringly, and you could get them to do almost anything. Lieutenant Ramirez hadn't even put up a fight. Whatever his full story was, he'd been just as easy to manipulate as the high school boys she was used to wrapping around her little finger.

As she rushed back toward the elevator, she worried briefly about whether she had maybe laid the vamp act on a little too thick. Had that whole dizzy spell routine been too much? What if she'd tipped her hand when she fell into his arms, raising his suspicions instead of lowering his defenses? Naah, she decided promptly. He'd fallen for it hook, line, and sinker, she could tell. Another woman would have seen through that transparent ploy right away, but, as she'd learned repeatedly since sixth grade at the latest, subtlety was lost on most members of the male gender. Sometimes you couldn't be too obvious, especially where men were concerned.

Besides, she reflected, I could have been even more blatant, given the setting. Stalagmites, caverns, unexplored nether regions… the possibilities for smutty double entendres had been almost too readily available. Not that 1 needed them, she thought with a smirk.

Her confidence in her own time-tested techniques and tactics gave way to unsettling fears and suspicions as she considered the information she had managed to extract from the lecherous lieutenant. Classified military experiments at White Sands? Isabel chewed nervously on her lower lip, disturbed by the possible implications of Ramirez's background. Visions of top secret alien autopsies and extraterrestrial artifacts paraded behind her fretful brown eyes, awakening deep-rooted fears and anxieties that were never very far from her thoughts.

What was an air force test pilot doing with the man who shot Liz two years ago? Could these shady goings-on have anything to do with RosweUs hidden alien secrets? The last few years had taught Isabel to be distrustful of almost everything and everyone, including herself. A high school counselor, a congresswoman, a deputy, a waitress, new friends and admirers… all had proven to pose hidden dangers. She couldn't help worrying that her unearthly heritage was about to catch up with her again.

Won't it ever end? she asked bitterly, waiting in line for the elevator back to the surface. Won't we ever be safe, anywhere on this planet?

"So," Alex said, flagrantly trying to take Liz's mind off her nerve-racking brush with Joe Morton, "there's just one thing about this whole alien royalty bit I don't understand. If Max is Luke Skywalker, Michael is Han Solo, and Isabel is Princess Leia, what does that make the rest of us?"Hmm, I can't speak for myself," Maria said, "but I always thought there was something very C-3PO about you."Thanks a lot!" Alex replied in mock indignation. He balanced on the back of a wooden bench outside the Visitors Center, his tennis shoes resting on the timbered seat of the bench next to Liz and Maria.

"Hey, don't complain," Maria warned. "I could've said Chewbacca. Or Jar Jar Binks." She glanced at Liz, playfully punching her preoccupied best friend in the shoulder. "What do you think, Liz? Is Alex more of a 'droid or a Wookiee?"Liz mustered a feeble smile at her friends' lighthearted banter. She knew they were both working overtime to raise her spirits, and she didn't want to disappoint them, but she couldn't help it; she still felt like an emotional basket case.

Her nerves were shot, and she jumped at every unexpected noise or movement. Her eyes restlessly scanned the surrounding scenery, half-expecting to see Joe Morton, gun in hand, reappear without warning. I've never felt this scared before, she thought, not even when tfie FBI or the Skins were chasing us.

Granted, there was nothing overtly threatening about their present location. The three teenagers, all one hundred percent human, sat outside the Cavems's bustling Visitors Center. The blazing sun, burning brightly overhead, baked the packed parking lots and arid desert terrain around them, keeping the temperature in the upper nineties, even in the shade. Spiny cacti and flowering red agave and ocotillo bushes sprouted stubbornly from the dusty brown soil surrounding the low, one-story Visitors Center. A nearby wooden kiosk displayed a variety of posted notices regarding park safety and regulations. None of the notices, Liz guessed, said anything about how to cope with fearsome, trigger-happy monsters from your past.

She watched a vulture circle slowly in the cloudless blue sky stretching over the desert, the grim harbinger of death doing little to dispel the disturbing memory of her own excruciating brush with mortality, lying wounded and bleeding on the scuffed tile floor of the Crashdown. Nor did the scorching sun drive away the numbing chill that seemed to have settled into her flesh and bones for good. The rocky Guadalupe Mountains loomed on the horizon, harsh and forbidding, like her life now seemed to be.