"Britt-"

"My woman has suggested you leave her presence. Do so now before I assist you in the doing."

Thomas stared up at Dalden for a moment. He'd only glanced briefly at him before, then dismissed him as some dim-witted jock who got unevenly divided-lots of body, little mind. And even now, Dalden didn't seem all that threatening, standing behind Brittany with his hands on her shoulders, his expression calm despite what he'd just said.

Which prompted Thomas to remark snidely to Brittany, "Where'd you find this Neanderthal?"

"You can consider yourself really fortunate that he probably doesn't have a translation for that word," Brittany guessed aloud. "He's new to our country and doesn't have a full grasp of the language yet. Should I translate for him? You think he might appreciate derision coming from a shrimp like you?"

Tom finally got the point that his physical well-being might be in danger. There was a smidgen of alarm, but it was quickly dismissed. They were in a public place, after all, and one that usually had a few policemen roaming around it. So he felt absolutely safe in the assumption that Dalden wouldn't start anything there.

Brittany was sure of that as well; she'd just hoped Tom wouldn't be and would back off. So they were both somewhat surprised when Dalden set Brittany to the side of him, then completely behind him, where she didn't have a chance of seeing what he was going to do.

What he did was pointless, though, when Martha was in interfering mode. Dalden had no sooner wrapped his large hand around the man's neck than his fingers were grasping thin air instead.

A low rumble of annoyance came out of him while Martha was saying in Sha-Ka'ani, "So the eye doctors around here are really going to make a killing this week, but better that than you splattering his blood all over this pretty white floor."

"Where did you put him?" Dalden demanded in the same language.

"Back outside. He'll think he was so scared of you, he ran really fast. And lucky for you. Starting a physical brawl in a building devoted to politicians is a sure trip to a local jail. Remember our discussion of their jails? Places to be avoided at all costs?"

Brittany had heard enough that she didn't understand. "You guys are doing it again," she complained as she moved back around Dalden to find the space in front of him empty now. "And where did Tom go?"

"Who cares?" Martha countered. "We've had too many distractions as it is, when you're both supposed to be working toward our common goal Jorran-hunting. Our friendly Centurian has volunteered that there are two more of his good buddies in there doing what he was doing, which was prepping everyone in the building for Jorran's arrival so that he's greeted by one and all with open arms. Find the other two and send them to me for new programming. Then we can get back to discussing Dalden's lack of warrior restraint in his dealings with foes and lifemates."

"Huh?"

Brittany didn't get any further explanation, which was becoming an annoying habit with these two. She almost preferred hearing the no-make-sense stuff that fell into the "classified info" realm than these cryptic remarks she thought she might understand if she could get past the disbelief stage. And this "warrior" label? Once mentioned-and Martha hadn't wanted it mentioned-it was now being mentioned much too often. Hardly indicative of a national guard type of part-time soldiers; more like a full-time career.

Well, he had the body for it, and he certainly had the reflexes. So he was a soldier, and they called themselves warriors where he came from. She could deal with that. Why did they try to fluff it off and downplay the fact that he was a military man?

Just more of the little oddities that didn't add up. And the main source of answers went off on Dalden's hip as he began covering all the offices in the building, getting to ask questions now without worry of causing alarm, because he took that rod with him. While Brittany was left with the foot-traffic crowd again and two hours remaining before City Hall closed shop for the day.

But she would get some answers, and pretty soon. She was working for them, helping them to round up this ring of thieves. Though lunatics might be a better word for people who thought they could just pop in and become an instant politician. She deserved better than double-talk, tasteless jokes, and when that failed, simply being ignored.

« ^ »

BRITTANY HAD NEVER REALIZED HOW EROTIC A MAN could be in tight jeans until she saw Dalden in the pair that had been made especially for him. Or maybe it was just him. Actually, it probably was just him, because the sight of him when he came out of the dressing room, with the long-sleeved white cotton shirt tucked into those dark blue jeans was such a turn-on that she almost dragged him back into the dressing room.

Of course, helping him to look normal didn't help to keep eyes off of him. His amazing height and size couldn't be disguised. But at least he didn't look like a rock star now, though Brittany cracked up when the seamstress who'd supplied the new clothes hadn't wanted payment for them, but had blushingly asked for a picture of Dalden instead. She figured if he wasn't a celebrity now, he would be one day, and she wanted proof that she'd sewn for him.

Night was approaching by the time they left the mall. Her first day working for Dalden had been pretty successful. Even though Jorran hadn't been found yet, three of his people had been rounded up and sent off to Martha for interrogation. With night just around the corner, her job was over for the day. And as much as she hated the thought of losing his company even for a little while, she supposed she ought to offer to get him back to his own lodgings.

So as she was driving out of the mall parking lot, she remarked, "I know you said you couldn't get to your hotel yesterday for some reason, but you implied you could today. Shall I drop you off?"

"My place is now with you."

She spared him a glance. "You want to sleep on my couch again?"

He smiled at her. "What we sleep on may be of your choosing."

The chair and laying there in his arms all night again flashed through her mind and brought on a blush, even though he was probably using the "we" in a singular sense, rather than meaning him and her together.

But if he was going to spend the night again, she'd have to feed him, and she really didn't feel like a trip to the grocery with him in tow. Besides, she could picture shopping carts banging into each other in the aisles, cans and boxes spilling all over the place, if he walked into the local food store.

With quite a few hours before bedtime ahead of them, and.' since they didn't have to get up as early tomorrow as she was accustomed to, she suggested, "Want to go out to dinner? Catch a movie? Go dancing maybe?" Then she grinned. "You know, a date?"

"Dancing?"

She rolled her eyes at him. "Why are you looking like that's, another new word to you?"

Martha, quiet since they'd left City Hall, decided to explain, "There's no equivalent for it on Sha-Ka'an. It's a form of exercise that requires music, but music hasn't been embraced yet by the Sha-Ka'ani."

"No television, no music, but he's familiar with computers. Do you realize how bizarre that is?"

"Do you realize how diverse this world is in cultures?" Martha shot back.

Brittany sighed, allowing the point. "All right, dinner first, then we'll play it by ear. And since we're not exactly dressed for fine dining, how about a pizza? Or two." She chuckled, giving him another glance. "Or three."