Alien Vacation Ch. 07

Tags up front: alien, psychic powers, telepathy, male-female sex, consent, cop, blowjob, rough, harem.

*****

The pack of cops filled his hallway, with the dour, mustached man in the civilian suit in front. As Kyle saw them, they picked up their pace from "purposeful" to "confrontational," though he didn't see any guns evident. A glance down the opposite end of the hallway didn't reveal any further cops. At least they didn't think he was so dangerous he needed to be hit from two sides at once.

I'm sorry, I wasn't looking out for other minds in the building, apologized the disembodied alien bonded to him. Xin sounded completely sincere. Phenomenal psychic powers or not, even she had her limits.

Sighing, Kyle pulled the door to his apartment shut again and twisted the key in the doorknob to lock it once more.

The man in the suit scowled, though his mustache was naturally shaped to give him that look anyway. "Something to hide, Mr. Donovan?" he asked, gesturing to the closed door.

"The carpet in there is terrible," said Kyle. "Who are you?"

"I'm Special Agent Jones, FBI," said the mustache. He flashed his identification for perhaps one and a half seconds before tucking it back in his pocket again.

He's an NSA agent working with the program at the Naval Weapons Station where you found me, Xin explained. He's only claiming to be FBI to get support from the local cops. This isn't about the gun bust at the hotel. They don't know you're connected to that at all.

"Mr. Donovan, I'm investigating an incident at the Naval Weapons Station the other night. You were there on your last run as a messenger for a job you just quit this morning. I'd like to ask you a few questions about that."

I can slow them down enough that you and I can still talk in between. They won't notice. Don't worry.

I'm not worried, Kyle thought. Not much, anyway. Little surprised at that.

Yeah, that's because I'm keeping your physiological reactions calm. It breaks the feedback loop of physical input affecting your mental judgment. I can help you with this. We're not going to jail. I won't let it happen.

"Is there someplace we might go to talk?" asked Jones.

"There's not really enough space for anyone to sit down inside," said Kyle. He glanced around at the cops flanking Jones: two white men, a black man, and an Asian woman, all in uniform. The woman was pretty. He noticed, of course. Even facing something like this, of course he noticed if a woman was pretty.

Hell, yes, we notice these things.

"I just moved in. Still haven't unpacked everything. And it's tiny," Kyle added.

The problem is I can't just dominate their minds. Not so many, not while they're all guarded and I'm still not at my best. I can help you navigate this and I can influence them and...uh...make the best of this. It was only the last comment that made Kyle wonder if she was taking this as seriously as he first thought.

What's that mean? Kyle asked.

"Agent Jones," grunted one of the cops, as if reminding him of something. The cop turned his eyes on Kyle. "Sir, we're gonna have to do a quick pat-down before we go any further. Please turn around and put your hands on the wall."

"Am I being detained?" asked Kyle.

"It's just for our safety."

"Uh-huh," said Kyle, turning and moving as ordered. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw one of the cops step forward: specifically, the very pretty woman. Her nametag read, "Hirata." He also noticed a couple of awkward, surprised glances between the other cops.

Holy shit, they were gonna plant evidence on me? What the hell?

Then he felt her hands on his body. Thankfully, he had left the money with Angela, so there was nothing for her to find on him, nor in his saddlebags if they were searched. His phone was dead, too. The search bought Xin and Kyle a few more seconds to coordinate.

It wouldn't have mattered. Matt and George there were gonna "find" some drugs as they frisked you to use as leverage. They pull that shit all the time.

Holy shit, are you serious?

It's leverage. They don't even know if you're likely to have committed a crime. The cops don't even know exactly what's being investigated. Theft and trespass and nothing else because it's all "classified." They just think they're helping out the FBI and planting evidence is how Matt and George roll.

Asami here isn't part of that crew or that mindset and she's getting suspicious of them. She was already thinking about doing this to cock-block them. I gave her a little nudge of encouragement. Nothing more forceful than you making a suggestion with your ordinary voice.

Officer Hirata's hands slipped under his jacket, feeling his toned muscles around his sides and his back. Then she shamelessly slipped her hands around to his groin, as if none of the others would notice or say anything. They did not.

Plus I figured it would be much more pleasant this way for the both of you.

Officer Asami Hirata continued her search. She wasn't rough, but she wasn't shy, either.

Okay, so what the fuck with "Agent Jones" here? Kyle wondered.

He knows about the program where they caught me. He knows I "died" and your bike was seen nearby. They called the local cops to have you followed but obviously I helped you lose those guys. Jones has been playing catch-up on you ever since. Apparently your phone dying when it did kept them from finding you that way.

Officer Hirata finished her search, stepping back from him. "Okay, you can turn around now," she said.

Jones is suspicious, but he also knows he doesn't have that much to go on. Like I said, play it cool. You're not alone.

Okay. Cool, Kyle thought. He turned around.

Also Asami is hotter than that uniform lets on.

God damn it, Xin.

"Can you tell me why you quit your job this morning, Mr. Donovan?" asked Jones.

"I've wanted to quit for a while. Monday was a miserable day of riding around in the rain and almost getting killed on my bike about twenty times. I just don't want to do it anymore. What happened at the Naval Station?"

"How about I ask the questions," Jones replied flatly. "Do you remember the package you took to the station?"

"Yeah, it was an envelope sealed in plastic. I picked it up from a lab in Pasadena."

"Did you look at it? Did you make any stops between picking it up and the delivery?"

"No, it was a straight shot. I never look at packages. It's part of the job."

And it was sealed, and you would have had to break the seal to look at it, and they never should have trusted a package like that to a civilian courier service anyway. He knows all that. He's thinking it right now. Don't get into it.

"What did you do after dropping it off?"

"I headed out. It was my last delivery."

"Yeah, where did you go?"

Kyle shrugged. "Out. There's a shopping center near there and I was hungry. I had to stop to check the chain on my bike right after I left the station, but after that I went to get food."

Good, said Xin. Good call. Tell as much of the truth as you can.

"You stopped outside the station? Did you see anything strange while you were there? Anything at all?"

"Just some lights flashing around on the station and a helicopter passing by overhead. They hit me with their lights for a second, too, I think. The guy at the front desk said they were running a security drill or something, so I figured that's all it was. Why, was something else going on? Was it something secret?"

"I'll ask the questions," Jones repeated. "So you got flashed by a helicopter searchlight and you didn't stop for it?"

"Is there a law that says I should? I've had searchlights pass over me before."

"It didn't do more than pass over you?" Jones asked suspiciously.

With a little urging from Xin, Kyle merely shrugged. "Not that I noticed."

"You were in that spotlight again when you got to the shopping center."

Kyle blinked in feigned surprise. "No way, that was the same helicopter?"

Hah!

In the corner of his eye, Kyle saw Officer Hirata bite her lip and look away, trying not to laugh. He realized she'd caught on to his act. More importantly, Jones apparently didn't. He grumbled under his breath. The other cops seemed just as taken.

Playing dumb is a good strategy, actually. I can nudge them toward believing that more easily than I can if you completely stonewall.

"And where did you go after you got to the shopping center, Mr. Donovan?"

"I, uh..." Kyle paused for effect. He glanced to Hirata again, then away as if nervous. A little bit of high school and college drama classes went a long way. He'd always been good at improv. "I shouldn't admit this, but...my girlfriend and I broke up a little while ago and she, uh...well, she used to get this body wash from Victoria's Secret, and I kinda like it, so I went to pick up a bottle."

Jones stared. One of the other cops looked Kyle up and down, six feet of denim and worn leather held up by motorcycle boots. "You get body wash from Victoria's Secret?"

"Hey, don't judge me!"

Officer Hirata had to work to hold back a laugh, and it wasn't at Kyle. None of the other men noticed it. Kyle knew she had Xin to thank for that. So did he.

"Okay, you went from work to Victoria's Secret to, what? Food? In the rain? After being in the rain all day and into the evening?" Jones fumed as Kyle nodded and shrugged again. "Then what? Where have you been for the last two days?"

"You've been waiting for me for two days?" Kyle blinked with a degree of surprise he didn't entirely have to fake.

They focused mostly on my discarded body at first. It wasn't until the local cops lost you and they realized they couldn't determine a cause of death that you might be more important after all. Jones hasn't been waiting here long, but the cops have had someone watching your apartment for the last thirty-six hours.

"Just answer the question, Mr. Donovan."

Kyle frowned. "I had a couple one-night stands."

Again, Jones looked incredulous. "You went from shopping at Victoria's Secret to a hook-up?"

"Hell, yeah. I'm available, and I'm secure in my masculinity. Got nice, soft skin, too."

That time, Officer Hirata wasn't the only one who had to work to maintain her composure. Two of the other cops had to turn away. Jones, however, began to turn an angry red. "Does this one-night stand have a name?"

"I'm sorry, Agent Jones, am I being detained? Am I under suspicion for anything? Do I need an alibi or something? Because I'm starting to think I need to speak to a lawyer."

Jones opened his mouth, pointing an angry finger at Kyle...and then hesitated.

Ordinarily he wouldn't let that stop him...but with a little telepathic suggestion of doubt to help things along, he'll remember how dodgy that is. He'll also think twice about how far he can reach with his FBI agent act in front of four real police officers if I suggest that, too...

Jones glanced to the officers. Hirata and Isaiah both frowned, shaking their heads to signal they saw no cause. The others had nothing to put in.

"For now, no," Jones conceded, though he put on the grumpy face of a man still trying to assert his authority despite being caught in the wrong. "You didn't look at the package? You didn't see anything strange? And nobody has talked to you about this? Or vice versa?"

"No, no, no, and...uh, no," Kyle answered, pretending to have difficulty keeping up. "Can we call this good now?"

"Yeah," Jones decided finally. He fished a business card out of his pocket. "You call me if you think of anything odd about that night. It could be important."

"Okay. I will." Kyle took the card. "Good luck with your secret investigation mission."

He waited a little more until Jones and the offices withdrew from his door. Kyle picked his saddlebags and helmet up off the floor and inserted his keys in the doorknob again to let himself in, looking their way only once.

He caught Officer Hirata looking back. Almost grinning.

It wasn't until he closed and locked the door behind him that he asked, hissing to keep himself quiet, "Xin, what the fuck is going on?"

I'm still searching for answers. They're really leaving, though. You can relax. Give me a few minutes to eavesdrop on Jones and the others to find out what I can. If you let me concentrate, I can hang on to their minds longer even without being in sight.

Kyle moved to the window of his apartment, looking out onto the alley below. It wasn't much of a view, and as it turned out he didn't see any patrol cars or anything that might be a secret NSA agent's ride.

That thought froze him in his tracks. Oh shit, what if they bugged the apartment already? he thought. Instantly, Kyle regretted having even whispered anything once he got inside.

They haven't. I wouldn't be able to detect that with my powers, necessarily, but Jones apparently would have known about it and he hasn't got anything there. Sorry, it's gonna be a few minutes. Maybe more if I can get them to stop and talk.

Kyle let out another sigh. His studio apartment was nothing but a bunch of boxes scattered around against the walls, shelves that hadn't been loaded up yet, a kitchen nook similarly needing to be unpacked, and a futon spread out to function as a bed. It was all he could afford. The only separate space here was the small bathroom.

The shower beckoned to him. After all the fun he'd had today, along with this little bit of stress as he came home, he needed a nice, long shower. Kyle started shedding his clothes and headed for the relief of hot water.

Wait. No. Kyle looked back over his studio and his belongings. He was going on a trip. He didn't want to have to set stuff up after a nice relaxing shower. That meant packing now, which in turn meant laundry now. Knocking out any bills that needed to be paid would be smart, too, just so he could put it out of his mind, and the trash... once again, phenomenal psychic powers couldn't take care of everything. For the rest, there was plain old menial labor.

* * *

Asami followed Agent Jones and her fellow officers out of the apartment building. Occasional radio traffic broke the silence, but none of them spoke. They passed a couple of other residents in the hall, who gave the typical "what are the cops doing here?" double-take. Asami had much the same question.

Their instructions had been fairly simple: FBI needs some back-up during an interview in case the subject is dangerous or needs to be arrested. Something about a trespass and possible theft at the Naval Weapons Station on the coast. Don't ask too many questions, because it's all classified stuff. Back-up only. Be a team player.

Easier said than done with Matt and George on the "team." Asami knew better. There was never anything she could really pin on them, nothing she could bring up as a complaint or an accusation that would definitely stick, and anything short of that would probably come down on her like a ton of bricks. She knew what happened to cops who "snitched" on each other. As if it shouldn't be a given when other cops abused their authority. Or worse.

She'd feared this little job would be just another example. That guy Kyle was a good guy. She somewhat suspected it as she heard the rundown on him from Jones and saw his complete lack of a rap sheet of any kind. As soon as she laid eyes on him, she knew. She knew for sure. This was a compassionate, safe, basically honest, stand-up guy she could trust. Cute and sexy and with a great bod under those clothes, too, but not some spy or somebody who stole from the Navy. Come on.

She already felt like she could have been friends with him for years. Had they met under any other circumstance, they'd probably be hitting it off right now. Maybe more than hitting it off. Asami wanted to spend a little more time with those thoughts, but she had to keep her mind on her current company: Isaiah, who was basically cool, Matt and George who were basically not...and Jones.

She was expected to be a team player. She was expected to show good faith toward Matt and George, too. Expected to be cool with whatever little side conversation the had with Jones right before going out on this call. They were cops. Jones wasn't a cop, though. Not like the others.

"So what was that about?" Asami asked once they were out of the building. Their cars were parked right around the corner.

"Obviously can't get into it, Officer Hirata," Jones grumbled. "Security stuff."

"Was that really all you had on him? He was outside the gate when 'something' happened and he didn't stop for a helicopter spotlight? Nobody tried to flag him down, nobody flashed him with police lights? He didn't exactly seem dangerous."

"Officer, you're getting into matters that don't concern you."

"If it's so important, why are you out here alone? Why do you need us?"

"The urgency outweighed the security." Jones stopped to turn and scowl at her impatiently. "We figured we could trust your department to help us out. But the truth is I've only got so many people to work with and I couldn't arrange anything else on such short notice. So, thank you for your support, Officer Hirata," he added with a sneer. He threw a displeased look at the others, specifically Matt and George, before he ducked into his car and turned on the engine.

"We don't need to write anything up?" Asami asked through his rolled-up side window. "What's next for this?"

"Nothing. We're done. Goodbye."

"That's it? Why are you mad?" she asked, though she knew exactly why. Kyle had made an idiot out of him with those answers. Now she found herself wishing for a replay.

Jones pulled out of his parking spot without another look or even a second glance. He barely even looked where he was going as he pulled out, too, hitting the accelerator with an almost palpable note of contempt. Asami felt like running him down and writing him a ticket for the way he drove off. She'd have been well within her rights, except for the fact he had a badge.

Just like the other three guys she found watching her as she turned around.

"What the hell was that in there, Asami?" asked George.

"What was what?"

"Stepping in to pat the guy down," said Matt. "You should've let George or me do that."

"Why? What's it matter?" she asked. "Hey, you don't think he'd have magically had something incriminating on him if it was you doing the search instead of me, do you?"

"Oh, you fuckin' little snot, you're still a rookie to me," George snapped. He came forward, jabbing his finger at her chest. "You don't..."

"Don't touch me," she warned him once.

"...tell us what to fuckin' do or how to handle a fuckin' suspect and oowww!! Fuck!" George shouted as Asami grabbed his fingers and twisted.

"Alright, drop it!" demanded Isaiah. He didn't much like Matt or George, either, but as the senior officer he had a role to play as a peacemaker. The higher-ups emphasized it all the time. Team unity and all. "Everybody take a time out. Guys, go about your patrol. Asami, you're due to clock out. Go turn in your car. And everybody take a couple days off," Isaiah added as soon as he thought of it. "You all got vacation time. Burn a couple days. Now."

"What the fuck?" George fumed. "You don't get to tell us what to do with our days!"

"No? You wanna spend the next couple days sitting through meetings and writing statements about what just happened to your finger and why? Not so much, do you? Put in the note as soon as you're in your car. And get out of here. All of you."

Asami threw another glance at the other officers. She wasn't going to get anywhere with them this time, anyway. She knew that. So did Isaiah, apparently. He was trying to maintain order among the other officers, which she understood when he included her in his order for "time out," but in keeping this from escalating he was also trying to be a friend. Asami appreciated those. She could use more of them...a thought that prompted her to glance back to the apartment building and the hot stranger with the warm vibe. If nothing else, she'd protected him from being railroaded by a few goons with badges tonight. That was something.