Free Warrior from the Shadowland by Cassandra Gannon Page B

slammer. 
“My cousin’s scared.  Explain that you’re just an ordinary cop and that you’re
not going to hurt her.”  He spoke like he was used to having people listen.
    Sullivan
wasn’t exactly the world’s greatest listener.  Melanie expected her cousin to
blow him off, just on general principals.  To her surprise Sullivan heaved
another sigh, instead.  He loosened his grip on Ty’s arm and spared her an
annoyed glance.  “We aren’t the Gestapo, kid.  You’re just getting tossed in
jail, not beaten with phonebooks or fed to attack dogs.  Deal with it, okay? 
Because, I’m givin’ ya fair warning, you start crying and I might rethink the
rubber hoses.”
    Ty
seemed to believe Sullivan’s grudging, pseudo-reassurances.  Melanie could see
her relax a bit.  Far from tears, Ty began to focus on the actual nuts and
bolts of her arrest.  “Will you fingerprint us like they do on TV?  That could
actually be interesting.  I’m not sure we have fingerprints, do we, Thar?”
    “Ty,
honey, shhh!”  Tharsis hissed back.  “Let’s exercise our Constitutional right
to remain silent.  Haven’t you ever seen one of the human Law and Order shows?”
    Sullivan
rolled his eyes.  “God, this really is just what I need today.”  He
muttered to no one in particular.  “Alright, Trekkies, this way to the
mothership.  We’ll get you away from all the bad Earthlings.”  He ushered them
forward, out the door.
    Uriel
turned to Melanie.  “Your leader detains his prisoners on a ship?”
    Melanie
really wished Sullivan had left her in charge of the other two whackos instead
of this one.  Uriel made her uncomfortable.  Despite his better living through
chemistry, the guy looked like the centerfold pinup image of All American maleness. 
There was something so wrong about lusting after the scumbag she’d just
busted for stealing drugs from a hospital lab.  Melanie had been a cop for six
years and she’d never been attracted to a prisoner before.
    “Sullivan’s
not my leader.  He’s my boss.”  Melanie muttered, since there really wasn’t
another response to his craziness.
    Uriel
nodded.  “Ah, I didn’t know that there was distinction between those words. 
I’m sorry.  Human isn’t my first language.”  His earnest smile should have been
bottled and sold to men everywhere.
    Melanie
made a face.  “Whatever.  Let’s just go.”  She took hold of his arm and refused
to notice the size of his bicep.
    Uriel
was definitely the best looking man she’d ever arrested.  Or, okay, ever seen.  Ever .  Like some kind of refugee from Soap Opera Land, where all the men
were designed to live their lives in bath towels.  His blond hair was cut in a
short, military style with a mahogany streak at his temple.  For some reason,
he wore a watermelon colored t-shirt with “World’s Sexiest Grandma” written
across the front in sparkly, cursive letters.  Maybe it was the name of his
band.  In any case, Melanie wasn’t sure how he managed to look so ready to try
out for the Navy Seals in it.  It must’ve been his stance.
    The
guy dressed like a freak from a bad rave, but he stood like a warrior.
    Uriel
didn’t try to struggle free of her grasp or challenge her authority.  With
fluid athleticism, he calmly strode beside her as she led him out into the
South Florida heat.  Melanie immediately cringed at the Indian summer humidity
that pressed down on her like a sweltering wave of mugginess.
    God,
it was days like this that questioned her sanity living so close to the
Equator.
    Melanie
knew it was ridiculous, but she couldn’t help but squint up into the sun
bleached sky as she stepped off the sidewalk.  For the past few days, she’d
been staring at it more and more.  Something just looked... wrong.   As usual,
there were darkening storm clouds forming in the otherwise clear, blue
expanse.  If you lived in South Florida, you got used to evening downpours. 
Still, it just looked