Free Perfect Specimen by Kate Donovan Page B

after your last class,” Durgan offered. “Just don’t blab about this to any of your friends in the meantime.”
    Lizzie sighed. Didn’t they realize that her only friends in the whole world were sitting in this very garage?
    And that was definitely using the word “friends” loosely.
     
    * * * *
     
    As a child, Sara had dreamed of the day when she’d be free of Ga’rag. Now his absence was chilling. She had rushed home, desperate to talk to him, even knowing he would berate and torture her. She wanted to save the Ryerson brothers. And she had to save her daughters. But she had been pacing and calling his name for almost an hour now without a response. Even the messages she left on her own voice mail account—their formal means of contacting one another—had gone unanswered.
    If this was a new tactic, it was effective. She imagined him in his spaceship, terminating their children’s lives then sneaking down to Earth to slip poison into Clay’s coffee. Clay, who had introduced her to wonderful, loving, mind-blowing sex. Who had looked beyond her slutty behavior to see something worth having. Worth saving.
    Except she didn’t want to be saved. Not now. If it were just her, and no children, she might have accepted his bold, chivalrous advances. But now . . .
    What if they’re already dead? All because you left that ridiculous diary on your desk.
    She hated herself for putting him in danger, but at least there was a silver lining. Clay’s younger brother—the crazy one—had made one excellent observation. In fact, it was so brilliant, she knew she would adore him forever.
    Ga’rag couldn’t come after the Ryerson brothers with guns blazing. He couldn’t breathe well enough on Earth to make so outrageous a display. Sure, he could make brief appearances in Sara’s apartment, brandishing his whip. He could also activate the pain chip in her nose whenever he wished.
    But hurt a big, strong human male? All she had to do was picture Clay’s lean muscles and broad chest to know Randy was absolutely correct. Even Mark, the psychologist brother, was fit enough to crush a gilled freak like Ga’rag in a physical confrontation.
    So he’ll poison them instead. Just like he did to Dad. And Mom. And Daniel Arroyo.
    But that would take time. Planning. Precision.
    She needed to interrupt any such plan, so she called out again. “Ga’rag! Please! I need to talk to you.”
    A knock sounded at the door, and Sara smiled despite herself. This was hardly the overlord’s style, which meant it was her knight in crazy armor. Which in turn meant he was still alive, thank God.
    Sifting her fingers through her hair to try and look presentable, she hurried to the door and flung it open, anxious to enjoy a fortifying hug, after which, of course, she would just as willingly send him away.
    For his own good.
    But it wasn’t her take-charge lover who stood before her. Not even one of his annoying brothers. It was a young girl—adorable but completely unfamiliar in her black skirt, black tights, and black tank top.
    Except there was something familiar after all, wasn’t there? She looked so lost. So exploited.
    So much like Sara, despite the differences in their coloring, build, and age.
    “Oh my God,” Sara whispered. “Are you one of the other specimens?”
    The girl stared for a minute. Then she smiled as though the remark had been flattering, not damning. “No. But thanks. I’m actually a friend of Randy Ryerson’s. My name’s Lizzie. I’m so sorry to show up here this way, but it’s important. So . . .” She gave Sara a tremulous smile. “Can I come in?”
     
    * * * *
     
    You must be crazy letting that poor girl in here! What if Ga’rag shows up? He’ll kill her on the spot, and then he’ll kill you too!
    Desperate not to panic, Sara kept one eye on her guest—who had agreed to sit on the sofa and not touch anything while she found them something to munch on. Rummaging in the kitchen, the inexperienced hostess