Free Alien-Under-Cover by Maree Dry

the bars and leered at them. Zurian waited for him to step closer, just one step and he would end this worthless human who dared threaten Julia. The man’s gaze fell on the broken bars and he stumbled back from the cell.
    “Oh shit, he’s on crack.” He ran out, the other thugs close on his heels.
    “He’s going to tell them you’re on superman crack,” Julia said and her hands gripped his shirt until it pulled too tight around him.
    “Superman crack?” he asked, puzzled by their conclusion.
    She had asked him earlier about drugs. That must be what crack referred to.
    “You know, the stuff that made you strong enough to bend the bars,” she said.
    He carefully turned and took her hands in his. “I am not using this Superman Crack. I am a warrior.”
     
    ***
     
    The reverend and what seemed like all his men stormed into the basement, armed with their whole arsenal.
    “I think we’re in trouble,” she said and seriously considered hiding behind him again.
    When Jackson had come in and John had pulled her behind him, she’d felt an inexplicable sense of safety, almost peace.
    The reverend strolled up to their cell in that ridiculous way he thought denoted piety and leadership at the same time.
    She almost snorted. He was a small fry and would find out soon enough what happened when you played with the big guys.
    “How did you get in there?” the reverend demanded, gesturing at Julia’s cell.
    “I broke the bars and stepped through,” John answered in all seriousness and she had to suppress a giggle at the look on the reverend’s face.
    “Ask a stupid question,” she mumbled and John pulled her tight against his hard body.
    They had men pointing guns at them and miserable people trapped in cages and all she was aware of for one crazy moment was that he smelled different. Coffee and spice. Enticing.
    “Are you on Superman Crack?” the reverend asked, even as he took several hasty steps back.
    Julia nearly rolled her eyes. Of course, a junkie was going to confess to being on drugs. Not!
    His men cocked their guns and pointed them at John. He stepped in front of her.
    “Boss?”
    “What?” the reverend snapped, without taking his eyes of John. The pure terror on the reverend’s face was absolutely beautiful.
    “We’ve got incoming boss,” the thug said.
    Julia rolled her eyes where she stood pressed against John’s warm back. Did he really think his fake soldier talk made him more macho?
    Julia peeked around John. Chains clanged as a group of straggly people walked single-file into the basement. In some of their faces she saw resignation and others bewilderment and fear. An older woman stumbled and fell and a small oily looking man kicked her viciously. “Get up, bitch.”
    John locked onto him with a predatory gaze that should’ve made the little man run for cover.
    Still staring at the oblivious little man, John pushed Julia back behind him. “Back, Julia.”
    She heard the sound she now recognized as steel bars breaking, took a deep breath, and said a prayer. He stepped through, towering over the reverend. All the guns pointed squarely at him. “Stay behind me,” John said.
    “You will give me the message you carry to the reverend and tell me why you are searching for Natalie Hanson,” John told the oily little man, who was obviously a slaver.
    Julia gasped and covered her mouth. How did John know Natalie? All kinds of conspiracy theories raced through her head.
    “Get back in there,” the reverend screamed.
    “No,” John said, so seriously the moment was almost comic. “Why are you looking for Natalie Hanson,” he asked the little man again.
    “I ask the questions here,” the reverend screamed at him.
    Julia noticed he did his screaming from a safe distance. The reverend, his men, and the oily little man that interested John, all cowered before him. She shouldn’t, but she really enjoyed their fear. Pigs. All of them. Trading children as if they were livestock. Kicking old