bad.”
As “Everybody Wants to Rule the World” from Tears for Fears came on, someone touched my elbow. Jeff shot an annoyed look at the toucher.
Turned to see a tall, slender, incredibly handsome guy with black wavy hair who looked Indian but I knew to be a pure-blooded A-C. I knew him in part because he was in the Armani fatigues just like all the rest of the A-C males, but mostly because we’d spent a lot of time with Rajnish Singh since Operation Destruction. He wasn’t full-time at the Embassy yet, but it was likely only a matter of time, because Jeff’s charm needed more of an assist than the rest of the Diplomatic Corps were providing on a regular basis.
The A-Cs had the same number of skin tones and body types as humans did. When they’d arrived on Earth they’d all been housed in the U.S. Once world governments were advised and the right approvals given, the A-Cs expanded out and created bases all over the world. The A-Cs with the most appropriate looks and body types went to the countries they’d blend in with the best, took appropriate names and surnames, and increased each host country’s overall hotness level. Raj was from New Delhi Base.
This base wasn’t the biggest or even most active of the worldwide bases; superbeings weren’t as common in that part of the world as they were in America, go U.S.A. for the ick-factor win. And while there were plenty of smaller bases all over the world, Euro Base, which was located in Paris, and Moscow Base handled or took the lead on the majority of the international incidents.
So the agents from New Delhi Base tended toward two types—the laidback and low-key and the extremely driven to prove they could run with the big dogs. I still hadn’t figured out which one Raj was.
“Hi, Raj, what’s up?”
Raj shot me a smile that gave Reader’s cover boy smile a run for its money. “Excuse me, Ambassador,” he said quietly. “But there’s a gentleman at the door requesting you.”
Normal sentences, made to sound incredibly thrilling. Yep, Raj was a troubadour. It wasn’t the most popular of talents within the Field and Imageering sides of Centaurion Division, but it was a godsend in terms of the political side. We needed more troubadours, but right now, Raj was splitting his time between us and New Delhi Base, with us getting about ninety percent of him.
“New boyfriend?” Jeff asked, only half-joking.
Shot him the “really?” look while Reader rolled his eyes and Tim snorted. “I doubt it.”
“Why does someone want to see Kitty and not me?” Jeff was pushing the worry.
“Are you picking up anything negative?” Everyone we were with was aware of Jeff’s empathic talents, so asking wasn’t revealing anything classified.
“No, not really.” He looked slightly uncomfortable and I gave myself a duh. He’d told me he’d put his emotional blocks up and with all the people in the Embassy right now, he had to have them set to high. So he could get the strong, rage-level emotions, but he wasn’t going to be picking up nuanced emotions at this time.
“It’s someone who said he isn’t invited to the party and doesn’t wish to crash it, Ambassador. He says he has an important, private message for Ambassador Katt-Martini.”
“Maybe it’s more dirty pictures.”
Armstrong choked on his fruit juice cocktail while the other men laughed. “Please God, not that again,” Armstrong said when he could breathe.
Frankly, I doubted dirty pictures were waiting for me. Figured it was probably Buchanan—if he’d remembered that he’d seen me holding the package I’d told him I’d disposed of, he might want to talk to me alone.
“You’re sure it’s okay, Raj?” Jeff, who wasn’t laughing, asked.
“I’ll stay with her, Ambassador.”
Jeff kissed my cheek. “Don’t be too long with your boyfriend Buchanan. I get jealous.” Nice to see Jeff had made the same assumption as me.
“Really? You? Who’d believe that?” I kissed his
As “Everybody Wants to Rule the World” from Tears for Fears came on, someone touched my elbow. Jeff shot an annoyed look at the toucher.
Turned to see a tall, slender, incredibly handsome guy with black wavy hair who looked Indian but I knew to be a pure-blooded A-C. I knew him in part because he was in the Armani fatigues just like all the rest of the A-C males, but mostly because we’d spent a lot of time with Rajnish Singh since Operation Destruction. He wasn’t full-time at the Embassy yet, but it was likely only a matter of time, because Jeff’s charm needed more of an assist than the rest of the Diplomatic Corps were providing on a regular basis.
The A-Cs had the same number of skin tones and body types as humans did. When they’d arrived on Earth they’d all been housed in the U.S. Once world governments were advised and the right approvals given, the A-Cs expanded out and created bases all over the world. The A-Cs with the most appropriate looks and body types went to the countries they’d blend in with the best, took appropriate names and surnames, and increased each host country’s overall hotness level. Raj was from New Delhi Base.
This base wasn’t the biggest or even most active of the worldwide bases; superbeings weren’t as common in that part of the world as they were in America, go U.S.A. for the ick-factor win. And while there were plenty of smaller bases all over the world, Euro Base, which was located in Paris, and Moscow Base handled or took the lead on the majority of the international incidents.
So the agents from New Delhi Base tended toward two types—the laidback and low-key and the extremely driven to prove they could run with the big dogs. I still hadn’t figured out which one Raj was.
“Hi, Raj, what’s up?”
Raj shot me a smile that gave Reader’s cover boy smile a run for its money. “Excuse me, Ambassador,” he said quietly. “But there’s a gentleman at the door requesting you.”
Normal sentences, made to sound incredibly thrilling. Yep, Raj was a troubadour. It wasn’t the most popular of talents within the Field and Imageering sides of Centaurion Division, but it was a godsend in terms of the political side. We needed more troubadours, but right now, Raj was splitting his time between us and New Delhi Base, with us getting about ninety percent of him.
“New boyfriend?” Jeff asked, only half-joking.
Shot him the “really?” look while Reader rolled his eyes and Tim snorted. “I doubt it.”
“Why does someone want to see Kitty and not me?” Jeff was pushing the worry.
“Are you picking up anything negative?” Everyone we were with was aware of Jeff’s empathic talents, so asking wasn’t revealing anything classified.
“No, not really.” He looked slightly uncomfortable and I gave myself a duh. He’d told me he’d put his emotional blocks up and with all the people in the Embassy right now, he had to have them set to high. So he could get the strong, rage-level emotions, but he wasn’t going to be picking up nuanced emotions at this time.
“It’s someone who said he isn’t invited to the party and doesn’t wish to crash it, Ambassador. He says he has an important, private message for Ambassador Katt-Martini.”
“Maybe it’s more dirty pictures.”
Armstrong choked on his fruit juice cocktail while the other men laughed. “Please God, not that again,” Armstrong said when he could breathe.
Frankly, I doubted dirty pictures were waiting for me. Figured it was probably Buchanan—if he’d remembered that he’d seen me holding the package I’d told him I’d disposed of, he might want to talk to me alone.
“You’re sure it’s okay, Raj?” Jeff, who wasn’t laughing, asked.
“I’ll stay with her, Ambassador.”
Jeff kissed my cheek. “Don’t be too long with your boyfriend Buchanan. I get jealous.” Nice to see Jeff had made the same assumption as me.
“Really? You? Who’d believe that?” I kissed his
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