Zelron did not take offence, but understood her meaning. “I understand. I will take care of her, always.”
“Now, I think there are a few ways to contact your people without Kelon technology to help.” Win said. “Military, of course, has the frequency bands to contact the station. There is the news station not too far from here; their transmitter is powerful enough to get out into space, or you could go to the agency in Sydney.”
“How far is this Sydney?”
With a button’s push, Win brought up a map on his computer of the continent.
“It’s an eight to nine hour drive, by car.”
Zelron pondered this. He doubted they had much time. Without doubt, the company would be after them.
“There is also the matter of contacting your law. The humans, who took me and the others, must be brought to justice.”
“M.A.R.C. Cosmetics have a lot to answer for, but I doubt you can to go to the normal police—this needs detectives or something. Let me look it up.”
Win turned back to his computer, typing away at his board. Zelron glanced to the door, itching to get up and find his little mate.
“Federal police, with abduction, abuse, medical experimentation. I have a phone number here.”
Zelron turned back to Win. “These Federal police will...”
“Think we’re crackpots.”
Zelron bolted to his feet at the sound of Providence’s voice. She looked refreshed, clothed in baggy shirt and pants. She rubbed at her damp hair with a towel.
“We need to make our voice heard, so the police take notice. M.A.R.C. Cosmetics can’t keep getting away with this crap. I mean, Zelron’s blood has literally gone into that shit.”
Unable to help himself, he reached for her, pulling her into his arms and holding her tight, simply breathing in her freshly washed, floral scent.
“Easy, big Z, it’ll be okay.” She glanced up at him. Her arms hooked around his waist, a small smile on her lovely, pink lips.
“As you see, I’m still safe and sound. I think it’s your turn for a shower. I don’t even want to know where the blood came from.”
She had such a tender heart and was not accustomed to violence. He wanted to wrap her up and hide her from everything, keeping her in his arms and close to his heart. A day or even a moment without her was unbearable.
“So, what’s the plan if we can’t go directly to the cops? We have to move quickly, however, god knows what they’ll do to the lab, most likely destroy the evidence.”
“You two are the evidence. I’d say go directly to a reporter, one who’ll bend over backwards to help you out, and I may know who.” Win turned back to his computers. “Natasha Strickland, big time investigative journalist, and guess what, she’s right here in Melbourne. I happen to have her address.”
“Uh, why do you have her address?” Providence turned in Zelron’s arms to cast a worried glance at Win.
Win shrugged, scratching the hair on his chin. “I’m kind of a big fan. I can’t hack military databases, but I can hack other things.”
“Uh, huh.”
“Well, anyway, I’ve got it. Go there as soon as you’re ready. With your big guy here, she’ll believe you. More importantly, she’ll help you, especially as she gets an exclusive story on how she had a hand in bringing down the corrupt M.A.R.C.”
“You’re creepy, sometimes, Win, but you’re right, this is what we need.” She turned to look up at Zelron. “I think this would be our best bet.”
“I trust you.”
“Thank you. We’ll leave once you have a shower. C’mon, I’ll show you where it is.”
He took the offered clothes from the table and followed her out, knowing he would follow her anywhere.
* * * *
Oh, wow, her big alien sure knew how to fill out jeans and a t-shirt. Win’s old rugby jersey stretched over Zelron’s chest. Yes, she loved watching him naked, but seeing him like that flipped every darn switch in her brain into overdrive. Now that he was clothed, why did she get the sudden urge to tackle him to the ground and wrestle him out of those clothes?
“They are a bit tight.” He tugged at the fabric of the shirt. She gripped the steering wheel, glancing at the prominent bulge in his crotch.
His hair, freshly washed, hung again down his back in a long braid.
“You look, uh…” edible, scrumptious, badass sexy. “…just fine.”
She clutched the paper with Natasha Strickland’s home address in the more up-market Melbourne neighbourhood of Yarraville.
“Ready?”
They climbed from the car and he followed her up the sidewalk to the house. He stood right behind her while she pressed the door buzzer.