The Alpha Men's Secret Club 5(24)

23



Alyssa thought Rust looked very handsome, and apparently, she wasn’t the only one too. The makeup artist who was adding powder to take the shine off his face was openly admiring him.

“You look totally human,” she said.

“Thank you for the compliment,” he replied, tongue-in-cheek.

Alyssa said, “Remember what we rehearsed.”

“No mention of my parents’ murders. No mention of Kate and the baby,” he said. “Yeah, yeah. Just because your Director hasn’t got the guts to go public with the truth.”

“Not yet. The word is ‘yet’. We still have a lot of investigation to do. And Kate is not out of the woods yet.”

Dan came in. “You’re on in five minutes.”

Alyssa said, “You go on stage after the Director. Remember, we have not maltreated you in any way.”

“Yes, your hospitality was astounding.”

“Rust . . . we made a deal.”

“Sure. I say good things about the FBI and the government in general, and the IRS waives my taxes.”

She looked deadpan at him.

He grinned at her. “Don’t worry. I’ve rehearsed my lines like a good little shifter boy.”

“Good. Then say them. Perfectly. By rote. And we’ll do everything we can to bring those people who did this to you to justice.”

He stood up from the makeup chair. He was so tall.

“When have I ever let you down?” he said with a gleam in his eye.

She was glad he had recovered his spirits after all that had happened. At the same time, she could not help feeling apprehensive.



*



The Director stood in front of the room full of gathered press. Alyssa could see them from the sidelines of the podium. CNN. FOX. The peacock logo of NBC. Al-Jazeera. The print journalists from the New York Times, USA Today, the LA Times. They all were here.

Foremost among them was Rita Cunningham, who wore a stunning red jacket. She sat right in front, and her hand was constantly up.

The Director was speaking to the adjourned press people, fielding questions, especially from Rita Cunningham.

“Is is true that it took a direct order from the President for you to hold this press conference today, Director?”

“No comment.”

“There have been stories circulating about the shifters. Is it true that at least one of them has died from tissue harvesting?”

“That is not true. Next, please.” He pointed to Rita Cunningham.

Rita said, “Kate Penney, Rust O’Brien’s girlfriend and the would-be mother of his child, is in your custody. Are you performing experiments on the unborn child?”

“We have not performed any unwarranted tests on Kate Penney’s unborn child that she has not consented to.” The Director smiled pleasantly. “Contrary to what you write, Ms. Cunningham, we are not a bureau of unethical savages.”

There were some scattered chuckles.

The Director stepped off the podium to a barrage of further questions and groans. The spokesman stepped up again.

He held up his hands for silence. There was a wave of sudden anticipation in the room.

“We present to you . . . Rust O’Brien.”

A chorus of anticipation and cheers greeted this.

Rust entered the room, calm and confident. He was indeed much thinner than when he first entered the facility, Alyssa noted, and that was why they had to get him a new suit. Armani, no less. He looked impossibly good and at ease as he stepped up onto the podium with the microphones trained at his face.

The room erupted. Rita beamed. Rust had become quite a celebrity in the time he was out of the public eye and it was mostly due to her public relations machinery. A tweet here, a Facebook page there, and the whole thing just went viral on its own, like an ALS ice bucket challenge.

Rust did not move but waited till everyone quietened down. He was quite the consummate performer, Alyssa thought, and some part of her felt terribly proud. But of course, he was a university professor. He must be used to being on a lectern and commanding the attention of his students.

Her heart stirred, and she was arrested by her overwhelming emotion for him. Could it be that she was in love with him?

Rust said into the microphones, “As you can tell, rumors of my early demise are greatly unfounded.”

Laughter.

“And I have to say, in defense of the FBI – who get a bad rap, along with the CIA, the IRS and every other government agency in our land of the brave and free – that they not do anything to me that I did not consent to.”

Alyssa beamed. He was following the script so far, with a few embellishments.

“Yes, I did consent to having my teeth pulled out, along with pieces of my spleen, liver and scrotum.”

Alyssa froze.