Actually, I kind of would. I couldn't even be sure what sex the sociopath chameleon alien was, really. His preferred form was male, but that didn't mean a damn thing. I'd seen Caleb mimic me with perfect accuracy, and his sexuality, hell, that was anybody's guess. We'd known him for years, decades even, and he'd only ever showed a leaning towards the A-sexual variety. Was there a specific sexuality for people who only got a hard-on for super badass weapons?
"Not first-hand, that's for sure," I shot back. Never hurt to be perfectly clear about things like that.
He snorted, an unusual noise from his usually stoic self. I shot him a look. His little smile was as good as a shit-eating grin on somebody else. "Trust me, you're safe there. There's only one thing I want your body for."
My mind flashed back to the night before I'd done my little disappearing act. He'd been mimicking me then, wearing an obscene outfit that still made my cheeks heat in embarrassment.
"I really don't like the sound of that," I told him, my tone hard.
He gave his little shrug. "Nothing is free, Jillian. I know you know that. Don't balk at my methods. There may come a time that I'll need to mimic you perfectly. It may make all the difference between success and failure. You are a complicated woman. Complicated takes practice, even for me."
He was full of shit. I just knew it. The bit about needing practice, and the implication that he'd been mimicking me for fun. I tried to level with him. "You are not allowed to mimic me for anything...bad. Got it?"
His smile was chilling. "I can live with that. That gives me a lot of wiggle room, though, you understand?"
I sighed. "I understand that your help isn't free. Getting the best gun in the world at my back will cost me. That I understand."
"Yes," was all he said to that.
"Left," he said, a few minutes later. I didn't even know where we were anymore. The small streets in this area were barely lit, and huge concrete barriers lined the streets, small dark houses nearly hidden on the other side of those barriers.
"Pull into this parking lot," he said, and I did.
It was a small, deserted lot. The large, nondescript warehouse attached seemed disproportionately large for the lot. Caleb pulled something out of his pocket, pointing it at the building. A large panel that I hadn't even realized was a garage door slid open smoothly and quickly. I pulled in without a word. It shut directly behind us. The druids would be getting pissy in a hurry about that one.
"Take off your jeans, shoes, and your bra. Leave your phone in the car, too, of course," Caleb said brusquely, opening his door and getting out.
I did so, sighing. The repercussions were probably going to suck, but he was right. The druids would have slipped tracking devices into all of those, and taking the time to find them would only aggravate things. "You have more clothes for me, perchance?"
"Nope," he said without a hint of remorse.
Braless, shoeless, and pant-less, I followed Caleb out of a door on the opposite side of the building from where we'd entered.
Christian was there, car running, door opened.
I got to crawl into the cramped back of his super tiny sports car.
Christian hooted at me. "Looks like I missed the party. I suddenly feel overdressed."
I rolled my eyes at him.
Caleb got in quickly behind me. "Drive fast," he said brusquely, shutting his door very quietly.
Christian took off like the hounds of hell were behind us. That, or some very pissed off druids.
"I at least need pants," I complained, after we'd raced through half of the city, Christian finally driving rather sedately, for him.
"I'll have something at the house," Caleb said. "No bras, though," he added.
Beggars couldn't be choosers, and I'd be happy just for some pants. I was surprised that Caleb even had those, since he had no need for clothing that I'd ever seen. As he could mimic people, so could he mimic clothes. I'd asked him once if he ever got cold. He had simply said no, without elaborating. Typical Caleb. I was lucky to have gotten an answer at all.
Lynn had told me that she'd tried to touch his clothing once, to see if it actually felt like clothing, since it was obviously mimicked. She'd told me that I should never ever try that, and that the only thing she'd learned from the experiment was not to mess with Caleb.
I'd had plenty of casual contact with him, grabbing his arm, or having him adjust a weapons harness for me here and there, but I'd heeded her words. Leave his clothes alone. It was sort of like asking me or Lynn about our age. A touchy subject all around. No possibility of getting a useful answer, and endless potential to piss us off. Lose, lose.
We ended up in a neighborhood much like the one we'd begun in. A smallish house on a street crowded with cookie cutter houses. It was a quiet area, the neighborhood neither particularly good or bad. Which, being Vegas, made it kind of bad. But only one meth-house on the block was not as bad is it could be. Yes, I know, I'd make a horrible Las Vegas realtor.
I didn't mention that Caleb hadn't bothered to blindfold me, or that Christian had obviously known where this place was without needing directions. Either Caleb was growing more trusting, or he was planning to ditch the house soon. I didn't ask which, since he'd never give me a straight answer for a question like that.