The Darkling Hunters: Fox Company Alpha (Fox Company Series Book 1) Page 2

  A waitress wearing too-tight Daisy Dukes and a tiny scrap of flannel that barely covered her breasts sashayed to their table the moment they sat down. She made a show of bending over, showing off a pert little ass and deep cleavage, and ran a dirty rag over the tabletop. She flashed them both an equally seductive smile, took their orders, and walked away with an obvious swish to her hips. Sam raised his eyebrows, and Dex hid a smirk. Nope, no prostitution going on here, folks. Nothing to see but nearly-naked waitresses who would look more authentic if they had singles sticking out of their g-strings. Move along.

  Dex cracked his neck again, wishing the movement relieved some of the pressure, and carefully scanned the bar. The darkling, whoever he was, probably wouldn’t be sitting on a stool with a sign over his head, so they had to do this the old-fashioned way. Despite numerous attempts, the DEA had yet to devise a sure-fire early detection system—the only way to recognize a darkling was to look it in the eye and see the dead void behind its gaze. Which meant they had to find a way to make eye-contact with every single person they met, without being creepy about it. Fortunately, over the last eight years, he and Sam had worked out a system that seemed to work ninety-percent of the time: instead of trying to meet peoples’ eyes, they waited for other people to meet theirs. It took longer, to be sure, but it got the job done. And besides, taking their time allowed them the leisure to have a beer or two while they waited.

  “Another damn podunk bar in Nowhere, BFE,” Sam said with a grimace. He managed a cold-looking smile as the waitress returned with their Budweisers, then focused on Dex after the woman sashayed away in a cloud of sickly-sweet perfume. “Why couldn’t we get one of the good assignments? Last I heard, most real crime happens in cities.”

  “Keep your voice down,” Dex said mildly, taking a swig and trying to act casual. “Don’t get sloppy on me now, Spencer. Remember, the cavalry won’t arrive until after we’ve done our bit. We’re on our own out here. We can’t afford for this gig to go tits-up.”

  “Exactly my point,” Sam growled. He took a gulp of his own beer, wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, and leaned forward with his elbows on the table. At six-foot-four, he had a long way to lean. “At least when we’re in civilization, we have the option of calling for backup before the cavalry arrives. Out here…”

  “Suck it up,” Dex suggested, letting his gaze slide along the people gathered around the bar. A couple of hookers met his eyes, smiling as they did. He ignored them. Darklings were always men. “Boss picks the assignments, and we go where he tells us to go. Intel said we’d find something out here, and I know my radar’s been pinging since we pulled up to this joint. Let’s just do what we gotta do and get the hell out of here. Maybe, if you’re a good little boy and eat your vegetables, I’ll take you out for a nice steak dinner next time. Assuming we’re in a place large enough to have restaurants that serve steak dinners. Sound good?”

  “Fuck you,” Sam said, but without any rancor.

  Dex opened his mouth to retaliate—

  And suddenly a weight settled on his lap, slender arms wrapped around his neck, and a woman’s mouth started hungrily kissing the living daylights out of him.

  Dex froze, unable to move or think for several breathless moments. His first thought was the slutty waitress had returned, intent on making her pitch for paid pussy in a more forceful manner. But that girl had reeked of Chanel No. 5, and this woman smelled like…well, like heaven. Besides, the waitress had been a petite little blonde, and this woman, this woman, was all scrumptious curves crowned by a head of luscious, raven-dark hair. His skin burned where her fingers lay against his cheek and neck, and his cock had gone from zero to painfully interested in point-oh-two seconds. She wasn’t just shoving her tongue down his throat, either. She was kissing him, really kissing him, as if she’d been missing the taste of his mouth her whole life. And he found himself kissing her back, wrapping his arms around her generous hips and holding her close as a little groan escaped his throat.

  When the woman finally let him up for air, Dex sat there, stunned into stupidity.

  “I can’t believe y’all came all the way up here just to visit me,” she said in a husky, sex-soaked voice that made his insides quiver. “You shoulda just called, sugar. I would have met you somewhere more civil.”

  Dex blinked, then blinked again, but his eyes refused to focus. His head was ringing, his body buzzing like someone had set off a thousand alarm clocks just under his skin. He heard Sam gasp, then let out a heartfelt, “Fuck.”

  The woman chuckled, the vibrations seeming to travel through his body to settle beneath his balls. “Language,” she admonished, her thick southern twang giving the word a somewhat lyrical sound. “There are ladies present. But I do understand the sentiment.” She turned, placing her lips once again within kissing distance, and smiled at him with breathtaking ice-blue eyes. “Well? Ain’t you gonna say hello?”

  His eyes finally focused. At that moment, Dex recognized her—and the whole world came to a sudden, screeching halt. Because the woman in his lap, the one with her arms wrapped so seductively around his neck, was no random hooker trying to land a hot date.

  Her name was Sydney Carpenter. She was, far and away, the best darkling hunter he’d ever met.

  And until this moment, he hadn’t even known if she was still alive.

  “Jesus, S—”

  “Uh-uh, cowboy.” She pressed a finger to his lips. “Save the ‘sweeties’ and ‘sugarplums’ for pillow talk. Only name I go by ‘round here is Damsel, on account of this backwater accent I got going. I think it sums me up right pretty, don’t you?”

  Damsel? Dex just had to stare. Seven years ago, on the day they’d met, he’d seen her behead six darklings with a weed-whacker. Not exactly the kind of thing people associated with the term ‘damsel in distress.’ But he got the message, loud and clear—no real names in a place like this.

  “Sorry. Old habits.” He swallowed, wondering if she could feel his hard-on through his jeans. Probably. “How, uh…how have you been?”

  “What’s this—” Sam started, but Sydney shushed him with a provocative finger wag.

  “Wait your turn, hun. There’s plenty of me to go ‘round. Big Tex and I got business to discuss, but I’ll bring you along by-and-by. Sound fair?”

  “Uh…what?” Dex said, not sure he’d followed.

  Sydney chuckled again, then pressed her ample cleavage against his chest. She wrapped her arms tightly around his neck and put his lips right next to his ear. For half a heartbeat, he wondered if she was going to confess she loved him. His fingers closed convulsively around her hips, heart pounding.

  And then she whispered, “Shut up and act like a john who’s about to get laid before you get all three of us killed.” She sat back with a naughty giggle as if her words hadn’t sent ice flowing down his back. Her blue eyes glittered wickedly. “How does that sound for a good time?”

  “Sounds…” He swallowed. “Sounds…great.”

  She smiled, a seductive little curl of her lips, and wiggled her backside against his lap. Dex almost went through the floorboards. “Thought you’d like that. Why don’t we take this somewhere more private and hash out the details?”

  “Uh, yeah, okay. Great.” He tried to gather his wits, but they seemed to be concentrated around his dick. “Uh…I guess…Lead the way.”

  She winked, big and bold. “Always do, sugar.” Then she stood up, making a point to put her tits right in his face as she loomed over him, and held out a hand. He tried to rise like a manly-man, but his knees wobbled anyway. As he pushed back his chair to give him room to clear the table, Dex looked at Sam. The man’s expression was filled with equal parts surprise, horror, confusion—and open lust.

  Oh, God…Dex’s hard-on throbbed against his thigh. He pretended he didn’t notice.

  Before Dex could think of something to say, Syd leaned over, giving the rest of the bar a good look down her skin-tight camisole, and whispered something in Sa
m’s ear. She pressed something small into his left hand, gave him a tender kiss on the cheek, then straightened with a wicked little grin. Before either man could comment on her little performance, she took Dex’s hand, dragged him forward, and draped her arm around his waist. He found himself holding her close, his elbow slung around her neck as if they stood that way all the time.

  “See you in a bit, sugar,” she said to Sam, twiddling her fingers in a suggestive wave. Then she turned, dragging Dex with her, and made a beeline for the bar’s front door. He went along with her, not sure the goofy grin on his face was entirely fake, and pressed her to his side as they wove between drunken bar patrons. As they made it to the door, Sydney turned, blew a kiss toward Sam, twiddled her fingers once again, and headed for the cold outside.

  Ten feet past the doorway, Dex dragged her to a halt. “What in the—”

  Sydney giggled like a teenager drunk on wine coolers and slung her arms around his neck. She was short, so she had to get up on her tip-toes to do it. She kissed him, long and slow, then whispered against his lips, “We’re still being watched, you idiot. Make it look like you mean it.”

  Holding back a curse—and still buzzing from that kiss—Dex wrapped his arms around her and held her close. He craned his neck down so she would have to reach so far, stole a kiss of his own, and whispered back, “Then where the hell can we talk?”

  Sydney squealed as if he’d said something naughty, pulling out of his arms, but she kept possession of one of his hands as she started dancing away from him. “Not far, sugar. Motel ‘cross the way. Then you can have me any which way you please.”

  Dex let out a low groan—not feigned—and let her drag him through the maze of parked cars. When they reached the far side of the parking lot, he pulled her into his side again, hoping it looked as if he couldn’t stand letting her get too far away from him—another not-quite-falsehood. She laughed in a too-knowing way, tucking herself against his side and sliding her hand into his back pocket. The feel of her palm against his ass, separated from his skin by a thin layer of fabric, drove his libido into overdrive. The air got suddenly heavy and hot, despite the mid-autumn mountain chill.

  All the while, every place she touched him, his body burned.

  She crossed the length of the building and finally stopped at a corner room on the ground floor of the motel. As she reached into her tight jeans’ pocket to fish out the card key, she squeezed his ass with her other hand—and Dex snapped. The feel of her against his body, so close after longing for her for so long, ignited an inferno inside him. He spun Sydney around, wrapped his big hands underneath her generous ass, and lifted her up while slamming her against the flimsy wooden door. Sydney squeaked, her arms flying up to wrap around his neck as he kissed her passionately, breathlessly, drinking in the taste of her. As he ground himself against her, he fished the key out of her hand and fumbled for the door lock, but it took him several tries to get the damn thing open. When it finally gave way, he shoved his way inside with Sydney wrapped around him like a velvet glove. He kicked the door shut, then sat her down on top of a nearby credenza, still kissing her for all he was worth.

  She felt like heaven in his arms. Long legs wrapped around his hips, holding him close, as her tongue danced with his. Unable to help himself, Dex ran his hands down her waist, then down her thighs, glorying in the firm muscle beneath his palms. He ground his jeans-encumbered cock against her crotch, wishing the fabric would disappear so he could feel skin on skin. Sydney groaned, a luscious sound that sent fireworks skittering through his body, and kissed him even deeper. She wrapped both hands around his neck, holding him at the angle she preferred, then slipped her palms underneath his jacket. Dex growled and let his arms straighten, hating the need to stop touching her, but it was the only way to get the jacket off. Sydney pushed the heavy leather off his shoulders, running her hands down his arms as she pushed it down. Dex let it fall.

  The jacket hit the thin carpet with a loud thud as all his hidden gear jarred against the hard surface. Sydney jumped, ripped her mouth away from his, and lay her forehead on his shoulder. She curled her hands in the fabric of his shirt, her legs still wrapped around his waist, while both of them panted for much-needed air.

  The tableau held for a long, breathless moment. Then Syd heaved a deep, shuddering sigh and spoke against his collarbone. “I’m sorry. I had to get you out of there.” Her southern accent, so prominent before, melted away like a distant breeze. “That was…it was supposed to be…you know, pretend.”

  “Pretend,” Dex echoed, his voice coming out in a husky, gravelly purr. Syd shivered, and he felt more than saw her gulp. She nodded against his chest, still not looking at him. Unable to resist, he let his fingertips trail along the outside of her thighs. “Funny. It didn’t feel like…you know…pretend.”

  She shuddered again, and he watched, fascinated, as goosebumps rose all up and down her arms. Carefully, slowly, he tucked his fingertips underneath her chin and tipped it upward. He looked into ice-blue eyes, eyes that were equally filled with lust and fear—why fear? —and ran his thumb over her plump lower lip. Syd made a sound in the back of her throat, somewhere between a squeak and a groan. The tip of her tongue shot out, wetting that lip.

  Moving slow, as if he faced a wild animal, Dex carefully, gently, lowered his mouth to hers. The other kisses had been frantic, almost desperate. This was something altogether different. He lingered against the corner of her mouth, reveling in the sweetness he found there, and allowed himself to simply taste her. Those lips were plump, luscious, and so delicious it made his head spin. She groaned again, lips parting, allowing him to run his tongue just along the inside of that soft, giving flesh. Her hands tightened in his shirt, then her palms spread, bathing his chest in a sheet of fire. Taking his time, Dex explored that hot mouth while trailing his fingertips up and down her legs, then along her sides, before allowing his thumbs to brush the underside of her breasts. Sydney gasped.

  And then the lock clicked, the door banged open, and Sam said, “Fuck.”

  Sydney pulled away again, breathing heavily. Dex rested his forehead against hers and spoke over his shoulder. “Relax, dude. We were just making sure anyone watching would see what they expected to see. Come in and close the door.”

  The door’s ancient hinges squeaked as Sam hesitated in the doorway. “I can just leave you guys to—”

  “No,” Sydney said quickly. She straightened, pressing both palms against Dex’s chest as she tried to push him back. He stayed right where he was. She huffed. “Come in, Sam. Someone’s always watching.”

  Sam muttered curses but did as she said. Dex kept his eyes on her face, listening for the clicks of the deadbolts. Sam settled against the door, his leather jacket making a slick sound as it brushed against the wood. “Are we safe now?”

  “Yes.” Syd pushed against his chest again. He ignored it. She glared, looking up at him with an annoyed expression. “I told you, I had to get you both out of there. You have no idea what you just walked into.”

  “DEA thinks a darkling is behind this den of depravity,” Dex said pointedly. “They wouldn’t have sent us in here if they didn’t.”

  “We’re here to flush it out,” Sam added.

  Sydney looked at Dex, then looked at Sam, expression incredulous. “Just one? Oh, honey. Your intel is way off. This isn’t just one darkling, it’s a nest. And you two just waltzed right into the middle of it wearing neon signs saying ‘kill me now.’”

  Chapter 2

  “What makes you say that?” Sam asked.

  Sydney tried not to think about the powerful man still standing between her spread knees as she put on her best no-nonsense expression. “Because I’ve been working this sector for six solid months. I know what I’m dealing with here. You two idiots clearly don’t.”

  Dex’s beautifully broad, battle-hardened chest puffed up at the insult. He glared at her through green-flecked, chestnut-colored eyes. “Then explain it to us. This is DEA jurisdic
tion. Why haven’t we heard about a nest in this area if you’ve been working it for six months?”

  “Because I’m not DEA, and this is none of your damn business,” Sydney retorted. Hoping he couldn’t feel the heat coming off her too-revved-up body, Sydney shoved at his chest again. Dex stared at her, unmoving, for a long moment. Then he took half a step back—leaving just enough room for her to slip off the credenza. Her whole front slid down his deliciously hard body in the process of sliding her feet to the floor. Sydney hid a shudder, ignoring the urge to run her hands along his chest one last time, and sauntered away from him. She almost sat on the bed, but that would have been too tempting. Instead, she crossed her arms, cocked her hips, and leaned against the TV stand. She set her jaw, glaring at both of them.

  Dex copied her movement, turning so his perfect, hard ass rested against the credenza where she’d just been sitting. Sam leaned against the door, his arms also crossed, and blew a lock of straight brown hair out of his eyes. It took everything she had not to moan at the sight of them—two strong, virile men, both in their prime, standing in her motel room. There were even two beds, so she could ride each of them…

  The thought sent a tingle through every part of her body.

  Sydney ignored it, lifting her chin. “You both need to leave. Now.”

  Dex snorted. “We’re not going anywhere ‘til you tell us what’s going on. Where the hell have you been, Syd? Last we saw of you, you were chasing some darkling on your way out of Tulsa. Hell, girl. We thought you were dead.”

  Girl? She almost burst out laughing. If he only knew…

  “Well, clearly, I’m not dead,” she said, hoping the acid in her tone hid the desire behind her words. “But your being here could get us all killed. And now you need to leave before your DEA bullshit fucks up six months of planning. I’ve got this. You can tell your walking dick-bag of a boss this nest has been handled.”