“Much as we might prefer to,” Sydney agreed, a tiny smile curving her lips. She ruffled Dex’s blond hair into a mass of messy spikes, chuckling when he grumbled. Then she rose, still gloriously naked, and retrieved her duffle bag. “I’m going to grab a quick shower, and then I have a bit of recon to do.”
“Syd…” Sam said, immediately wary.
She tossed a smile over her shoulder as she paused in the bathroom doorway. “Relax, Sam. Nothing dangerous. I just need to confirm something I heard at the Evil Eye Bar. If I’m right, then we can proceed with my original plan. But I have to confirm the intel first. Otherwise, we’ll be working from scratch.”
“You still haven’t told us what your plan is,” Sam reminded her.
“You two play nice while I’m in the shower.” She twiddled her fingers at Sam and closed the door.
Sam kept his eyes on the floor, not daring to look at Dex. He reached for his go-bag and grabbed Dex’s bag up off the floor, tossing it to him. Then, he set about putting his own clothes on, all without daring to look at the other man.
The silence was deafening. Dex said nothing, not one damn word, as he got up and got dressed.
Sam sat at the foot of his own bed and waited for the storm to begin.
◆◆◆
Dex’s whole body was on fire.
He’d have thought that, after having sex twice in less than twenty-four hours—two-and-a-half, if he counted the time Sam had accidentally interrupted—he would be spent. Done. Too weary to continue. Instead, it felt like a million bumblebees had settled just beneath his skin, all buzzing in tandem. He felt hot, and shaky, and way, way out of his comfort zone.
And the man responsible for it sat not ten feet away, looking too damn gorgeous in his tight jeans and t-shirt, his shoulder-length brown hair all mussed from recent vigorous activity. No guy should look that good after just getting out of bed.
And no way Dex should even notice such a thing. Nor would he have, if Sydney hadn’t…
No, I take that back. It wasn’t Sam’s fault, it was Sydney’s. Her sexy insinuations had wheedled their way down to his brainstem, causing havoc he couldn’t even begin to understand. All he knew for certain was that for the first time in his life, he was looking at his partner in a whole new way—and he had no idea, none, how to deal with it.
Dex settled on the edge of the bed, bracing his hands on the mattress on either side of him. He had to be reading too much into this. Dex had to have imagined the way the other man trembled when his fingers accidentally brushed his thighs. Had to have misread the meaning behind that touch on his shoulder, the one just before Sam ordered him to come. Except Sam had been speaking to Sydney, not Dex. Dex’s reaction was just an unintended side-effect. That had to be it. The other stuff, the things Dex thought he’d seen, they weren’t real. Couldn’t be real. Sydney had put thoughts in his head, and Dex was projecting those thoughts onto Sam.
That’s all it was.
Wasn’t it?
He squirmed uncomfortably. He was going to be in trouble if he didn’t get his head screwed on straight. He’d do something, or say something, and Sam would get wind of what Sydney had been suggesting. Then Sam would freak the fuck out, storm out the door, and never, ever come back.
Dex had to get a handle on himself. Too bad his brain’s idea of “getting a handle” involved whipping out his cock and stroking off against Sam’s taut, hard thigh.
He shivered.
Thankfully, the bathroom door opened right then, and Sydney emerged looking fresh and glowing. She wore the same jeans and a thick sweater that did nothing to hide her luscious curves. Dex didn’t even bother to hide an appreciative groan as she bent over, the skin-tight fabric outlining her glorious ass, and set her duffle bag on the small love seat. She winked at him when she stood straight, letting him know she’d done it on purpose, and flashed both of them a wicked little grin.
“This won’t take more than an hour at most.”
“Where are you going?” Sam asked. “Maybe we should come with you.”
She shook her head immediately. “Not this time. For my plan to work, I need you two to appear out of nowhere, as if you just rolled into town. That won’t work if you’re seen with me beforehand.”
Dex scooted forward, scowling. “Syd, I really don’t like you keeping us out of the loop like this. Last time I checked, we’ve still got skills in this arena. We know how to play a part.”
She crossed the room, put her hands on his shoulders, and stood between his splayed knees. Dex let out a rumbly little hum as he circled her waist with both hands, admiring the close-up view of her breasts. She ruffled his hair again, then leaned down and kissed him softly. “I know you do,” she said when she straightened. “But right now, I need you to trust me. I’ve been planning this out for six months. This is important to me, Dex. If you’re determined to help me, I need you to let me do this my way.”
“I understand that,” he said, frowning now, “but we can—”
She stopped him with a finger to his lips. “I’ll tell you everything when I get back. I promise. This is just a simple recon mission. If the info I got is no good, I’ll need you guys to help me come up with a new plan. Fair?”
“You’re not giving us much of a choice,” Dex grumped, squeezing her waist. But he worked up a smile, just for her. “Be careful.”
“Always.” She kissed him again, soft and sweet, then pulled out of his embrace.
He watched her cross the room—and stand between Sam’s splayed knees, just like she had with Dex. She caressed Sam’s cheek as he hesitantly wrapped his hands around the backs of her knees. His back, his whole body language, went rigid and taut. Though he never looked Dex’s way, Dex knew Sam felt his eyes on him. He probably thought Dex would be upset, that he’d object to Sydney showing affection for another man.
On the contrary. His cock was already starting to perk up.
Sydney smoothed the hair from Sam’s forehead, then ran her thumb over his lower lip. From this angle, Dex could only see the other man’s profile, but he still caught the desperate, yearning desire hidden in Sam’s expression before the other man’s defenses snapped into place. Sydney let out a little sigh, bent, and kissed Sam on the lips—a slow, tender touch that made Dex’s knees weak. Thank God he was already sitting down, or he would have collapsed in a puddle on the floor.
Only Sydney Carpenter could make him go soft and yet still get so hard. The woman was a force unto herself.
“I’ll be back,” she said, eyes on Sam’s face. He nodded, looking grim, and squeezed her knees. Sydney shook her head a little then headed for the door.
She paused, half-in, half-out of the doorway, and said, “Not to get all girly on you guys, but I suggest talking. You’d be amazed how many things can be resolved with words instead of bullets.”
Neither man said a word as the latch clicked shut. It sounded more like a cannon shot in the deep, heavy silence.
At last, Sam cleared his throat. “Say whatever you need to say, Dex.”
“Why do you think I have something to say?”
“Because I can hear the hamster going batshit crazy between your ears.” Sam didn’t even look at him.
Dex rolled his eyes. “Whatever. You’re the one sitting over there all stiff and silent like you developed a serious case of stick up your ass.”
Sam flinched. Not what Dex was expecting. “Let it go.”
“Let what go? I don’t even know what the hell has you so wired.” Unless he was pissed at Dex for something. Maybe he hated that Dex had accidentally-intentionally touched him? Shit, was he that grossed out by the idea? Syd had to be way off…
“Sam…” He chewed his inner cheek, then blurted, “What just happened—”
“You don’t have to say it.” Sam shoved his fingers through his hair. “Look, man. What happened with Syd…I promise it’ll never happen again, okay? It was a mistake. I already know that. You don’t have to—”
“Wait, w
hat the hell are you talking about?” Dex’s scowl deepened. “I didn’t say anything about it being a mistake. Christ, Sam, that was Syd’s idea, not—”
“Well I know it wasn’t your fucking idea,” Sam snarled, whipping around to face him. But then he closed his eyes, took a deep breath, and smoothed his expression. “I need to report to Boss. Let him know we’ve had a change of plans.”
What the hell? Why the subject change? “Remember, you can’t—”
“I know what I can and can’t do,” Sam barked, reaching into his go-bag. “But thanks for the pro-tip. I’ll keep it in mind for next time.” He yanked the Sat-Com out of the side pocket before flinging the bag onto the floor. Without once looking up, he marched to the other side of his bed and sat down with his back facing Dex.
Dex said nothing, watching his friend with a wary eye. Something wasn’t right here. Sam often lost his temper—he was famous for it among the other guys from Fox Company—but he rarely, if ever, lost his temper with Dex. They might trade a few barbs here and there, but never anything with true venom behind it. So why was he so on edge?
A normal, compassionate person would probably take a step back, reassess the situation, and ask for an explanation in a calm, soothing tone.
Dex’s method was more straight-forward.
“What the fuck is up with you, man? Why are you acting like I just shit in your Cheerios?”
“You pour tequila on yours, so you might as well shit in mine,” Sam said gruffly, still not looking at him.
Dex scoffed. “Said the dumbass who got two days in the brig for being drunk on fire watch. For fuck’s sake, will you just talk to me? What the fuck is going on?”
Sam’s reaction was immediate—his face filled with fury, and he whirled to his feet with both hands clenched into fists. “Fucking Christ, man, I said let it go!”
“Let what go?” Dex spread his own hands. “I haven’t said a damn thing!”
“I know!” Sam’s eyes were wild, expression livid. “That’s what you always do!”
“What the fuck are we even talking about?” Dex demanded, his own anger rising.
“Nothing, okay? Nothing!” Sam threw his arms wide. “I’m trying to be the better man here, don’t you get that? Sydney is yours. I’m not after her. What happened earlier will never happen again, so you can stop acting like I’m trying to steal your fucking girlfriend!”
“Wait one goddamn minute,” Dex snarled, rounding the corner of his bed but stopping short. “When did I say anything about you trying to steal her? Christ Sam, I know you lo—”
“And there you go again with that shit,” Sam practically yelled. “I just got done telling you I don’t want to steal your girl, and you come back with that crazy idea again? Fuck, Dex, are you really trying that hard to push me away?”
“Who said anything about pushing you away? Why the fuck do you keep trying to put words in my mouth?”
“Because you never say anything!” Sam’s eyes had gone liquid silver. “You just sit there and wait for me to figure out what you’re trying to say. Well, I figured it out, asshole. You can stop pretending you’re okay with this.”
“Okay with what? Jesus, Sam, I already told you that was Syd’s idea. If I’d known how upset you’d get, I never—”
“No, of course, you’d never,” Sam sneered, eyes flashing. “You think I don’t already know that?”
“Are you even speaking English? Because I don’t understand a damn word you just said.”
“Typical.”
Okay, now Dex’s back was up. “Jesus, man, what the fuck crawled up your ass?”
This time, Sam’s flinch shook his whole body—and stunned Dex enough to knock back his anger. “I can’t do this,” Sam said in a low, dangerous voice. He snatched his jacket off the back of the armchair and shoved his arms through the sleeves. “I can’t even be in the room with you when you’re like this.”
“Me?” Dex said. “Hey, man, come on. What the fuck?” He reached out and tried to grab Sam’s shoulder.
“Don’ touch me!” Sam reacted like a striking cobra, knocking Dex’s hand aside with a hard snap of his wrist. He glowered down at Dex from his superior height, eyes filled with a hideous mix of desperation and murderous rage. “Just don’t…don’t fucking touch me.”
Dex’s insides went cold. Fuck. That was the reason Sam was so pissed off—Dex had touched him while they were pleasuring Sydney. Jesus Christ. Dex hadn’t thought a few fingertip-brushes would be that bad, but from the look on Sam’s face…
“Sam…” Dex swallowed hard. “Sam, I didn’t mean…” Shit. How could he say he was sorry without admitting he did it on purpose?
“Whatever,” Sam snarled. He turned his back, straightening his jacket as he did so, and strode toward the door. “I need some air.”
“Sam…”
“Fuck off.”
Sam opened the door—and found a gun barrel pointed straight at his head.
Chapter 13
Sam had half a heartbeat to glance past the gun’s muzzle and look the bad guy straight in the eyes.
Shit. Not a darkling. “Void!” he shouted for Dex’s benefit, code for human, do not kill.
The next few moments happened in a blur of furious action.
Sam dropped to his knees half a second before the gun went off, the bullet hissing as it spun across the room and buried itself in one of the headboards. The guy’s bushy blond eyebrows turned up with surprise, then ticked downward in annoyance right before he tried adjusting his aim. In one smooth motion, Sam braced himself, pulled back a fist—and nailed the man’s balls with a vicious knuckle punch. The would-be murderer choked back a strangled gasp, his features twisting into an ugly mask of pain and shock as a blush of agony darkened his already wind-burned cheeks. Sam winced in sympathy—nothing worse than being hit in the balls—but didn’t relent. He hit the guy a second time, just for good measure.
Meanwhile, Dex, who thankfully hadn’t been standing in the line of fire, calmly strode forward. As their attacker lurched, off-balance and distracted, Dex slipped his wrist beneath the guy’s gun-hand and snapped it straight upward while simultaneously smacking the gun’s barrel. Obviously, the dude was an amateur; his grip was already lax, his attention focused elsewhere. The gun popped loose like a cork out of a bottle and landed in Dex’s waiting hand. Dex popped the magazine, checked the ammo, reloaded the mag, and re-chambered a round before the guy finished getting out his first scream.
As Dex sidestepped, Sam grabbed the guy’s throat, wrapped an elbow behind one of his knees, and surged upward just as the guy’s chest collided with Sam’s shoulder blades. The movement flipped the skinny, leather-clad body end-over-end in a fast three-sixty, sending him sprawling into the motel room—where he promptly curled into a protective ball around his injured manhood. Sam got to his feet, closed the door, and flipped both deadbolts. All the while, Dex kept the gun trained on the would-be assassin’s chest.
Not that he was any threat right now, considering he was crying like a little girl.
“You’re sure he’s not a darkling?” Dex rumbled, his eyes never leaving the attacker’s face.
Sam grimaced. “Honestly? After Syd’s little demonstration, I’m not sure of anything anymore. But he looked human to me.”
“So who the fuck is he?”
“Let’s find out.” Sam crouched beside the writhing man. “Hey, fuck-wad. Who are you? Who sent you?”
The man continued squirming and crying, clutching at his crotch like he was protecting the crown jewels. Sam rolled his eyes. “Dude. I didn’t hit you that hard. Come on. Focus.” He slapped the man’s ear a little harder than necessary, but only to get his attention. It did no good. He just kept writhing and whimpering. “Jesus. Nut up.”
“I think you already did that for him,” Dex said with a snort. “Nuts are probably halfway to his lungs right now.”
The pathetic excuse of an assassin wailed piteously.
“Fuck.” Losing pa
tience, Sam clocked the guy right in the chin, forcing his teeth closed with an audible snap and banging the back of his head hard against the floor. The man groaned, shuddered, and finally went still. Out cold. “Blessed silence,” Sam muttered, then dragged the guy’s limp body on its side and felt for a wallet. A small, cheap pleather trifold was tucked in his back-right pocket. “Here we go.”
“Well?”
“Patience, grasshopper,” Sam said as he thumbed through credit cards, receipts, and condom wrappers in search of I.D.
Another snort. “Says the guy who just gave someone a concussion out of sheer impatience.”
Sam ignored that. He found the driver’s license and squinted at the small print. “Melvin Kester. Ugh. What kind of a name is Melvin?”
“Guy’s parents must not have loved him very much. Anything interesting?”
“Address right here in Boulder. Receipts from a local drug store, a couple of empty condom wrappers—eww—and a handful of credit cards with someone else’s name on them.” He paused, frowning at the last receipt, and looked up at Dex with a raised eyebrow. “And a receipt from The Evil Eye Bar…dated last night.”
Dex let out a low, frustrated sigh. “Shit.”
“Yeah.” Sam let the hand holding the receipt drop to his lap, scowling as he looked over their passed-out attacker. “Syd’s just gonna love this.”
Knock-knock-knock.
Sam and Dex froze, both counting silently.
Ten seconds later, knock…knock…knock-knock.
Syd’s personal code.
“She wasn’t gone long,” Dex said, already turning for the doorway.
Sam lunged, grabbing Dex’s bicep and stopping him short. When Dex turned back with a frown, Sam shook his head and held a finger to his lips. He pointed at Dex, pointed to the left side of the doorway, then pointed to himself before indicating the doorknob. Dex’s scowl deepened as he nodded, understanding dawning.
Syd said she’d be gone an hour. It hadn’t been more than twenty minutes. Which meant there was a chance someone else might be at the door, just like old Melvin had been a few moments ago.
The Darkling Hunters: Fox Company Alpha (Fox Company Series Book 1) Page 15