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

by Rhiannon Ayers

  The little man cringed and stepped back. Sydney took her time straightening her skirt, aware that every eye in the room was on her. Sam sat straight and helped her pull the fabric the rest of the way down, then leaned in and pressed a kiss on her mound.

  He looked up at her, promise shining in his eyes. “That’s for later.”

  Several people in the crowd groaned. Sydney looked around and presented a sexy smile for each of her admirers, taking the opportunity to check Dex’s position.

  Except he wasn’t there. And the bald guy who’d been watching them earlier was also missing.

  Shit.

  Mind racing, Sydney caressed Sam’s chin, then took a step back and gave him a hand up. Once they were both standing, she turned to the sniveling man. “I need to find the ladies room, first.”

  “Um…but, he said—”

  “I don’t care what he said,” Sydney cut in, her voice unnaturally pleasant and dripping sarcasm. “You two wait at the bar. Don’t worry; I’m not one of those women who wastes thirty minutes in the bathroom just powdering her nose.” She turned back toward Sam, stretched up on her tiptoes, and waited for him to bend down to accept her kiss. Then she whispered, right against his lips, “I don’t see Dex anywhere. Find him.”

  Sam rumbled in response, waves of tension rolling off him. He knew they were in deep shit. “We should stay together,” he whispered fiercely.

  Sydney shook her head, lowering back down to her heels, and patted his chest affectionately. “Don’t worry. I promise I won’t get lost.”

  She turned on her heel and marched away before either Sam or the sniveling man could react.

  Chapter 23

  Sam watched Sydney walk away, noting how everyone else turned to watch her, too. The woman really was sex on two legs. His throbbing cock was proof enough of that.

  He raised an eyebrow at the little man—the guy couldn’t be more than five-foot-tall, making Sam feel like the Jolly Green Giant—and waited to see what he’d do. The man watched Sydney, a frown causing the skin between his eyebrows to pucker. Then he shook his head, gestured for Sam to precede him, and scuttled along behind as Sam headed toward the bar.

  No sign of Dex. No sign of the bald biker-dude, either. Disquiet set his nerves on edge as he chose a barstool and parked himself. The little man stood by Sam’s shoulder, wringing his hands like an old maid. Sam ignored him, instead scanning the crowd in search of his missing lover. It wasn’t like Dex to just disappear, though he could have just gone to the bathroom like Sydney had. But Sam’s inner radar kept pinging like crazy, telling him something just wasn’t right.

  It got worse as the minutes ticked by.

  Five minutes. Ten.

  Fifteen minutes.

  Sydney should have been back by now.

  Sam rose, pivoting on his heels—and found himself surrounded by tall, burly men wearing murderous expressions.

  “Marlon would like to see you now,” the sniveling man said—except he wasn’t acting meek and apologetic any longer. A wicked little gleam danced in his eyes as a smirk twisted his lips. “I do believe he’s tired of waiting.”

  Sam tensed, feigning sudden fear. He looked the three men up and down, gulping hard so that his Adam’s apple would quiver, and started toying with one of the buttons on his shirt. “Guys, look, I don’t know what this is about, but—”

  “All you need to know is Marlon wants you,” the little man sneered. “Get moving.”

  Sam nodded frantically, biting his lower lip. He looked down, hoping to appear cowed, just as the faux button-cap popped off into his hand. Wringing his fingers the same way the little man had been doing earlier, he let the cap fall to the concrete floor. He took a step forward, careful to put his heel directly over the small glass disc—and squeezed his eyes shut as he stomped down hard.

  The flash was so bright, it nearly blinded him through closed eyelids. Screams echoed throughout the room as Sam’s kidnappers and curious rubber-neckers caught the full force of the light bomb. Sam dropped into a crouch before the glow faded and opened his eyes again. Just in time—two of the burly guys surged forward, intent on catching him despite their sudden blindness. Their arms whizzed by over his head, and Sam took advantage of his position to punch both guys in the nuts. They crashed to the floor, their screams joining in with all the others in the room.

  Sam heard the scuff of boots on concrete seconds before the third man lunged in his general direction. He swept the guy’s legs, bringing him down with a meaty crash, and clocked him across the chin. The man’s head snapped back, hitting the floor with a hard thud, and he went still.

  The sniveling man shouted in outrage, arms stretched in front of him, hands waggling around as if he hoped Sam would just stumble into his grasp. Shaking his head, Sam slammed a fist into the little man’s temple, knocking him down like a felled tree.

  The screams from the rest of the warehouse continued unabated, now accompanied by the sound of falling furniture and crashing glass as people scrambled over and around things in blind panic—literally.

  One of the burly guys had a Sig Sauer pistol strapped to his belt. Sam helped himself, checking for extra ammo as he did. Sydney’s little toys were nice, but he preferred real weapons. He popped the ammo cartridge, noted that it was full, then reloaded and popped the safety. Then he took off in a running crouch, heading for the bathrooms.

  A darkling tackled him the moment he entered the darkened hallway. Sam cursed as the creature’s momentum slammed him sideways against a wall, nearly knocking the gun out of his fist. The darkling hissed at him, showing teeth filed down to menacing points, and tried to take a snapping bite of Sam’s neck. Sam elbowed the creature in the gut, then shoved it back with the point of his shoulder, knocking it off-balance. It gave him just enough time to raise the gun and put a hole through its heart. The darkling screeched as blood sprayed the wall behind it, staggering backward before crashing to the ground in a stinking, wet heap. The noise from the gunshot ricocheted off the walls and ceiling of the narrow hallway, making Sam shake his head to clear the ringing from his ears.

  No chance of sneaking up now.

  That thought in mind, Sam charged through the door to the women’s restroom, hoping surprise and momentum would give him the advantage. But as he slid to a halt on the slick tile floor, he realized the room was empty.

  No one. Not even a single party-goer. He busted through each stall door, just in case, but there was no sign of Sydney. No sign that anyone had even been in this room, which said a lot, considering how many women had been out there earlier.

  First Dex, now Sydney.

  Sam threw back his head and screamed, “Fuck!”

  ◆◆◆

  A muffled gunshot sounded from somewhere on the floor above, making Dex perk up. Interesting that the screaming started before the gunshot. What the hell were Sam and Sydney up to?

  “Oh, for fuck’s sake. What the fuck was that?” Marlon snarled, glaring at Ryker. Marlon had appropriated the warehouse owner’s basement office as his own private meeting room. He sat behind a plain metal office desk, looking entirely out of place in his three-piece leather suit while being surrounded by filing cabinets, bookcases, and stacks of paper invoices.

  Ryker, who’d been pacing back and forth in front of the doorway, paused with both eyebrows raised toward his non-existent hairline. “How the fuck should I know?”

  Marlon bared his teeth. “Go find out, you moron.”

  “But, Boss—”

  “I said go!”

  Ryker cringed, then nodded as he scurried to obey. He shot a menacing glare toward Dex, clearly a don’t try any funny business look, and disappeared into the hallway, slamming the door behind him.

  “Hard to find good help these days, isn’t it?” Dex quipped.

  “Shut up,” Marlon barked. He pulled out his phone and started scrolling through messages, pretending to ignore Dex.

  Fine by me, asshole. Dex sat on a ratty tweed couch, his hands zip
-tied in front of him. They’d brought him down to the basement no more than twenty minutes ago. Frankly, he was amazed to still be alive, but it seemed Marlon had some kind of plan for him, because all they’d done was secure his hands and tell him to shut the fuck up.

  Fortunately, they’d been stupid enough to tie Dex’s hands in front. Unfortunately, that meant trying to wiggle one of Sydney’s special lightsaber needles out of his belt using only his pinkies, since any other movement would attract their attention. Sydney had shoved the damn things deep into the leather to avoid accidental displacement, for which he was eminently grateful. But at the moment, he wished she hadn’t been quite so meticulous. It had taken him this long just to get three-quarters of one needle pulled out.

  Almost ready. Time for a distraction.

  “So, what’s new in the world of crime-bossing?”

  Marlon didn’t even bother looking up.

  “I bet your boss is all in a tizzy over his upcoming con-fab, isn’t he? How often does he do that, by the way? Once a year? Twice? Every other Tuesday in months ending with Y? What’s the point of bringing all you deadbeats together, by the way? Do you braid each other’s hair and tell ghost stories before or after the pillow fights?”

  “Shut up, you moron,” Marlon grumbled.

  “No, I’m really curious. Spill the beans, boss man. How does the criminal underground conduct a meeting between all its top players without someone getting his head blown off? You’d think your bigwig boss dude would keep you separated to prevent you from putting your heads together, but it seems as if he wants you to conspire against him. What’s all that about, huh? Go on, tell me.”

  Marlon heaved a sigh and looked up at Dex with cold, dead eyes. “You are expendable, Mr. Peterson. Kindly remember that. And shut the fuck—”

  Crash!

  Something heavy and loud shook the ceiling overhead, making both of them look upward. Marlon scowled, coming to his feet as he watched streamers of dust dribble down from above.

  Dex felt the needle’s tip clear the edge of his belt.

  Crash!

  Marlon squeezed out from behind the desk, alternating between looking at the ceiling and looking toward the door.

  Dex sat up, feigning concern, and carefully positioned the needle’s tip so that it poked out between two of his knuckles.

  Crash!

  Marlon took a hesitant step toward the doorway. He glared at Dex, then jumped as something else crashed overhead. He took a half-step closer to the door, giving Dex a three-quarters view of his profile. Another crash prompted another half-step, which gave Dex a view of his side. A fourth crash seemed to shake the ceiling like an earthquake, causing fountains of dust to rain down.

  Marlon turned his back on Dex, striding for the door.

  Dex lunged off the couch, fists held high as he aimed for the vulnerable swath of skin at the back of Marlon’s neck. Sydney had warned them to aim for exposed flesh, not clothing. He let out a high-pitched battle-cry, hoping to startle Marlon into turning around just in time to get a needle through the eye.

  Marlon spun—and knocked Dex’s outstretched hands aside with a casual flick of his wrist. Dex cursed, trying to turn his forward momentum into a bulldozer move, but Marlon avoided it with a practiced twist of his hips. Then the darkling let loose with a roundhouse kick, sending Dex flying backward and sideways. He crashed to the floor, jarred by the impact—

  And the needle went flying.

  Dex watched it in slow-motion, horror flooding through him. The floor was covered in old-fashioned wool carpeting, not the typical synthetic stuff. These needles won’t react with leather, metal, or plastic, said Sydney’s voice in his head. But everything else…

  Dex shot to his feet so fast his head spun. He charged Marlon, catching the criminal off-guard with the speed and ferocity of his attack. He slammed into the darkling’s chest, sending both of them crashing through the weak particle-board office door.

  The carpet went up with a thick whoosh of flames just as they landed in the hallway.

  Marlon bellowed with outrage as Dex landed on top of him, squirming like a demented eel as he tried to get away. Dex used his superior weight to keep the guy pinned and started using his bound fists like a bludgeon against the darkling’s skull. Marlon writhed, trying to buck Dex off his chest, but he had no leverage. Dex wailed on him, trying for a good smack to the temple to knock the bastard out, but he never stayed still long enough.

  Then something drew a line of fire across Dex’s right shoulder—just as a gunshot blast echoed down the hallway. Dex cursed, throwing himself sideways as a second bullet buried itself in the sheetrock wall beside him. He rolled into a crouch and found Ryker aiming another shot from the other end of the hall.

  Free from Dex’s weight, Marlon sat up—right into the path of Ryker’s third bullet.

  The shot punched through the back of Marlon’s head and exploded a crater where his nose used to be. Marlon sagged forward as blood sprayed, bits of brain and bone flying every which way.

  Dex and Ryker both stopped. Stared.

  Well, fuck me sideways, Dex thought in amazement.

  “What the fuck?” Ryker cried, blinking at Dex in disbelief. A black cloud descended over his face. “You killed him!”

  “Uh, you’ve got the gun,” Dex pointed out. He backed away, furiously yanking a second needle from his belt as he did. “That one’s all on you.”

  “You killed him!” Ryker shouted. His eyes were all crazy, expression manic. He threw himself toward Dex with an enraged roar, apparently forgetting about the gun in his hand. Dex scrabbled backward, losing his balance and falling flat on his ass. Ryker launched himself over Marlon’s body, hands outstretched, fingers bent like grasping claws.

  Dex got the needle free, fisted it, and lay flat on his back just as Ryker landed on top of him. The point slid through Ryker’s shirt and into his chest as his weight drove him downward.

  The darkling exploded in a cloud of white dust and thick black ash. Dex squeezed his eyes and mouth shut, but not fast enough to prevent grit getting into them. The cloud rained down on him, covering him from head to toe in a thick layer of darkling dust.

  Dex sat up, coughing. “Fuck…that’s…” He retched, trying to get dust out of his throat and nose. It tasted like burnt chalk. “Yeah, I’m gonna say it. That’s just gross.”

  He coughed a few more times, then realized he wasn’t just coughing up darkling dust—smoke had started pouring into the hallway. He peeked into the office and found the whole room ablaze, flames dancing merrily along the ugly tweed couch, eating through the stacks of invoices, and licking up the accounting binders on the bookshelves. Cursing roundly now, Dex scrabbled over to Marlon’s body and searched his pockets. He found a small penknife, a magazine for a .9mm, and Marlon’s cell phone. He pocketed the last two items, used the knife to cut the zip-tie around his wrists, and started searching for the gun that went with the clip.

  He found it just as he heard boots pounding down the metal staircase. Dex popped the mag and chambered a round, whirling around in a tight crouch as he aimed for a kneecap.

  Sam busted into the hall, his gun pointed straight at Dex’s head. Both men froze for a second, expressions lax with surprise.

  Then Sam charged him, wrapping him up in a tight, breathless bear hug.

  “Thank god,” Sam whispered. Then he pulled away, frowning. “What the hell happened to you?”

  “Marlon and his cronies convinced me to take a walk with them,” Dex said dismissively. “Took you guys long enough to figure out I was missing.”

  Sam looked down at Marlon’s limp body, eyebrows ticking upward as he noticed all the blood—and the hole in the back of the darkling’s head. “You did that?”

  Dex snorted. “Nope. Ryker—that bald biker-dude—he did that for me.”

  Sam’s eyebrows ticked up another notch. “Oh…kay. So, where’s Ryker?”

  In answer, Dex reached up and fluffed his hair. A cloud of white du
st lifted into the air, making Sam cough.

  “Oh, God,” Sam said with a wheeze. “Now that’s just gross.”

  “That’s what I said. Sydney’s little lightsabers pack a punch,” Dex agreed. But then he frowned. “Where’s Syd?”

  Sam’s expression went grim. “She went to the ladies’ room. Never came back. I went looking for her and got attacked by a Broken darkling instead. They took her, Dex. Somehow, they got past her power and kidnapped her.”

  Icy fear dribbled down Dex’s spine. He wrapped both fists around his appropriated weapon and looked back toward the stairway. “Let’s go. We have to find her.”

  A sound like an exploding aerosol can echoed through the hall, making Sam and Dex startle and whirl in that direction. Smoke had started billowing out near the top of the office’s door frame, and flames were starting to eat through the sheetrock walls.

  Seeming to notice the fire for the first time, Sam shot Dex an amazed look.

  “Did you just…set the building on fire?”

  “He took my stapler,” Dex said with a grin.

  Sam rolled his eyes. “You seriously need to watch better movies. Don’ t suppose you’ve seen a fire extinguisher anywhere?”

  “Not one.” Dex grimaced. “I don’t think Marlon or the building owner cared too much for fire safety codes.”

  Sam ran a hand over his face and sighed. “Come on. We gotta find Syd. Check the other rooms.”

  They set about busting down doors one-by-one, Dex taking the right side of the hall, Sam the left, but all they found was room after empty room. Thick, black smoke filled the hall, making both men cough and grimace. They met up at the foot of the staircase.

  “I saw more offices upstairs,” Sam barked. “Come on. We’ll search for Sydney as we go.”

  “Roger that.” Dex followed his partner up the stairs, taking them two at a time.

  They burst into the warehouse to find a chaotic scene filled with screaming, panicked people. Smoke already bled through the floorboards, creating a thin gray haze over the room. Part of the floor had collapsed directly above the office, flames licking around the edges of the hole. Everywhere, people were shouting, crying, and screaming as they scattered in random directions. Hard to tell which way was up in this nightmare.