by M. S. Parker
When I stepped outside, I hoped the weather was a good omen. The end of October usually meant low to mid-seventies and today was a perfect example, a balmy seventy-three and sunny. After being in New York, I was definitely appreciative of the ability to walk around without freezing my ass off. Of course, according to Nyx, it had barely been chilly in the Big Apple. I didn’t even want to think about what it would be like in December or January.
Except, I might need to think of it, because I doubted Nyx would want to stay in Savannah.
Thinking that far ahead probably wasn’t something I should be doing, but I couldn’t help it. When I thought about making plans for the future, I wanted her to be in them.
As I pulled up to the house, my thoughts of Nyx moved to the background, and I began to think about what I would say to my dad. By the time I got to the door, I had something perfect in mind.
“If you’re here to see your father, he’s not at home.” The same new housekeeper I’d met earlier this month sounded bored.
“Do you know where he is?”
She folded her arms, and I realized that ‘bored’ wasn’t actually the right description. She looked…annoyed. As if she had far better things to be doing with her time than answering doors.
“Look, I can call him and tell him that I’m here with you and give him some long-winded explanation about how it’s your fault I’m interrupting whatever he’s doing.” I took my phone out of my pocket. “Or you can tell me where he is, and I promise he won’t know that it came from you.”
She glared at me for a few seconds more and then sighed. “Someone called from Check & Sons, said they had important information for him. He left about an hour ago.”
“Thanks.” I smiled, but she didn’t return it. “I didn’t hear it from you.”
She closed the door without another word, and I turned back to my car. Apparently, I had a new destination.
I hoped that Dad going into the firm meant that he’d spent yesterday talking to his lawyers, and they’d called him in to discuss more in person. If that was the case, I’d be polite about my inquiry and then be on my way. If he was trying to figure out a way to get out of what I wanted him to do, I’d have to figure out a new approach.
Since it was almost noon, maybe I’d take him out to lunch, and we could discuss his options.
Then again, my appetite was never the best around him.
I managed to snag a parking space in the back and then walked around to the front. I was coming up the sidewalk when a familiar figure walked out the front door of the firm.
Dark red hair pulled up and back from her face. Fair skin. Curves I knew intimately. She wore a dark green t-shirt and a pair of jeans so new they looked like she’d walked them out of a store.
Apparently, I’d discovered what her errand was. Now, I was even more curious because I didn’t know if she’d come here because of her history with the Check family, or if she’d been the reason my father had been called here. If it was the second one, it probably meant I didn’t need to have lunch with Dad. Except I didn’t know why she wouldn’t have had me go with her if she was meeting my father.
“Nyx!”
She didn’t miss a step. I called her name again, but still nothing. She must’ve been lost in thought because there wasn’t much in the way of noise at the moment. I’d have to ask her later what she was thinking about so hard. Since I didn’t know if she’d talked to my father or why she would’ve talked to him without me, going inside continued to make sense, so that’s what I did.
The receptionist smiled at me as I walked into the building, and I smiled in return, but I didn’t stop at her desk. She must’ve known what family I belonged to because she didn’t tell me to come back or call for security. She’d probably seen my father come in and now assumed that I was here for whatever meeting he’d been called to. I wasn’t about to tell her differently. The last thing I needed was for her to call someone and find out I wasn’t supposed to be here at all.
The short corridor took me to the T where a turn to a right would’ve taken me to the offices, and the left took me to the conference rooms. The first one was empty, and I could hear voices coming from the second one. I couldn’t make out the words, but someone was yelling. Even if that was where my father was, I didn’t think it’d be a good idea to interrupt whatever was going on in there. My questions could wait if that was the case.
I went for the last room to see if Dad was there. If he wasn’t, I’d check the offices. I didn’t hear anything, but the door was only partway open, so I couldn’t see the entire room. I gave the door a push and was already starting to turn away when something at the corner of my eye caught my attention.
Someone was lying on the floor.
No, not someone. My father.
“Dad?”
I took a step and was inside the room. That’s when I saw the blood.
Thirty-Five
Nyx
I’d been here for forty-five minutes, and my sister still hadn’t shown up. It had been thirteen years since I’d last seen her, and she was almost an hour late. Part of me hoped nothing had happened to her, but part of me actually hoped something had gone wrong. If that wasn’t the case, it meant she didn’t even care enough to try to get here on time.
As much as I hated it, it didn’t actually surprise me that she didn’t care. After all, she’d walked away from me before. I only had an email to tell me that anything was different. And no reason why.
That was the real reason I was here. Sure, I had a tiny bit of hope that Dara had actually meant what she’d said in that email, and she wanted to apologize for everything that’d happened, but I wasn’t stupid. I hadn’t been trying to think about what her other possible motivations could be, but I figured they existed. No, the main reason I’d come was to figure out why she’d reached out to me.
But it didn’t look like I’d get any answers. Not now and probably not ever.
At least I’d had a good lunch, and now I thought I’d treat myself to dessert. I might as well get some sugar in my system. Once I finished, I’d head back to the ranch and see if Bradyn had heard from his father.
It wasn’t until I motioned for the waitress to come over that I realized people were looking at me…with weird expressions on their faces. And looking at their phones, then at me again.
I frowned as the look registered.
Fear.
They were scared of something.
Of me?
What. The. Hell.
“Delia Check.”
I froze, half-turned in my seat, and watched three police officers walk toward me. It was on the tip of my tongue to tell them that wasn’t my name anymore, but I couldn’t speak.
“Delia Check, also known as Delia Phoenix, you’re under arrest for the murder of Clancy Traylor.”
My jaw dropped.
Fuck me.
End of Darker 2, The Inquirer.
Continue the story in the final book, Darker 3: The Fugitive, coming October 9th.
Until then, turn the page for a free preview of The Pleasure Series ->
One
It happened during my last session with my court-appointed therapist. She'd given me two pieces of advice that I decided to follow. The first was to not let anyone define who I was, to be an individual who was comfortable in her own skin. The second was to have a healthy sex life. I remember thinking that was kind of strange, considering I was only eighteen at the time.
Somehow, I doubted this was what she pictured when she'd imparted those words of wisdom.
The man beneath me moaned as I rode him. The muscles in my thighs were starting to burn with each rise and fall, but I didn't slow. I kept my eyes open, my head down, but I barely registered the pretty-boy features of the young man I'd picked up just an hour ago. My hands splayed on his muscular chest, helping me balance.
“Fuck, babe, you're so tight.”
Okay, so I hadn't picked the guy for his eloquence, but he had a nice thick co
ck and no issues with me calling the shots. That's what mattered.
I flexed my muscles the way I'd been taught, and he swore again. “I work out,” I said and flexed again.
I leaned forward, and he pushed himself up on his elbows, his mouth latching on to a pale pink nipple. My eyelids fluttered as he sucked on it, his tongue and teeth teasing, but I didn't close my eyes. I always fucked with my eyes open… always. Lights on. No exceptions.
“Harder,” I said and ground down, the angle allowing just the right amount of friction on my clit. I was close. The pressure inside me was at the point where I had to come or explode. “Come on... baby.” I almost tripped over not knowing his name, but I caught myself. “Suck harder. Make me come.”
Technically, I was doing most of the work, but he deserved a little credit for his nice cock and the wonderful things his mouth was doing to my breast, especially when he followed my directions. Never underestimate the importance of a man who does what he's told.
“Ah,” I moaned as the suction increased, sending jolts of intense pleasure from my breasts straight to my throbbing pussy. I moved one of my hands to the place where my body joined with his and my fingers found my clit. I rubbed it with quick, rapid circles, the combined friction and pressure making it hurt beautifully. I always needed that edge.
“Fuck, I'm gonna...” The guy's words turned into a loud grunt as his hips jerked up against me, his final thrusts hard and fast.
The hand not between my legs moved to my breast. Even as I felt my partner's cock begin to pulse inside the condom, it was my turn. A light pinch and twist to my nipple, and I was there. My muscles tensed and my pussy contracted around the thick shaft inside. The nameless young man swore again, his face a mask of pain-pleasure. As I descended from my high, I rolled off him, and his now-sensitive cock slipped out. I lay on my side, breathing heavily and enjoying the little bursts of electricity racing along my nerves, the aftershocks of a pretty good orgasm. Eight on a scale of ten.
He moved closer and I immediately stiffened, adrenaline flooding my system. I jerked upright, pushing myself back until I was well out of arm's reach.
“Easy, babe.” He gave me a smile, showing a set of deep dimples that went perfectly with his baby blues. He leaned on his elbow. “That was amazing.”
I nodded in agreement and climbed off the narrow dorm bed. College boys were easy, but their beds were generally shit. I picked up my underwear and bra.
“Leaving already?”
I glanced at him as I dressed. He hadn't moved, even to cover himself.
“Come back,” he continued. “Give me ten minutes and an energy drink from the mini-fridge, I'll be good to go again.”
It wasn't even remotely tempting since that would mean at least ten minutes of small talk, but I didn't want to hurt his feelings. I wasn't a bitch, no matter how often I'd been called one. “Thanks, but no. I have to go to work.”
He glanced at the clock, a puzzled expression settling on his handsome face. “It's three in the afternoon.”
I smiled and shrugged as I adjusted my tank top. His eyes locked onto the bit of cleavage the tight black top exposed. I didn't say anything. He'd seen them bare. As long as he kept his hands to himself now, he could look all he wanted.
“Will I see you around?” He sat up, but didn't reach for me.
“Probably not for a while,” I answered truthfully. While I liked coming to campus, I generally tried not to frequent the same places when I had an itch to scratch. No matter how good the sex, I rarely repeated. I knew society liked to pretend it was the women who got clingy, but I'd met plenty of men who thought a couple roles in the hay meant we were a regular thing.
I smoothed down my miniskirt and pulled on my nearly knee-high boots. I had two pairs, but these were my favorites. The four-inch heels raised me close to five-eight and I preferred being tall. Plus, if I ran into any trouble, they packed a hell of a kick.
“Where do you work?”
I gave him a small smile, but didn't answer. I scanned the carpet. One of my earrings had fallen out. I still had the other three in my right earlobe, but the hoop from the cartilage at the top was missing.
“Let me guess.”
I rolled my eyes, knowing he couldn't see my face. I knew what was coming. I knew how people saw me. I'd dyed my hair several times over the years, but for the past six months, I had rocked a bright blue. It was cropped short, angled at my chin in a way that kept my heart-shaped face from looking too delicate. My eyes were a pale gray that most people thought were contacts though they were one hundred percent natural. Aside from the multiple piercings in my ears, I also had an eyebrow ring and one in my bellybutton. That, plus my numerous tattoos and the way I dressed, meant people generally made the wrong assumptions regarding my occupation.
“Dancer at The Blue Moon?”
At least he’d picked one of the classier strip clubs in the area. I had a feeling more than one of my conquests over the past three and a half years had gone trolling clubs looking for me. The thought was amusing. What did it say about the state of feminism in society when a woman couldn't express herself through her appearance without people assuming she was a stripper?
I finally spotted the small silver hoop and slid it back into place with practiced ease. “It was fun,” I said as I headed out the door.
By the time I reached the dorm lobby, I was already running through my schedule for the day, my encounter all but forgotten. I only had two jobs today, but the second had a long list of things I needed to do, most of which had to wait until everyone at the company had gone home. Those were my second favorite kind of jobs, because it meant I rarely had anyone staring at me or trying to talk to me while I worked. The best work was, of course, the kind I could do from home. I liked crowds at clubs and concerts, the anonymity that came with being part of the masses, but I wasn't a social person. There was only so much personal interaction I could handle at a time. I'd heard half a dozen psychological diagnosis as well as a multitude of reasons behind them. I had a simpler explanation that I preferred.
I didn't play well with others.
The brisk wind that greeted me as I stepped outside was much chillier than it had been less than an hour ago. Autumn really had come to Colorado. I shivered and pulled my long-sleeved shirt more tightly around me. I'd been debating about stopping home before hitting my first appointment—the weather just cinched it. Coming home late tonight without a jacket would suck.
I headed toward the apartments that sat on the edge of the Colorado State University campus. They were a nice mix of graduate students, married students and recent graduates in the transition stage between college and real life. Age-wise, I fit in with them, even though I'd graduated three years ago. I didn't really hang out with any of them though. I preferred my own company. I could trust myself.
I didn't even give the 'out of order' sign by the elevator a second glance; it had only worked the first year I'd lived here. I didn't mind the walk up three flights of stairs most of the time. Less time I had to spend on the treadmill at the gym. It was a real bitch when I had to carry stuff though.
The apartment was small, but I didn't need a big place. When you grow up with hardly any room to move, a one-bedroom with a kitchen, bathroom and living room all to myself was a luxury. The place was neat and simple, the furniture a mismatch of clunky college thrift store finds and the nicer pieces I'd been slowly buying. A bedroom suite had been my first purchase, a celebration of my first self-employment check. I didn't go in the bedroom though. I didn't need to. Still, I paused at its doorway and looked at my place, allowing myself to feel the satisfaction of knowing I'd accomplished all this on my own.
I swapped my outer shirt for my favorite leather jacket and headed back out. Nothing like a good fuck and then a little affirmation of how far I'd brought myself. I wasn't a shrink, but I thought I was pretty well-adjusted. Considering other people who'd gone through the same things I had were either dead, drug addicts or prostitutes,
I felt a pat on the back was well-deserved.
I was still in a good mood when I strolled in to Khan and Associates, and the secretary glaring at me only brightened my day. She was a new addition since the last time I'd been here, which meant I was going to enjoy this.
“May I help you?”
If she'd had glasses, she would've glared at me over their rims. I plunked my backpack down on her desk just to see her eye twitch.
“I'm here to see Ms. Khan.” I kept my tone polite and professional. “She's expecting me.”
“Take a seat.” The secretary gave me one of those condescending looks that women like her seemed to reserve for people like me. “I'll get to you when I get to you.”
I laughed and the scowl deepened, creating an array of tiny wrinkles on her forehead. If she kept that up, she'd make herself look years older than she was. “Check your appointment book. Lang Tech Consulting.”
She didn't even pretend to look at her computer or the calendar on the desk. Instead, she pointed toward the chairs and looked at me like I was something to scrape off the bottom of her shoe. My mild annoyance started to turn into actual anger. I didn't show it though. Even as good as I was at my job, if I got too mouthy, people wouldn't overlook my appearance to hire me.
“Ma'am,” I spoke through gritted teeth. “I'm going to say this one more time and then I'm going to make a call that you really don't want me to make. Let Ms. Khan know I'm here.”
“Excuse me?” She stood up, leaning toward me with her hands on the desk.
I was sure the look she was giving me had quelled plenty of people who seemed tougher than me. Unfortunately for her, my past was full of people a hell of a lot scarier than a middle-aged secretary with a superiority complex.
I sighed and straightened. “Don't say I didn't warn you.” I pulled my phone from my bag and scrolled through my business contacts. I tapped on the right name and waited.
