Dex grimaced. “I don’t mean the physical part. She was down for that. But she said she wasn’t ready for…you know, anything more…because she had something important to tell me. Secrets. About her. She said she wouldn’t let things go any further until…until she’d told me the truth.”
“The truth about what?” Sam shifted forward. “What kind of secrets?”
Dex shrugged and finally looked up at his partner. “I don’t know. I got her to agree to wait a week before telling me.”
“Why the fuck would you do that?”
Dex let his expression harden. “Because I don’t give a shit, Sam. No secret of hers is going to change the way I feel about her. I asked her to give me one week to prove myself to her. After that, we could deal with whatever it is together. I needed her to understand how much I…” He trailed off with a cough, looking down at his hands again.
“Love her,” Sam finished for him. Dex looked up just in time to catch the wistful, pained look in Sam’s eyes just before his partner cleared his expression. “I get it, man. Not my place to tell you how to handle your budding relationship. So why are you telling me this?”
Dex cleared his throat and quickly looked down. “Because Syd says you’re part of this, too.”
Sam went very, very still. “In what…capacity?”
Was that interest? Or alarm? “Well, I mean…I guess she thinks…” Fuck. He couldn’t say it. He tried clearing his throat again, but the words wouldn’t come. Finally, he burst out, “Fuck, dude, I don’t really know what she means. But, I…I’m assuming her secrets will affect both of us. That’s why I wanted you to know, so you’d be prepared when she…opened up.”
He felt Sam’s eyes on him, boring into the top of his head, but refused to look up. After a long moment, Sam sighed. “I’ll keep it in mind. I just hope you didn’t tell her to wait a freaking week so you could include me when she finally spills the beans.”
No. That wasn’t my intention. But it may have been Syd’s when she agreed to it. Dex pressed his lips together, grinding his teeth, and forced himself to meet Sam’s eyes.
“There’s something else I need to tell you.”
“Figured there would be.” Again with the amused little smile.
Dex held those silvery-gray eyes. “I know you’re in love with her, too.”
Dead silence. Since he was already looking for it, Dex saw the exact moment when Sam’s inner defenses snapped into place, saw the moment the sarcastic, nonchalant façade descended to cover the emotional turmoil Sam didn’t want Dex to see. “I think you’ve been pouring too much tequila on your cheerios, man.”
“I’ve seen the way you look at her,” Dex said quietly.
“You’re crazy,” Sam scoffed.
“Irrelevant to this conversation.” Dex tried for a grin.
Sam shook his head. “You’re the one who’s always been in love with her.”
“Which is why I know it when I see it.”
Sam scowled. “It’s not…Look, I would never…”
This time, the grin came easier. “It’s okay, Sam. Trust me, I know how it feels. I just wanted to you know it’s okay. I don’t blame you. Hell, Syd’s probably the only woman we’ve ever met who could keep up with us. Falling in love with her was inevitable, I think.” A corner of his mouth ticked upward. “For both of us.”
Sam—tall, poised, always-collected Sam, whose one flaw was that he lost his temper far too easily—squirmed in his chair. “Look, dude. It’s not like…I mean, I know how she feels about you, okay? I wouldn’t…I mean…” He growled, obviously frustrated with himself. “I wouldn’t ever want to come between you.”
Dex bit back a laugh. I think that’s exactly what Syd wants, actually. Especially the ‘coming’ part. “It’s okay.”
“I mean it,” Sam said fiercely. He met and held Dex’s eyes. “I’m not out to steal your girl. I would never do that. Ever. I just want you guys to be happy.”
Said Lancelot to King Arthur. “I know, man. I’m not bringing this up to confront you about it.”
“Then why are you?” Irritation mixed with soul-deep discomfort danced behind the question.
Dex took in a deep breath. “Because… I didn’t want you to think you had to hide it from me. Or her.”
Sam’s eyebrows shot upward, his mouth dropping—
Right as the door flew open and Syd darted inside. She slammed it shut, pressed her back against the wood, and gave them both a manic little smile. “Oh, good, you’re both up. Are we packed and ready to go? Like, right fucking now?”
“What’s going on?” Dex rose from his seat, alarmed at the tone of Syd’s voice.
“Oh, nothing,” she said too brightly. “I guess you could say I’ve got good news and bad news.”
Sam rose, too. “What the fuck, Syd?”
She cocked her head toward Sam. “Well, it turns out you were made when you showed up so late last night, just like I feared. Good news is, no one was stupid enough to wake Madge just to tell her there might be a rat in the motel, so we got a few hours of lead time.”
“And the bad news?” Dex didn’t really want to know, but the question had to be asked.
Syd smiled at him—and it was terrifying. “Lead time is up.”
An explosion rocked the building, close enough to send plaster raining down on them.
“Time to run with the other rats,” Syd suggested, far too cheerfully. “Get your shit. Let’s go.”
Chapter 9
Outside, in the parking lot, chaos reigned.
Dex stood just outside the dingy motel room, staring at the fireball that had once been a biker bar. Bits of wood, glass, and plastic rained down from the cloud of smoke overhead, peppering the pitted gravel parking lot like miniature missiles. All around them, doors were banging open on both floors of the motel as half-dressed hookers screamed and wailed about the destruction. An old woman, clad in a fluffy pink bathrobe covered in embroidered red roses, stepped out of the motel’s front office. Her iron-gray hair was pulled back in a no-nonsense bun—and she carried a pump-action, twelve-gauge shotgun with a sparkly pink dog collar wrapped around the barrel.
“Well, fuck me sideways,” Dex said in amazement.
Sydney shoved his shoulder. “Run now. Ponder later. Let’s move!”
“Shotgun!” Sam called, tossing the keys toward Dex.
“No fucking shit!” Dex popped the trunk, threw his go-bag inside, and waited for the other two to do the same. He slammed the lid as Sydney dove for the backseat and Sam crammed his nearly seven-foot frame through the passenger-side door. Other people started running as he made his way to the driver’s side, until the place looked more like a disturbed anthill than a run-down motel.
An anthill that doubled as the costume department for Rocky Horry Picture Show, apparently. Who knew there were that many slut-ready silk corsets in the backwoods of Montana?
“Go!” Sydney barked, banging her fist on the back of his headrest.
Muttering curses, Dex revved the engine, flipped the car in reverse, and spun away from the building with a spray of loose gravel. In the rear-view mirror, he caught a glimpse of old Madge, glaring at him as she loaded Merle with a practiced, one-handed gravity-pump. Dex suppressed a shiver and hit the gas.
Another explosion boomed just as they hit the feeder road. Dex cursed as the car skewed sideways, wrangling the wheel to keep them from sliding off to the shoulder. He got the giant boat of a car straightened out, locked his elbows, and floored it. The Galaxy’s engine rumbled as if preparing for take-off, and they zoomed onto the highway just as another fireball rose above the trees.
“Fuck, Syd. What the fuck did you do?”
He felt the leather seat-back tighten as she gripped the top of his seat. “Got rid of a nasty stain on humanity.”
“You could have killed people back there!” Sam snarled, holding the dashboard with both hands as Dex swerved to avoid oncoming traffic.
“Madge will protect her hooke
r harem,” Syd replied evenly. “The only victims back there are the ones who deserved to die.”
Dex eased up on the gas, checking the speed limit on a passing sign. His knuckles had turned solid white from his death-grip on the steering wheel. “How many?” he asked finally, glancing at Syd in the rear-view. “How many darklings?”
She met his look. “Reggie, the bar’s owner. You can relax, Lance Corporal Peterson. I promise no civilians were killed in the execution of this raid.”
Sam started cursing, quietly, viciously, while Dex tried to strangle the steering wheel. Sydney sat back, completely unperturbed, and turned to watch the scenery outside the rear window. Off in the distance, sirens wailed like vengeful demons come to see what had happened to their evil brethren. Dex forced himself to slow even further, until they were cruising just under the speed limit.
Best not to look guilty.
After a long, painful silence, Dex let out a frustrated huff. “Alright, Miss Unabomber. Where to now? I thought you infiltrated that place to get close to that other darkling, the one with the club out in Boulder. How are you going to cozy up to him now that your hunting ground’s been blown to smithereens?”
“I have a plan,” she said serenely, making Dex grind his teeth. “Keep going east. Find us a motel near the Boulder city limit. We’ll regroup and go from there.”
“Oh, good,” Dex said, sarcasm dripping as he glanced at his partner. “You hear that, Sam? Sydney has another plan.”
Sam grimaced. “Let’s hope it doesn’t involve C-4 this time.”
“It doesn’t,” Sydney said with a chuckle. She waited until Dex met her eyes in the rear-view, then gave him a hard, determined smile. “Although I’m pretty sure you won’t like this plan any better.”
“Great,” Sam grumbled. “Just…fucking…great.”
Dex hit the gas. To hell with the speed limit.
In the backseat, Sydney laughed.
◆◆◆
Sam tossed his go-bag on top of the generic floral bedspread, grimacing as he looked around the room. At least this motel looked like it catered to travelers, rather than serving as fifteen-minute fuck-boxes for itinerant hookers. The plain sheetrock walls were painted a cheery, warm taupe, and there was even a line of floral wallpaper in place of crown molding. Two queen beds sat side-by-side, bracketing a single bedside table with a double-armed reading lamp bolted on top of it. As motel rooms went, it was probably one of the nicest ones he’d ever stayed in.
Then the whole room darkened as his companions walked in. Dex, normally the reserved one of their crime-fighting duo, was reprising his role as a walking storm cloud. He marched into the room, dumped his bag on the second bed, and whirled around to face Sydney as she followed him through the door. She wrinkled her nose at the floral décor, plonked her duffle bag beside a burgundy armchair, and seated herself like a queen claiming her throne.
“Gentlemen, you may begin your chastisement.”
Dex’s lips curled into a snarl. “What are we looking at here, Syd? Are the cops going to be after us?”
“Don’t be ridiculous. I’m never that careless.”
“What about the bodies?” Sam asked, watching her carefully. Sydney wasn’t as composed as she appeared. “Are we going to start seeing psycho-murderer manhunt footage on the evening news?”
“Please. I’ve been doing this a long time, Sam. I know how to hide a body. Or two.”
Dex growled with frustration, pushing his fingers through his hair. “Why didn’t you tell us what you were planning, Syd? Why didn’t you—”
She started ticking reasons off on her fingertips. “Because you would have tried to stop me. Because you would have insisted on bringing out your Super-Secret Spy Notebook and getting approval from that ball sac you claim you answer to. Because you would have argued, and chastised, and hemmed and hawed, until the damn darklings got wind of it and found out we were coming.” Her eyes blazed with righteous fire. “And because I knew what needed to be done, and I didn’t need your permission to do it.”
Dex let out an agitated sigh and sat heavily on the edge of the closest bed. He bent forward, resting his elbows on his knees, and threaded his fingers through his hair. “I just can’t believe you did that, Syd.”
“I did what I had to do.” Her face remained impassive.
“That’s not what he’s talking about,” Sam said quietly.
“What then?”
Sam held her gaze. “You didn’t trust us, Syd.”
For the first time, her serene façade faltered.
“We were there,” Sam continued softly. “Right there, right in the fucking room with you. We’ve worked together before. Wiggled our way out of hairier situations than that dumpster fire back there. Hell, we were together in Chicago for two whole months, fighting to stay alive. We had your back back then, Sydney. You trusted us enough to let us help. Yet, this time, you act like we’re complete strangers. Incapable. Unworthy of your trust.”
She winced.
“That’s the part that hurts, Syd,” Sam said, not bothering to hide his anguish. “Not the fireballs or the explosions. You kept us out of the loop. Treated us like we were enemies. Like…like we were nothing to you.”
“Like last night didn’t matter,” Dex finished for him, his voice barely above a whisper.
Sydney looked from one to the other of them, surprise softening her features. She closed her eyes, bit her lower lip, and turned her head away. “I didn’t mean…No, I guess that’s not true. I did want to keep you both out of it. If you’ll recall, I was rather insistent on that point before this whole thing began.” She shot them both a pointed glare, then sighed. “The darkling I’ve been chasing …he’s not like the others we’ve fought together. All the other times, your DEA playbook served just fine, and I could afford to roll along with your rules and regulations. But this time…”
The corners of her mouth went white with fury—and it scared Sam to the bone. “There are no rules this time, Sam. There can’t be. Not if I—if we—want to take the Big Man down. I know how much your jobs mean to you. I didn’t want you to get caught up in…a mission like this.”
Sam had a strong feeling she’d been about to say something else, but changed her mind. He let it go—for now—and moved to seat himself on the tiny loveseat. “We’ve already opened the cover page, Syd. Might as well fill us in.”
“And what do you mean, he’s not like the darklings we’ve fought before?” Dex piped up. He looked honestly puzzled. “How’s he different?”
“And more importantly, how do you know?” Sam asked pointedly.
“I know him,” Sydney said, voice flat.
“Funny. Especially since you made it seem like this was just a chance encounter, like you just happened to stumble on this mysterious gang boss who just happened to be a darkling.”
Her lips twitched. “Not much gets by you, does it, Sam?”
Dex scowled. “Hey!”
She quirked an eyebrow and smirked at him. Sam bit back a smile and rolled his eyes. “Focus, please. We still need an answer, Syd. How the hell do you know this guy?”
Sydney’s face went cold, quiet, and blank. “Let’s just say…we have old business to discuss.”
“That’s not—”
“As to how he’s different from other darklings,” she continued briskly, “you might say he’s the granddaddy of them all. Much, much worse than the born darklings your DEA is so obsessed with finding and capturing.”
Sam shook his head in honest puzzlement. “You’ve said stuff like that before, but I still don’t understand the distinction.” When she raised a questioning eyebrow, he frowned. “Stuff like ‘born darkling,’ ‘worst I’ve ever seen,’ ‘darkling down to the bone.’ Why make the distinction?”
“Yeah,” Dex said. “Aren’t all darklings the same?”
She blinked at them. “You’re kidding, right?”
Sam and Dex exchanged a look. “Well…I mean, all darklings are born that w
ay, aren’t they?” Dex said.
“Please tell me that’s not what the DEA Academy has been teaching you.” Her look of honest horror surprised Sam. He nodded, very slowly, and her eyebrows went up in seeming amazement. “Then your core courses are severely lacking. There are five different kinds of darklings, at least three of which I know you’ve encountered because you’ve either told me about them, or I was there with you.”
“But…how can you tell?” Dex demanded. “A darkling is a darkling, isn’t it? I mean, the only way to spot one is to look in its eyes, so…”
She shook her head, lips pressed together as if in frustration. Sitting forward, she started looking around the room, searching for something. After a moment, she got up and headed for the bathroom.
“Where are you going?” Sam asked.
“Looking for visuals,” Sydney called over her shoulder. “Men seem to like visuals.”
Sam and Dex exchanged another look. Dex grimaced. “Oh, this ought to be great.”
Scuffling sounds came from the bathroom, followed by the hiss of a faucet. After a few moments, Sydney called, “Okay, boys. Gather ‘round.”
Curious now, Sam rose and poked his head into the small room. Sydney sat on the closed toilet lid, hands folded in her lap. On the edge of the tub, she’d lined up five of those miniature, wax-coated Dixie cups, the cheap kind motels usually provided for swish n’ spit. Four of them were filled with water, while the last one sat off to the side, empty.
Sydney spread her hands, giving him a little grin. “Welcome to my darkling demo. Can everybody see okay?”
“No,” Dex grumbled. “There’s a giant jackass blocking my view.”
Sam snorted and pushed his way into the little room, leaning against the sink and crossing his arms over his chest. It would be a tight fit with all three of them stuffed in there—Dex and Sam weren’t exactly small guys—so Dex settled for standing in the doorframe.
Dex raised an eyebrow at Sydney’s Dixie cup display. “Go for it, teacher-lady. Learn us something good.”
Sydney ignored the quip—and the grammar faux-pas—and waved a hand over her line of cups. “These represent the male mind.”
The Darkling Hunters_Fox Company Alpha Page 11
