Junkyard Dog

by Katja Desjarlais

  Killing me.

  When she didn’t resist his initial advances, he trailed his tongue across her lips, tangling it with hers when her mouth parted and gave him entry. Her chest was still rising in short bursts against his, a constant reminder of his screw-up despite the fingers trailing softly up his spine, sending jolts of lust through him as he kissed her leisurely.

  He ducked his head into the crook of her neck, running his tongue up to her earlobe and pulling her against him when he breathed into her ear and she shivered, her nails digging into his back. “Are we making up?” he asked, dragging his tongue down her neck and kneeling in front of her, pushing her shirt up to kiss the soft skin of her stomach.

  Her hands tangled in his hair, her breath hitching when he began easing her shorts off her hips. “Do kind-of couples do that?” she whispered, stepping out of the shorts and whimpering as he rose up, pulling her shirt over her head and cupping one lace-covered breast.

  “Damn right we do. I’m sorry,” he reiterated against her lips, kissing her deeply while he backed her slowly toward her bedroom, unhooking her bra and dropping it on the floor. He lay her on the bed, taking off his own shirt and fumbling with the buttons of his shorts before he kicked them off and crawled on top of her, desperate to be as close to her as he could. Hooking his thumbs in her panties, he pulled them off and sat back on his haunches to admire the view.

  Her knees drew together, her arms crossing over her breasts. “Stop looking at me like that.”

  “Like what?” he asked, nudging her knees apart and wedging his hips in between them. He grabbed her wrists and unfolded her arms from her body, flicking his tongue over one nipple as he ran his thumb over the other.

  “Like you’re going to eat me. It’s unnerving,” she huffed, her back arching toward his lips and canceling out her feigned indignation.

  He pushed himself up onto one elbow and reached between her thighs. “Would you let me?” he asked, glancing down at his hand and smirking when she blushed and shook her head. “You might like it. I sure as hell would.”

  When her knees began to tighten around his hips defensively, he let her off the hook, kissing her softly. “Another night?” She looked away, ignoring his request. He trailed his lips to her ear, sliding his fingers through her wetness and groaning as her hips lifted to his hand. “I have an embarrassingly low amount of self-control with you,” he murmured, circling her nub with his thumb and ignoring his demanding hard-on while he began describing just how hot she was making him. He listened for the telltale changes in her breathing as he worked her, getting even more turned on when he realized her strongest responses came with every thought he whispered into her ear.

  Charlotte reached between them and wrapped her hand around his length, running him through her slick folds and sending his eyes rolling back. When her hips lifted to him impatiently, he stilled her hand. “I’m probably going to last thirty seconds if you do that,” he warned, slipping two fingers inside her and covering her body with his, nibbling on her ear. “Want to know what did me in last time?”

  Her breathing grew shorter, her thighs tightening at his hips. “What?”

  “The way you said my name when you came,” he breathed, the memory alone nearly setting him off. He adjusted the pressure of his thumb and was rewarded with a soft gasp. “The way your nails dug into my back like they are right now,” he continued, easing his fingers out of her and lining his erection up with her entrance, lolling his head back when she wound one hand into his hair and tugged. “And that.” He groaned, pushing inside her as her body began to tighten around him.

  He thrust into her heat slowly as she began to gasp, her nails scratching down his back and his name finally on her lips. He swallowed and gritted his teeth, amping up his speed. “Come on, baby.” He moaned, pushing up so he could watch her face as she came undone, her back arching off the bed and her grip on his hair becoming deliciously painful.

  “Lex…” She dug her heels into his ass. “Harder?”

  He lost his rhythm for a moment with the request, dropping back to his elbows and biting down on his tongue hard enough to draw blood. He gripped her hip with one hand and plowed into her, his body taking over the instinctual act as she fell over the edge, dragging him along with her. He snarled out a slew of curses as he released inside her, the euphoria taking over his entire mind and body until he collapsed onto her, his toes still curled with the aftershocks.

  Chapter Twenty

  Charlotte traced the defined lines of Alex’s chest with her fingers, marveling at the amount of heat he was still giving off despite the amped-up air conditioner blowing across them. “I’m not answering that.”

  He rolled her onto her back and straddled her, his long hair falling forward. “Fair’s fair,” he stated, sitting back and running his hands up her body. “How many?”

  “Hardly fair,” she complained. “‘More than I want to admit’ is not an answer.”

  He looked down at her, closing one eye, then the other. “I honestly lost count. Is it more than five?”

  “Yes.”

  He frowned and sat up straighter. “More than ten?”

  “Seven, including you,” she rattled off, her eyes narrowing as his jaw flexed. “You can’t seriously be annoyed, Mr. Lost Count,” she chastised.

  He rolled his eyes and lay back down beside her, pulling the blanket around her shoulders. “That’s like, six more than I like to think about.”

  Her post-sex panic over their lack of a condom had evolved into a discussion she wasn’t sure she wanted to continue. Between her birth control and Alex’s insistence he was infertile, the completely unsexy talk about STDs had started, with her nervousness over his extensive experience taking front and center stage.

  “Next question,” he stated, folding his arms behind his head.

  Thinking about the best way to ask, she pursed her lips. “The, um, tag-teaming thing. I googled it and…” She trailed off, not sure what she was asking or if she wanted to know.

  He stared up at the ceiling, his brows knotted until he cleared his throat. “You could probably look up most things, and I’ve done it,” he said slowly. “Usually when Bo and I are in the same area, things get a little out of control since the opportunities just kind of present themselves and…” He paused, tilting his head and locking his eyes on a small flaw in the ceiling paint. “And there’s no way for me to continue talking without burying myself, so I’m going to shut up.”

  She swatted him. “I get it. You’ve been there, done them all, got all the T-shirts.”

  “Pretty much.”

  “You’re such an ass,” she muttered, tossing up a wall to block the creeping feelings of jealousy from permeating the reality of their situation.

  He glanced over at her. “Know what I haven’t done?”

  She braced herself for an answer she definitely didn’t want to hear. “What?”

  “Slept with the same woman more than three times,” he said casually, as though it was completely normal. “Three’s the cutoff. Any more than that, and it’s bordering on relationship territory.”

  She sat up and looked down at him, the blanket held tight to her chest. “You’re an idiot.”

  He licked his lips and pulled at her comforter. “The bar,” he stated, tugging the blanket down and exposing her breasts to the cold air. “A quickie in the SUV after the bar, which counts as number two even if it was the same night because we switched locations.” He wedged one leg between hers, then the other. “And one official groveling.” He grinned up at her, shifting his hips to punctuate his point. “That’s three. Want to cross over into number four?”

  She rolled her eyes, refusing to allow the glimmer of expectation that had risen in her head to take root. “We haven’t switched locations. So technically, this would still be number three by your messed-up logic.” She cleared her throat as it tightened. “Looks like this train’s pulled into the station and you need to get off.”

  “Damn,�
� he grumbled, biting his lip until he broke into a smile. “Want to have a dress rehearsal for number four then?”

  *

  The incessant buzzing of his phone pulled Alex from a deep sleep, his hand slapping around the edge of the bed for his cell until his fingers found it. He rolled onto his back, glancing over at Charlotte’s empty side of the bed.

  Her side of the bed.

  Shaking off the rush of contentment the thought gave him, he scanned the litany of incoming texts, jumping out of bed and scrambling for his clothes.

  Another dead hiker, and a hell-storm of agents descending on the park.

  He pulled up Charlotte’s number as he dressed, putting her on speaker so he could get ready. When his call switched to voice mail, he dialed Bo.

  “What are you hearing?” he barked, glancing in the mirror and running his fingers through his hair.

  Bo yawned loudly, the sound of rap music playing behind him. “Single male, dismembered, several body parts still missing. Let me get out on the balcony.” The music faded, the noise of traffic taking over. “If the Pirithous is going feral after a handful of kills, we need to call in Ryan. Now.”

  He dropped his head. “I’ll do it on my way over. Where are you?”

  Bo snorted. “Fuck if I know. I’ll start walking and call you when I hit a street sign.”

  Taking the stairs two at a time, he tried Charlotte’s cell again, swearing under his breath when her voice mail greeted him cheerfully. He ran her schedule in his head, calculating her approximate whereabouts if she was sticking to her routine.

  Sheep’s Pass.

  He hit the highway, Bo texting his location within minutes. Doubling back, he pulled up alongside his brother and stopped. “I work in two hours,” he said. “We’ll scout out the guy’s apartment and phone it in to Ryan.”

  Bo was surprisingly quiet on the drive, the jump from routine kills to total dismemberment an unexpected breach of the standard route the males of the Pirithous bloodline followed. The amped-up timeline didn’t bode well with Ryan several states away.

  And Charlotte working the Pirithous’s hunting grounds.

  When a fifth unmarked police car whizzed past them, Bo shook his head. “This is bad.”

  “We know where he is,” he stated, his voice tight. “We’ll track him in shifts until Ryan arrives, take him out, and spend happily ever after in hell.”

  “If he’s the last,” Bo countered. “We need a name. Something Ryan can run. If this guy got laid even once, we need to know about it.”

  He glanced over at his brother. “You still think that Pirithous line in Albany managed to spawn a kid before we got to him, don’t you?”

  Bo shrugged. “Your little girlfriend have anything to report?”

  Pulling into the Pirithous line’s parking lot, he shook his head and ignored the girlfriend remark. “I can’t get a hold of her until she’s outside the park,” he said, stopping tight beside the freshly washed sedan. “No cell service there.” Nudging Bo, he pointed out a woman walking toward the apartment complex. “Go.”

  Bo hopped out of the SUV and sauntered across the lot, flashing a smile at the woman as he approached her. She looked over his shoulder at Alex before nodding and leading Bo to the door, opening it and smiling as Bo held the door for her. The pair disappeared into the building, Bo finally returning ten minutes later.

  “Suite twenty-two,” he reported. “Name on the mailbox is Joshua Hornsby.”

  He fired off the info to Ryan, his thumb hesitating over the phone icon.

  “The Pirithous slipped out a back way,” Bo stated. “That’s all he needs to know for now.”

  Nodding, he pressed the green phone and listened for the ring.

  *

  Charlotte picked up the headquarters landline and turned to Max. “How long did they say we’d have to stay?”

  “Four more hours,” Max grumbled, glaring at the cold burger in his hands. “Think this is okay to eat? It’s been sitting here since we got on shift.”

  Shaking her head, she smiled for the first time all day when Alex’s voice came on the line. “Why do you sound so panicked?” She laughed, Alex’s frantic greeting mildly amusing.

  “You never call from this line,” he yelled over the tavern’s music. “Jeez, Charlotte. You scared the hell out of me. I thought something had happened.”

  “Sorry.” She grinned, waving at the group of agents walking in the door as she dropped the volume of her voice. “Just wanted to let you know the place is crawling with FBI.”

  “Noted,” he called, the clinking of glasses almost drowning him out. “I don’t care what time it is, promise you’ll call when you’re off. And be careful.”

  “Will do. Butch has been hanging out here most of the evening, so I’m definitely well guarded. Though someone seems to have lost his collar, didn’t you, boy?” she cooed.

  He went dead silent for a moment. “Good. Talk to you in a bit.”

  She grabbed her hat off the counter and tossed Max the truck keys, calling over two of the men assigned to them. They piled into the vehicle, Charlotte climbing into the back where she could stroke Butch’s ears as they drove, the enormous dog on a makeshift rope leash and collar putting the new agents on edge.

  They stuck to the western loops and scanned the area for any movement, the park having been closed to visitors with the recent gruesome discovery. As they closed in on Lost Horse Mine, she tapped Max on the shoulder. “We should do a quick walk-around here before we start heading back. Butch needs to stretch and I have a bottle of water for him.”

  Max rolled his eyes with exaggerated annoyance, pulling off the main road and parking in a small inlet. “I’ll give you ten minutes.” He sighed, turning to the two agents. “You guys keep an eye on her out there and don’t let her follow that stupid mutt into the brush.”

  The men exchanged a look but obeyed, dutifully following her out of the truck and stepping aside as she reached into the front seat and grabbed a Tupperware bowl. Filling it with water, she placed it down for Butch and sat cross-legged in the sand, giving him a vigorous rubdown. She smiled up at the agents. “He doesn’t like men, so you’ll probably want to take a step back.”

  When the agents didn’t budge, Butch lifted his huge head from the bowl and swung it in their direction, his ears flattening as he bared his enormous teeth.

  The agents took several steps back.

  Smirking, she buried her head in the animal’s neck. “Good boy.”

  “Charlotte.”

  She looked over at Max, shielding her eyes from the truck’s headlights. “What?”

  “Get up.”

  Scrambling to her feet, she heard the cocking of three guns, Max and the agents aiming through the twin beams at a dark shadow approaching the vehicle. Butch’s ears lifted for a moment before he broke into a slow trot toward the intruder, his head slightly bowed.

  “Don’t shoot Butch,” she warned, stepping farther from the truck to the sound of Max’s angered orders and the clipped demands of the agents behind her. “I’m not going out there,” she hissed, watching as the creature came into view. “Oh, wow.”

  “You’ve got to be kidding me,” Max groaned as Butch doubled back toward them, an identical dog hot on his heels. He dropped his gun to his side, de-cocking it and slipping it back into his holster. “This is the exact definition of bullshit, Chuck.”

  The agents held position, the younger one shifting nervously as the newcomer circled him, butting his head against the man’s holster until he lowered his weapon.

  She tracked the animal’s movements for any sign of aggression, holding her hand out for the new one to scent her. He padded over to her and nuzzled her fingers, flashing his teeth at Butch when he sidled up to her. Noting the familiar black collar on the newcomer, she crossed her arms. “Butch?”

  Butch barked in response, then turned to growl at his companion. The second dog chuffed and paced in a circle before he stopped and responded, his bark coa
rser, less crisp. She put her hands on her hips. “You’re an imposter, aren’t you?” she scolded, flipping Max off when he began going off about hordes of wild dogs taking over the park. “Where did you two come from?” she muttered.

  Butch rose up, nudging the other dog toward the brush. When the animal finally broke into a trot toward the ridge, Butch circled her once, sniffed her hand, and tore off after his companion.

  *

  Alex waited until Bo was dressed and untangled from the rope collar before he threw the first punch, gritting his teeth as the echo of his hit rumbled through his own jaw. “Stay away from her,” he growled. “One easy request.”

  Bo’s head snapped back, his cheekbone bruising up instantly. He doubled back on Alex, catching him with one hit to the ribs and another to the gut. “I was doing you a fucking favor,” he yelled back, dodging another fist and hitting the ground when Alex booted his leg out from under him. “Holy fuck! The hell’s your problem?”

  “It’s sick,” he snarled, jumping onto Bo in time for Bo’s knee to catch him in the kidney. They rolled across the sand as they struggled to catch their breath. “It’s not that hard, Bo,” he grunted, heaving his brother off him. “Get your twisted kicks out of someone else.” He rose to his feet only to get knocked back down as his fist made contact with Bo’s jaw, sending him stumbling backward.

  Bo shook his head, rubbing his bruised face and making no move to continue the fight. “I was just keeping an eye on her,” he muttered, spitting blood onto the sand and wedging his finger into his mouth to check his teeth. “You’re fucking lucky you didn’t knock anything out.”

  He pressed on his ribs, wincing when he realized he’d re-broken two. “Sure you were,” he panted, keeping one eye on his brother as he lay back to catch his breath. “More like aiming for another rubdown.”

  “You know I have a weakness for a good ear scratching,” Bo said, angling himself to lie next to Alex. “Stop pressing on those fucking ribs. It hurts.”

  He grunted. “It was one easy request.”

  “And you were working while a Pirithous hunts around here,” Bo countered. “You called her cell eighteen times during the drive north. Another nine on the way back. I figured maybe keeping an eye on her would be a good idea in case the bloodline decided to do a double-header.”