Must Love Hellhounds

No, Deacon was her type. Cool, controlled, strong. And about as likely to sleep with the woman who’d effectively be his boss-if she accepted the directorship-as he was to start spouting jokes. Reining in her wandering thoughts, she met Shah’s gaze. “And we’re just supposed to believe you?”

Shah shrugged, giving her a secretive smile. “Or I could tell you all about the time you and Elena decided to try out the stripper pole at Maxie’s.”

How the fuck had he learned about that? She scowled. “If you work intel, why didn’t Simon clear you?”

“Deacon runs his ops independently.” He shrugged. “I could’ve played hard to get, but I figure you two are a good bet when it comes to keeping secrets. The future director and the Slayer. Who’re you going to tell?”

Deacon suddenly had his hand around Shah’s neck, a knife to his abdomen. “Take off your shirt.”

Shah blinked, hiding his surprise behind charm. “Didn’t know you swung that way.”

Deacon pushed the knife a little.

“Fine.” Unbuttoning the shirt with rapid fingers, Shah shrugged it off.

“Sara, check his body for marks of a struggle. One of the vamps put up a hell of a fight.”

Sara did a close inspection, but all she saw was smooth, unblemished skin. “He’s clean.”

Shah rubbed at his throat as Deacon let him go. “You could’ve asked nice.”

“And you could’ve stabbed him in the heart.” Sara snorted. “Drop the act. You’re about as helpless as a piranha.”

“Can’t blame a boy for trying.” He smiled, revealing dimples he no doubt used as a tool. “If you want my take, I’d put my money on Tim. Have you seen that dog of his? Probably made a deal with the devil and got that as insurance. Now the thing’s possessed him.”

Sara shook her head, noting the gleam of amusement in his eyes. “I don’t think you should throw stones-I saw the teddy bear on your couch.”

Interesting. A suave, sophisticated spy could go bright red under cinnamon-dusted skin. “It’s my nephew’s. And if you don’t need to manhandle me anymore, I’d like to go to sleep.” With that, he turned and left.

“He didn’t hit on you.” It was a quiet statement.

She pursed her lips. “And you felt the need to point that out, why?”

“Shah doesn’t have any close hunter friends, but he’s popular with the ladies. He hits on anything with breasts, but petite dark-haired women are especially his type.”

“Thank you for crushing my self-esteem under your boot.” Restraining the urge to kick him, she grabbed her helmet and thrust it on.

Deacon took his seat, putting on his own helmet before starting the engine. They were ten minutes from Shah’s home and cutting through a deserted parking lot when Deacon came to a halt. “Fight or run?”

She’d seen the vampires in the shadows. How many? Five, no, seven. Seven against two. “Run.” Stupidity wasn’t what had kept her alive this long.

It was only as Deacon was peeling out of the lot that she realized he’d left the choice up to her. It was… unexpected.

Their third stop of the night was a gay bar. Sara stared up at the bar’s name. “Inferno.” She turned to the silent man by her side. “Is it me or are we seeing a trend here?”

A quirk of his lips. It was sexier than a full-fledged smile from any other man. “I’m leading you into sin.”

She couldn’t help it. She laughed. “Obviously, suspect number three is gay. Right?”

“Marco Giardes.” He nodded up. “Lives above the bar.”

“Huh?”

“Owns the place. Bought it with an inheritance.”

Sara shrugged. “Doesn’t bother me. Bother you?”

A bit of red stained his cheeks. Her mouth fell open. “What?”

He blew out a breath. “You’ll see.”

“We’re going in?”

“Yeah. He doesn’t know about me-unless he’s another spy. We’re just two hunters who heard about his place and decided to drop in.”

Since hunters were known to do things like that to support each other, it was a perfectly believable cover. And despite the fact that it was close to four a.m., the bar was jumping. “Weapons?”

“No problem for hunters.”

“Then let’s go.”

They flashed their Guild IDs and got waved in by the heavily muscled bouncer… who gave Deacon a thorough going-over. Sara bit the insides of her cheeks when the big, tough Slayer shifted a little behind her.

The instant they entered the main floor, conversation stopped, then started in a huge rush. She was welcomed with smiles-there were several other women in the crowd-but the attention was most definitely on Deacon. So when he put his hand on her hip and pulled her up against him, she didn’t protest. “Poor baby,” she murmured. “They really like you.”

“It’s not funny.” She’d never heard a blush before.

A beautiful male with the slinky body of a catwalk model strolled over. “What a shame,” he murmured, noting their body language. “I hope you’re taking good care of him.”

Sara patted Deacon’s hand where it curved over her hip. “The best.”

“Will you let him dance with us?”

Sara could feel Deacon’s horror in the absolute frozen lines of his body. It was tempting to tease, but… “He’s not much of a dancer.”