Called: A Paranormal Romance (Midnight Huntress Book 1) Read online

  Called

  Midnight Huntress: Book One

  Piper Fox

  Contents

  Join Piper Fox’s Foxy Reads Newsletter

  More Than Meets the Eye

  The Real Danger

  Supernatural Enforcement Agency

  Stalkers and Scavengers

  Wild Kingdom

  Too Close for Comfort

  Wolfy Blues

  With or Without You

  Resistance

  Bar Brawl

  The Hunter’s Arrow

  Also by Piper Fox

  About the Author

  Join Piper Fox’s Foxy Reads Newsletter

  Want more steamy paranormal romances for sassy, strong-willed women and the sexy, alpha men who love them? I’d love to tell you when I have a new release. Plus I always give my elite readers extra content, giveaways, sneak peeks, and the first look at new covers.

  Sign up and get a FREE book! Join now to get my weekly emails!

  More Than Meets the Eye

  RYANNE

  “Tyler, you have got to find me cases that are more interesting. There has to be a criminal somewhere in this state that’s harder to track down than Joey ‘Always-buys-lunch-at-the-same-deli’ Donaldson.” I drop my messenger bag next to my desk and shake my head at my partner.

  He laughs and turns away from the computer to look up at me. “If you’d stop putting everyone back in jail where they belong, maybe I could find you something that takes more than an afternoon.”

  Tyler’s been my partner in my bounty hunting business for almost a year, but I’ve known him a lot longer. “Please. You’re the one who does all the computer crap. I just show up, take down the skip, and collect our payday.” I walk over and ruffle his shaggy, light brown hair, careful not to knock his glasses askew. “I don’t know, man. Maybe we need to move on to a bigger city, one with bigger fish to fry.”

  His eyes, one brown and one blue, grow wide behind his glasses, like I just suggested we murder puppies. “We can’t leave St. Cloud. This is home.”

  I roll my eyes. “Your home, maybe. Just because this is where the foster system kicked us out on our asses, doesn’t make it my home.” Sitting at my desk, I kick my feet up and lean back in my chair. “Besides, it’s not like you’ve got deep roots running through here either.”

  Tyler frowns. “It’s only not your home because you refuse to make it one. There is more to life than hunting down bail jumpers and throwing them back in jail.”

  “You’re right. There’s also chasing down people with outstanding warrants and occasionally helping to prove yet another man put his dick where it didn’t belong.” I grin at him. “What do you say we head out for a drink? I’m buying. Or rather, Joey’s bounty is.”

  Tyler grumbles and turns back to his computer. “Make up your mind, Ry. Do you want me to find you the perfect bounty, a chase that’s going to be worth your considerable, god-like skills, or do you want to go out and get a drink?”

  “Come on, Tyler. We can do both, can’t we? There’s plenty of daylight left.” I turn on my own computer and start working on the less fun parts of my job—paperwork, bookkeeping, payroll, and the like.

  I want to resent Tyler, to resent the fact that he’s found somewhere he can call home. The truth is, he’s my kindred spirit, the only person I care about enough to consider anything close to family. He’s been by my side, through countless bad group homes, places where I was deemed “dangerous” and “a bad influence on other kids”. Somehow, even after I got kicked out of one home after another, Tyler would always find me.

  “After work, maybe.” He glances up over the edge of his computer screen, a glint of mischief dancing in his dual-colored eyes.

  “That’s all I can hope for.” I wink at him as I go back to the reports waiting for me, not really interested in the numbers and stories they tell. I’d choose beating the pavement, hunting down men who deserve to pay for their crimes or at least be tried for them, any day over the paperwork portion of my job.

  The rest of the afternoon is spent in quiet, only the sounds of our respective keyboards clicking to break up the silence. This is how it usually is with us both in the office. I know Tyler’s got his headphones on, even though I can’t see him around his computer monitors. He’s probably blasting out his eardrums with something that’s got a heavy beat.

  Tyler’s always been able to lose himself in the music, letting the beats almost put him into a trance as he works magic over his keyboard. He’s probably more than half the reason I’m so good at my job, even though his reputation wouldn’t reflect it. He likes being the man behind the curtain, my very own wizard, as long as I do all the front-facing work. And the crappy paperwork.

  By the time five o’clock rolls around, I’m so bored, I’m practically spinning circles in my office chair, staring at the ceiling, but Tyler’s completely lost in his current project.

  With a smirk, I get up and go lean over his desk. I know my black tank top shows off more than a reasonable amount of cleavage, and if he were any other guy, I’d expect him to look. But when his eyes flick up, they make a beeline straight for my face. The disappointment is always there in the background, but it’s better this way.

  I jerk my head toward the door. “Come on. It’s five, you’ve got a date with a highball glass to keep.”

  He pulls the headphones off his ears and hangs them around his neck. “You go get started without me. I think I’ve got something. It might not be your white whale, but at least his profile describes him as slippery.”

  “If he slips through everyone else’s fingers, he’ll still be at large tomorrow.” I grab his hand and drag him, along with his chair, away from the desk. “I want to go have some fun. Celebrate a job well done. We should be able to at least manage a couple drinks before your work ethic calls you right back here, right?”

  Tyler’s expression pulls tight into a grimace. “I have fun.”

  “Uh huh. I know why my damage keeps me on the job all hours of the night, and ensures I’ll never have a normal life outside of the bounty hunting gig, but you don’t really have the same excuse. When was the last time you even went on a date, huh?”

  His eyes narrow. “I could ask you the same thing. And no, dates you set up to snag a skip don’t count.” He drops his headphones onto his desk and gets up to lock his computer. “Neither one of us are cut out for a normal relationship experience, and we both know it. Better to grab a drink with a close friend, play some pool, maybe take a twirl around the dancefloor if the mood strikes, and not have to worry about social constructs of who owes who what, or the rules of when to call, how long to wait.”

  I wrap my arm around Tyler’s waist and pull him in close, smiling softly. “It is a system that serves us well. In almost every way that counts.”

  “Ry, if you wanted me to, I’d rock your world all night long. But you’ve told me time and again that you’re more than capable of handling your own orgasms, and until you decide otherwise, I’ll keep my hands to myself.”

  I shiver a little as we head toward the door. He has me tucked under his arm, while mine stays wrapped around his waist.

  I can’t say I’ve never thought about what it would be like to take Tyler to my bed, to let my nerdy best friend fuck me into oblivion once in a while. He’s got six inches on me and is one of the only men who’s ever managed to make me feel small. Objectively, I’d bet most women would call him hot, even with the nerdy Clark Kent glasses and his penchant for books and computers.

  But he’s my best friend. The man who’s seen me at my best, my worst, and everything in between. H
e knows how to handle me when I’m moody, whether it’s because I’m PMSing or because a skip’s giving me more trouble than he’s worth. He was there to pick up the pieces when I was fourteen and my foster father started me down a path of dangerous, unsuitable behavior.

  I can’t let casual sex ruin the only healthy relationship I’ve ever had with a man. I won’t.

  “We going to our usual spot?” Tyler shifts the conversation so naturally, it’s almost enough to make me forget how easily he flirts with me, and how awkwardly I avoid it.

  “Why would we go anywhere else? The beer’s cold, the bar food is on point, and they don’t overcharge out the ass.” I grin as he steers me toward his car, the much more practical option than my red and black Triumph motorcycle. “It’s a lot easier to get you drunk when I don’t have to pay an entire day’s commission to do it.”

  “You’ve never gotten me drunk.” He rolls his eyes and shakes his head. “You wish I was a lush, so you could take advantage of me.”

  “Maybe I just want to see what those heterochromia eyes look like without your thick glasses covering them.” I stick my tongue out and slip out from under his arm. “I’ll meet you at Molly’s Place. It’s finally motorcycle weather again, and I’m not wasting it sitting in your damn practical sedan. I don’t understand how you ever find it, with all the other nondescript silver sedans in the world.”

  Tyler unlocks it with the button on his key fob. “I’ll remember that the next time you need to borrow it to go pick up a skip.”

  “Like you’d deny me.” I give him a playful shimmy as I straddle my bike and strap my helmet in place. “I’ll let you ride bitch if you want.”

  “Not a good enough reason to wrap my arms around you, Ry.” He gets into his car and starts the engine.

  Without a spoken agreement, we both race toward the bar, trying to outpace each other, to make it into the parking lot before the other.

  By the time Tyler walks through the door, I have two glasses of bourbon in hand and I’m headed to the pool tables in the back.

  “You let me win.” I hand him his drink and pull a cue off the wall. “It’s rude to give up halfway through a race.”

  “You want to talk about rude, cheater? If I hadn’t backed off when I did, you’d be picking asphalt out of that pretty face of yours.” He takes a swig before racking up the balls. “I like getting paid more than I like winning, so I can’t kill you off yet.”

  I lean against the wall, watching as he picks up one cue after another, trying to find the one he wants to use. Everything he does is precise, scientific, calculated.

  I don’t know how he lives like that. Give me a life and death, split-second decision any day.

  “You want to break?” He gestures at the table.

  “Your loss.” I step up, bending over as I position the white ball where I want it. Just as I’m about to pull back and strike the ball with enough force to send all fifteen of the other balls flying, my eyes lock with a guy I’ve never seen in here before.

  He’s tall, like Tyler, but a little less stocky, and judging by the way the waitresses are hanging on his every word, he probably considers himself quite the ladies’ man. I study them for a moment longer than I’m really interested, but the women practically have cartoon hearts in their eyes. Who is this guy?

  There’s something alluring about him, sure, but it’s not enough to distract me from the game at hand. I’m here to have fun not study some dude and the gaggles of lusting women in his wake.

  Before I hit the cue ball, I shift my weight and glance over at Tyler. “You want to put some money down on this, make it interesting?”

  “I don’t think so. What was it you said to me last time? ‘I just can’t miss, Tyler.’” He chuckles when I stick my tongue out at him and he takes another sip of his drink. His gaze follows where mine had been stuck momentarily. “See something interesting across the bar? I can make myself scarce if you need a plaything for the night.”

  I roll my eyes at his choice of words, even if they’re not entirely wrong. I don’t have boyfriends. I don’t go on dates. I don’t even really pick up guys in bars and take them home for a night.

  I’d rather be sure that I’m safe, that I don’t have to worry about being robbed or worse, than even consider taking a stranger home to my bed.

  And Tyler knows it.

  I pull back and send the cue ball flying, crashing into the perfect triangle of solids and stripes at the other end of the table.

  Tyler grumbles as multiple balls roll into pockets. “Just once, you could pretend to be on the same level as us mere mortals?” He takes another swig as he surveys the table. “I don’t know why I even bother playing with you. I’d be better off finding some sucker to hustle.”

  I chuckle as I take another turn, sinking yet another ball into a pocket. “You could, but you’d miss my company. Admit it. You like being spanked by a girl.”

  “Ry, you haven’t been a girl since you were ten. You’re all woman.” He smirks at me.

  And damn him if my next shot doesn’t falter.

  I step away from the table as he lines up his first shot, lifting my bourbon to my lips but not drinking as I catch the tall, dark stranger watching me from across the bar.

  Hell if I know why a guy like that wants to fixate on me, when he’s got four women all vying for his attention. And a couple of guys too, if I’m not mistaken. He looks like he could be a model, with a chiseled face and a t-shirt tight enough to show off all the hard-sculpted muscles underneath.

  So, why does he seem focused on the woman in the corner who hasn’t fit into smaller than a size eighteen since she hit puberty, let alone the size twenty-two jeans I’m rocking now? Why does he hold my eyes as he brings the mouth of his longneck to his lips?

  Why do I not want to turn away from him?

  “Ry? It’s your turn.” Tyler waves his hand in front of my face, snapping me back to reality.

  Setting my drink down, I turn my attention back to the pool table and try to forget the guy across the bar.

  I’m probably imagining the connection anyway. Guys like that don’t look at women with asses like mine.

  And even if he did, I don’t know that I’d know what to do with him.

  It’s safer to stay over here, to focus on the game at hand, and thoroughly trounce my best friend before I head home. If I’m still that hard up by the time I get to bed, at least I’ve got some toys that would probably get the job done a lot better than some stranger.

  Tyler and I end up staying through three games and enough rounds that both of us should be shakier than we are.

  But for all the booze I’ve seen Tyler drink, he’s right that I’ve never seen him drunk. Hell, I don’t even remember a time when I’ve been that blitzed. Tipsy, sure, but never full-on drunk.

  “You sure you don’t want me to drive you home? You’re a danger on that bike sober, let alone drunk.”

  “I’m not drunk.” I grin at Tyler, stepping back to walk in a straight line back to him. “See? Completely fine.”

  He shakes his head. “Ry, you just had enough bourbon to take down a linebacker. I really don’t think I should let you get on your bike.”

  “You drank as much as I did. Why do you think you can handle your booze better than I can?”

  I watch as something flashes in his eyes, almost as if he’s debating saying something to me. It’s strange. We don’t keep secrets from each other, and I don’t get why he would start now.

  “Just let me drive you home. Or you can come home with me, we can cuddle together like we used to, when we were kids. It’s been too long since you’ve crawled into my bed for connection, for comfort.”

  “Uh, if I remember right, it was the other way around, Tyler.” I smirk at him and let him pull me into his arms. “But it might not be such a bad way to spend the night. Your bed is more comfortable than mine. Why is that?”

  “Could be because I didn’t get my mattress second hand? And because I wash
my sheets more than once a year?”

  I roll my eyes. “I don’t usually sleep in it anyway. Why should I do that much laundry?”

  Tyler just laughs at me as he tucks me into the passenger seat. “You’re right. I’m crazy to think you might actually want to sleep in your bed more often, if the sheets were clean.” He cups my cheek as he pulls back. “My mistake. You’re clearly the wise one here.”

  “Make all the jokes you want. I’m not the one spending my whole weekend washing all the linens in my apartment.” I shift, playfully biting at his hand, before I pull the door shut and buckle up.

  Tyler walks around the front of the sedan, and I wonder for the thousandth time how he’s still single. I imagine he’d be the kind of guy any girl would be happy to take home to meet the parents—respectful, clean, loyal. Everything you’d want in a husband. Or a puppy.

  I do imagine he might be a little bossy in the bedroom, but I have no doubt he’s very good at taking care of a girl’s needs.

  But he’s just as alone as I am, just as solitary.

  I don’t know if it’s the fact that we grew up in the same situations, the same sorts of foster houses, but I feel like I know Tyler better than I’ve known anyone my entire life.

  And for just a moment, when he gets settled into the driver’s seat, I’m tempted to lean over and kiss my best friend.

  But as he starts driving toward his townhome, the moment passes, as if it were never there at all. The disappointed sensation settles in my gut again, and I ignore it like always.

  His place is as neat and organized as his desk is at work, and he quickly makes a point of getting me everything I might need for bed, including a pair of oversized pajama pants that there’s no way he’s ever worn, and a fresh toothbrush.