Sex, Lies and Mistletoe. Tawny Weber

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       Two months later

      “I NEED A FAVOR … A sexual favor, you might say.”

      The words were so low, they almost faded into the dull cacophony of the bar’s noise. Pool cues smacking balls and the occasional fist smacking a face were typical in this low-end dive. Sexual favors were plentiful, too, but usually they involved the back room and cash in advance.

      Caleb Black arched a brow and took a slow sip of his beer before saying, “That’s not the way I roll, but Christmas is coming. Want me to slap a bow on the ass of one of those fancy blow-up dolls and call it your present?”

      Hunter’s dead-eyed look didn’t intimidate, but it did make Caleb hide his smirk in his beer. Caleb was known far and wide as a hard-ass dude with a bad attitude. But when he was around Hunter, he came off as sweetness and light on a sugar high.

      The man was a highly trained FBI special agent swiftly rising in the ranks thanks to his brilliant mind, killer instincts and vicious right hook.

      He was also Caleb’s college roommate and oldest, most trusted friend. Which meant poking at that steely resolve was mandatory.

      “Okay, crossing blow-up doll off my shopping list,” Caleb decided. “But you should know that my sexual favors don’t come cheap.”

      “From what I’ve heard, dirt cheap is more like it.”

      Caleb’s smirk didn’t change. When a man was as good as he was with women, he didn’t need to defend his record. Knowing Hunter would get to the point in his own good time, Caleb leaned back, the chair creaking as he crossed his ankle over his knee and waited.

      Always quick on the uptake, Hunter pushed his barely touched beer aside and leaned forward, his hands loose on the scarred table between them. Even in the dim bar light, his eyes shone with an intensity that told Caleb the guy was gonna try to sucker him in.

      But Caleb had learned suckering at his daddy’s knee.

      “You’re coming off a big case, right?” Hunter confirmed.

      Not quite the tact he’d expected. But it wasn’t his game, so Caleb just nodded. And waited.

      “Word is you’ve hit burnout. That you’re taking some time off to consider your options.”

      The smirk didn’t shift on Caleb’s face. But his entire body tensed. He wasn’t a sharing kind of guy. He hadn’t told anyone he was burning out except his direct superior, who’d sworn to keep it to himself.

      “Word sounds like a gossipy, giggling teenager,” was all Caleb said, though. “Who’s the gossip and when did you start listening to that kind of crap?”

      “It’s amazing how much information you can pick up through speculation.” Hunter sidestepped. “So while you’re considering those options, maybe you might be interested in doing a friend a favor?”

      “I’m more interested in lying on a beach in Cabo with half-naked women licking coconut-flavored oil off my body,” Caleb mused, taking another swig of beer.

      “What if I used the owe-me card?” Hunter asked quietly, his gaze steady on Caleb’s. Intimidation 101.

      Last week, Caleb had faced down a Colombian drug lord who’d preferred to blow up the building he stood in than be arrested when he found out his newest right-hand man was actually DEA.

      It would take a lot more than 101 to make Caleb squirm.

      Then again, he did owe Hunter. Back in their first year of college, Caleb had been a better con than a student. Overwhelmed by the realities of college life, he’d cheated on his midterm psych project. Hunter had caught him. He didn’t threaten to turn him in. He didn’t lecture. He simply threw Caleb’s own dreams back in his face until he’d cracked, then helped him pull together a new project. He hadn’t snagged the A he’d hoped for, but Caleb had found a new sense of pride he’d never known. Shit.

      Caleb hated unpaid debts. Especially sappy emotional ones.

      “Cut the bullshit and get to the point,” he suggested.

      Realizing he’d won, Hunter didn’t gloat. He just leaned back in his chair and took a sip of his own beer. “You’re from a small town in the Santa Cruz Mountains, right? Black Oak, California.”

      It wasn’t a question, but Caleb inclined his head.

      “You still have family there.”

      “Maybe.” Probably. He knew his sister was living just outside of San Francisco, playing the good girl. And who the hell knew where his brother was. A chip off the ole block, Gabriel was probably fleecing some rich widow of her wedding ring. But their father’s family had founded Black Oak, and while Tobias Black hadn’t ever gone for the political game, he’d always kept his fingers on the strings of his hometown.

      But Caleb hadn’t lived there since he’d left for college twelve years before. And he hadn’t been back at all since he’d graduated and joined the DEA.

      Eight years before, two months before Caleb had graduated, they’d had one helluva family brawl. Ugly accusations, bitter recriminations and vicious ultimatums.

      Tobias Black had raised his three kids alone when his wife had died, keeping the family tighter than peas in one very conniving pod. But with that explosion, they’d all gone their separate ways. Caleb had grown up with an almost smothering sense of family. These days he was more like an orphan.

      Just as well. Spending time with Tobias was an emotional pain in the ass at best, a conflict of interest at worst.

      “It’s an interesting little town. Quaint even. Your maternal aunt is the mayor, but word is that it’s actually your father who runs the town. Tobias Black, a known con artist with a huge FBI file and no convictions. Estimates of his take over the years is in the millions. And even knowing he was behind some of the major scams of the century, they’ve never gathered enough evidence to convict him.”

      Arching his brow, Hunter paused. Caleb just shrugged. So his dad was damn good at what he did. Maybe it was wrong to feel pride in the old man, given Caleb’s dedication to the law. But you had to admire the guy for his skills.

      “Five years ago, for no apparent reason, Tobias Black pulled out of the con games. He reputedly went straight, focusing his attention on his motorcycle shop and the small town he calls his own.”

      “You’re saying a whole bunch of stuff we both know. Why don’t you get to the part where you fill me in on the stuff I don’t.”

      “For the last few months, we’ve been getting reports of a new drug. Some new form of MOMA.”

      “Ecstasy?” Caleb pushed his beer away since they appeared to be getting down to business. “What’s new about it?”

      “It’s been refined. Higher-grade ingredients, some obscure herbs that counteract a few of the side effects.”

      “Herbs? Like, what? Holistic shit?”

      “Right. Not a major change, really. Enough to give sellers the ‘healthier choice’ СКАЧАТЬ