Once An Alpha (The S Files: Paranormal Investigation Agency – Book 1) Read online

  A chill ran down my spine as I leafed through the file with all the missing persons reports. Our Girl Scout troop had camped so close to the area all those years ago. Nothing had happened to us, of course, but it very well could have judging by all the cases of people mysteriously vanishing there over the years.

  “And why do they think we can help?” I grumbled a moment later. “Are we supposed to canvass the whole mountain area by ourselves? Dig through the snow?”

  “Don’t be ridiculous,” he said. “We need to look into any leads that the police there might have ignored. The more out-there kinda ones as well as the usual. Besides, there isn’t even any snow up there this time of the year.”

  “Right, right,” I replied, rolling my eyes for what felt like the millionth time since I’d been partnered with him. “Paranormal phenomena possibly involving shifters. How could I forget?”

  “See, you do learn fast,” he said with a sardonic grin, and I clipped him on the side with the file. My petty little revenge.

  “Hey!” he protested. “Leave the driver alone! Unless you want a crash on your….oh, here we are.”

  I looked across the road and saw that he was right. An old faded wooden sign greeted us. Welcome to Bakewell Springs, home of America’s oldest casino and greatest mountain views. Population: 4,560

  “America’s oldest casino?” I said, raising one eyebrow.

  Lyndon shrugged. “Don’t ask me. We can ask a local when we check in at the motel.”

  As we drove through the main street, I marveled at the old-fashioned buildings lining the street. It looked like something straight off a postcard. It was a nice, sleepy old town complete with old-world charm, nestled in a valley between two huge mountains. Hardly the sort of place where multiple disappearances would occur, although to be honest I didn’t know what I’d been expecting.

  Lyndon pulled up at a brown stucco motel just off the town’s main strip, and I sighed with relief at the opportunity to finally get out and stretch my legs.

  “So which side of the bed do you want?” Lyndon asked, removing his sunglasses and looking around for the reception office so we could check in. “Personally I prefer the right, but I’m amenable to change.”

  “What?” I replied, my voice shrill with panic. “The agency couldn’t even shell out for more than one room? Listen, buddy…you can have the floor, because there is no way in hell that…”

  He cut me off with a wave of his hand. “Jeez, Myla…it was a joke. Of course we have separate rooms. Sorry, I meant Agent Peyton.”

  “Oh.” I felt stupid, and my cheeks turned hot as I grabbed my luggage from the backseat and then followed him to the reception office over to the right. The receptionist greeted us and fiddled around with her computer, trying to find our reservations, and I looked around the little office as she did so.

  There was a shelf stacked with tourist brochures, and I absentmindedly leafed through a couple of them. Apparently Bakewell Springs had been a silver mining boomtown back in the 1800’s, with a population of over twenty-five thousand. Around the same time as it was becoming a successful boomtown, lawmakers in Denver were trying to get rid of any gambling joints and saloons in the city, so all those sorts had moved to Bakewell Springs and set up shop there instead. The main saloon along the main street had become the country’s first official casino… according to the brochure anyway. It probably hadn’t been the country’s first, but little towns like this liked to claim things like that to grab tourists however they could. Don’t like hiking or skiing? Hey, that’s okay, you can sit down, gamble and get wasted in America’s oldest casino instead! Something like that.

  When the silver mining industry had died down, so did the town’s population, dwindling all the way down to what it was today. Sad, but that was the way things went. At least they still had a fair amount of tourism to help out with their economy.

  As I read through another brochure about surrounding tourist attractions and national parks, I was startled out of my reverie by Lyndon snapping his fingers under my nose.

  “Hey, walking encyclopedia. Can you go five minutes without your nose buried in a book?”

  I glanced up. “It’s not a book, it’s a brochure.”

  “Whatever. I have our keys.” He dangled one in my face. “Here’s yours. I’ll grab your bags.”

  “No, it’s fine!” I chased him out of the reception office, but he insisted on carrying my things to my room for me. My stomach did flip-flops at the sight of those tanned muscles tensing as he carried them, and I almost drooled when he turned and flashed that megawatt smile of his in my direction.

  “Sure you don’t want to share a room?”

  And there it was. Back to being an arrogant, sleazy prick. Snapping back to reality, I stomped into my room and stiffly thanked him for carrying my bags. He nodded and then asked me what our plans for dinner should be.

  “We passed a decent-looking steakhouse on the way here,” he said. “What d’ya think of that?”

  “Sure, sure,” I said, just wanting him to leave for a moment so I could compose myself. As much as I couldn’t stand him, I could feel my panties getting wetter and wetter in his presence, and my cheeks were still burning up. Jeez, how the hell was I going to pull off being partnered with him if I was already going this nuts? I could picture the headlines now. FBI Agent Dies After Exposure to Lethal Amounts of Sexual Tension. Or perhaps: Local Woman Drowns After Flood In Panties.

  It was like being tied to a chair while someone put all your favorite desserts on a table in front of you. You desperately wanted to eat them all, but you knew you couldn’t even touch them. I licked my lips at the thought of a big Lyndon sundae with extra whipped cream and flaked chocolate before chiding myself yet again. Stop it! It doesn’t matter how undeniably hot he is. Not going to happen!

  “Hey…Myla?” he said as I ushered him to the door and told him to come get me for dinner in an hour. “Can I ask you something?”

  I folded my arms and looked up at him with a sigh. “You just did. But sure, go ahead.”

  “Why do you hate me so much? Is it for the reason I think it is?” he asked.

  “Probably,” I said, my eyebrows creasing together.

  “Look, that was years ago,” he replied. “And you never even let me explain. If you’d just given me five minutes, I could’ve…”

  I cut him off. “It doesn’t matter, Lyndon. Like you said, it was years ago. I don’t want to talk about it. But if it makes things easier for us working together, I’ll try to be nice. Okay?”

  His shoulders sagged slightly. I couldn’t tell if it was due to relief or disappointment.

  “Fine. I’ll go shower up and then grab you for dinner,” he said before turning and walking away.

  I shut the door and then sat down, my arms trembling as I recalled our days back at the academy. Lyndon had been a star… when it came to attracting female attention, that is. Girls practically threw themselves at his feet everywhere he went, and he was capable of turning even the most vicious, jaded woman into a simpering mess with her panties bunched around her ankles.

  Just seeing him around the academy made me all too aware of my appearance. I was short, chubby and nerdy with my glasses, frizzy black curls and coffee-colored skin that was somehow always prone to breakouts even though I’d been well into my early twenties at the time. And there he was, all muscles and height with women who resembled Maxim models draped over his shoulders at every single bar I saw him at.

  Until one day he’d noticed me. I was supposed to be presenting a violent crimes assignment in front of an entire lecture theater filled with other students, and he’d been right there in the front row, piercing me with those gorgeous green eyes.

  I’d gulped at first but didn’t falter as I went through my slides, and out of the corner of my eye I had noticed that he hadn’t looked away from me for even a second. When I was done and the class was over, he’d cornered me outside.

  “Hey, your speech was great,
” he’d said. “Really informative. I don’t think we’ve met before. I’m David Lyndon. What’s your name?”

  Of course he hadn’t seen me before. Who’d notice the chubby nerd who spent the majority of her time with her nose buried in textbooks? At this stage we’d already been at the academy for three months, but I definitely knew who he was. Everyone knew who he was.

  “I’m Myla,” I had replied. “Myla Peyton.”

  “Myla…nice name. And nice to meet you. Hey, err… I don’t suppose you’d wanna grab dinner with me tomorrow night?”

  And I’d almost melted right into the floor. All around us there were young women vying for his attention, and he was asking me out. He didn’t even seem to notice the other girls staring at him as we chatted; it was like he only had eyes for me. Just like in all the romance books and movies. He’d even sounded vaguely nervous when he’d asked me to dinner! My stomach had fluttered around nervously, and I’d accepted his invitation almost immediately.

  I’d been on a high all afternoon, and that high extended well into the next day as I excitedly prepared for the date with the help of my friend and roommate Keeya. She had aided me in smoothing my usually-untamable hair into something presentable, and picked out a black wrap dress that skimmed my generous curves and actually looked decent.

  With a touch of mascara and eyeliner, I was ready to go, and Keeya waited with me until the clock struck six. Then seven. And then eight. By the time it was eight-thirty, I’d realized what had happened. I’d been stood up. My heart had sunk all the way into my stomach, and Keeya offered to take me out for gelato to make me feel better.

  “Fuck that guy,” she’d said. “He isn’t worth even worrying about. Come on, there’s a new white chocolate and coconut flavored gelato that is to die for down at Il Gelato. Let’s go!”

  And so we’d headed out. As we’d crossed the street with our deliciously-dripping waffle cones, I’d stopped in my tracks. There he was. Through a café window, I could see him sitting across a table from a thin and beautiful blonde girl, holding her hand.

  So that’s what had happened. Something better had come along, so he’d forgotten all about our date. Or simply ditched me for the upgrade and hadn’t forgotten at all. Either way, he was on a date with some hot piece, and here I was wandering around feeling sick to my stomach that the first guy who had ever asked me out had screwed me over before he’d even tried to screw me.

  It seemed like such a petty thing to still be mad at Lyndon about now that I was in my late twenties, but I couldn’t help it. Guys I met just never seemed interested in the smart girls, only the skinny airheaded bimbos, and the reminder of Lyndon’s advances and subsequent blow-off really stung. And it wasn’t just that. Recalling the event just brought back even more bad memories from earlier in my life, like in high school where I’d always been mocked for being the geeky Girl Scout with glasses and braces.

  Since then, I’d long given up on the idea of finding the right guy. Instead of focusing on finding Mr. Right, I’d focused on my career and only worried about finding a possible Mr. Right Now. That hadn’t worked out so well either, and after two failed relationships where the sex hadn’t exactly been stellar, I’d totally given up.

  The first guy had refused to ever go down on me, claiming he thought it was dirty despite demanding round-the-clock blowjobs from me even if he hadn’t showered and was all sweaty from work. And the second guy had been unable to perform long enough to satisfy me, and then tried to play it off like it was some sort of huge compliment to me. Something like, oh baby, you’re just so hot and tight that I can’t last more than twenty seconds. Um, no thanks.

  Screw it. I was better than that, and I wasn’t going to waste my time on men again unless I knew they were worth it.

  It was a nice concept, but damn, the horniness drove me crazy sometimes. Oh well. That was life, I guess.

  ***

  A couple of hours later, Lyndon stretched out and patted his stomach as he yawned. “Fuck, that was a good steak,” he said, and then prodded at his rock hard abs. “I probably just gained five pounds from all that slaw they gave me with it.”

  “Sure you did,” I said sarcastically.

  He peered across the table at me with a small hint of what appeared to be lust in his eyes. “Y’know, for someone who’s been on the road all day, I gotta say you look damn good.”

  “Would you like some fries with your sleaziness?” I asked, stabbing a large fry with my fork and offering it to him. He laughed.

  “Nah, I’m done.”

  I nodded, poking at the remainder of my meal before sighing. “I think I’m done eating too. Call it a night?”

  “Sure,” he grinned.

  We headed off, knowing that we needed to be up at the crack of dawn. First thing tomorrow we needed to head into town and meet the local police department, and then we needed to jump right into work. Lyndon had suggested we follow the trail of the hikers who had vanished just a few days ago to see if we could spot anything the search and rescue teams and local cops had missed.

  He walked me to my room, and I couldn’t help the butterflies from fluttering around my insides as I slid the key into the lock. Wouldn’t it be nice if I was that lock, and the key was Lyndon’s…. oh god, I was doing it again.

  “Hey, whatever happened to those glasses of yours?” he asked as I pushed the door open and turned to say goodnight.

  “I got laser eye surgery a couple of years ago,” I replied. “Way more convenient than having to deal with glasses or contacts.”

  “Oh,” he replied. “You know, I kinda miss the glasses. Night, Myla.”

  With a grin he sauntered off to his own room, and I stood in my motel doorway for a full minute before shaking my head and turning around. I definitely needed a cold shower to calm my raging loins, and I stepped into the bathroom and turned on the tap.

  As I tried to calm my whirling mind and get to sleep half an hour later, I realized it was too late. No matter what I did, Lyndon was always going to be the one guy that could get to me. To make matters worse, I was going to be stuck out here with him for at least a couple of weeks…and then again for however long I was assigned to the S Files. Fan-fucking-tastic…

  Chapter Three

  The next morning was hectic. We were up at six for breakfast and coffee at a local diner, and then after heading downtown and meeting the members of the local police department, including a seasoned, portly old man who introduced himself as Sheriff Mills, we were given a small downstairs office to the side of the building.

  A tall blond Deputy with bright blue eyes who’d introduced himself as Theodore Adams led us to the office and opened the door with a grin. “Here you go,” he said. “All the files we have related to the missing persons cases are stacked up over there, and there’s a computer in here with a pretty solid internet connection. Phone’s over there.”

  He pointed across the room, and then turned to us. More specifically, to me. “You need anything else, just come find me. If I’m not here and Mills also isn’t around for whatever reason, one of the other boys will be glad to help. By the way, everyone around here just calls me Ted or Teddy.”

  I couldn’t help but notice that he was only looking at me, and completely ignoring Lyndon. My cheeks grew hot, and I nodded and thanked him before having a look around the files. Ted lingered in the doorway, soppy smile still plastered on his face as he watched me, and Lyndon shot him a cool glance.

  “We should be fine for now,” he said. I noticed a sharp tinge to his usually calm and casual demeanor, and part of me wondered if he was slightly jealous of the fact that for once I was the one garnering attention from the opposite sex. Then again, if Ted had been a Tina, I’m sure Lyndon wouldn’t have had to worry. He’d be much more in his element, and I would probably have had to mop the floor every five minutes from all the females swooning and melting in his presence.

  Ted nodded and told us to have a good day before slipping out into the corridor, and I gl
anced back at Lyndon. “Should we stay here and catch up on all these documents?” I asked. “Or should we do what you suggested earlier and head out to the mountains?”

  “I think we should head out for a hike,” he replied. “The longer we wait, the more likely it is that any evidence left up there will be lost. Winds, scavenging animals…you name it.”

  He had a point. Luckily, I was wearing my hiking boots and other paraphernalia already, and after getting directions from Ted, we left the building and drove up the scenic road out of town that led to the main hiking area. Dark green pine trees lined the sides of the road, leading into denser forests, and I wound down my window and inhaled. Mmm. It was wonderful.

  “We’re here,” Lyndon announced, taking a sharp turn into a parking lot and almost breaking my neck in the process. So much for me trying to stop and breathe in the cool, refreshing air…

  A trail led away the parking lot, and we trudged along it for what felt like forever, occasionally checking the map we’d brought to make sure we were heading the right way.

  “How’s it feel to be on the infamous trail of lost souls?” Lyndon asked in a dramatic tone, swatting a fly out of his face as he turned back to look at me.

  “Fine, I guess,” I replied, not buying into his jokey nonsense. “Oh, there’s the fork Ted mentioned. If we turn left here, we should hit the first blaze that the hikers left to mark their journey.”

  Normally trails were already marked with blazes so that tourists could easily hike their way around the mountains, but the route the hikers had chosen to go along was not a commonly-taken one. They’d apparently left red trail markers along the way after deviating from the main trail, and we were rapidly approaching the first one.

  “There it is,” Lyndon called out a moment later. “So we’re on the right track. Good to know.”