💖💙💚💛💜💗💜💛💚💙💖
Storm Season by Elle Keaton
Summary:
Accidental Roots #1
They say you can’t go home again, Adam Klay doesn’t intend to until the death of his father, a famous artist, forces his return to Skagit, Washington. Cleaning up his father’s chaotic life was never on Adam’s bucket list. Worse, Adam finds himself inexplicably drawn to the elusive, terminally-clumsy, gorgeous, Micah Ryan. No way is he getting involved with someone from his hometown, he’s always insisted the best view of Skagit was in his rearview mirror.
Micah Ryan has been coasting on auto-pilot since his family was killed in a car accident a decade earlier. He runs a web business and has an irritable cat. He hardly leaves his house, unless it is for his afternoon espresso. His world tips upside down when Adam Klay rolls into town. For the first time in years, he feels alive. Unfortunately, Micah’s return to the living has been noticed and is not appreciated.
Someone has a secret. Someone is exploiting the vulnerable youth population in Skagit. Teenagers are disappearing, young women turning up dead, the dirty secrets of Skagit are surfacing.
Saturday's Series Spotlight: Part 1 / Part 2 / Part 3 / Part 4
Hidden in Darkness by Alice Winters
Summary:
In Darkness #1
When Felix is hired to take care of a recently blinded man, he thinks his life might finally be turning around. It has to be better than where he came from, but he has no idea what he’s signed up for. Lane is depressed, rude, and difficult to be around. It doesn’t help that Felix is clearly not qualified for the job, especially since he can’t even make oatmeal right. But Felix is trying to make his life better, so he’ll put up with the man even if it requires some unconventional methods. Felix’s humor soon pulls Lane out of his depression, and Felix feels like things are finally going right in his life.
That is, until he’s attacked by someone who wants to keep Lane quiet. It’s clear that Lane isn’t who he’s pretending to be, and Felix should probably walk away. But Felix has finally found a place where he belongs and he’s willing to go to great lengths to stay by Lane’s side. Even if it involves kidnapping, stealing, and Felix’s overwhelmingly bad ideas, Felix will do just about anything because Lane is there for him unlike anyone else has ever been. Felix might be out of his element, but one thing he is sure about is that he doesn’t want to leave Lane… even if it costs him his life.
Hidden in Darkness is 90k words of snark, car chases, and morally questionable choices.
*Newly edited with an updated cover.
Saturday's Series Spotlight: In Darkness
Midnight Flit by Elin Gregory
Summary:
The Carstairs Affairs #2
Miles Siward and Briers Allerdale return for another thrilling Jazz Age adventure.
“Silk stockings on expenses.”
Miles’s aristocratic mother has information of importance to the British Government and he must escort her home from Bucharest immediately, but their plans go violently awry and Miles and Lady Siward find themselves on a train to Belgrade - where Miles’s lover is posted. Since their pursuers are looking for a man and a woman, might two women slip past them unnoticed?
"Is anyone on this train who they say they are?"
Briers doesn’t know whether to kiss Miles or punch him but is delighted to accompany him and his mother on their journey. All he has to do is keep an eye open for their enemies - but who exactly are they; the enormous Russian, the sinister priest, the handsome jazz pianist, or maybe the winsome young movie star? And his mother-in-law might just be the most terrifying of all!
All aboard for the ride of a lifetime, with a cast of characters you'll never forget!
Saturday's Series Spotlight: The Carstairs Affairs
The Boy with the Painful Tattoo by Josh Lanyon
Summary:
Holmes & Moriarity #3
It’s moving day at Chez Holmes.
Somehow, against Kit’s better instincts, he and J.X. are setting up house together. But while J.X. is off at a writing conference, Kit unpacks a crate that should contain either old books or new china.
It doesn’t.
Within the mounds of Styrofoam popcorn is a dead body.
A very dead body.
There goes the neighborhood.
Saturday's Series Spotlight: Holmes & Moriarity #1-3
Monday's Mysterious Mayhem: In Other Words . . . Murder
Hidden in Darkness by Alice Winters
Original Review November Book of the Month 2019:
A couple of weeks ago I went into one of the M/M book recommendation groups on Facebook and asked for 2 different type of books and Alice Winters' In Darkness series was rec'd for both of them coupled with follow bloggers that I have always valued their opinions on recs have talked great things about her work, I knew it was time I gave her a try. What took me so long to do so I'll never know because her writing is great. Character chemistry, humor, danger, romance, heart - it's all here. Hidden in Darkness is A-Freakin'-Mazing!!!
On the surface Lane is . . . well to be ladylike, a jerk but he has reason to behave the way he does having been recently blinded after a lifetime of sight can't be an easy thing to adjust to especially as we learn more about his occupation and the things he did. Felix is a smarta . . . well once again to be ladylike😉, brash, cocky, cheeky - you get the picture. Together they are a perfect fit, they are exactly what the other needs even if they both fight it, the chemistry is instantaneous. Having said all that I still wanted to whack their heads together many, many times😉😉.
As I said above I was asking for recs on Facebook and one of the recs was a Nick and Nora Charles-like chemistry, well Felix and Lane definitely have that. Their bickering banter is hilarious, their differing detecting styles is dangerously effective, and their lust-filled attraction is explosive. Put these all together and Felix and Lane are highly addictive.
Now the other rec I asked for was caregiving and though Felix's approach to Lane is a bit unorthodox at times it fits with Lane's personality and Felix takes his job seriously, even if it doesn't always appear so. It is the unorthodox moments that you realize Felix isn't only helping Lane and putting up with his crap but he's also trying to teach Lane that being blind isn't the end of living. It may take a while and Lane may fight it every step of the way but before you know it he is trying to prove to others that he can still be useful all the while never losing that snarky spark that brought him and Felix together.
Now whether the bad guys and life in general allows the pair to continue forward is something you will have to read for yourself and trust me you will definitely want to read their journey. Hidden in Darkness is only the beginning of Lane and Felix' story and as much as I want to jump right in to the next installment unfortunately I'll have to wait until after the holidays but it will definitely be one of the first things I read once my Christmas 2019 reading list is done. As I said before, this is my first Alice Winters story but it won't be my last.
Midnight Flit by Elin Gregory
Original Review April 2019:
Miles Siward and Briers Allerdale return and what a follow-up story Midnight Flit is! Superb storytelling from the get-go. A few years have passed moving this second entry in The Carstairs Affairs series into the 1930s and though the pair are not able to be together 24/7 it's pretty obvious they spend whatever time they can with each other but the story begins with them apart. When Miles' mother has vital information that puts her in danger and a need to return to London, Miles goes to escort her back. As if it would really be that simple😉😉. Danger stalks them forcing Millie Carstairs to return and a detour to Belgrade where Briers is posted.
Once again the author's respect is shown with attention to the era in the small details, which for me only heightens the brilliance of the story. The case is yet again strife with spies, danger, violence, and those not being who they say they are, are everywhere. I won't speak of the case but the blend between mystery, violence, sneaky friends and foes, and of course romance makes Midnight Flit a an all out experience that you can only get the full effects if you read for yourself . . . and trust me you will want to read this.
As for the characters, I loved seeing Millie and Brian make an appearance and how they slip into the roles so easily shows you that they are not just personas they use for the job, they have become part of who Miles and Briers are. Miles' mother is an absolute marvel, a lady of her time but also a free-thinker that is often overlooked in the era. The way she is with both Miles/Briers and Millie/Brian brings to life a relationship that many mothers/mothers-in-law of the time might not factor into the majority but is absolutely lovely to read adding humor and heart to the story.
Whether you are typically a historical reader or not, I highly recommend reading The Carstairs Affairs series otherwise you will miss out on amazing characters and overall fun and danger that hooked me in and when I reached the last page I found myself wishing I read it slower to savor the experience. If you are asking if this is a series that needs to be read in order, I have to say yes. Both entries feature a new case for the heroes but because of the personal moments everything just flows better having read Eleventh Hour first, not just the relationship between Miles and Briers but also the secondary characters who make an appearance. I can't say you'll be lost if you read Midnight Flit first but you will probably find yourself pausing a few times and wondering how certain characters came to be in the mix. However you choose to read it, just be sure you read because otherwise you will miss out on a storytelling gem.
The Boy with the Painful Tattoo by Josh Lanyon
Overall Series 2nd Re-Read Review 2018:
(Technically, this is only a re-read review of the first three in the series as the fourth was just released a few weeks ago.) There is just something about Holmes & Moriarity that helps them stand out from the typical crime-fighting duo(okay maybe not "crime fighting" more like "crime stumbling" but you get the idea). Is it their banter? Is it their mystery-solving abilities? Is it their chemistry? It's all of the above and so much more. Kit and JX are made for each other even if Kit is reluctant to jump head first into the relationship like JX does but that doesn't lessen his want to be there. I love Kit's devotion to his creation, Miss Butterwith & Mr. Pinkerton even when everyone around him is telling him the spinster detective and her cat have run its course. As for the mysteries Kit finds himself in the middle of, well generally it's just dumb luck he is where he is but he still finds a way to get to the answers. I hope we see Kit and JX stumble upon many more cases but whether Miss Lanyon brings us one more or a hundred Holmes & Moriarity adventures I'll be re-visiting them for years to come.
Original Review October 2014:
Not only does Kit have to deal with moving in with his boyfriend, JX but now he's dealing with a dead body and way too much intrigue that goes along with said body. On top of that, he seems to have acquired a stalker. How will he deal with it and which will bring him more stress, the dead body, the stalker, or the live-in lover? I have to admit that I am not a huge fan of JX's ex-wife but I love how Kit deals with the nephew, Gage. I applaud his attempt to deal with the ex, she doesn't make it easy or even really make an effort but Kit does, which is actually very "un-Kit" of him.
Once again, Ms. Lanyon has not disappointed her readers, definitely not this reader. So when can we expect #4? (hint, hint-hope, hope) I really enjoyed the cameo appearance of another of Josh Lanyon's star amateur detectives, Adrien English and his boyfriend Jake Riordan and Adrien's bookstore Cloak and Dagger.
RATING:
Elle Keaton
Thanks for stopping by, I’m Elle Keaton and I hail from the northwest corner of the US where we are known for rain, rain and more rain. I write the Accidental Roots series, set here in the Pacific Northwest featuring hot mm romance and the guarantee of a happy ending for my men. They start out broken, and maybe they end up that way too, but they always find the other half of their hearts.
I started writing way back when but only began publishing about two and a half years ago and now have nine books out. Each features a couple in my little universe, sometimes there is added mystery and suspense.
Thank you for supporting this Indie Author,
Elle
Find me, follow me, friend me.
Alice Winters
Alice Winters started writing stories as soon as she was old enough to turn her ideas into written words. She loves writing a variety of things from romance and comedy to action. She also enjoys reading, horseback riding, and spending time with her pets.
Elin Gregory
Elin Gregory lives in South Wales and works in a museum in a castle built on the edge of a Roman Fort! She reckons that's a pretty cool job.
Elin usually writes on historical subjects, and enjoys weaving the weird and wonderful facts she comes across in her research into her plots. She likes her heroes hard as nails but capable of tenderness when circumstances allow. Often they are in danger, frequently they have to make hard choices, but happy endings are always assured.
Current works in progress include one set during the Great War, another in WW2, one set in the Dark Ages and a series of contemporary romances set in a small town on the Welsh border.
Josh Lanyon
Here at Padme's Library I feature all genres but followers have probably noticed that 95% of the posts and 99% of my reviews fall under the LGBT genres, so for this year's Pride Month I am showcasing 20 of my favorite M/M mysteries in no particular order. Mysteries of all sorts, different eras, different crimes, basically mayhem of all varieties perfectly blended with romance, drama, humor, and heart, creating unforgettable reads.
One Last Note:
Some of those on my list I have read, reread, & even listened/re-listened so I've included the review posted in my latest read/listen. Also, those that are read/re-read as a series the latest review may be an overall series review. I have also tried to include links to previous posts for those that are part of a series.
One Last Note:
Some of those on my list I have read, reread, & even listened/re-listened so I've included the review posted in my latest read/listen. Also, those that are read/re-read as a series the latest review may be an overall series review. I have also tried to include links to previous posts for those that are part of a series.
Summary:
Accidental Roots #1
They say you can’t go home again, Adam Klay doesn’t intend to until the death of his father, a famous artist, forces his return to Skagit, Washington. Cleaning up his father’s chaotic life was never on Adam’s bucket list. Worse, Adam finds himself inexplicably drawn to the elusive, terminally-clumsy, gorgeous, Micah Ryan. No way is he getting involved with someone from his hometown, he’s always insisted the best view of Skagit was in his rearview mirror.
Micah Ryan has been coasting on auto-pilot since his family was killed in a car accident a decade earlier. He runs a web business and has an irritable cat. He hardly leaves his house, unless it is for his afternoon espresso. His world tips upside down when Adam Klay rolls into town. For the first time in years, he feels alive. Unfortunately, Micah’s return to the living has been noticed and is not appreciated.
Someone has a secret. Someone is exploiting the vulnerable youth population in Skagit. Teenagers are disappearing, young women turning up dead, the dirty secrets of Skagit are surfacing.
Saturday's Series Spotlight: Part 1 / Part 2 / Part 3 / Part 4
Summary:
In Darkness #1
When Felix is hired to take care of a recently blinded man, he thinks his life might finally be turning around. It has to be better than where he came from, but he has no idea what he’s signed up for. Lane is depressed, rude, and difficult to be around. It doesn’t help that Felix is clearly not qualified for the job, especially since he can’t even make oatmeal right. But Felix is trying to make his life better, so he’ll put up with the man even if it requires some unconventional methods. Felix’s humor soon pulls Lane out of his depression, and Felix feels like things are finally going right in his life.
That is, until he’s attacked by someone who wants to keep Lane quiet. It’s clear that Lane isn’t who he’s pretending to be, and Felix should probably walk away. But Felix has finally found a place where he belongs and he’s willing to go to great lengths to stay by Lane’s side. Even if it involves kidnapping, stealing, and Felix’s overwhelmingly bad ideas, Felix will do just about anything because Lane is there for him unlike anyone else has ever been. Felix might be out of his element, but one thing he is sure about is that he doesn’t want to leave Lane… even if it costs him his life.
Hidden in Darkness is 90k words of snark, car chases, and morally questionable choices.
*Newly edited with an updated cover.
Saturday's Series Spotlight: In Darkness
Summary:
The Carstairs Affairs #2
Miles Siward and Briers Allerdale return for another thrilling Jazz Age adventure.
“Silk stockings on expenses.”
Miles’s aristocratic mother has information of importance to the British Government and he must escort her home from Bucharest immediately, but their plans go violently awry and Miles and Lady Siward find themselves on a train to Belgrade - where Miles’s lover is posted. Since their pursuers are looking for a man and a woman, might two women slip past them unnoticed?
"Is anyone on this train who they say they are?"
Briers doesn’t know whether to kiss Miles or punch him but is delighted to accompany him and his mother on their journey. All he has to do is keep an eye open for their enemies - but who exactly are they; the enormous Russian, the sinister priest, the handsome jazz pianist, or maybe the winsome young movie star? And his mother-in-law might just be the most terrifying of all!
All aboard for the ride of a lifetime, with a cast of characters you'll never forget!
Saturday's Series Spotlight: The Carstairs Affairs
Summary:
Holmes & Moriarity #3
It’s moving day at Chez Holmes.
Somehow, against Kit’s better instincts, he and J.X. are setting up house together. But while J.X. is off at a writing conference, Kit unpacks a crate that should contain either old books or new china.
It doesn’t.
Within the mounds of Styrofoam popcorn is a dead body.
A very dead body.
There goes the neighborhood.
Saturday's Series Spotlight: Holmes & Moriarity #1-3
Monday's Mysterious Mayhem: In Other Words . . . Murder
Storm Season by Elle Keaton
Original Review May 2017:
Sometimes going home is the last thing you want but is exactly what you need. Well, that's what Adam Klay is facing when he returns to Skagit to sort out his father's estate. Micah Ryan on the flipside hasn't left Skagit since losing his family in a car accident nearly ten years prior. When fate, destiny, or just plain dumb luck puts these two on the same course their lives will never be the same.
Storm Season is a wonderful blend of romance, drama, mystery, comedy, and it's all tied up together in a great big bow of heat and chemistry. I always find mysteries to be a very hard genre to review because I don't do spoilers and with a mystery every little detail can be a huge spoiler so all I will say is that I was hooked from page one and dreaded when I had to put my kindle down when my need for sleep overwhelmed my want to read.
Original Review May 2017:
Sometimes going home is the last thing you want but is exactly what you need. Well, that's what Adam Klay is facing when he returns to Skagit to sort out his father's estate. Micah Ryan on the flipside hasn't left Skagit since losing his family in a car accident nearly ten years prior. When fate, destiny, or just plain dumb luck puts these two on the same course their lives will never be the same.
Storm Season is a wonderful blend of romance, drama, mystery, comedy, and it's all tied up together in a great big bow of heat and chemistry. I always find mysteries to be a very hard genre to review because I don't do spoilers and with a mystery every little detail can be a huge spoiler so all I will say is that I was hooked from page one and dreaded when I had to put my kindle down when my need for sleep overwhelmed my want to read.
Hidden in Darkness by Alice Winters
Original Review November Book of the Month 2019:
A couple of weeks ago I went into one of the M/M book recommendation groups on Facebook and asked for 2 different type of books and Alice Winters' In Darkness series was rec'd for both of them coupled with follow bloggers that I have always valued their opinions on recs have talked great things about her work, I knew it was time I gave her a try. What took me so long to do so I'll never know because her writing is great. Character chemistry, humor, danger, romance, heart - it's all here. Hidden in Darkness is A-Freakin'-Mazing!!!
On the surface Lane is . . . well to be ladylike, a jerk but he has reason to behave the way he does having been recently blinded after a lifetime of sight can't be an easy thing to adjust to especially as we learn more about his occupation and the things he did. Felix is a smarta . . . well once again to be ladylike😉, brash, cocky, cheeky - you get the picture. Together they are a perfect fit, they are exactly what the other needs even if they both fight it, the chemistry is instantaneous. Having said all that I still wanted to whack their heads together many, many times😉😉.
As I said above I was asking for recs on Facebook and one of the recs was a Nick and Nora Charles-like chemistry, well Felix and Lane definitely have that. Their bickering banter is hilarious, their differing detecting styles is dangerously effective, and their lust-filled attraction is explosive. Put these all together and Felix and Lane are highly addictive.
Now the other rec I asked for was caregiving and though Felix's approach to Lane is a bit unorthodox at times it fits with Lane's personality and Felix takes his job seriously, even if it doesn't always appear so. It is the unorthodox moments that you realize Felix isn't only helping Lane and putting up with his crap but he's also trying to teach Lane that being blind isn't the end of living. It may take a while and Lane may fight it every step of the way but before you know it he is trying to prove to others that he can still be useful all the while never losing that snarky spark that brought him and Felix together.
Now whether the bad guys and life in general allows the pair to continue forward is something you will have to read for yourself and trust me you will definitely want to read their journey. Hidden in Darkness is only the beginning of Lane and Felix' story and as much as I want to jump right in to the next installment unfortunately I'll have to wait until after the holidays but it will definitely be one of the first things I read once my Christmas 2019 reading list is done. As I said before, this is my first Alice Winters story but it won't be my last.
Midnight Flit by Elin Gregory
Original Review April 2019:
Miles Siward and Briers Allerdale return and what a follow-up story Midnight Flit is! Superb storytelling from the get-go. A few years have passed moving this second entry in The Carstairs Affairs series into the 1930s and though the pair are not able to be together 24/7 it's pretty obvious they spend whatever time they can with each other but the story begins with them apart. When Miles' mother has vital information that puts her in danger and a need to return to London, Miles goes to escort her back. As if it would really be that simple😉😉. Danger stalks them forcing Millie Carstairs to return and a detour to Belgrade where Briers is posted.
Once again the author's respect is shown with attention to the era in the small details, which for me only heightens the brilliance of the story. The case is yet again strife with spies, danger, violence, and those not being who they say they are, are everywhere. I won't speak of the case but the blend between mystery, violence, sneaky friends and foes, and of course romance makes Midnight Flit a an all out experience that you can only get the full effects if you read for yourself . . . and trust me you will want to read this.
As for the characters, I loved seeing Millie and Brian make an appearance and how they slip into the roles so easily shows you that they are not just personas they use for the job, they have become part of who Miles and Briers are. Miles' mother is an absolute marvel, a lady of her time but also a free-thinker that is often overlooked in the era. The way she is with both Miles/Briers and Millie/Brian brings to life a relationship that many mothers/mothers-in-law of the time might not factor into the majority but is absolutely lovely to read adding humor and heart to the story.
Whether you are typically a historical reader or not, I highly recommend reading The Carstairs Affairs series otherwise you will miss out on amazing characters and overall fun and danger that hooked me in and when I reached the last page I found myself wishing I read it slower to savor the experience. If you are asking if this is a series that needs to be read in order, I have to say yes. Both entries feature a new case for the heroes but because of the personal moments everything just flows better having read Eleventh Hour first, not just the relationship between Miles and Briers but also the secondary characters who make an appearance. I can't say you'll be lost if you read Midnight Flit first but you will probably find yourself pausing a few times and wondering how certain characters came to be in the mix. However you choose to read it, just be sure you read because otherwise you will miss out on a storytelling gem.
The Boy with the Painful Tattoo by Josh Lanyon
Overall Series 2nd Re-Read Review 2018:
(Technically, this is only a re-read review of the first three in the series as the fourth was just released a few weeks ago.) There is just something about Holmes & Moriarity that helps them stand out from the typical crime-fighting duo(okay maybe not "crime fighting" more like "crime stumbling" but you get the idea). Is it their banter? Is it their mystery-solving abilities? Is it their chemistry? It's all of the above and so much more. Kit and JX are made for each other even if Kit is reluctant to jump head first into the relationship like JX does but that doesn't lessen his want to be there. I love Kit's devotion to his creation, Miss Butterwith & Mr. Pinkerton even when everyone around him is telling him the spinster detective and her cat have run its course. As for the mysteries Kit finds himself in the middle of, well generally it's just dumb luck he is where he is but he still finds a way to get to the answers. I hope we see Kit and JX stumble upon many more cases but whether Miss Lanyon brings us one more or a hundred Holmes & Moriarity adventures I'll be re-visiting them for years to come.
Original Review October 2014:
Not only does Kit have to deal with moving in with his boyfriend, JX but now he's dealing with a dead body and way too much intrigue that goes along with said body. On top of that, he seems to have acquired a stalker. How will he deal with it and which will bring him more stress, the dead body, the stalker, or the live-in lover? I have to admit that I am not a huge fan of JX's ex-wife but I love how Kit deals with the nephew, Gage. I applaud his attempt to deal with the ex, she doesn't make it easy or even really make an effort but Kit does, which is actually very "un-Kit" of him.
Once again, Ms. Lanyon has not disappointed her readers, definitely not this reader. So when can we expect #4? (hint, hint-hope, hope) I really enjoyed the cameo appearance of another of Josh Lanyon's star amateur detectives, Adrien English and his boyfriend Jake Riordan and Adrien's bookstore Cloak and Dagger.
RATING:
Hidden in Darkness by Alice Winters
Prologue
Lane
I know I have to run.
I know I have to get away.
But I can’t. I can barely move.
Midnight Flit by Elin Gregory
Secret Intelligence service operative, Miles Siward, is preparing for a mission with the assistance of his gentleman’s gentleman, Pritchard.
"Do you miss working for Father?" Miles asked after a moment. "I feel bad that I've never asked before, but I was so grateful when you agreed to come back with me and run my little establishment that I suppose it never occurred to me to ask."
Pritchard paused, his hands full of snowy linen. "Lord bless you, sir, no. Ronald and I were heartily sick of exchanging letters by then, and maybe seeing each other once a year - your father's commitments allowing. To be offered the chance to come here, with private accommodation provided, was a Godsend. My only worry was that a relationship started in the trenches and continued on paper might not weather more frequent contact."
Ronald – professional stage manager, natty dresser, a full head taller than Pritchard – was perhaps a little shrill, but one had to be shrill to be heard in theatrical circles. From what little Miles had seen of Pritchard and Ron together, though, they seemed blissfully happy and he wished them well and envied them with all his heart.
"I'm glad," he said. "Going from valet to His Majesty's Ambassador in Bucharest to the man-of-all-work of a clerk seems such a come down."
"We both know that you are far more than a clerk, sir," Pritchard grinned. "And speaking of more, Bucharest is not that far from Belgrade. While you are there, will there be any chance of meeting with the master?"
Miles snorted. "You mustn't call Briers that, it only encourages him. He'll turn up in plus fours and a monocle next, you wait and see!"
"It's meant affectionately, sir." Pritchard gave him a serene smile and tucked a rolled black tie and a pair of silk socks in beside the shirt.
"I know, and he loves it." Miles paused in smiling contemplation of Briers Allerdale – tall where Miles was short, dark where he was fair, a hard-bitten field agent where Miles spent a lot of time at his desk − and thanked his lucky stars that opposites attract. "But sadly I am only going for one night, solely to retrieve Ma and bring her home safely in time for her appointment. A side trip is completely out of the question.
"I understand, sir." From the sympathetic glint in Pritchard's eye, Miles knew that he did understand, very well.
The Boy with the Painful Tattoo by Josh Lanyon
I had the freezer door open and was contemplating the fine layer of frost that had already formed over the box of chicken when the kitchen phone rang, startling me.
I answered cautiously.
J.X. said, “Hey, it’s me. I’m at the hotel. How’s it going?”
The sound of his voice had an unexpected effect. All at once I felt both cheerful and calmer. My overstrung nerves unclenched, released, smoothed out. The knot in my gut eased. Or perhaps that was the pizza inching toward the next phase of digestion. Whatever, I was happy to hear his voice.
“It’s good. The sprinkler is repaired and I’m unpacking…everything. How was your flight?”
“I spent longer getting through security than in the air. Did you have trouble…” His voice seemed to dip and then I heard female laughter and noise in the background. J.X. said distantly, “Very funny, give me my phone, Samantha.”
Ah, yes. Conferences. Networking. Socializing. Shenanigans. And more shenanigans. Shenanigans were how J.X. and I had met. Funny to think that it could have been Jerry Knight I met that weekend.
“Sorry about that.” His voice came back on, loud and clear. “Kit, I got a call from Nina. She sounded upset but I couldn’t understand what the problem was. I was thinking maybe if you went over there?”
My moment of serenity deflated like a runaway balloon pricked by the point of a weathervane.
“If I went over there…where? What? Where there are you talking about?”
“To Nina’s house. To see her. To see her and Gage.”
Nina was J.X.’s ex-wife. Gage was his nephew. J.X. had married Nina, his younger brother’s pregnant girlfriend, after Alex died in Iraq. He had done this for the sake of his very conservative family and her equally conservative family and the unborn kid. It was noble in a soap-opera-ish way, but it wasn’t the kind of nobility that I understood or approved of.
Also, though the gesture had been quixotic and J.X.’s feelings for Nina were platonic, the one time I’d met her—over Christmas turkey—had convinced me that Nina’s feelings were not so clear cut. Maybe not clear cut at all. She didn’t like me. J.X.’s parents didn’t like me either. Possibly for the same reason. And the kid, Gage, disliked me with all his little heart.
“And I would do that…why?”
“Because I can’t and you’re family. And…”
“And what?”
“And this would be a good chance for you to get to know them.”
I laughed, though it came out sounding slightly hysterical. “I hope you’re kidding because there is no way in hell I’m going over there. They can’t stand me. None of your family can stand me, and the last thing Nina wants is your gay boyfriend showing up.”
J.X. made an exasperated sound. “Kit, you’re family now. That’s important. A lot more important than whatever it is you’re thinking at this moment. I know it’s inconvenient and maybe a little awkward, but it’s also a perfect opportunity.”
I cannot pretend this little speech of J.X.’s, particularly the phrase a lot more important than whatever it is you’re thinking, did not irk the living hell out of me. So much so that I actually couldn’t speak for a few seconds.
“Kit?”
I managed to choke down my anger before I expired on the spot. “Putting aside my thoughts—and feelings—for a second, I am up to my ears in boxes. Yours included. We’ve got the furniture company delivering the bedroom suite this afternoon. We’ve got the satellite dish people arriving any minute. There is no food in this fucking house. So whatever this unspecified emergency is with your ex—”
“She’s not my ex.”
“Yeah, actually she is. And if she can’t spell out what the problem is for you, it’s a good bet I can’t solve it for her. Even if I had the time—or inclination—which I don’t.”
There was a pause before J.X. said grimly, “That’s pretty blunt.”
“Not really. Blunt would be to point out that we’re not family. We’re living together. And it may or may not work out.”
I’m not sure what his response was—I’m sure he had one. I’d never known him to let me have the last word. But I got it through tactical superiority that time. I hung up.
Then I tottered over to the nearest stool—J.X.’s contribution to our kitchen furnishings were tall, bachelor pad bar stools of leather and steel—before my knees gave out. I was shaking with a crazy rush of anger and adrenaline and alarm.
Also shame. I was too old to be hanging up on people like an angry and inarticulate teenager.
Not my finest hour. Or even my finest one and a half minutes. But this was what I had been afraid of from the first. That we were going to commit to this madness and it wasn’t going to work out.
Of course it wasn’t going to work out! How could it possibly work out? We barely knew each other. And we didn’t always like the us we did know.
But it had to work out. There was already an offer on my former home. It was too late to turn back now.
I waited for J.X. to phone back. When he didn’t, I told myself I was relieved. I wasn’t sure. I hated arguing. I hated confrontation. But I hated cold silence worse. One thing about David, he had not been the strong, silent type. Far from it. He had been the yelling and shouting and punching and breaking things—inanimate things—type. Which had generally led to my yelling and shouting too. But I still preferred explosions to cold silence.
To keep from thinking, I began emptying the boxes in the kitchen. What was the alternative? No, J.X. and I were both tired. Short on sleep and stressed. We had committed to this course, and there wasn’t any retreat. That I could think of.
I dumped silverware in drawers, placed glasses on shelves, located J.X.’s toaster, and opened a box of little jars of spices I had never heard of. What was Tajin? What was Egyptian dukkah? Did we even eat the same food?
On the bright side, the mountain of boxes eventually dwindled to a molehill, speeded by my decision not to wash anything because it had all been packed in bubble wrap for less than 48 hours. The less-than-48-hours-in-bubble-wrap rule was well known in Southern California. And if it wasn’t equally well known in Northern California, J.X. could wash any mug he liked.
I came across the gin and tonic and the day looked a little less grim. And, to give J.X. his due, his refrigerator was much better at making ice than mine. The cubes in my glass crackled musically as the tonic fizzed over them.
Refreshed, I got my second wind and started stacking dishes on shelves. Plain white plates. Plain white saucers. Plain white cups, plain white bowls. I opened another box. Plain white square plates. Okay. That was a relief. I was beginning to think my true love was stuck in a rut. I put all the square white plates and bowls away. I opened another box.
Plain white plates.
All the dishes seemed to be J.X.’s. Where were my dishes? Down in the basement with my fridge?
Irritated all over again, I opened the door to the basement and started down the steps. I’d never lived in a house that had a basement before. This one was supposed to function as storage and laundry room. And we were certainly getting our money’s worth of storage. There were a ton of boxes down here—not to mention my sofa. And who had decided that?
Now thoroughly pissed off, I began to explore. On the bright side, the basement was immaculate. Not a cobweb in sight. Not even much in the way of dust. A couple of throw rugs and it could probably double as an additional room. Or a hideout. My TV was probably already down here. Possibly my stereo system.
Except…that smell. What was that? Whatever it was, it had to go. Backed-up plumbing? Overflowing garbage bins? Ye gods. I started looking for the source, and tracked it to a large wooden crate marked CHINA. My crate.
What the hell? Had the moving company helpfully decided to move my rotting garbage?
The lid had been hastily and none too securely hammered down, but it was anchored enough to resist my half-hearted efforts to raise it. I went back upstairs, located the fireplace hardware in the parlor, and returned to the basement with the poker. J.X.’s poker, for the record.
I levered the poker beneath the wooden lid and pried until it gave with a cracking sound.
I covered my mouth and nose with the crook of my arm as white bits of biodegradable popcorn floated up along with that ghastly odor. Sure enough I spotted a black trash bag. Instead of Oma’s vintage pale green china with gold trim, those lunatics had packed my garbage bags.
That’s what I was trying to tell myself. But I knew. Of course I knew. I was a mystery writer. No moving crew was that crazy. This could only be one thing. One terrible thing.
Carefully, gingerly, I reached out and pulled back the corner of the trash bag. A lifeless, dull eye gazed up at me.
Prologue
Lane
I know I have to run.
I know I have to get away.
But I can’t. I can barely move.
My hand hits my leg, and I’m shocked by how close it is. I jerk my hand back as everything compresses around me until I feel like I can’t breathe, but I can’t let the darkness take me. Not yet.
I know that I have to move.
There’s noise outside the room. I can hear it, but it’s getting farther and farther away from me. Desperately, I grip onto the noise since it’s the only thing that feels real at this moment.
Calm down, Lane. This is what you’re trained to do.
Is it? Am I trained for situations like this? Situations where I have been thrown into the darkness, where the walls collapse down tight on top of me until I can’t breathe? It’s almost bad enough that I can forget the throbbing that is consuming every inch of my body.
My hand is shaking as I strain my fingers in an attempt to reach down and touch my leg. My pants are wet, but I could have figured that out without even touching them. My wrist aches against the restraint, so I give in, letting myself rest at a more comfortable angle.
I need help. I need medical attention.
I need to get out.
I need to live.
The duct tape around my wrist is wet, slick with blood. I pull on it as the bruises scream, but I can’t stop because I don’t know when he’ll come back.
Five hours?
Five minutes?
Five seconds?
I need to get out.
Straining, I twist and pull my left arm as the tape bunches. The struggling is causing the blood to run against the tape until it begins to slide. My aching hand screams as I twist and pull until I feel it start to give. I pull it free and slump down in the chair.
Now just one more hand.
I feel like I’m going to pass out, and for a moment, I have to focus on staying alert.
My fingers are shaking as I reach over until my hand bumps into the arm of the chair. This one is tight against the chair instead of loose like the other. The tape on this wrist is dry, so I run my fingers over it until I feel a slight catch. I can’t tell if it’s a ripple in the tape or the end of it, but I begin to dig at it with my fingernails. Each bump of my left hand against my right makes it ache. My hand feels like it’s broken, but I don’t think it is. All I know is that each tug of the tape makes me want to scream, so I grit my teeth and pull. I even my breath, breathing in for three seconds, breathing out for three seconds.
I can’t pass out.
My hand goes around and around, tugging and pulling at the tape, but I can’t tell how much is left. I can’t tell if I’m close to the end or still at the beginning.
I can’t tell anything in this dark world.
The tape pulls free, and I can’t help the smile that touches my face.
I’m free!
For now.
Instead of tossing the tape to the ground, I set it against my bleeding leg and begin to wrap it around the wound. I pull it tight and have to grit my teeth as I keep it pressed against the wound. I wind it again and again as heat begins to consume my body, telling me that I’m close to passing out.
I can’t… not yet.
I tuck the end of the tape in, praying it’ll stay. Slumping against the chair, I feel nauseous as sweat soaks my shirt. I have to waste a precious moment regaining my composure until I feel prepared to make my escape. If I make a single mistake, this will be over. I won’t get a second chance.
It doesn’t matter how much pain I’m in, I know that if I don’t make it out of here now, I will die.
Using my one good arm and the arm of the chair, I push myself to my feet, favoring my left leg. I know where the door is; it’s in front of me. But I can’t remember how far away.
Four feet?
Six feet?
It feels like a mile as I take my first step. My weight comes down on my leg, and I nearly fall to the ground, but I manage to steady myself. When I hit the door, I am elated. I have made it this far. I can make it. I can do this.
I set my hand against the cool metal door and slide it to the edge until I feel where the door meets the doorframe. Then I run my hand down until I hit the doorknob. Desperately, I grab onto it and pull.
It gives easily in my hand, making me want to grin at their mistake, but I can’t get the grimace off my face.
They’re not afraid of me escaping.
How far can a blind man go?
I’ll show them how fucking far I can go.
I step out into the hallway as I try to remember the path I was taken in through. Back when my world wasn’t consumed by darkness.
There were stairs. I remember the stairs that I was dragged down; now I just have to find them. With my good hand against the wall, I begin to walk. Each step as painful as the last. It feels like the world is closing in on me as the darkness consumes me.
There could be a man directly in front of me, and I would never see him until I am on him. They could be laughing at me as I drag my body through the hall, praying for stairs I am not sure I will ever find.
My hand touches a door and I debate opening it, but even if there is a gun sitting right inside, I can’t do anything with it. I am useless now.
No, I am not useless. I can get out of here.
My hand slides forward, dropping as the wall falls away. I don’t realize how much weight I had been pressing against it until I am falling forward. Desperately, I reach out, hoping to catch myself, but the moment my right hand hits, my wrist gives, and I slam down onto the stairs.
I dig the nails of my left hand into the step as I lie against them.
Well… I found the stairs.
I grab onto the next step and pull myself up, first placing one knee, and then the next as I crawl up them. I know I need to get to my feet, but I’m not sure I can. Carefully, I slide each hand forward, feeling my path as I edge up each step.
When my hand doesn’t reach another step, I stretch it out, feeling the path before me until I hit a wall. I slide my hand along it until I find a doorknob and turn it. I pull the door toward me, but it won’t give, so I push it away.
For all I know, I’m stepping right into the pit of vipers. I can’t check, I can just listen. As I step through the door, I feel the cool air on the left side of my face. Slowly I turn my head as if I could see something and move toward it.
Could this be a door leading out? Could it be this simple?
None of this has been simple so far.
My hand hits a door, and suddenly I can feel the cool metal. I move my hand until I find another handle and pull it open. The smell of fresh rain fills my nose as I grasp onto the sound of birds in the distance.
I have made it outside, but it doesn’t mean I’m free.
The wind blows, disrupting my hair and angering the wounds on my face. I want to lie down. Just rest for a moment, but I know that if I do, I won’t get back up, and I can’t give up. I’ve made it too far now, but doubt sets in regardless. I have no idea where I’m at; I can’t grab a car and drive away. I am lost in this world of darkness and can barely breathe. My chest feels like it’s compressing as I take my first step. I can hear gravel beneath my feet as I reach out, wishing to find a wall to support me.
There’s nothing left, making me feel like every step I take could lead to my death. Like I would fall into a pit and drop straight to hell.
Then I hear it.
A dog barking.
The sound is distant but steady.
A rhythm, almost.
Constant.
It could be leading me to my death, but it could also be leading me to my freedom.
So, I begin to walk. Slowly placing each foot in front of the other. It feels like a dream, almost like I am walking on nothing and everything. Carefully, I keep moving forward, forcing one step after the other.
The barking grows louder.
It feels like I’ve walked for hours.
Or days.
Or a lifetime.
I will reach that dog. I will reach it, and I pray that when I do, it will lead to my freedom from this hell.
Chapter One
Felix
I check my phone for the fourth time to make sure it’s the right address, as if I have forgotten how to read and might be at the wrong place. But I hate going to places I have never been to before, so I check it one more time, just in case. When I’m certain that I’m at the right location, I get out of my car and walk up the sidewalk, toward the gray, one-story house. It has a small porch with some weathered wicker chairs set out on it. I walk up the steps and across the porch to the dark blue door. I knock on it, before stepping back and waiting. It isn’t long before the door swings open, and a man in his forties looks out at me.
He smiles at me as he swings the door open wider. “You must be Mr. Wake,” the man says as he holds his hand out. His brown hair is cut short and gray hair is starting to mix in. He has dark blue eyes that are hidden behind black-framed glasses.
“Yes, I am,” I say as I take his hand and shake it. “Just call me Felix though.”
“I’m James Dixon. I was the one that talked to you last night on the phone.”
“It’s nice to meet you,” I say as I look up at him. Sadly, I seem to have to look up at half the population. Not half the adult population, but half the population as a whole.
“Please, come in,” he says as he holds the door open for me. “I’m glad to finally meet with you in person. I’ve been very busy, so I was unable to do the interviews, but Dani thought you were the best choice, so here we are.”
“Yes, thanks for giving me this opportunity,” I say with a smile.
“Right this way,” he says. “You can meet Lane, and then I’ll show you around the house.”
“Okay,” I say, looking around curiously as he leads me through the kitchen and into the living room. The house is very nice but noticeably bare. It looks like someone had just moved in and had forgotten to decorate any of the rooms. There are no pictures on the walls or anything that looks personalized. Everything looks like it was bought from a home décor store and just stuck on the wall or on a shelf without any meaning to it. It reminds me more of a house ready for market than one actually being lived in.
The television is on in the living room, and in the middle of the room is a man in a wheelchair. His back is facing us, but he turns his head a little in our direction, telling me he’s heard us.
“This is Lane,” James says, and the man turns his head a bit more in our direction.
“James, if that is someone to babysit me, I swear to God I’m going to be so pissed,” he growls.
Clearly, I’ve made an excellent first impression, and I haven’t even opened my mouth yet. Generally, I get a few words out before people decide to hate me.
“It’s not,” James says calmly. “Go ahead, introduce yourself.”
I walk around to the front of the wheelchair the man is sitting in. His head turns as he tries to follow the sound of my footsteps with his ears. I can see a stretch of a healing red cut running along his left cheekbone, hidden slightly by the dark sunglasses he’s wearing. Even though he is in his own home, the fact that he is blind must bother him enough that he feels like he needs to hide it. He has a blanket lying over his lap, but I know from the interview that he had hurt his left leg. All this from a drunk driver hitting his car. He’ll be blind forever because of another man’s negligence. I guess I would be a bit of a grouch too if someone had ripped my vision away from me.
“Hi, Mr. Price, my name is Felix Wake,” I say.
“And, Mr. Wake, what are you doing in my home?” he asks as venom drips off his words.
I look over at James and raise an eyebrow as I realize I’m not welcome.
“Felix is going to be assisting you until you get better,” James says.
“I don’t need help, because I am not helpless.” He’s scowling at us and I know that if I could see his eyes they’d be glaring at me. He looks to be in his mid or late thirties with rich brown hair that looks a bit unkempt. The right side is sticking straight up, and the left lies naturally. His facial hair looks scruffy, like it hasn’t been trimmed in a while. His cheeks look hollow like he is beyond exhaustion, but it is clear that this man used to be quite active by the way his T-shirt clings around his muscular arms and stomach. So honestly, it’s not my fault that I can’t help my straying eyes.
“Felix will be staying in the guest bedroom and will take care of the cleaning, cooking, and care for you,” James explains, and I hope he hasn’t noticed my betraying eyes.
Lane laughs, but it’s not a happy laugh. “It’s my house; I can decide what to do with it and how to take care of myself,” he says. It’s like every time he opens his mouth he looks just a bit uglier. Who am I kidding? The man is gorgeous.
“Well, Lane, he’s moving in tomorrow,” James says. “So, you better get used to it.”
Lane seems to decide that he’s done with the conversation and starts to ignore us. Instead, he aims all his concentration toward the TV, making James sigh. “Right this way, Felix.”
I follow as he leads me over to the hallway. Even these walls are empty of pictures and color. Just white walls, white trim. It feels sterile, like a hospital or a school.
“First door on the left is the bathroom,” he says. I glance through the open doorway as he continues walking. “Next door is Lane’s room. Then yours is right here.”
Lane’s bedroom door is closed, but James pushes open the door to the guest bedroom. I peek in, but from here all I can see is the full-sized bed. I run my hand through my ear-length, blond hair and pray that I had made the right decision coming here. I worry at a tip of my hair before dropping my hand down.
I glance over at James, who is staring at his phone. “Is it alright with me being here?” I ask a bit skeptically. Clearly, the occupant of the house didn’t want me within ten miles of him, and we hadn’t even shared words yet beyond an introduction.
“Of course. Don’t listen to Lane. I make the decisions, not him. He thinks he can do everything, but I don’t want him alone all day. He can be reckless at times, and I know if he’s alone he’ll end up doing something stupid and hurting himself. Really, he’s not a bad guy. He’s is just… not taking this well. He’s angry and upset, so he seems to be lashing out at anyone that looks his way. He is used to being independent and self-sufficient, not relying on others. You alright with this?”
“Yes, of course,” I say as I glance into my room. It looks as bare and lifeless as the rest of the house.
“Here,” James says, pulling my attention back to him. I notice that he’s holding out a credit card, so I reach for it. “Buy groceries for Lane and yourself with this. It can also be used for whatever necessities are needed. Dani said she’d already gone over all the details with you. Are there any questions?”
“Not that I’m aware of,” I say as I clutch the credit card in my hand, slightly unsure of what to do with it.
“I’ll see you tomorrow then,” he says. He shakes my hand again, but for some reason, I feel like “if you decide to come back” had been hanging onto the end of his words.
He turns around and continues back through the hallway, so I follow him into the living room.
“He’s not gone yet?” Lane grumbles.
“Not yet,” James says.
“Did you tell him the last babysitter didn’t make it a day?” he asks like he’s proud of himself. I’m kind of proud of him because I can’t imagine that would be easy to do.
“Nope, but now he’s well aware,” James says with a grimace.
I can’t help but grin. To me, that sounds like a challenge, and one thing I do enjoy is a challenge. “I’ll be back tomorrow to start,” I say, trying to sound very happy about it. “Can’t wait to see you again, Lane!”
“Don’t bother coming back,” he growls, and I almost laugh as I head out the door.
*****
I knock on the door, but James must have seen me pull up because he pulls the door open before my hand even hits a second time.
“Good to see you back,” he says eagerly. “Sorry to run, but I need to be home by six. You have any questions?”
The bag is weighing down my arm, and right now I just want to find a place to put it. “Not that I can think of,” I say.
“Here’s my number. If you need anything, don’t hesitate to call,” he says as he passes me a piece of paper with a list of contacts. His number is handwritten at the top, and I notice the rest of the numbers are for doctors. Not a single contact looks like a family member’s.
“Thank you,” I say.
He smiles and passes by me, leaving me in the house alone with the man who hates my guts. That’s alright, I’ve lived with people that hated me before. How could this one be any worse? I carry my suitcase down the hall, between the white, looming walls, and set it just inside my bedroom door. Then I walk into the living room where Lane is sitting before the TV that’s playing a movie. He doesn’t even look in my direction as I walk in, instead, he stays facing the TV with his blanket around his lap and sunglasses firmly in place.
“Lane, it’s Felix,” I say. “How are you doing today?”
He doesn’t move, just completely ignores me as he taps the edge of his wheelchair with his finger.
“Do you need anything?” I ask.
Silence. The TV is playing The Hangover, which he doesn’t seem to be enjoying. It’s the part where the man jumps out of the trunk, but he’s acting like it’s a movie about the Holocaust.
I walk over to him. “Is your water full?” I ask as I pick the bottle up. It’s full, but the water is warm. “I’ll get you something cold. Just water or something else?”
“Maybe I want my water warm,” he says.
I debate saying something, but I don’t. It probably wouldn’t look good to bad-mouth a blind man, so I put the lid back on and set it down. “Alright, one warm water coming right up,” I say. I pause, waiting to see if he’ll say anything, before sighing. “I’m going to go unpack. If you need something, don’t hesitate to ask.”
I walk back to my bedroom where I toss my suitcase on my bed and open it. The room is bigger than the one I’d had at my last apartment, which really isn’t saying much. This one has a nice full-sized bed, which is an upgrade from the twin I had still been sleeping on at the age of twenty-five. There is a dresser in the corner and a desk, but the room is simple. When I pull the dresser drawers open, the smell of fresh wood touches my nose. I put my underwear and socks in the first drawer, shirts in the second, pants in the third, and sweatshirts in the last drawer. There isn’t much else in my suitcase. A few books, a few movies. Everything else I own is in my car since I had decided to completely move out of my apartment. I didn’t need it if I am living here, so what’s the use of paying rent on it? And it isn’t like I would have trouble finding another dumpy apartment if this didn’t work out.
I walk back into the living room. “Do you need something?”
“Please, just go away,” he says sharply.
Alright. I walk into the kitchen and rummage through the cupboards, but there isn’t much. Thankfully, there is enough to get by until tomorrow because I really don’t feel like grocery shopping today. I’m sure I won’t feel like grocery shopping tomorrow either, but it has to be a little easier using someone else’s credit card. I walk back into the living room and sit down in a chair. There’s not much left of the movie, so I wait until it’s over.
“I need to go grocery shopping tomorrow, so I’m wondering if you could tell me what types of food you like?” I ask as soon as the credits roll.
He keeps his face forward, refusing to even turn his head a fraction in my direction. “How about meats? You like chicken?” I ask.
He ignores me, so I just lean back and watch the TV.
“You want to sit in a chair? That wheelchair can’t be comfortable.”
Ha, like I would actually get an answer!
When supper time comes around, I cook rice and chicken since that is basically all that I can find in the house. I dish it up into a bowl, grab a fork, and carry it into the living room. After setting his tray up in front of him, I place the bowl on it.
“I made rice and chicken. There wasn’t much else in the house, so this is what we’ll have to make do with. I put your fork on the right,” I say.
He doesn’t even turn his head toward the food.
“I’ll be back,” I say before getting up and walking into the kitchen. I watch from the doorway as he slowly reaches for his fork. He has a brace on his right hand, but he tries to set it against the bowl, so he can feel it. I know that his hand isn’t broken, but he seems to be having trouble using it. I know he doesn’t want me to watch him fumble, which is why he refused to eat in front of me. I sigh and eat my food from the doorway of the kitchen, so I can watch in case he needs something.
When he’s done I walk back in.
“Was it okay?”
“No,” he says.
Of course not.
“What would you have liked different?”
“All of it.”
Of course.
“Well, I’m sorry, but that’s how I cook. If you’d like something specific, I’ll make it for dinner tomorrow.”
I don’t even expect an answer, so I pick up the bowls and wash them in the sink before drying them. After a few hours of TV, I get no response when I ask if he wants a snack or if he wants to take a shower.
“Alright, bedtime,” I say.
“I’m not a child.”
“Never said you were,” I say. But since he can’t do anything about it, I grab the back of his wheelchair and wheel him down the hallway and into the bathroom. “Toothbrush… where’s your toothbrush?”
“Up your ass,” he says.
“Nope, I think I would have noticed it there,” I say.
I open the cupboards and finally find it in the end drawer. I put toothpaste on it and wet it. “Here you go,” I say as I place it in his hand. He instinctively grabs it, and I’m thrilled when he finally brushes his teeth. When he’s done, I put the toothbrush back where I found it.
“I need to pee, so leave,” he says as he tries to show me out with a wave of his hand.
“You expect me to leave while you try to pee alone?”
“Yes.”
“No.”
“What, you want to fondle my dick or something?”
Maybe.
“Your leg is hurt, and your hand is hurt, so I think I’ll help you onto the toilet. I can leave then if you insist, I just don’t want you to fall,” I say as I wheel him over to the toilet.
He’s bigger than me, so I put the lock on the wheelchair and wrap an arm behind his back. With his help, I manage to get him up. He slides his pants down, so I guide him onto the toilet.
“Alright, I’m leaving but only if you promise to tell me when you’re done. Don’t do something stupid on your own.”
He ignores me as I walk out and shut the door. It isn’t long before I hear a loud crash, so I yank the door open to find Lane half on the ground with everything knocked off the countertop. Quickly, I rush over and grab him, so I can help pull him into the chair.
As I help him, I don’t even bother saying anything because I can tell he’s mad at himself and would probably snap at me if I did. Instead, I kick the stuff on the floor out of the way and wheel him through the doorway and into his bedroom. “I want to check your wounds and then you can go to bed.”
I ruffle through the mess that James had left for me, but I get the gist of what’s there. “I have to pull your sweatpants down, alright?” I say as I do just that, so I can get to his thigh. I look at the staples, which seem to be healing well. It won’t be long before he’ll be able to get them out and get out of the wheelchair. I clean the area and help him back into his sweats. He also has a cut on his arm and a small one on his other leg that I check. “There. Everything feels alright?”
He ignores me, so I help him up into his bed and pull the sheets over him.
“Can I check your eyes?” I ask since I haven’t seen him with the sunglasses off yet.
“No, I’ve already taken care of them.”
“Are you sure?” I ask.
“They’re fine.”
“Goodnight. If you need anything, wake me up. What time do you usually get up in the morning?”
Silence. “Yeah, me too,” I say before walking out of the room.
*****
I wake at eight and help Lane into the living room without much incident and without any kind words from him.
“Do you want to sit in a chair or lay down?”
Silence.
Oh, I can only be nice for so long. “Lane, I am speaking to you,” I say. “You’re not deaf. Answer me.”
“Just leave me alone. I want to be alone!” he says as he slams his hand down on the arm of the chair.
I honestly think he just wants to rot in that chair and let depression consume him. “Well, sorry, but your pity party of one just gained a new member,” I say. “And guess what? I’m not leaving. I’m going to help you whether you like it or not because I get paid, which I like.”
He turns his head toward me. “Did you seriously just say that?”
“I did, and in retrospect, it might have been a bit mean. But I feel like you also thought it was slightly funny,” I say.
“So, you’re a comedian now?”
“Oh no. I just say stuff that gets me in trouble, but no one’s here to yell at me. If I keep getting paid I’m staying. It’s your choice whether you want it to be a fun and pleasant experience or hell.”
“My life is already hell.”
I snort. “Trust me, buddy, I can make it worse. I could… put you in the corner… take away your blanket… feed you dog food,” I say as I try not to laugh.
“Can’t be any worse than what you fed me last night,” he says, and I feel like I can see a slight upturn of his lips. Maybe he isn’t all bad.
I laugh in surprise. “You are pure evil.”
“Then maybe you should leave now.”
“No, I’m not going to.” I grab his water bottle and go into the kitchen where I run the water until it is almost hot. I fill up his cup and carry it into the living room where I hand it to him. “Here’s your water.”
He takes it from me and I watch with a grin as he takes a sip of it and spits it out. “What is this?” He shakes the cup and water sloshes out.
“Yesterday you said you liked your water warm.”
“Oh, really funny,” he says, but his words don’t have the venom they held earlier. He throws it at me, and let me say, for a blind guy, he has a really good aim. It hits me square in the forehead and I stumble back as water showers me.
“Ow!” I snap as I grab my head. It feels like I should have a welt the size of an egg on my head.
“Did that hit you?” he asks as he tries to hide a grin.
“I’m going to have a brain tumor now.”
“I don’t see anything,” he says as he looks quite content with himself. “Not even a red spot.”
“Hmm. I’m going to buy you cat food for lunch,” I say.
“From the limited amount of time I have spent with you I have decided that you’re actually quite mean. I guess you’re really not the little happy boy you were pretending to be yesterday,” he says.
“Being around you for any amount of time can turn a saint into a sinner,” I say.
“If you’re insistent on joining this ‘pity party,’ go make me some oatmeal.”
“I thought you didn’t like my food,” I say.
“Hopefully even you can’t ruin oatmeal,” he says.
“One could hope,” I say as I turn from him and walk into the kitchen. I pour the little packet of oatmeal into a bowl as well as some milk and slip it into the microwave. Then I pull open all the wrong drawers before finding the spoons. Once the oatmeal is cooked, I carry it into the living room and set it down in front of Lane. “Spoon on the right.”
He reaches for it and touches it gingerly. I think he is waiting for me to leave, but I don’t. I honestly can’t. I also can’t wipe the grin off my face. He sticks his spoon into the oatmeal, grabbing a spoonful before raising it to his mouth.
“What is this? Soup?” he asks as he tips the spoon and everything runs off.
“I may have added a bit too much milk,” I admit. I hadn’t done it on purpose, but instead of trying to drain any of the milk, I had decided he could drink it with a straw if he is going to be mean.
“How did you get hired?” he asks in shock.
“Honestly, I’m not sure,” I say. “I guess I’m good at talking women into things. Alright, I’m going shopping. You going to tell me what you want?”
“I want you to leave. I mean, if I have to suffer and be taken care of like I’m an invalid, I would at least like someone that cooks.”
“Yeah, I don’t think I can buy cooking skills at the store. So, think of something edible. How about meats. Are you picky?”
He tries to eat the oatmeal, but every spoonful is just milk. “Is there actually any oatmeal in here?” he asks.
“Just drink it,” I suggest. “So, I’m just going to go buy you things and hope you’re not allergic to any of it. You want to go with me?”
“Absolutely not.”
“Okay. What would you like to do while I’m gone?”
He gets a look on his face like he has a bright idea. “Why don’t you go get me a book? Oh, and set up a puzzle for me, too,” he suggests.
“Alright,” I say. I walk into the hallway and turn left into his bedroom. There’s a bookshelf shoved against the wall filled with books. The man must have loved to read because it’s overflowing out onto the floor. I pick the first book off the top of the pile, walk back into the living room, and set the book on his lap. “Here you are. I couldn’t find a puzzle though, but I can pick you up one at the store. A thousand pieces wouldn’t be too hard for you, would it?”
The expression on his face shows me his shock. “Oh ho… that’s mean,” he says, unable to hide his grin. He grabs the book and chucks it at me. Thankfully, this time he misses and the book skids across the floor.
“You asked for it!” I say as I pick the book up off the ground and set it on the coffee table. “Want the TV on?” I ask as I pick up the remote.
“As long as you don’t do it,” he says. I turn it on anyway and flip through it until I find the Spanish movie channel, really hoping he doesn’t know Spanish.
“How’d you know that this is my favorite channel?” he jokes.
“I’m good like that. I’ll be back in an hour or so. I have my cell, so if you need anything I have my number dialed in it. All you have to do is ask Siri. You do remember my name, right?”
He picks up his phone, holds the button and lifts it toward his face. “Siri, call shit for brains.”
“I don’t see Shit in your contacts. Should I look for locations by that name?” Siri asks.
Nice.
I grab my car keys and walk out the door.
Midnight Flit by Elin Gregory
Secret Intelligence service operative, Miles Siward, is preparing for a mission with the assistance of his gentleman’s gentleman, Pritchard.
"Do you miss working for Father?" Miles asked after a moment. "I feel bad that I've never asked before, but I was so grateful when you agreed to come back with me and run my little establishment that I suppose it never occurred to me to ask."
Pritchard paused, his hands full of snowy linen. "Lord bless you, sir, no. Ronald and I were heartily sick of exchanging letters by then, and maybe seeing each other once a year - your father's commitments allowing. To be offered the chance to come here, with private accommodation provided, was a Godsend. My only worry was that a relationship started in the trenches and continued on paper might not weather more frequent contact."
Ronald – professional stage manager, natty dresser, a full head taller than Pritchard – was perhaps a little shrill, but one had to be shrill to be heard in theatrical circles. From what little Miles had seen of Pritchard and Ron together, though, they seemed blissfully happy and he wished them well and envied them with all his heart.
"I'm glad," he said. "Going from valet to His Majesty's Ambassador in Bucharest to the man-of-all-work of a clerk seems such a come down."
"We both know that you are far more than a clerk, sir," Pritchard grinned. "And speaking of more, Bucharest is not that far from Belgrade. While you are there, will there be any chance of meeting with the master?"
Miles snorted. "You mustn't call Briers that, it only encourages him. He'll turn up in plus fours and a monocle next, you wait and see!"
"It's meant affectionately, sir." Pritchard gave him a serene smile and tucked a rolled black tie and a pair of silk socks in beside the shirt.
"I know, and he loves it." Miles paused in smiling contemplation of Briers Allerdale – tall where Miles was short, dark where he was fair, a hard-bitten field agent where Miles spent a lot of time at his desk − and thanked his lucky stars that opposites attract. "But sadly I am only going for one night, solely to retrieve Ma and bring her home safely in time for her appointment. A side trip is completely out of the question.
"I understand, sir." From the sympathetic glint in Pritchard's eye, Miles knew that he did understand, very well.
The Boy with the Painful Tattoo by Josh Lanyon
I had the freezer door open and was contemplating the fine layer of frost that had already formed over the box of chicken when the kitchen phone rang, startling me.
I answered cautiously.
J.X. said, “Hey, it’s me. I’m at the hotel. How’s it going?”
The sound of his voice had an unexpected effect. All at once I felt both cheerful and calmer. My overstrung nerves unclenched, released, smoothed out. The knot in my gut eased. Or perhaps that was the pizza inching toward the next phase of digestion. Whatever, I was happy to hear his voice.
“It’s good. The sprinkler is repaired and I’m unpacking…everything. How was your flight?”
“I spent longer getting through security than in the air. Did you have trouble…” His voice seemed to dip and then I heard female laughter and noise in the background. J.X. said distantly, “Very funny, give me my phone, Samantha.”
Ah, yes. Conferences. Networking. Socializing. Shenanigans. And more shenanigans. Shenanigans were how J.X. and I had met. Funny to think that it could have been Jerry Knight I met that weekend.
“Sorry about that.” His voice came back on, loud and clear. “Kit, I got a call from Nina. She sounded upset but I couldn’t understand what the problem was. I was thinking maybe if you went over there?”
My moment of serenity deflated like a runaway balloon pricked by the point of a weathervane.
“If I went over there…where? What? Where there are you talking about?”
“To Nina’s house. To see her. To see her and Gage.”
Nina was J.X.’s ex-wife. Gage was his nephew. J.X. had married Nina, his younger brother’s pregnant girlfriend, after Alex died in Iraq. He had done this for the sake of his very conservative family and her equally conservative family and the unborn kid. It was noble in a soap-opera-ish way, but it wasn’t the kind of nobility that I understood or approved of.
Also, though the gesture had been quixotic and J.X.’s feelings for Nina were platonic, the one time I’d met her—over Christmas turkey—had convinced me that Nina’s feelings were not so clear cut. Maybe not clear cut at all. She didn’t like me. J.X.’s parents didn’t like me either. Possibly for the same reason. And the kid, Gage, disliked me with all his little heart.
“And I would do that…why?”
“Because I can’t and you’re family. And…”
“And what?”
“And this would be a good chance for you to get to know them.”
I laughed, though it came out sounding slightly hysterical. “I hope you’re kidding because there is no way in hell I’m going over there. They can’t stand me. None of your family can stand me, and the last thing Nina wants is your gay boyfriend showing up.”
J.X. made an exasperated sound. “Kit, you’re family now. That’s important. A lot more important than whatever it is you’re thinking at this moment. I know it’s inconvenient and maybe a little awkward, but it’s also a perfect opportunity.”
I cannot pretend this little speech of J.X.’s, particularly the phrase a lot more important than whatever it is you’re thinking, did not irk the living hell out of me. So much so that I actually couldn’t speak for a few seconds.
“Kit?”
I managed to choke down my anger before I expired on the spot. “Putting aside my thoughts—and feelings—for a second, I am up to my ears in boxes. Yours included. We’ve got the furniture company delivering the bedroom suite this afternoon. We’ve got the satellite dish people arriving any minute. There is no food in this fucking house. So whatever this unspecified emergency is with your ex—”
“She’s not my ex.”
“Yeah, actually she is. And if she can’t spell out what the problem is for you, it’s a good bet I can’t solve it for her. Even if I had the time—or inclination—which I don’t.”
There was a pause before J.X. said grimly, “That’s pretty blunt.”
“Not really. Blunt would be to point out that we’re not family. We’re living together. And it may or may not work out.”
I’m not sure what his response was—I’m sure he had one. I’d never known him to let me have the last word. But I got it through tactical superiority that time. I hung up.
Then I tottered over to the nearest stool—J.X.’s contribution to our kitchen furnishings were tall, bachelor pad bar stools of leather and steel—before my knees gave out. I was shaking with a crazy rush of anger and adrenaline and alarm.
Also shame. I was too old to be hanging up on people like an angry and inarticulate teenager.
Not my finest hour. Or even my finest one and a half minutes. But this was what I had been afraid of from the first. That we were going to commit to this madness and it wasn’t going to work out.
Of course it wasn’t going to work out! How could it possibly work out? We barely knew each other. And we didn’t always like the us we did know.
But it had to work out. There was already an offer on my former home. It was too late to turn back now.
I waited for J.X. to phone back. When he didn’t, I told myself I was relieved. I wasn’t sure. I hated arguing. I hated confrontation. But I hated cold silence worse. One thing about David, he had not been the strong, silent type. Far from it. He had been the yelling and shouting and punching and breaking things—inanimate things—type. Which had generally led to my yelling and shouting too. But I still preferred explosions to cold silence.
To keep from thinking, I began emptying the boxes in the kitchen. What was the alternative? No, J.X. and I were both tired. Short on sleep and stressed. We had committed to this course, and there wasn’t any retreat. That I could think of.
I dumped silverware in drawers, placed glasses on shelves, located J.X.’s toaster, and opened a box of little jars of spices I had never heard of. What was Tajin? What was Egyptian dukkah? Did we even eat the same food?
On the bright side, the mountain of boxes eventually dwindled to a molehill, speeded by my decision not to wash anything because it had all been packed in bubble wrap for less than 48 hours. The less-than-48-hours-in-bubble-wrap rule was well known in Southern California. And if it wasn’t equally well known in Northern California, J.X. could wash any mug he liked.
I came across the gin and tonic and the day looked a little less grim. And, to give J.X. his due, his refrigerator was much better at making ice than mine. The cubes in my glass crackled musically as the tonic fizzed over them.
Refreshed, I got my second wind and started stacking dishes on shelves. Plain white plates. Plain white saucers. Plain white cups, plain white bowls. I opened another box. Plain white square plates. Okay. That was a relief. I was beginning to think my true love was stuck in a rut. I put all the square white plates and bowls away. I opened another box.
Plain white plates.
All the dishes seemed to be J.X.’s. Where were my dishes? Down in the basement with my fridge?
Irritated all over again, I opened the door to the basement and started down the steps. I’d never lived in a house that had a basement before. This one was supposed to function as storage and laundry room. And we were certainly getting our money’s worth of storage. There were a ton of boxes down here—not to mention my sofa. And who had decided that?
Now thoroughly pissed off, I began to explore. On the bright side, the basement was immaculate. Not a cobweb in sight. Not even much in the way of dust. A couple of throw rugs and it could probably double as an additional room. Or a hideout. My TV was probably already down here. Possibly my stereo system.
Except…that smell. What was that? Whatever it was, it had to go. Backed-up plumbing? Overflowing garbage bins? Ye gods. I started looking for the source, and tracked it to a large wooden crate marked CHINA. My crate.
What the hell? Had the moving company helpfully decided to move my rotting garbage?
The lid had been hastily and none too securely hammered down, but it was anchored enough to resist my half-hearted efforts to raise it. I went back upstairs, located the fireplace hardware in the parlor, and returned to the basement with the poker. J.X.’s poker, for the record.
I levered the poker beneath the wooden lid and pried until it gave with a cracking sound.
I covered my mouth and nose with the crook of my arm as white bits of biodegradable popcorn floated up along with that ghastly odor. Sure enough I spotted a black trash bag. Instead of Oma’s vintage pale green china with gold trim, those lunatics had packed my garbage bags.
That’s what I was trying to tell myself. But I knew. Of course I knew. I was a mystery writer. No moving crew was that crazy. This could only be one thing. One terrible thing.
Carefully, gingerly, I reached out and pulled back the corner of the trash bag. A lifeless, dull eye gazed up at me.
Thanks for stopping by, I’m Elle Keaton and I hail from the northwest corner of the US where we are known for rain, rain and more rain. I write the Accidental Roots series, set here in the Pacific Northwest featuring hot mm romance and the guarantee of a happy ending for my men. They start out broken, and maybe they end up that way too, but they always find the other half of their hearts.
I started writing way back when but only began publishing about two and a half years ago and now have nine books out. Each features a couple in my little universe, sometimes there is added mystery and suspense.
Thank you for supporting this Indie Author,
Elle
Find me, follow me, friend me.
Alice Winters started writing stories as soon as she was old enough to turn her ideas into written words. She loves writing a variety of things from romance and comedy to action. She also enjoys reading, horseback riding, and spending time with her pets.
Elin Gregory lives in South Wales and works in a museum in a castle built on the edge of a Roman Fort! She reckons that's a pretty cool job.
Elin usually writes on historical subjects, and enjoys weaving the weird and wonderful facts she comes across in her research into her plots. She likes her heroes hard as nails but capable of tenderness when circumstances allow. Often they are in danger, frequently they have to make hard choices, but happy endings are always assured.
Current works in progress include one set during the Great War, another in WW2, one set in the Dark Ages and a series of contemporary romances set in a small town on the Welsh border.
Bestselling author of over sixty titles of classic Male/Male fiction featuring twisty mystery, kickass adventure and unapologetic man-on-man romance, JOSH LANYON has been called "the Agatha Christie of gay mystery."
Her work has been translated into eleven languages. The FBI thriller Fair Game was the first male/male title to be published by Harlequin Mondadori, the largest romance publisher in Italy. Stranger on the Shore (Harper Collins Italia) was the first M/M title to be published in print. In 2016 Fatal Shadows placed #5 in Japan's annual Boy Love novel list (the first and only title by a foreign author to place on the list).
The Adrien English Series was awarded All Time Favorite Male Male Couple in the 2nd Annual contest held by the Goodreads M/M Group (which has over 22,000 members). Josh is an Eppie Award winner, a four-time Lambda Literary Award finalist for Gay Mystery, and the first ever recipient of the Goodreads Favorite M/M Author Lifetime Achievement award.
Josh is married and they live in Southern California.Her work has been translated into eleven languages. The FBI thriller Fair Game was the first male/male title to be published by Harlequin Mondadori, the largest romance publisher in Italy. Stranger on the Shore (Harper Collins Italia) was the first M/M title to be published in print. In 2016 Fatal Shadows placed #5 in Japan's annual Boy Love novel list (the first and only title by a foreign author to place on the list).
The Adrien English Series was awarded All Time Favorite Male Male Couple in the 2nd Annual contest held by the Goodreads M/M Group (which has over 22,000 members). Josh is an Eppie Award winner, a four-time Lambda Literary Award finalist for Gay Mystery, and the first ever recipient of the Goodreads Favorite M/M Author Lifetime Achievement award.
Elle Keaton
EMAIL: elle@ellekeaton.com
Alice Winters
EMAIL: alicewintersauthor@gmail.com
Elin Gregory
Josh Lanyon
SMASHWORDS / iTUNES / SHELFARI
EMAIL: josh.lanyon@sbcglobal.net
Storm Season by Elle Keaton
Hidden in Darkness by Alice Winters
Midnight Flit by Elin Gregory
B&N / KOBO / MANIFOLD PRESS
The Boy with the Painful Tattoo by Josh Lanyon
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