War of the Wicked by Davidson King
Summary:Lucifer's Landing #1
Lucifer’s Landing is full of unscrupulous people: five families desperate to own every inch. For years, under the watchful and most powerful eye, there has been peace. With the murder of the most powerful man, it’s as if the gates of Hell have opened.
Dante Scavo is trying to fill his father’s shoes, find the person responsible for killing him, and stop Lucifer’s Landing from becoming a war zone. He has to focus, find out who the traitor among his ranks is, and end them. The last thing he needs is a distraction, but when he meets Rainn, one look, one touch, takes his breath away.
Rainn Blessings is no stranger to strong and powerful men. His life is about survival and getting to a place where he finds his peace, though sometimes that means being the fantasy of others. Working as a high-class escort he’s seen a lot…done a lot…and not much surprises him. Then Dante walks into The Magic Mirror and turns his world upside down.
With an unlikely ally, Rainn and Dante try to survive the storm, but no one is bulletproof or untouchable in the game of violent delights. Getting out unscathed is impossible; the question is: will they get out alive?
***Please see start of book for trigger warning
Original January Book of the Month 2023:
I want to start by saying if you read the author's original Lucifer's Landing(which sorry to say I did not get around to so I can't speak from experience) this is heavily edited and expanded. When the author got the rights back she set out to create the story she originally wanted and envisioned and that is how War of the Wicked came to be.Now, on to War of the Wicked.
HOLY HANNAH BATMAN!!!! Once again Davidson King delivered!
I have to be honest, mafia, especially contemporary mob stories, have never been my genre of choice. I love learning about the heyday of the mafia, i.e. the 1920s and prohibition but as the mob evolved into more contemporary ages I become less interested. Well, fictional mob tales are the same usually. That's not to say I don't enjoy them I just don't seek them out. Davidson King is such a dynamo in the field of storytelling I can't help but read her take on the violent world of mafia. If you read the author regularly it's hard to imagine she could possibly get any darker but personally I think Wicked is just that, her darkest yet.
There are so many amazing factors in Lucifer's Landing that I won't touch on so I don't spoil anything. I do want to touch on one of the elements that stood out for me(beyond the chemistry between Dante and Rainn as well as a few others I highly expect to see get their own journey): sex workers. Of course there is the negative side of the occupation but amongst most of the characters, the author does not shame the sex workers(except where it's meant to create division and discord). Is it an occupation they chose to be in? Of course not. But they know it's a job that keeps them alive and frankly King gives them respect for surviving and doing what they have to to do so and that is rarely seen in fiction or reality.
As for Dante and Rainn. There's just something about an alpha male with a heart who can be tender and dangerous at the flip of a switch and at times even all at once. Dante Scavo is definitely dangerous and that can mean he does things that scare people away or attract those with a violence fetish so when he meets Rainn I think he's a little . . . well, gobsmacked at his presence. Dante's desire to possess, protect, and provide creates problems(or potential for problems) with those around him. However, Rainn is not your typical character and he doesn't freak out easily, he may not be an alpha male but he's no pushover and he isn't afraid to speak up(even though there are a few times he maybe should've been😉). Why does the duo work? So many reasons and frankly every reason would be a spoiler and I feel I've given away too much already so that's it for particulars.
So to wrap it up shorter: War of the Wicked is wicked good! Violent, dark, heart-filled, sexy, humor, friendship, family, love - it's all there. Davidson King has once again brought her special brand of storytelling to life and I am already on tenderhooks waiting for the next trip to Lucifer's Landing.
RATING:
The Case of the Undiscovered Corpse by Charlie Cochrane
Summary:An Alasdair and Toby and Cambridge Fellows Mystery #1
Alasdair and Toby Investigations #3
Cambridge Fellows Mysteries
Alasdair Hamilton and Toby Bowe are the darlings of post-war British cinema, playing Holmes and Watson onscreen and off. When they’re called on to portray their fellow amateur detectives—Orlando Coppersmith and Jonty Stewart—not only do they find distinct challenges in depicting real people, they also become embroiled in solving a century-old murder.
How did a body lie undiscovered so long in the Stewart family vaults, who’s been covering up the murder ever since and why was the victim killed in the first place?
Original Review April 2023:
Again, I can't believe it took me nearly 7 months to read The Case of the Undiscovered Corpse especially since it involves one of my all-time favorite mystery solving duos, Jonty Smith and Orlando Coppersmith, and another of Charlie Cochrane's amateur detecting duos that is definitely climbing higher and higher on the same list, Toby Bowe and Alasdair Hamilton. Can only lay it down to my slowly returning reading mojo that took a hit during the pandemic. After catching up on the most recent adventures in their individual series I couldn't not jump in and boy am I glad I did!
I'll be honest, the first time I was introduced to Alasdair and Toby wayback when in The Case of the Overprotective Ass(originally appearing in the author's Home Fires Burning duet which I read in 2015) I never imagined they would get to play Jonty and Orlando onscreen(in the book but oh wouldn't it be wonderful if it was really on our screens?) but now that she has combined the two and that is exactly what A&T are preparing to do, it seems such an obvious crossover. Hindsight, right?😉 I've read many stories where authors have linked some of their series together, in both small and huge ways, and though Undiscovered Corpse may not be the most original it is definitely one of the most satisfying.
When the pairs meet to discuss personal idiosyncrasies that should be included but also left out, i.e. the subtle and not so subtle looks of longing A&T often sneak into their portrayals of Holmes and Watson that somehow go unnoticed to many but not the knowing and watchful eye of J&O, discussion turns to the undiscovered corpse found in the Stewart vault in 1914. Unable to let that delicious morsal go the four men are off and running. Obviously trying to discover the truth from nearly 40 years prior, especially considering the poor Drayton had been lying their unnoticed for decades already, is not going to be easy.
What great mystery is easily solved? Let's face it, if it's easily solved than it probably doesn't deserve the "great" moniker.
So as you are well aware I won't spoil anything which means no details of the mystery will be found here. Will the foursome find anything definitive? Unlikely but perhaps. The fun for me is in the hunt and they definitely do a lot of hunting. I will say that for some, Undiscovered Corpse may be confusing or a convolution of too many possibilities but for me it's the many possibles and the chemistry between our four MCs that makes for such high level fun.
The above mentioned chemistry is highlighted in the bouncing of ideas off each other but it's also a growing friendship. A&T more than once ponder if they will ever be able to live as J&O but as they are in the public eye it seems a very far in the future possibility but you know it gives them hope when they see what the older pair have carved out for themselves. It's this very generational "gap"(for lack of a better term) that leaves historical in the LGBTQ genre appealing to me. I love history anyway but in LGBTQ stories it reminds us just how far society has come, we have a long way to go acceptance and equality wise but it makes me appreciate where we as humans are and heightens the hope that one day loving who we wish will never be questioned or looked down on.
My above statement is further proof that as always, Charlie Cochrane respects the past with the nitty, gritty, and her own brand of witty details of yesteryear(on multiple fronts) but those details never appear as a school lesson, The Case of the Undiscovered Corpse is cozy, entertaining fun of the highest variety.
For those wondering about reading the individual series, Cambridge Fellows Mysteries and Alasdair & Toby Investigations, prior to Undiscovered Corpse? You don't. As a series-read-in-order kind of gal, I can't imagine not having read them but it is not at all necessary. The chemistry between our two couples is never in doubt, minor mentions of previous cases pepper throughout but don't play a part in the investigations. I will warn you though, if you are unfamiliar with either or both the established series, your taste will be piqued and want to devour all their great cases. You won't be sorry, they are all brilliantly delightful, which is an odd description for murder and mayhem but no less truthful. As they say in one of my favorite shows(completely different genre but no less accurate): This is the way.😉
The Soldier and the Bodyguard by RJ Scott
Summary:Ellery Mountain #10
Someone wants JC dead, and Adrian is the only thing standing in the way. Has war followed them home? Or is something more sinister at play?
JC struggles to understand his place in the world, and despite being wealthy beyond imagination, he’s never found real happiness outside of his friendship with Adrian. Enlisting in the army is his attempt at finding purpose, but tragedy strikes, and only the Ellery Veterans Center can help put back the pieces of his shattered life. With a bullet fragment in his brain and seemingly no chance of ever being the man he once was, he begins to lose hope.
Adrian didn’t hesitate to follow his best friend to war, but with their unit decimated in an ambush and JC bleeding into the dirt, Adrian buries his hopes for the future to keep the man he loves safe. Acting as JC’s bodyguard means he is secure for now, but threats from an unknown person escalate to attempted murder, and Adrian has no choice but to take JC and run. When the Sanctuary Foundation intervenes and takes them into their care, they might be safe, but revealed secrets could destroy everything.
Sometimes, even if love finds a way through tragedy, it can be impossible to imagine forever.
This book features characters from my action-adventure romantic suspense Sanctuary series, but you do not have to have read Sanctuary to enjoy this story. This best-friend-to-lover, hurt-comfort romance has bodyguards, threats, found family, and a guaranteed love-filled happily ever after.
Original Review November Book of the Month 2022:
RJ Scott has done it once again! Turned me into a blubbery mess all the while making my heart warm with this tale of love, friendship, recovery, healing, drama, and of course a hint of mystery. For those who have read the previous entries in Ellery Mountain, I would say The Soldier and the Bodyguard probably touches a little more on the mystery element and as good as it is(kept me guessing to almost the reveal) it is not the dominate factor. Just a great multi-genre blend all the way around.
As a 24/7 family caregiver, I purposely held off on reading Soldier until November so I could fully appreciate the caregiving element for National Family Caregiver Month. The author gets Adrian's desire and frustration spot on, for a caregiver to find the right balance between assistance and letting the loved one do for themselves is often the hardest part of one's day. Through Adrian's inner monologue we can literally see that scale(the caregiver's brain) waffling between too much and not enough.
Don't mistake my above comment as the author trying to teach a lesson, this Ellery entry is 150% entertaining but just knowing the author put that much heart into that aspect of Adrian's role in JC's life made this story even better. I just really have a greater sense of respect for an author who "gets it", be it through thorough research or personal experience, that blend of reality and fiction can really be a "make or break" moment for me. RJ Scott definitely makes it.
I don't want to touch too much on JC only because I'm afraid once I start talking about this brilliantly created character I'm going to give too much of the mystery factor away and as you know I'm a spoiler-free kind of person. I will say that his journey is equally heartbreaking and heartwarming. The pain alone, both physical and emotional, brought tears to my eyes but knowing he gets up everyday despite it also made me smile. Some days he may have had to force himself and some days it may have been all Adrian's doing but whatever the reason he still did it. That tells me all I need to know about the kind of man JC is so there is no way I am not rooting for him.
Caregiving doesn't have to be long term, it can be short term as well but it's always ongoing and constant while needed. Through JC and Adrian's friendship as well as their individual inner monologues, RJ Scott lets us see that. Sometimes that constant need can be hard but also rewarding and it's their friendship that shows that the most but it also helps strengthen the love.
Okay, I know I'm talking about the caregiving element too much but as a caregiver it is a subject that is close to my heart and one that when done so accurately, I need to showcase it. I apologize for being too wordy on the subject.
One more thing I want to mention and that is the inclusion of members of the author's Sanctuary series. It's been awhile since I read that one but I remembered the characters instantly and found them to be just as enjoyable now as when I first discovered them.
So to sum up this overly wordy review: The Soldier and the Bodyguard is amazing and edge of your seat heartbreaking yet uplifting, a winner from beginning to end.
Breathe My Name by Davidson King
Summary:Welcome Boulevard #2
Life is pretty good for Clove; he’s miles away from where he was a year ago. He has a roof over his head, food in his stomach, safety, security—even a job. And nothing means more to him than pleasing his boss…nothing. He wants Marcel, though the man is way out of his league. If Clove can’t have Marcel’s heart, he wants to earn his respect, and when he receives his first solo task, he is ready. At least until the mission results in a dead body.
The moment Marcel lays eyes on Clove, he’s consumed by the need to be with him in every way. So he brings him into the fold, offering him employment, in the hopes that it will be enough. But when a simple errand yields murder, missing money, and criminal powerhouses out for destruction, Marcel realizes he will do anything to keep Clove alive…despite the fact that he clearly has a death wish.
Clove and Marcel are thrown together on a quest for answers. As dangerous as they think it’ll be, it’s far worse. With bullets flying, lives in the balance, and a future unknown, Marcel and Clove must face their feelings for one another. Tumbling into love isn’t easy, especially in their line of work, but they finally have what they want, and nothing in this world will stop them from keeping it.
***
Breathe My Name is book two in the Welcome Boulevard series. It does not follow a story arc and can be read as a standalone. Characters from book one, They Call Him Levity, are incorporated into this story, if that is important to you check out the first book in the series…I mean, Levity is pretty fabulous.
Original Review March 2023:
I feel the need to scream "HOLY HANNAH, BATMAN! Davidson King has done it again!" but that seems almost redundant because there hasn't been a time King hasn't done it with her brilliant knack at storytelling. So I guess I'll skip it this time😉😉.
How can one not love Clove and Marcel? When I read the author's first Welcome Boulevard entry, They Call Him Levity, I just knew the pair needed a story all their own . . . I wasn't wrong. The mystery they find themselves trying to solve(or perhaps more appropriately said "get out from under") is chock full of mayhem, questions, answers, more questions, more mayhem, and many many stones to peak under. With the help of friends, Levity and Sal(if one gets picky Sal is Marcel's boss but I see it as so much more than boss/employee), the stones might not seem quite as heavy.
That's all I'm going to say to the mystery aspect of Breathe My Name so not to spoil anything but I will say I had a flurry of quotes pummeling my brain while reading:
"Danger, Will Robinson!" --Robbie the Robot, Lost in Space“Your eyes can deceive you, don’t trust them.” --Obi Wan Kenobi, Star Wars: A New Hope"You'll Find I'm Full Of Surprises." --Luke Skywalker, SW: The Empire Strikes Back"You Can Either Profit By This, Or Be Destroyed." --Luke Skywalker, SW: Return of the Jedi"Your feeble skills are no match for the power of the dark side." --Emperor Palpatine, SW: Return of the Jedi"I'm the Doctor." --Doctor Who
Those who are unfamiliar with these quotes probably won't understand what I'm getting at so here it is. Simply put: Breathe My Name had my emotions running amuck, from warnings to lessons to solutions, Davidson King brings it all.
As to Clove and Marcel, as I stated above I new they needed their own story that was true to who they were and who they were meant to be. I'd say I wanted to wrap them in bubble wrap to protect them but Marcel didn't really need protecting and Clove is stronger than you realize at first glance, after all he survived the streets with Levity prior to meeting Marcel. Individually these men are strong and incredibly intriguing but together they are an explosive and completely unwavering combination of heat and heart.
Technically, Breathe is a standalone as the story arc doesn't carry over from book one however I can't imagine not reading Levity first. I think I was able to appreciate more fully where the characters were previous and the chemistry that is already brewing BUT, I will also say had I not read Levity first, I would in no way be lost. The author does an excellent job at recap without rehash.
Some authors specialize in certain genres and others are prolific in many. Davidson King may find mafia her main course genre as it were but she can do all of it. In my opinion she proves that with her deeply detailed world building and character creations. As said, many of her stories fall under mafia tag but they have so much more within that tag. Breathe My Name is a perfect example: mafia, lust, action, humor, romance, danger, heat, mystery, and wrapping them all together in a huge heart filled read.
The Death Under the Dark Arches by Selina Kray
Summary:
Stoker & Bash #3
Sing a song of sixpence
A stage full of fright
One two-faced blackbird
Won't last the night
When a phantom presence lures Hieronymus Bash into a deadly game, threatening to kill one of the players at his beloved Gaiety Theater each day until famed actor Horace Beastly returns to the stage, London's premier consulting detective is on the case. The trouble? Horace Beastly is Hiero's alter ego and the true object of this murderous obsession. When the current star of the show is struck down, Hiero has no choice but to risk everything by stealing back the spotlight.
After a golden summer together, DI Tim Stoker would do everything in his power to protect the man he loves from this fanatic and the predatory press. But a specter from his own past proves an unexpected, and perhaps fatal, distraction.
Scheming prima donnas, grudge-fuelled critics, and an axe-wielding theater ghost are all out for blood. Will Hiero and Tim unmask this menace before the final curtain call, or are they past the point of no return?
Original June Book of the Month Review:
At first I thought this entry completely missed my radar but when I went to purchase it this spring I realized I already had it sitting on my Kindle. As I saw the release date was late 2020, the year Covid hit and it hit hard on my reading mojo as I had turned more toward viewing entertainment for distraction than reading. 2021 followed with my mother in the hospital for nearly 4 months with little recovery to my reading mojo. By 2022 my reading need slowly returned but by then this book had completely slipped my mind until early this spring when someone posted about it on facebook. I start off with this explanation to help explain why it took me so long to read the latest entry in a series that I love and that it had nothing to do with the lack of want to read.
So onto Death Under the Dark Arches.
The mystery plot will go untouched as not to spoil it for others who like me came late to the party😉. I will say that in a rare happening for me I think I loved Dark Arches even more than The Fruit of the Poisonous Tree(book 2) which makes it even more of a rarity because I loved Poisonous Tree even more than The Fangs of Scavo(book 1). I find there is nothing better than the originality of a first entry and it's hard to replicate that adrenaline rush but Selina Kray not only did it once but twice! Some of which often falls down to character development and relationship growth but truth is Kip and Heiro's chemistry was so enflamed from the getgo that yes, they get better and better as their future evolves it really falls down to returning secondary characters growing that stood out for this reader.
Don't take the above sentiment to mean our heroes, Kip and Heiro, have grown stagnant, oh no their love gets stronger with every page it's just for me it was their friends and found family characters that really come into their own that helps make this entry the strongest of the series yet. So many characters in Dark Arches I'll freely admit I got brief moments of confusion as to who was who but then they'd say or do something and I was "Okay, there's the quality I know you for".
So often what I like to call the "snark and cuddle factor" is mostly attributed to the main characters but Selina Kray has given that element to multiple members of the cast which strengthens the humor side of the book. Dark Arches is a great blend of humor and macabre, romance and danger, heat and fear. All elements that make this a great read, a great series entry, and all around entertaining gem. The author has taken ingredients from rom-com, noir, melodrama, and a sprinkle of gothic to make a most delicious summertime treat that both satisfies the mystery genre hunger gnawing at your brain and leaves you gasping for more.
One final note: Stoker & Bash is a series that really should be read in order. The mysteries may be solved within their individual covers but the relationship journeys continue to grow and evolve. Would you be lost read out of order? No but the personal details and intricacies flow better which in turn makes the stories better.
War of the Wicked by Davidson King
CHAPTER ONE
Dante Scavo
The weather emulated the mood of the day. As I stood in Saint Michael’s Cemetery, watching my father’s casket being lowered into the earth, my heart ached and the falling raindrops from the dark sky hammered home the overall feeling.
My father, Vito Scavo, wasn’t supposed to die yet. Of course, when I’d say that to his face, he’d smile in that mischievous way and tell me, “Dante, we are the most powerful crime family in Lucifer’s Landing. Four other families try to tear us down daily. Long lives aren’t common in our business.” And while I’d agree to his face, I’d challenge that theory daily.
Those four families had a presence today, and as I scanned their faces, I saw so many expressions. Sadness from my mother, brother, and the entire Scavo family. I couldn’t linger on them because while they were lambs in this equation, the wolves were foaming at the mouth, ready to attack.
Cillian McLoughlin stood across from me, his green eyes glued to the sinking casket. He had enforcers on each side of him, and they watched every move my family made. The Irish were lethal and precise. They never hid their hatred or disdain for my family, and I respected that to a certain degree. We had what my father would call a tentative truce. We both lived very close to each other, and a war on the streets would hurt more than help us. But a truce wasn’t reason enough to turn my back on them.
To my left, Joseph Etienne didn’t hide his happiness at my father’s death. The Haitians were attacking our ports and warehouses daily and likely saw my father’s death as a weakness in our armor when it was anything but. Joseph was younger than most—his father was killed by his own people ten years ago, and with no one else to take his place, seventeen-year-old Joseph took over. He built the Etienne empire into a lucrative and vicious family, one I watched very carefully.
Behind the McLoughlins were the Japanese, the Ikeda family. They were the hardest family to get a bead on. They held their traditions and honors to high standards I was admittedly in awe of. Ren Ikeda, the head of the family, used to be my best friend when we were growing up. It was Ren who made me realize I was gay. I never told him or my father that, but I think Ren knew. We were carefree when we were younger, but the battle between our families pushed us apart. Now, he barely made eye contact with me. The Ikedas were dangerous and also brilliant. Ren never attacked my family; his weapon of choice was words. And he would sooner decimate others financially rather than bloodily.
Then there was the Konstantinos family. Standing to my right, they scowled at my father’s casket, Elias Konstantinos glaring at me whenever I looked his way. I knew he wanted everything the Scavos had and often knocked on the front door to get it. His numbers weren’t close to being equal to that of my family, but he got bigger every day, and I had little doubt he was waiting for the perfect moment to attack. Helen Konstantinos, Elias’s sister, was deeply in love with my brother, Giovanni. While Gio had slept with her many times, he always swore it meant nothing more than a fuck for him. He was one that wouldn’t be held down by anyone. Helen would oftentimes beg her brother to work with our family—for selfish reasons, clearly—thinking that would make Giovanni love her. She was an idiot.
“In the name of the Father, the Son, and the Holy Spirit,” Father Benni said, and a collective, “Amen,” was spoken by everyone.
“How you holding up, son?” My uncle, Dominic, gave me a solemn smile. He was a year younger than my father, and while he’d never expressed much interest in running the Scavo family, I wondered if he’d fight me for the seat.
“I’m fine.” There was no way I’d show anyone the emotions churning inside my head and heart. Any inkling I was affected by this would be seen as a chance to strike. For my mother’s sake, I didn’t want a war to erupt. She needed to mourn.
“You say that, but the loss of a father is—”
“Inevitable, Uncle. You know that’s what my father would say. No use in thinking otherwise.”
He narrowed his eyes, scrutinizing me. “You are so much like him. You’re the spitting image of him with your dark hair, darker eyes, and your smile…damn, it’s eerie.” He chuckled. “But he’s six feet under right now. I don’t want you joining him any time soon.”
I darted my gaze back to him after I scanned the room. “You speak as if his car accident wasn’t an accident.”
Dominic shrugged. “Too often most things aren’t, Dante. Watch yourself.” With a pat on my shoulder, he was gone, mingling with others, drinking and eating. Stories of my father swirled around the room, and I could feel the pressure forming behind my eyes.
I excused myself and went to the restroom. We were having the repast at my father’s favorite Italian restaurant—no way was I letting these people into our home. I entered the restroom and moved to a stall; there I sat and tried to calm down.
Of course, the thought of my father’s death being intentional had crossed my mind. But multiple reports showed he slid on a patch of ice and hit the guard rail. He wasn’t supposed to be on the road by himself, but too often, he felt the need to just take a drive. I hated that Uncle Dominic had made me wonder again.
“Dante?” Giovanni’s voice echoed in the restroom.
“In here, be out in a sec.” I flushed the toilet even though I hadn’t gone, took a deep breath, and exited the stall.
“You have that look in your eyes,” he said as I washed my hands.
“What look might that be, brother?”
“That you want to murder someone look.” He chuckled and met my gaze in the mirror. “What’s up?”
I sighed, shut the water off, and took the cloth Giovanni offered to dry my hands. “I keep thinking maybe Dad’s death wasn’t an accident.”
Gio didn’t laugh. Hell, he didn’t react at all, just stared at me.
“And what, currently, is making you think this?”
Since it was just the two of us, I figured it was safe to discuss it. “Uncle Dom, he kind of led me to think it wasn’t. Then he said to watch my back.”
This time Gio did chuckle. “Watching your back is our family motto, brother. But, okay, let’s examine the facts.” Gio leaned against the sink, and I mirrored him. “The police reports, and our guys, found nothing suspicious. Said it was ice. Multiple witnesses even said the same thing. They saw his car slide and slam into the barrier.”
I knew he was right, and Giovanni wasn’t one to lie to me. I trusted him more than anyone. But… “I know, Gio. Something’s just bothering me about it.”
He gave me a curt nod and pushed off the sink. “Okay, your gut is rarely wrong. We can have someone else look into it.”
“Who?” I had no idea. Our guy had scrutinized all the reports and the car after the police completed their investigation. Who could we trust more than our own family?
“I know this may come as a shock to you, Dante, but I have this friend who might know someone.”
I chuckled. “How much do you trust this friend of yours?”
“Next to you, more than anyone.”
That was good enough for me. “Okay, contact him tomorrow. Maybe I’ll feel better after I hear it from someone else.”
We left the restroom and went over to the bar area. Many people came over to us and gave us their condolences. It was such a tedious affair. How many times can you hear, “Sorry for your loss,” before you want to scream? I took to simply nodding at people and drinking my bourbon.
Gio went over to our mother, who was sitting at a table surrounded by her sisters, cousins, and other wives. She was barely touching her food, and Giovanni wanted to make sure she was okay. Which left me dealing with the monotonous task of thanking everyone for their well wishes.
“Dante, the families want to talk to you,” Edward Carson, the Scavo family’s consigliere, said as he came up beside me.
“Ed, I’m not doing this at my father’s funeral, and the fact that they’re asking at all right now is a sign of complete disrespect.” I placed my empty tumbler on the bar and glared at Edward. “I hope you explained that.”
Ed was my father’s age, and his hair had equal amounts of blond and gray. His cornflower-blue eyes and gold-rimmed glasses often made me think of him as a professor. He and my father knew each other from their days as altar boys at Saint Michael’s, and because my father trusted him, he’d keep his place in our family.
“You know I did. Don’t insult me.”
I nodded and accepted the drink from the server. “One week. I have shit I need to handle; then we can sit down and talk.”
Edward sighed. “You know they will either want to solidify promises your father made or change the terms.”
There was no question that was it. Though I truly felt like the Konstantinos longed to make a play for my territories. Fat fucking chance of that happening.
“We meet on neutral territory, Ed.”
He agreed. “Listen, Dante.” Edward scanned the room and spoke low. “There’s not likely to be anyone to challenge you for your father’s seat. But I gotta ask about Dominic.”
I had the same question running through my head, and I pinched the bridge of my nose to release some of the pressure. “He hasn’t mentioned anything to me about it, Ed. But I’ve wondered.”
He nodded. “All right. We need to see where he stands in all this. Last thing we need is to be dealing with the four families and an internal war on top of it.”
He made his leave, and I swallowed my drink in one gulp. I just wanted to go home and nurse this headache. When I looked over at the table where my mom and Giovanni sat, laughing at something my aunt Carmelina said, I decided to gravitate their way and allow myself to just be with my family and wait out the rest of this day with them.
If there was going to be a war, I’d be ready, and any who stood in my way would pay.
The Case of the Undiscovered Corpse by Charlie Cochrane
Cambridge September 3rd 1952
“Good morning, Orlando. Lovely to see you.”
Those words had been spoken first thing in the morning on numerous occasions and in many different settings over the best part of fifty years. From lips that had once been young and full, but which were now showing fine lines and downed with white, rather like the hair which crowned Jonty Stewart’s head. A full set of hair—he’d inherited his paternal grandfather’s locks rather than his father’s bald pate—yet the tawny gold had now all gone to be replaced with hoary silver.
“Lovely to see you, too.” Orlando Coppersmith turned in the bed, easing into a more comfortable position. He was currently beset with an issue concerning his left rotator cuff, or so the doctor had diagnosed, one that should get better with exercise. It had been a result of over-exertion in the garden and not, as Jonty told everyone, due to Orlando having dealt the bridge cards too vigorously.
“What does your diary have in store for you today?” The airy tone in Jonty’s voice as he asked the question immediately put his partner on alert.
“The usual. College business and the like given the arrival of students is hull up on the horizon. Why do you ask?”
“I’d like to suggest a slight change to plans dinner-wise. Are you free tonight?”
“Ye-es. Why?”
“I had a phone call last evening, when you were at your orgy.” That was another line which had been used innumerable times over the years, referring to Orlando being out playing cards. He’d learned to ignore it. “It was to invite us to dinner and a discussion.”
“A commission, do you think?” It had been a while since they’d had a really good mystery to get their teeth into. Odds and ends of investigations, yes, including ones bound up with the war that they simply couldn’t accept, because they’d have had little chance of fulfilling them. Finding where Aunt Elsie had hidden the family silver because she thought that Hitler would invade—said aunt having then been so inconsiderate as to get herself killed in an air raid before she could share the location of the treasure with the rest of the family—had been a typical kind of request. As were the string of entreaties to locate the whereabouts of men who’d been declared missing in action, at least one of whom Jonty had decided had likely taken a convenient opportunity to get away from home.
At least they could now decline the commissions with dignity, pleading old age and the inability to travel as far as they used to, alongside not being up to the physical challenge of digging up bomb sites to find Aunt Elsie’s spoons. These excuses might have been seen through had the applicants observed the pair of them working vigorously in the garden at Forsythia Cottage or indeed still almost as vigorously sharing the pleasures of the double bed.
“It’s not about a commission as such, although there’s a peripheral link to an old, unsolved mystery.” Jonty raised an eyebrow. “One we might have got involved with at the time had we not been otherwise occupied. No, this is something quite different and rather exciting.”
“Am I allowed a clue to whatever you’re on about?”
“Not a single one. I want you to come to this meeting with an open mind and if I drop the merest hint, you’ll mull it over all day. Suffice to say the discussion could lead us into pastures entirely new for us, which is rather nice at our time of life, wouldn’t you say?”
“I’ll only say one way or the other when I know what these pastures new are and whether they’ll be green or arid.” Orlando was rather pleased with his analogy. “You’re not even going to make an indication as to whom I’m eating with?”
“No, because it risks giving the game away entirely. A knight of the realm. Title conferred as opposed to inherited. You’ve met him before, although that doesn’t cut down the field. Very nice chap, who has a proposal for us and—” Jonty cuffed Orlando’s arm. “That’s quite enough. You’re wheedling secrets out of me. I’m easing my stiff old bones out of this bed before you spoil all the elements of surprise.”
“Just one more question, then. Will this different and exciting whatever-it-is be the sort of thing to make me jump for joy or run away screaming?”
“I can’t imagine you running away screaming from anything, at this point in your life. Quite below your dignity. I might have to see if I can engineer it happening, simply for the novelty.” Jonty, now on his feet, stretched extravagantly, like a great cat rousing itself.
“You didn’t answer my question.”
“True, oh light of my life, although that’s simply because I can’t formulate an answer. I’ve been weighing it up since last night and I honestly don’t know. All I can state with any certainty is that we’d be stupid not to explore the possibilities. Too young still to be stick-in-the-muds.” Jonty made an elaborate bow. “And now I exit, if not pursued by a bear, then pursued by your third degree. Patience, old man.”
“Patience my arse,” Orlando muttered, although he couldn’t help smiling. Whatever happened over dinner would turn out to be gratifying. If he liked this mysterious proposal, then it would add a new challenge to their lives and if he hated it then he could go into a pleasing yet dignified huff for at least twenty-four hours. And tease Jonty over his rashness for the next few weeks.
Despite the ache in Orlando’s shoulder, life was still good.
The Soldier and the Bodyguard by RJ Scott
The lie in the mirror was that I couldn’t see the bullet fragments in my head. Only machines could see the damage, but I knew what was in there, and I scratched near the scar, which itched like fuck.
“Hey, don’t do that,” Adrian murmured and laced our fingers together so he could tug me away from worrying at the skin. He’d have been horrified if I’d told him I had this idea that, if I scratched hard enough and then tilted my head, the fragments would fall out.
I did that in my dreams, but I’d also discussed it in my chats with my therapist, who told me it was understandable to feel as if I could reach into my brain and pick out the metal.
Understandable. Reasonable.
“Sorry.”
Adrian squeezed my hand. “It’s okay; I’m just jealous that you have a wicked scar for the ladies.”
I glanced at him. “And the men.”
He nodded and I wish I knew what he was thinking, but Adrian had this inscrutable way about him. Or maybe it was that my brain wasn’t working enough to try to read his thoughts the way I’d always been able to do before. My doctor likened this challenging part of my recovery to face-blindness, saying that the part of my brain that understood expressions was damaged.
“Yep, all the men, too,” Adrian corrected himself in his usual upbeat breezy fashion, then pulled me away from the mirror and sat me in the chair. I couldn’t tie my hair back on my own, but he knew that, and already had the thin leather he twined in my damp curls to tame them. “Ready for a shave?” He picked up the shaver, but I shook my head. “You’re gonna grow a beard, JC? For real?” He was teasing me because that was what Adrian did. He pulled me out of the dark times, and he laughed with me, and at me, and he made me remember I was still alive.
I wish I weren’t alive. I would give anything for Taylor or Asti to be here instead of me.
“It hurts,” I admitted, and as soon as I said it, I wanted to take back the words because Adrian dropped to a crouch in front of me.
“What hurts?” he asked with urgency.
“The… thing,” I patted my cheek, but my hand was shaking, and I dropped it immediately.
“Your head hurts?”
“No.” Yes.
Breathe My Name by Davidson King
CHAPTER ONE
Clove
Dead. The man was dead. I didn’t question it; I just stared at the guy currently lying on his Persian rug, blood haloing his head. Judging by his gray skin, milky eyes, and the mild stench that I was sure would get worse soon, he had been this way for a while.
“Shit.” I pulled the phone from my pocket, ready to call Marcel, my boss, but hesitated. This was the first solo job he’d given me as his assistant.
Marcel believed in me. Not all that long ago I’d been homeless, living in squalor, begging for enough money to buy a slice of bread. Now I lived in a cottage on the property owned by my best friend’s boyfriend and had a job that paid well. Speaking of best friend, Levity was exactly who I should call.
It rang twice before I heard his sunshiny voice. “Hello, Clove.”
“Lev, I’m in trouble. Okay, like, not the kind of trouble where I’m in jail, but the trouble where I’m in a room with a dead guy who Marcel sent me to collect money from.”
“Um.” Levity, ever the helpful wordsmith.
“What do I do?”
“Have you called Marcel?”
I scoffed. “This is the first time he’s let me go do a job for him. How’s it going to look if I’m all, ‘I didn’t get your money because the guy was dead’?”
Levity chuckled, actually fucking laughed. “It’s not like you killed him, Clove. Marcel will understand.”
I closed my eyes, took a deep breath, gagged because of the smell, and slowly opened them. “Lev, I wanted to do this.”
He was silent for a moment. I knew he understood. Handouts weren’t something I was comfortable with. I lived on the property of Salvatore Grillo, a known crime boss—though he’d been working to lean toward the better side of the law. Levity had begged me to live at the cottage, and I’d agreed but only if I could pay my way. Which had led to me needing a job. I’d accepted the one Marcel had all too eagerly offered me, and I wanted to excel at it.
“Here’s how I see it, Clove. You’re there. At this point you need to call Marcel, and probably the police.”
“The police? Do you kiss your man with that mouth?”
He chuckled again. “Seriously, what if someone’s seen you? Call Marcel, then the cops, or at least do whatever Marcel tells you to do.”
“I hate that plan.”
“I know, but there’s no choice. Tonight, I’ll binge-watch anything you want and comfort you with junk food.”
I narrowed my eyes, and the dead man stared at me with his lifelessness. Was I maybe jealous he was dead, and I was living and had to face Marcel? Perhaps.
“Fine. But if I’m also dead, make sure my tombstone says something kickass.”
“Done.” Levity ended the call. I took another deep breath, reminded myself to stop doing that because this corpse didn’t smell like a field of flowers, and hit Marcel’s number.
“Clove.” His voice was like honey—no, really, even when I’d heard him yell at a guy last week, it was beautiful.
“Dead man on floor no money sorry.” And then I hung up. Yes, while Marcel’s voice was smooth and perfect, I was like a chicken on speed. I had no chill at all.
My phone buzzed immediately, and I wanted to toss it out the window to avoid speaking to Marcel, but I answered.
“Hello, this is Clove. How may I hel—”
“Clove, what the hell was that?”
“Oh, Marcel, good afternoon. How are you today?”
“Hank Rose is dead?”
I gasped. “He is?”
“Clove! I sent you there to collect money. I deduced that was what your frantic choppy message meant.”
I sighed. The gig was up. “Yeah, Hank’s dead. I swear I didn’t do it; he’s been dead a while.”
“Shit.”
“Yeah, he did, actually, which is making the scent a lot worse and—”
“Clove, unfortunately, you’ll need to call the police. Tell them you’re a messenger sent to inform him he won a massage at Lily’s Massage Parlor. I own it, so when they verify, it will add up. You’ll tell them you found the man and called nine-one-one. Understand?”
Did I? “Sure.”
“Sure isn’t comforting.”
I nodded even though Marcel couldn’t see me. “Yeah, call the po-po, tell them I found him there, was sent to tell him he won a happy ending, yadda yadda.”
“Fucking hell. Okay, if they arrest you or bring you to the station, which I fear they might since you aren’t sounding convincing at all, call me, and I’ll get a lawyer over to you.”
“Arrested?”
“Call now, Clove. You’ve already been there too long.”
Marcel disconnected and I stared at my cell. Shit. I closed my eyes and counted down from ten. “I can do this.” I cleared my throat and dialed 9-1-1.
From there, my day went from simple and hopeful to chaotic and worrisome.
*****
“I don’t understand, Clove.” Levity was running his fingers through my hair while I lay with my head on his lap, watching a crime drama.
“Cops came, asked what happened, and I tried to remember what Marcel told me to say, but you know the police, Lev. I got scared. They never listened to us on the streets and oftentimes roughed us up worse than the ones we were asking them for help with.”
“I know.” Levity sighed. “They wanted a play-by-play, and what did you say?”
“Well, when I called nine-one-one, I told the dispatcher I found a dead body and the address. That was the easy part. When the cops came, this big guy stepped up and wanted to know how I ended up in Hank’s office.”
“Sounds okay so far.”
I huffed. “That’s when I was like, he won a rubdown and I was here to deliver it.”
“Oh, my…”
“Then the cops wanted to know if I was selling that service. I told them yes because Marcel said to tell them I worked at a spa of his and well—”
“That’s how you ended up at the police station in a holding cell.”
“And Filly from the streets saw me there and punched me in the face, saying I left him behind when we rescued so many to work for Sal.”
“Jesus, Clove.”
I lifted the ice pack from my eye and sat up. “Thanks for coming to get me. I was too embarrassed to call Marcel after that.”
Levity smiled…not one of his beautiful “I love you, best friend” smiles. This was totally creepy.
“Why are you looking at me like that?”
“Well, when you called me I was with Sal. Sal called Marcel, and he’s the one who got you released. I only picked you up.”
“So he knows?”
“Yes, Clove, I know.”
I spun my head so fast, I had a moment of dizziness. There, in the archway to Sal’s living room, stood Marcel in all his godlike glory. He was wearing a charcoal suit with a crisp white shirt underneath. His brown skin was flawless, and I swore he sparkled with power. He was bald, but it worked for him. His five o’clock shadow was hot as fuck, and even though he was scowling at me as if he wanted to punish me—and I wasn’t necessarily against that—he was still yummy.
“I don’t do well under pressure,” I blurted.
Marcel rolled his eyes. “Let me join you on your way to the cottage; we have a lot to discuss.”
When Marcel walked away, I turned back to Levity. “Is he going to kill me?”
Levity blew out a breath, clearly exasperated. “No, there are other things I believe that man wants to do to you, and murder isn’t one of them.”
I cocked my head to the side, wanting to ask what he meant, but Marcel’s voice boomed through the house.
“Let’s go, Clove.”
The Death Under the Dark Arches by Selina Kray
The man who entered might not have been a king, but no noble in Hiero’s acquaintance possessed half his presence or suavity. Hiero immediately recognized a creature of like habits: his manners meticulous, his grooming soigné, his dress haute couture, his bearing leonine. His silver mane had been sculpted into a pompadour that would have turned Napoleon green. The force of his magnetism bulked up his withy frame and gained him a foot in height. Hiero nearly swooned over the blade-sharp edges of his sideburns and the curlicued tips of his moustache. Before him stood a one-man shrine to the Byronic ideal.
Hiero despised him on principle. He vowed that this man, this titan of fashion and class, would be kept far, far away from his Kip.
“Please forgive my sudden arrival," the Vicomte said. "Events have conspired such that I had no choice but to seek out your counsel and, I hope, your services.”
“It is my honor to receive you, monsieur.” Hiero gestured toward a pair of wingback chairs before the hearth. “Please.”
The Vicomte inhaled a deep breath. “Are you an amateur de théâtre, Monsieur Bash?”
“I enjoy the occasional sortie, yes. The same as any man of culture.”
“For me it has always been a grand passion. It began when I, like most young men, played escort to my mother. From there a fire took hold, and I have burned ever since. This led me to purchase the original Théâtre de la Gaîté—”
“Ah! On the Boulevard du Crime.” Hiero smiled. “What a pity they demolished it.”
“A tragedy of the highest order. And one from which we are still recovering.”
“I believe you were among the few to move house?”
“Oui, to rue Papin. But we struggled to recapture the magic. And so, two years ago, the cochons I invested with voted to turn managerial duties over to Monsieur Offenbach.”
Hiero fought not to let his feathers ruffle on the Vicomte’s behalf. “A similar case to the management shift at our own Gaiety.”
“And with this you have divined the very event that brought me across the Channel. The current owner of The Gaiety, Monsieur Gerry Tumnus, hastily assembled a skeleton troupe. Through an acquaintance I discovered that he had a theater without a company, and since I had a company without a theater, a deal was struck. The grand opening of our first double bill, a Don Juan burlesque and the melodrama Abelard and Heloise, was to occur this very evening.”
“How delightful,” Hiero said. “But I’m not clear on what role you mean for me to play?”
“For a month we have been settling into our new home. The troubles began almost at once. A mislaid prop. A ruined backdrop. One of our crew tripped on a suddenly wet floor and cracked his head. Several rehearsals delayed because furniture was glued to the storage room walls. Nuisances, at first. A period of adjustment to a new stage, I thought. Or perhaps the petty revenge of the few from the original company who had stayed on.”
“Or someone who does not care for foreigners.”
“Précisément.” Croÿ-Roeulx sighed. “Childish, but not unforeseeable. But then the rumors started among my own actors. A shadow, they claimed, pursuing them through the backstage. Strange gifts. The sensation of being watched, even when they were alone in their dressing rooms.” A slithery sense of dread coiled around Hiero’s spine. “I thought it nonsense, but the incidents kept piling up. Everyone in the company was buzzing, distracted, missing cues, dropping lines. And then today…”
Hiero felt his stomach drop. “Today?”
“A murder. Our leading man.”
Davidson King, always had a hope that someday her daydreams would become real-life stories. As a child, you would often find her in her own world, thinking up the most insane situations. It may have taken her awhile, but she made her dream come true with her first published work, Snow Falling.
When she's not writing you can find her blogging away on Diverse Reader, her review and promotional site. She managed to wrangle herself a husband who matched her crazy and they hatched three wonderful children.
If you were to ask her what gave her the courage to finally publish, she'd tell you it was her amazing family and friends. Support is vital in all things and when you're afraid of your dreams, it will be your cheering section that will lift you up.
Charlie Cochrane
As Charlie Cochrane couldn't be trusted to do any of her jobs of choice - like managing a rugby team - she writes. Her favourite genre is gay fiction, predominantly historical romances/mysteries, but she's making an increasing number of forays into the modern day. She's even been known to write about gay werewolves - albeit highly respectable ones.
Her Cambridge Fellows series of Edwardian romantic mysteries were instrumental in seeing her named Speak Its Name Author of the Year 2009. She’s a member of both the Romantic Novelists’ Association and International Thriller Writers Inc.
Happily married, with a house full of daughters, Charlie tries to juggle writing with the rest of a busy life. She loves reading, theatre, good food and watching sport. Her ideal day would be a morning walking along a beach, an afternoon spent watching rugby and a church service in the evening.
Writing love stories with a happy ever after – cowboys, heroes, family, hockey, single dads, bodyguards
USA Today bestselling author RJ Scott has written over one hundred romance books. Emotional stories of complicated characters, cowboys, single dads, hockey players, millionaires, princes, bodyguards, Navy SEALs, soldiers, doctors, paramedics, firefighters, cops, and the men who get mixed up in their lives, always with a happy ever after.
She lives just outside London and spends every waking minute she isn’t with family either reading or writing. The last time she had a week’s break from writing, she didn’t like it one little bit, and she has yet to meet a box of chocolates she couldn’t defeat.
Selina Kray is the nom de plume of an author and English editor. Professionally she has covered all the artsy-fartsy bases, having worked in a bookstore, at a cinema, in children’s television, and in television distribution, up to her latest incarnation as a subtitle editor and grammar nerd (though she may have always been a grammar nerd). A self-proclaimed geek and pop culture junkie who sometimes manages to pry herself away from the review sites and gossip blogs to write fiction of her own, she is a voracious consumer of art with both a capital and lowercase A.
Selina’s aim is to write genre-spanning romances with intricate plots, complex characters, and lots of heart. Whether she has achieved this goal is for you, gentle readers, to decide. At present she is hard at work on future novels at home in Montreal, Quebec, with her wee corgi serving as both foot warmer and in-house critic.
Davidson King
EMAIL: davidsonkingauthor@yahoo.com
Charlie Cochrane
RJ Scott
War of the Wicked by Davidson King
The Case of the Undiscovered Corpse by Charlie Cochrane
The Soldier and the Bodyguard by RJ Scott
KOBO / WEBSITE / GOODREADS TBR
Breathe My Name by Davidson King
The Death Under the Dark Arches by Selina Kray
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