This year was a little less trying than 2022 but my reading mojo was still lagging and I only read 141 books. So once again my Best of lists may be shorter but everything I read/listened to were so brilliant it was still a hard choice. So over the next two weeks I'll be featuring my Best Reads as well as Best ofs for my special day posts which are a combination of best reads and most viewed, I hope my Best of list helps you to find a new read, be it new-new or new-to-you or maybe it will help you to rediscover a forgotten favorite. Happy Reading and my heartfelt wish for everyone is that 2024 will be a year of recovery, growth, and in the world of reading a year of discovering a new favorite.
👀I try to keep the purchasing links as current as possible but they've been known to change for dozens of reasons, in case any of those links no longer work be sure to check out the author's social media links for updated buying info.👀
Dealer of Secrets by Davidson King
Summary:The Elite #6
If you have a secret you don’t want anyone to know, Zaire Vicario can find it. And if it’s worth something? Well, that’s currency to him. When things get desperate, the shadiest people call him in, and he makes their troubles go away with all the knowledge he’s acquired. He’s confident, powerful, and ready for anything. At least, he thinks he is. All it takes is one evening at The Anonymous and a man cloaked in lies to change Zaire’s whole world.
Carter Merrill enjoys his life healing people. As a traveling nurse, he brings light to a dark and gritty town. Until one phone call changes all he knows and all he is in the blink of an eye. Carter has never used his hands to harm, but when his twin brother is brutally murdered, he makes the decision to uncover who did it and seek revenge. The only problem is, he has no idea how to do that. When a stunning man approaches and offers to help, Carter has no other option but to walk into the lion’s den.
Deep dark lies, unrelenting lust, and dangerous liaisons thrust Zaire and Carter into treacherous territory and unfamiliar circumstances. They find their lives connecting, as well as their bodies, when one secret reveals layers of atrocities neither of them ever expected. Can they survive the savage storm ahead or are they doomed to the same fate as Carter’s brother?
Dealer of Secrets is a part of the multi-author series The Elite. Each book can be read as a standalone and in any order. What links these books together is The Anonymous, a club beneath the gritty city where only the elite are welcome.
Original May Book of the Month Review:
All authors have one genre they excel at, no matter how great their writing is across the board, there is one category that speaks to them on a little higher level. For Davidson King, that genre is mafia-level mayhem. Seriously, she writes danger and mayhem so fluently I can't help but wonder if she isn't living a created life in witness protection due to flipping on her mob boss to keep her family safe. How can one create so consistently without having lived in that world at some point in her past?😉😉
For reals though, time to talk Dealer of Secrets.
I don't want to say too much about the intricacies of the plot, I won't squash any adrenaline that comes with self discovery. If you've read Davidson King before you know she's all about the HEA but the getting there is high octane, dangerous, thrilling, dramatic, mystery and that is where the meat and potatoes of this reading meal fills you up. There isn't a single thing that is simply page filler, every character, every morsel of info plays a part.
As for Carter and Zaire. They definitely fit the opposites attract moniker and yet they mesh instantly, attraction is palpable with potential for so much more. Carter's heartache over his brother's death breaks your heart and the warring within to follow his brother's instructions versus finding the truth made me want to crush him in a huge Mama Bear hug. I wanted to give him a strong whack to the backside when he wanted to find answers because you know he's not capable(I don't like the word "capable" here but a better word isn't coming to me right now) of doing so and yet you also know when he cashes in his brother's invitation to The Anonymous, intending to or not, he will find someone who is in the know and being in his position I'd want answers too so I can't make that backside whack too hard😉.
Zaire. What can I say about Zaire? I know that I picture a collector of intel as someone who hates crowds and loves to hide behind a computer screen, an introvert, but I think at the core he is quite the opposite actually. Don't get me wrong, as a collector of secrets he probably spends plenty of his time being Alice navigating many rabbit holes but he also craves flesh. Okay, that makes him sound like a vampire or cannibal😉, but what I mean is he craves personal connections, face to face interactions. I appear to be making Zaire sound kind of pervy but he's not, he is absolutely the kind of man I would want in my corner if I was Carter, personally and revenge-wise.
Together they work. Coincidence, happenstance, fate, call it what you will but meet they did, perhaps it was a way to give Carter some goodness to come out of the heartache of losing his twin. Not saying Zaire is a consolation prize but sometimes the powers-that-be know exactly what they're doing.
I can't forget about Audrey. Audrey might be where Dealer of Secrets has a bit of a Jetsons' element, is it possible for something like Audrey to exist? Sure. Does something like Audrey exist already? To some degree. She's very much like one of those homes-of-the-future shorts & cartoons Hollywood would show before the movie started back in the 1940s(and no I'm not old enough to recall those shorts actually in theaters but I watch a lot of TCM and they run lots of them to fill in time throughout the day's programming). What I do know is I would very much love to have an Audrey.
I have not read any of the other entries in the multi-author series, The Elite, but I certainly intend to. This is a series of standalones where the only connection is the club The Anonymous so there is no set reading order, the series order is only by release date not any need-to-be-read-by order.
Dealer of Secrets by Davidson King is an amazing piece of storytelling that even though we may not deal with the violence and mayhem, I do think most of us would feel the way Carter does and can understand his need for answers. With Dealer and the characters, especially Carter, King has created a world that is both highly fictional and yet very relatable. A delicious gem not to be missed.
On a personal note I just want to thank Davidson King for doing it again. A couple of years ago she released a book in May that I read right after Star Wars Day which allowed me to live out the Poe/Finn ship that should-have-been-but-never-was as their faces became the characters of that story in my head. With the release of Dealer of Secrets in May and having received an ARC earlier in the month, she allowed me to give life to that ship and though Carter and Zaire don't appear anything like Poe and/or Finn on paper, in my minds' eye they did. So thank you, Davidson King for letting me live out that fantasy once again.
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.
The Last Seer by Davidson King
Summary:Black Veil #3
Learning he’s the last seer should make Bashiri feel special, unique. In this case, it’s the most terrifying and heartbreaking realization ever.
Bashiri spends his days loving his animals, running his own meditation studio, and knowing his kind are hunted while hiding in plain sight. He also spends a lot of time avoiding a certain grumpy vampire who rejected him one too many times. When his life begins to change and enemies become bolder, the Blood Boss sends his vampires as protection. Including the sullen Petru.
Petru’s focus is on keeping Black Veil safe. He has no time for foolish fortune tellers. Bashiri is a distraction he has pushed aside so often, the seer finally stayed away. Until Bashiri’s life is threatened and Petru must keep him alive. As he protects the seer, it becomes harder to ignore the love he feels until he finally realizes he no longer wants to.
The journey to keep Bashiri alive becomes harder as his centennial birthday approaches, especially when the shield that secretly conceals him turns to shreds. Great secrets are revealed as new and magical creatures appear to help Bashiri in a fight where failure is not an option. Petru and Bashiri want eternity, but will their determined, powerful enemies destroy their future and their love instead?
The Last Seer is book 3 in the Black Veil Series and should be read in order. The Blood Boss is book one followed by Emperor of Dragons. There is no cliffhanger.
Original July Book of the Month 2023:
HOLY HANNAH BATMAN!!!! Davidson King has done it once again! By now I shouldn't be surprised . . . well I'm not surprised at the brilliance of her storytelling but I still get surprised at just how invested I get into it.
Okay, so "surprised" isn't exactly the right word but time just stood still while I was reading The Last Seer. For family reasons I wasn't able to read Seer without unwanted interruptions but while I had my Kindle open between daily demands, nothing else existed. I'd say I felt like a fly on the wall of Cain's mansion or Bashiri's meditation studio but it was more than that, it was a symbiotic connection to the characters. King has a way with the written word that I felt like I could feel whatever Bashiri or Petru was feeling, I was seeing it from their angle. Many times it's as if the story is unfolding in my front yard but rarely do I feel part of the story, see actions through the characters' eyes. I suppose in a way perhaps that's down to Bashiri's visions and how he taps into his power, he connects to the possible vision. I can't go as far as to say Seer is my favorite so far in the author's Black Veil series but wow it's pretty darn close.
Let's talk about our MCs, Bashiri and Petru. They hit our radar in book 2, Emperor of Dragons, you just knew that they were getting a journey of their own because if they didn't the villagers were going to rise up😉. Bashiri conjures up all kinds of Mama Bear feels, it's been a long time since I read a character I wanted to protect more. On the surface he seems fragile and, well not weak by any definition of the word, but perhaps isolated which can leave a person feeling weak or defenseless. Bashiri is not defenseless even though he is unaware of just how powerful he is and will become. You could say he is a bit clueless in the world of attraction and what that can bring out, especially when it comes to Petru. These are all qualities that strengthen his endearing side and kick my Mama Bear senses into high gear.
Petru. What can I say about Petru? I would never want to anger a vampire or get on their wrong side but I certainly wanted to take an iron skillet to the back of his noggin a few times and scream "OPEN YOUR EYES TO SEE WHAT EVERYONE ELSE SEES!!!" Some might say, talk about clueless but he's not clueless, just inexperienced in the ways of emotions. Don't get me wrong, yes the iron skillet would make an appearance if I showed up at Cain's mansion but so would a stern look ending with a Mama Bear hug.
Sometimes we just can't see our own garden because we're tending to everyone else's yard. Watching the pair finally water their own gardens is fun, exciting, and packed to the rafters with plenty of thistles and blossoms.
I've talked mostly about the MCs as individuals and a couple, leaving the plot untouched. It's going to remain untouched so not to spoil anything, just know that it too is jam packed with equal parts dangerous mayhem and intriguing mystery as well as a beautiful blending of paranormal and mythology. There may not be an overall story arc in Black Veil but characters carry over as do a few plot mentions which generally are in reference to said characters and the author writes those points in a way so you won't be lost if you haven't been reading from the beginning. HOWEVER, I highly recommend reading in order simply because I felt more connected to the characters, main, secondary, and cameo because any friendships/relationships were experienced as they grew and strengthened. But that's just me, after all I am a series-read-in-order kind of gal😉.
Summary:
Winter Magic #2
What happens when a player gets played?
Actor Dylan Frasier is known as one of the biggest playboys in Hollywood, infamous for seducing men and women alike. He’s also half in love with his two best friends. Unfortunately, Jason and Ben are madly in love with each other, leaving Dylan the odd man out. When Ben suggests an extended Christmas vacation at a resort modeled after his favorite 80s TV show, Dylan reluctantly agrees. Sure, his heart breaks a bit every time he sees them together, but it’s a vacation in the Bahamas. How bad can it be?
At first, the resort seems like any other. Dylan plans to work on his tan, get laid, and hunt for Hollywood’s most in-demand director – not necessarily in that order. Then he meets Connor, a tennis instructor still hurting from a bad breakup. Connor knows Dylan’s reputation and refuses to be seduced. Dylan sees Connor as just another conquest, but this tropical island isn’t as mundane as it appears. It has its own kind of magic, and it’s about to make things interesting.
Original Review July 2023:
I wanted to read Winter Dreams last Christmas but time had other plans so what better time than Xmas in July to sink my teeth in?😉
Is Dreams as good as the first one, Winter Oranges? No but let's be honest, how many sequels/follow-ups in any form of entertainment is as good? Very few. So I was okay with Dreams not grabbing me quite as tightly as Oranges because it is still a brilliant read. We got to catch up with Jason and Ben and Dylan gets to discover a little winter magic of his own.
Fantasy Island. Awesome scenario for this magical holiday series. I always loved the show when I was a kid, don't recall watching it when it was on primetime but in reruns in the afternoons. So fun. Watching Dylan navigate his not-quite-believing despite what he witnessed with Ben and the snowglobe two years earlier makes for some interesting moments as well as provides me with the urge to smack him one or two times(okay maybe it's in the low double digit area but you get the idea😉). Connor may speak to my more Mama Bear hugs side but he's not without his moments of getting a light smack or two as well.
As equal parts heartbreaking and heartwarming, Dylan and Connor's journey is entertaining, memorable, and worthy of Marie Sexton's Winter Magic moniker. I think it was the friendships that spoke to me the most. Yes, I was rooting for the pair from the minute they met but watching the friendship form first was a nice twist. I say "twist" because we all know that Dylan is not a commitment type of guy so seeing the flirting grow into more was quite lovely.
But it isn't just the budding friendship between our two MCs but also between Dylan, Jason, and Ben. Is Jason a bit too hard or snarky with Dylan at times in reference to his non-commitment history and habits? Sure, but I think if he wasn't Dylan would think something was wrong and that it's just their way because let's face it, Dylan isn't exactly snarky-less toward Jason either.
As for Dylan and Ben, well through Dylan's inner monologues we know he believes himself to be in love with Ben and wonders what would have been had he met the young man first but we also know he understands the boundaries which to me is the first sign that maybe Dylan is finally ready for a change, even if he doesn't see himself. Ben is a very unique gentlemen and it's because of his importance to Dylan that I highly recommend reading Winter Oranges first.
I feel like I've been a bit vague in places but I don't want to spoil anything about Dylan and Connor's story nor do I want to risk spoiling Jason and Ben's story for those who haven't read Winter Oranges. Just know that Winter Dreams, Winter Magic(currently a duology as I have no idea whether the author has plans to expand) really is just that: magical. it is what the holidays are all about: friends, happiness, love, and plenty of heart all wrapped up with a magical infused bow.
Reckless Roulette by Alice Winters
Summary:The Elite #1
Seven days until game over.
Len
Kade has seven days left to live… unless I do something about it. I am one of the best assassins around, after all. But… I’m not sure I exactly care what happens to Kade. He’s rude, only cares about himself and his casino, and did I mention he doesn’t know a single thing about video games?
Okay, okay. Maybe that’s not enough of a reason to watch him dash headlong into danger while I kick back and enjoy the show.
It’s kind of fun though.
Now I know what you’re thinking… doesn’t that make me the selfish one? See, I don’t mind helping people—it’s kind of my thing. But the ones I help aren’t anything like Kade. They’re people who have nothing left who are willing to go to great lengths to save those they love, even at the cost of losing themselves. Still, maybe Kade can show me that beneath his icy exterior is a man worth saving. A man worth loving. And maybe even a man worth risking everything for.
Issue is… he only has seven days to do it.
Reckless Roulette is a part of the multi-author series The Elite. Each book can be read as a standalone and in any order. What links these books together is The Anonymous, a club beneath the gritty city where only the elite are welcome.
Original Review August 2023:
Gotta start by saying I have loads of Alice Winters books on my Kindle & TBR lists but have only read a few. I love her ability to write humor and to make it such a huge part of the story. Many authors will write great comedy moments but few can add so much to the story that it borders on rom-com status. I don't know if the author considers her works to fall under that category but I place every one of her books I've devoured in the genre.
I mention the above statement because even though I have all entries in the multi-author series, The Elite, on my kindle I have only actually read Davidson King's book, Dealer of Secrets, so when I needed something dangerously snarky to combat the miserable no AC heat and seeing as it was the first entry in the series, it was a no brainer that Alice Winters' entry would be next up.
On to Reckless Roulette.
I've never been a gamer or into anime and my comic book knowledge is limited but as a lifelong devoted Star Wars fangirl geek, I loved, appreciated, and 150% respected Len's devotion to his geekness. As for going against the stereotype and making the geek and the not-so-squeaky-clean-Robin-Hood-ish one in the same was fresh and exciting.
As for Kade. Well what can I say about Kade? At face value you completely understand and don't mind the fact that he's only got 7 days left to live per the threat that sends him to Len's door. Let's be honest, he is not the most likeable guy on paper HOWEVER you know there is more to the man underneath and Len may just be the guy to poke holes in that basement floor to give the good guy hiding a chance to break free😉.
That is about all you're going to get out of me as this is a spoiler free zone and I'm a no spoil kind of gal😉. Just know this: once you start Reckless Roulette you won't be able to put it down, you'll be left surprised a couple of times, shaking your head "I knew it!" once or twice, and totally sad when you reach the final page because you just never want it to end. I wish I had read it slower to savor all the snark and cuddle goodness but in truth there was no way I could have slowed because I just had to know what was on the next page.
Dealer of Secrets by Davidson King
CHAPTER ONE
Zaire
I was good at what I did— some might say the best. My choice of poison wasn’t guns, knives, or drugs; I didn’t threaten an enemy with a Glock, repeat some cheesy one-liner, then shoot them between the eyes. No, that wasn’t my style. I was the Dealer of Secrets. Knowledge was my weapon, and secrets were the bullets.
The man in front of me thought he had the upper hand, but my client had hired me to delve into this guy’s life, grab on to the dirtiest of skeletons, and use it to get what he wanted. The information I obtained in the process was mine and mine alone. I never shared with my clients any tidbits I found, and while that could be seen as dangerous, putting my life on the line, I had a plan ensuring that killing me would be the fastest way to release their secrets out into the world.
“Mr. Tolland, the land you are refusing to sell isn’t truly yours; you and I both know that.”
The large man scoffed, sat back in his chair, and attempted to stare me down. “Is that the best you got? Land’s mine. Tell Grainer to fuck off.”
Smirking, I removed my phone from my pocket. “See, yesterday I paid a visit to a gentleman by the name of Ferdinand Harper.”
Tolland’s eyes widened, and I realized I had him.
“Who?”
“This isn’t kindergarten, Tolland. Let’s not play games. You wanted that land for whatever failed business you’re attempting to conduct. However, you couldn’t pay for it. When you threatened the owner of the land, they laughed at you, and what happened then?” I raised a brow, glaring at the man as sweat began to drip along his temple.
“I’ll tell you. You killed him. You killed Harrold C. Tolland. Funny… isn’t that your name?”
“Fuck you and—”
“Ferdinand was the man you paid for Mr. Holland’s identity.” I tapped the screen of my phone. “And he told me all about it. He also revealed who you really are. Vito Nucci. A known snitch. The Esposito family would pay good money to know your whereabouts.”
Vito narrowed his eyes and his round cheeks trembled with anger, but he was powerless. He knew if he didn’t hand over the deed to the land to me for my client, he was a dead man.
“You’re a piece of shit, Zaire Vicario.”
I smirked again and slipped my phone back into my pocket. “You could have actually earned money off this land, but you went and made it ugly.” I lifted a shoulder before shooting him a grin. “Don’t worry, Vito. Give me that deed, and I promise”— I placed my elbows on the table and stared him right in the eyes—“ your secrets are safe with me.”
An hour later, I was handing my client the deed to the Tolland land and smiling as the large transaction showed up in my account. It was a good day.
That night, dressed in my black Tom Ford cooper hopsack suit with a black turtleneck underneath and my leather oxfords, I made my way to The Menagerie Hotel for an evening at The Anonymous. Since receiving my invite from there a year ago, I’d indulged several times.
The Anonymous was a club for the unsavory.… I supposed that would be the appropriate word. It was secure in that it didn’t allow weapons or violence. To break the rules was to forfeit your life, something I was sure had been carried out at some point.
My Ferrari 296 GTB was my baby. Deep silver with sleek designs, it never failed to turn heads. I loved the wide-eyed smiles valets got as soon as I handed them the keys to park it.
“Take care of her,” I warned the driver as I watched him drive away with her.
Ahh, The Menagerie, the most elegant and glamorous hotel in Old Defiance. Even the air surrounding the establishment was rich.
Built in the 1800s, it was ten floors of pure luxury— twelve, if you counted the two below the lobby that The Anonymous occupied.
The doors were held open for me and I entered the hotel, immediately grinning at the opulent foyer. I’d traveled the world, and no place I’d ever stayed was as stunning as The Menagerie.
I was an educated man, but when it came to architecture and design, I wasn’t fluent in description. My favorite part was the stained-glass windows in the ceiling. They mesmerized me with their subtle colors and grand composition.
“Good evening, sir.”
I snapped my head straight ahead and came face-to-face with the concierge. In the times I’d been here, I’d been greeted by this man twice. He likely knew who I was but wasn’t taking any chances.
“Evening.”
“How may I help you this evening?”
“Code seven-two-two-four.”
With a nod, he led me toward the private elevator which would take me down to the club.
As soon as the doors opened and I stepped out, I felt more relaxed. This place was a godsend.
I wanted a drink, but I was thinking of going to see what live performer there was and imbibe there. As I walked across the floor, I saw Dio Capelli lounging in a booth, his men surrounding him.
I’d never been hired by the man but was very aware of who he was, and judging by his curt nod in my direction, he was familiar with me as well.
The club was busy, but because it was so large and had two floors, it wasn’t obnoxious. I was glad no one stopped to talk to me. It wasn’t that I had no desire to speak to people— I was eager for a drink, a table, and some delicious music.
Upon leaving the bar area, I turned right and headed toward the entertainment room. The space was intimate: a small bar, a crescent-shaped stage, and several tables were scattered around the floor.
The woman on stage had a velvety soft voice and was brilliant as she sang the cover for Etta James’s “I’d Rather Go Blind.”
Once seated, a server came over. “Good evening, sir. Can I get you a drink?”
I smiled at the slight man. He was adorable with a button nose, curly blond hair, and a delectable, lithe frame. Jimmy was his name; I remembered spending a debauched night with him a few weeks ago.
“Peat Monster, please.”
His professionalism was commendable. Aside from the modest blush over his creamy white cheeks, he didn’t leer or flirt. It had been a one-night thing— an amazing night where I’d explored every inch of his skin, loving how his pale flesh had entwined with my russet tone.… Damn. I was getting hard. Maybe a repeat sometime, but long-term wasn’t my way. Relationships weren’t something I could afford in my line of work, so I scratched my itch whenever I could.
The singer took a break after three songs, and I was on my second drink. I enjoyed its smoky flavor and how I was finally feeling the stresses of the day wash away, when someone caught my eye.
They stood off to the side, stiff, eyes darting this way and that. His hands were at his sides, but the pointer on his right hand was tapping against his pants. In everyday life, seeing someone so nervous wouldn’t warrant my attention, but at The Anonymous it made no sense.
This was a place where those who spent a good portion of their lives looking over their shoulder could breathe, be themselves, and decompress. Whoever this was didn’t belong at all. A man with secrets. I smiled at the thought. My specialty.
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.”
The Last Seer by Davidson King
PROLOGUE
NINETY-NINE YEARS AGO
HORATIA
“I love you, sweet boy. More than the stars in the sky, more than the air in my lungs, more than the—” Another blast shook our cave, and my words were cut off. Quickly, I wiped my tears, humming to my baby boy, trying to calm him. “Everything is going to be fine. Mommy will keep you safe.”
“Horatia!” The deep timbre of Caspar’s voice had me clutching my son to my chest and turning.
“Caspar. Oh, thank the stars. What’s going on? Where do we go?”
“My love, we must flee and get to the temple.”
“Why?”
He gripped my hand, his smile shaky. “We must protect Bashiri.”
Like the sun’s burst revealing dawn, the realization of his words rattled me.
“Caspar, who will care for him after…”
“It’s been handled. We’ve all known this day might come, and the Tutelary have been waiting. Bashiri will be cared for; he will be hidden and loved. We have to give him the tools to survive and hope—” Another explosion and Caspar pulled me up. “Horatia, we must run.”
Bashiri pressed close to my chest, my hand in Caspar’s, we raced along the narrow paths through the cave. Rocks shattered above us, and dust covered our skin. My legs felt as though they were on fire but the temple was close, and as soon as it was in my sight, a surge of energy overcame me.
“We don’t have much time.” Caspar opened the temple doors, and I was halfway to the altar when I froze.
Twelve of the most powerful seers stood in a circle surrounding the moon table. I knew this was for the best, that it was the only way to keep our kind alive… to keep Bashiri alive.
“My love…” Caspar’s voice cracked. His gaze flickered between me and our son. We wanted years with him, lifetimes. We spoke of how we’d teach him his gifts and hone them into powers that would save the world.
Now, someone else would do that, and I could only hope I’d be able to witness his triumphs from the stars.
“Horatia, please. We are out of time. I’m sorry.” Neoma, the oldest of the seers, smiled through her tears. “Because we will perish this day does not mean our kind will.”
I pulled Bashiri from my wrap and lifted his tiny head to my lips. I pressed a kiss to his soft skin, inhaling his aroma. At that moment, I wished to never need another breath and to be able to lock his scent in my heart forever.
“I love you, Bashiri. You will save the world.” I placed him on the moon table as more blasts shook the temple.
“We are out of time!” a seer shouted.
We all surrounded Bashiri, hands locked. I never took my eyes off him as he stared up at the glow that bathed him. He was kicking his tiny legs, gurgling, blinking against the moon’s light.
“In the years to come, many of us will die— but through our power, Bashiri’s will grow. On this night, we sacrifice our lives, our gifts, our knowledge and power to Bashiri.” Neoma lifted her head, and everyone followed.
“With every fallen seer, may their magic flow into Bashiri. May it protect him at that time in the future when he must face the enemy, those who seek our destruction.”
I closed my eyes as I felt my soul drain from my body. Silent tears wet my cheeks, and I begged the powers that be to protect my son and to shroud him until he had enough strength to fight back.
“One hundred years,” Neoma whispered.
My head jerked slightly at her words. Her gaze met mine.
“We cannot ask for eternity, Horatia. The powers that be will never grant it.” Neoma winced; as we weakened, the pain was unimaginable. “One hundred years. We must hope they will shield him, and when the clock strikes midnight on his one-hundredth birthday, let us hope he will be ready.”
A whimper escaped me. How could that be long enough? What if our enemies find him on his birthday? Please, please let him live forever.
“One hundred years,” every seer chanted over and over again.
Dust and rocks began to rain over us as our words became louder, and we were brought to our knees. Bashiri’s cries echoed throughout the temple, and the last thought before my life was drained was, I hope someone out there will protect him when evil comes for him. Please, let his protector find him.
Bashiri’s cries silenced, and with my last breath, I heard a voice.
“With their lives, you will live, Bashiri.”
Winter Dreams by Marie Sexton
Chapter 1
They say insanity is doing the same thing over and over and expecting a different result. It must be true. God knows it could only be insanity that made me agree to this vacation. Why else would I spend the next thirty-one days with Jason and Ben knowing it’ll result in nothing but heartache? I love them both so much it hurts. Watching them together is like feeling my heart slowly shatter over and over again, and yet I can’t stand to stay away from them either.
So here I am, on an airplane with them two days after Thanksgiving, bound for a tropical resort, Christmas be damned. We’d debated flying first class, but we were already spending a fair amount on this month-long vacation, so we settled for business class instead. Still not enough leg room for my six-foot-one body, but the drinks are free, so I’m not complaining.
“I’m so excited,” Ben says. “Can you believe we’re actually going to Fantasy Island?” He’s sitting between Jason and I on the airplane, having volunteered for the middle seat. Even now, almost two years after his miraculous appearance in Jason’s life, Ben comes across all innocence and bright-eyed enthusiasm. He’d sent off for a paper brochure from the resort because he said reading it on his phone was “dumb.” Watching him flip through it, I wonder if he’ll ever become as jaded as the rest of us.
I hope not.
“They have nine restaurants,” Ben tells us as he studies the brochure. “Two golf courses, plus miniature golf. Oh my gosh, I love miniature golf! A bunch of tennis courts. That’s boring. Four pools, one with a swim-up bar. Dylan will like that. A lazy river. I love lazy rivers! A zipline course, and parasailing. I’m working up my nerve for those. Birdwatching and dolphin-watching cruises. We have to do both of those. Scuba diving. Nope, that’s way too scary. Snorkeling. That’s less scary. Kayaks and canoes, plus stand-up paddle surfing.” He frowns. “I don’t even know what that is. A full gym. Yuck. I’m not going there. And a full-service salon and spa.”
“Definitely going there,” I say. Although unlike Ben, I’ll have to spend a fair amount of time at the gym as well. My current role is a recurring part on the HBO series Lords of Dragon Beach, often described as Baywatch meets Sons of Anarchy. I’m thirty-one years old. My metabolism still keeps me thin, thank God, and given my tall, lanky frame, I’ll never have huge, bulging muscles like the rest of the Dragon Beach cast, no matter how many weights I lift. I aim for strong, wiry, and toned. My character, dubiously named Houston McCormick, is scripted for five of each season’s ten episodes, and somehow, the writers always find an excuse for me to be shirtless.
I’ve never been so aware of my abs.
Ben laughs and holds the brochure up for me to read. “Look, this line is right out of the TV show. ‘A place where all your fantasies come true.’”
“I still can’t believe they can call it Fantasy Island, if it was a TV show first,” I answer. “Isn’t that a copyright violation or something?”
Jason shrugs. He took the window seat, and he sits with his forehead against the pane. He hasn’t cut his hair in a while, and the sun shines through his dark blond waves and highlights the faint freckles across his nose. “Fantasy Island Vacation Resort. I assume it’s owned by the same company that made the show. MGM or whoever.”
“Columbia Pictures,” Ben says. When I turn to him in surprise, he shrugs. “What? It says it during the opening credits.”
Jason and I smile at each other over his head, like parents amused by their child.
Ben turns to me. “So, what’s your fantasy, Dylan?”
Doesn’t he know better than to ask me loaded questions?
“Being sandwiched between you and Scarlett Johansson—all of us naked, of course—in a giant bowl of lime Jell-o.”
Ben blushes, just like I knew he would. Jason calls him Snow White sometimes, and it’s an apt description. Ben has blue eyes, and hair even thicker and darker than mine, so black it reflects shades of purple. He’s not as pale as he used to be, but it’s still easy to see the heat rise up his cheeks.
I lean close enough to kiss him. I can’t help but think how sweet it would be to do just that. “You’re wondering if you’re in front of me or behind me in this fantasy, aren’t you?”
Ben grins and ducks his head. Jason turns away from the window long enough to glare at me. “Dylan’s fantasy is to fuck every single person on this island before the month is out.”
I laugh. “That’s not a fantasy, honey. That’s a prophecy waiting to be fulfilled.”
Jason rolls his eyes at me at and goes back to staring out the window. Annoyed, because I never change? Hurt, because of our shared past? Or simply bemused, because he and Ben have something I’ll never be privy to, and he knows it’s far better than what I have?
I wish I knew.
“I don’t understand the premise of this TV show anyway,” I say. “People could go to this island to live out their fantasies, and yet it wasn’t all porn?”
Ben’s stunned. “You haven’t seen it?”
“It went off the air years before I was born.”
“There’s a reboot,” Jason offers. “And Blumhouse made a movie.”
“Still haven’t seen it.”
“It’s all about being careful what you wish for,” Ben tells me. “Like one couple thought they wanted to go to a time and place with old-fashioned, traditional values, so Mr. Roarke sends them to this colonial village. They love it at first, but then they realize they’re in Salem, and the rules are super strict. They can’t even dance or play music. And then this little boy gets a fever, and the woman gives him an aspirin out of her purse, and she gets accused of witchcraft, so she has to run from the mob so they don’t burn her alive at the stake.”
“Jesus,” I say, shocked. “That’s not a fantasy. That’s a nightmare.”
“Mr. Roarke liked scaring the shit out of people,” Jason says. “It’s melodramatic, but it gets pretty dark at times, too.”
“That’s what I’m in for?” I ask. “Dark melodrama?”
Jason laughs. “Something like that.”
“You still haven’t given me a serious answer,” Ben says to me. “If this were really Fantasy Island, like on the TV show, what would your fantasy be?”
It’s a good question. Sometimes, I wish I’d realized how much I needed Jason before he’d stopped needing me, but to claim Jason for myself would have meant leaving Ben trapped in his magical prison forever. As much as I wish things had gone differently, I can’t look in Ben’s sweet, guileless face and wish him gone.
In all actuality, my fantasy would be to stop being myself and become either one of them, for the rest of my life. I’ve spent untold hours wondering which would be better—to be Ben, and have Jason’s undying devotion? Or to be Jason, and have Ben’s sweet, pure heart? Being either one of them would be a thousand times better than being me.
Jason speaks up before I can formulate another smartass answer in lieu of the truth.
“If this were really a place where somebody’s greatest dreams could come true,” Jason says, “Dylan’s would have nothing to do with sex and everything to do with his career.” He stares at me in that way he’s always had, with an expression that tells me he knows me front to back. I’m an old, ratty script he’s read a hundred times. He knows every line of dialog.
And every gaping plot hole, one of which he’s just remembered.
He narrows his eyes at me. “Four weeks at Fantasy Island, missing casting calls? Only if there’s something else to be gained.”
“The next season of Lords of Dragon Beach starts filming in January. I’m tired of being the palest guy on the set.”
“There’s no way you agreed to a whole month on this island just so you can work on your tan,” Jason says. “You could have done that in California.”
See? He could always see right through me.
Except when it had mattered the most.
“You’re right,” I admit. “I have an ulterior motive.” I pull out my phone and show them a picture. “This is who I’m looking for. I hear he likes to winter here. So if you see him, do me a favor and let me know.”
Ben eyes the picture, shock and disdain warring on his face. “Oh my gosh, Dylan. He’s twice your age. And…” He frowns and pats the air around his stomach, too sweet to say the word “fat.”
“Dylan’s not out to seduce him,” Jason explains. “Although I’m sure he’d be willing, if he thought it would help.”
“I don’t understand,” Ben says.
“That’s JP Frederick,” Jason tells him. “He’s one of the most in-demand directors in Hollywood right now.”
“Exactly,” I say, putting away my phone. “Rumor has it, he’s been asked to direct two Marvel films over the next six years.”
And Jason’s right. There’s nothing I won’t do to land a role in that universe. I’ll beg. I’ll bargain. I’ll suck his cock. I’ll let him fuck me every conceivable way, if that’s what it takes, although admittedly, I hope it doesn’t go that far. I never have learned to bottom with any kind of grace. With any luck, a few drinks and a round of golf will suffice.
“What about you?” I ask Ben. “If this is really Fantasy Island, then what’s your fantasy?”
“Oh, I don’t have one. I already got my biggest wish ever. I know better than to tempt fate.”
Jason elbows Ben and nods toward me. “Maybe you should wish for Scarecrow over there to grow a heart.”
Ben frowns at him. “You’re thinking of the Tin Man. Scarecrow needed a brain.”
Jason grins at me. “Dylan needs both.”
“Boy, you crack yourself up, don’t you?” I ask.
But to my surprise, Ben doesn’t laugh. “Dylan already has a heart and a brain,” he says to Jason. “What he needs is—”
“A clue?” Jason says.
“A drink,” I tell him, looking around for the flight attendant.
Ben scowls at us both. “Fine. Don’t listen to me.” He elbows me, harder than he needs to. “Let me out. I need to use the bathroom.”
I do as he says, letting him slip past me before reclaiming my seat. Jason’s gone back to staring out the window. “Hey, JayWalk.”
He smiles. I haven’t called him that in a while. “What?”
“Ben knows this isn’t really a magical island, right? I mean, it isn’t even all-inclusive.”
“Of course he knows it isn’t magical. You know Ben. He’s just…” He waves his hand, trying to find a word.
“Fanciful?” I offer. “Romantic?”
He smiles, his love for Ben written all over his face. “Adorable.”
And there it goes again, my heart shattering into a thousand little pieces.
The Commonwealth of the Bahamas is comprised of more than seven hundred islands, cays, and islets. One of these, roughly nine square miles in size, is our destination.
After a brief layover in Miami, we board a smaller plane and take to the skies again. I’m on my third drink by then and feeling damned good. Ben’s frowning at me. Jason doesn’t bother being annoyed.
We have to clear customs before leaving the airport. All three of us hold our breath when it’s Ben’s turn. His ID and passport are fake, but they’re the best money can buy—I should know, I’m the one who paid for them—and the customs agent barely bats an eye as she waves Ben through.
From the airport, we’re shuttled to a seaside dock. On the bright side, we get to surrender our luggage, with assurances it’ll be delivered to our rooms after we check in. I’m happy I don’t have to lug mine the rest of the way. Jason and Ben can tease me about having an extra-large suitcase, plus a garment bag, but I don’t expect them to understand. After all, Jason lives in jeans, T-shirts, and hoodies, but when it comes to fashion, I have higher standards. I prefer a more tailored, upscale look, and like it or not, that means luggage, and lots of it. I thought I did well packing only one garment bag instead of two, even though it means I’ll have to iron most of my shirts before I wear them.
We’re herded onto a small, enclosed water taxi that smells like sweat with an underlying taint of vomit. We find three empty seats and sit shoulder-to-shoulder with two dozen other travelers, all bound for Fantasy Island Vacation Resort. The sea’s bumpy, the boat cramped and stuffy. I’d much rather be on the deck, but it seems to be reserved for the crew and the few people who are already seasick.
“I hate to complain,” Ben says quietly, “but this isn’t feeling very magical right now.”
For Ben, who’s always cheerful no matter what, this simple statement borders on mutiny. “Hey,” Jason says, “even on the show, guests had to fly on that tiny little pontoon plane to get there, right?”
“True. But somehow, it seemed a lot more romantic.”
I want to touch his cheek. Maybe kiss him and promise him he’ll have plenty of romance this month. Mostly, I just want to see him smile again, but of course it’s not my place, and Jason’s already on it, whispering in Ben’s ear. Whatever he says makes Ben grin and shift in his seat, trying to hide an erection.
One more little crack in my heart.
We eventually dock and emerge from the water taxi. As soon as the sun hits his face, Ben’s lack of faith disappears and his smile returns.
“Oh my gosh. Jason, look!” He bounces on his toes in excitement, pointing. “It really does look like Fantasy Island.”
I’ve never seen the show, but based on Ben’s gushing, the resort has gone to great lengths to replicate the set of the old TV show. We disembark onto a dock, then through a thatched hut, although Ben assures me this one’s twice as big as Mr. Roarke’s. Ahead of us, the gates to Fantasy Island Vacation Resort loom. Women in red and white flowered dresses line the sidewalk along the way, offering trays of fruity drinks.
“What is it?” Ben asks as we each take one.
“A mango daiquiri,” the woman tells him.
“Oh, that sounds yummy.” He takes a sip, and his eyes go wide. “Oh my gosh, this is so good, isn’t it? I think this is my new favorite thing.”
Despite his enthusiasm, he won’t finish it. Sometimes I think his time in the globe messed with his metabolism. He eats like a horse, but never gains weight. He only sleeps about five hours a night, and he’s a serious lightweight when it comes to alcohol. Half a daiquiri will make him loopy. A full one will put him right to sleep.
Not to worry though. A double-shot, double-pump caramel latte will have him awake and ready to go again in no time.
We’re in no hurry to get inside. The weather’s a perfect seventy-six degrees, the sun warm on our faces. In addition to the hotel, there’s an elaborate garden and a sprawling white house, just like Mr. Roarke’s, according to Ben. The building’s utilitarian in nature, housing an urgent care and pharmacy in one half, and island security in the other, but that doesn’t diminish Ben’s excitement. He oohs and aahs, and I hold his drink while he takes a billion pictures with his phone. Thirty minutes later, we make it through the front door of the towering hotel, where it soon becomes clear the drinks are only to distract us from the enormous line for check-in. We opt to lounge in the boxy pink lobby chairs instead, biding our time until the line subsides.
Jason—known to most of the world as Jadon Walker Buttermore, or JayWalk to his fangirls—is in the middle of a career reboot. After our last movie together, which did well at the box office, for a horror “requel,” he landed a supporting role in a romantic comedy starring Jennifer Lopez. That led to a spot on Dancing with the Stars, where he was eliminated early, much to his relief. More recently and most importantly, he played the quirky sidekick in a Netflix treasure-hunting action movie that, last time I looked, had almost three hundred million views. He’s already signed for a sequel which begins shooting in February. I’ve never seen him so happy, but I know that has more to do with Ben than with his career.
I’m no JayWalk, but Dylan Thomas Frasier has his fangirls too. Or at least, Houston McCormick does. Between the two of us, we soon have a small line of people asking for autographs and taking pictures. Jason’s better at this than he used to be. In the past, he hated this kind of attention. Now, he takes it in stride, although he’s careful to keep Ben out of the limelight and is clearly relieved when the autograph session ends. I, on the other hand, soak it up. I sign anything anybody puts in front of me, including one woman’s cleavage. I take selfies with a dozen different people. I ask anybody who’s halfway attractive and appears single how long they’re staying. By the time the fans are gone, I’ve finished my drink. Ben nudges me and hands me the second half of his, squinting at me as if he can’t quite focus. As predicted, half a daiquiri, and I know it’s a good thing he’s sitting down, or he’d be swaying on his feet.
“You okay?” I ask him.
He blinks at me. “Jus’ a lil sleepy.”
Jason’s right. Ben’s adorable.
I leave them and hunt down the hotel’s coffee station, where I fill a medium-sized cup and add cream and five packets of sugar. The smile Ben gives me when I hand it over is worth the few minutes it cost me.
“No caramel latte, but it’s still caffeine with plenty of sugar.”
“Thanks, Dylan.”
“Anything for you, honey.”
Jason ignores the entire exchange. He never bats an eye when I flirt with Ben. Then again, why would he? Ben’s one hundred percent, head-over-heels in love with Jason. Besides, Jason’s my oldest, dearest friend. I’d never do anything to hurt him, even if Ben was willing.
Which he isn’t.
I never flirt much with Jason anymore either, because I know it makes Ben uneasy. The last thing I want to do is cause trouble between the two of them, or between them and me. Sometimes I wish somebody had told me, on that first night in Jason’s new house back in Idaho, that it would be the last night I ever had with him.
Would I have done things differently?
Would I have pulled my ignorant head out of my selfish ass sooner?
I’ll never know. And now, I’ll never share his bed again. If they were any other gay couple, I might have a chance of being invited for a threesome. I’ve thought about it more times than I can count, but I also know it’s the type of thing that’s best left to the imagination. Ben would be too shy. Jason would be too possessive. And at the end of the day, I’d still be a third wheel, deeply in love with both of them, but never part of the love they have for each other.
I do what anybody in my position would do.
I finish the daiquiri and go in search of another.
Reckless Roulette by Alice Winters
CHAPTER 1
KADE
This isn’t the first time I’ve had a gun pressed against my head.
It probably won’t be the last.
Irritation rolls through me when the man clanks his gun against my skull again as he holds a hand around my throat to keep me from going too far.
A sigh escapes me as I grit my teeth to keep myself from doing something… unreasonable. Three of my guards are currently lying dead at my feet, telling me that whoever decided to rain on my damn parade is skilled.
Doesn’t make me any less irritated. There are two men, a sniper who is the more skilled of the two and the gunman behind me who seems to think he needs to be uncomfortably close for his gun to work.
“I’m sorry, am I bothering you?” the man asks.
“Oh? How did you guess?” I ask as I lower my hand.
“Get your hands up,” he growls.
“I just want a cigarette, and it’s not like you’re going to shoot me. If I was supposed to be dead at the end of this, you wouldn’t even be here. Your sniper doesn’t need you—you’re fodder. You’re here to tell me something that’s going to annoy me,” I say as I take out a cigarette and light it. “I mean, really, why else would they send someone who has a quiver to his fingers?”
“Fuck you,” he says as I aim the cigarette for my lips again before thinking better of it and cramming the lit end into his eye.
He howls out and releases me, not shooting me, of course, because he never took the safety off. It wasn’t because he made a mistake, it was because he knew that if he shot me, even accidentally, he’d be better served crawling in a ditch somewhere and offing himself.
He lets out a growl as he shoves me forward and just as I turn around, he punches me in the face because that’s something hecando. I drop my cigarette as I grit my teeth in irritation.
“Sell it,” he orders.
“Oh?”
“You need to sell out to Norn if you don’t want to be dead at the end of this. He’s kindly decided that starting tomorrow, you have seven days to get your affairs in order and transfer ownership to him, and if in that time you don’t, he’s going to raze everything you’ve built up to the ground.”
“I can’t wait,” I say dryly as I pull out a different cigarette since his eye rudely destroyed my last one. He’s quite squinty, and it’s kind of hard to give him my full attention when he’s leaking tears the way he is.
I step up to him and jab a finger against his chest. “You tell your boss that he’s going to regret fucking with me because it’s the very last thing he’s going to do.”
Fuck, just hearing that man’s name makes me irritated.
The gunman is just staring at me as I walk past him and continue toward the casino. Mostly employees park out here, but the mess will have to be cleaned up before anyone else stumbles on it or it’ll raise some attention… not that this city isn’t used to guns and bodies.
Fuck, would I love to knock down that damn sniper who killed my guards, but gun wielding is not my specialty. My father raised me with the mindset that we were always going to be taken care of by those beneath us and that shooting those who defied us was not what we did.
He was a fucking idiot.
As I walk through the casino, the noise pounds around me. It’s something that’s been an integral part of my life since I was a child when my father built the place, so it’s nothing more than background noise anymore.
I push through the doors into the back room where a group of my men are loitering. When they see me enter, they look surprised, having thought I’d gone home for the night.
“There are two fuckheads who targeted me when I was in the back parking lot. A sniper and a gunman. They killed my guards. Someone go kill them and clean up the mess, please,” I say as I sink down in a chair and lean back while my financial advisor, Harker, raises an eyebrow. A couple of my security guys head out the door, presumably to do my bidding.
Harker is a man I’ve gotten to know through the business side of things, but he’s also probably as close to a friend as I’m going to get. It doesn’t mean we actually do much together, it just means I tolerate him more than the rest. And while his title is as my financial advisor, he does a lot more than that.
He’s about five years older than my thirty-seven, with brown hair speckled with gray. His dark eyes are currently watching me in concern behind blue-framed glasses. Honestly, he’s probably one of the only ones who’d care if something happened to me.
“You hurt?”
I shrug dismissively. “It’s Norn Peterson.”
Harker whistles as he leans back in his chair. “Well… we knew this day would come; he’s been watching you for a long while. It was nice knowing you with a head on your shoulders. Next time I see you, I’m thinking you might not look so pretty.”
I glower at him because of course this is what he has to say. “You’re a fucking irritation, you know that?”
Harker laughs, clearly amused by his own idiocy. Everyone else in the room is dead silent because they all know better than to laugh or ridicule me, but none of them have known me as long as he has. Harker, knowing that I’m not enjoying a lick of this, sighs. “Well, they left you alive. What do they want?”
“For me to sell to him.”
“You’d be absolutely stupid not to.”
I raise an eyebrow, surprised that he’d believe I’m such a pushover. “You honestly think I’m just going to say, ‘Here ya go, I hope you enjoy taking everything I slaved over for the last twenty years of my life’?”
“Yeah, I think you should. He’ll give you enough money for it. You take it and go do something else with your life. You’re not going to win this game.”
“There only needs to be one man dead for me to win this game,” I say.
Harker seems to think I’m hilarious now as he contemplates this. “Yeah. You seem to forget that Norn got his rise to power as a hitman. He literally controls a chunk of the network.”
“So then I need someone better. Simple as that,” I say.
“So fucking simple,” he says dryly.
“I know you have a guy.”
“I don’t have a guy, Iknowa guy,” Harker corrects. “And let me just save you the time… he’s not going to work for you.”
“Call him. He won’t refuse when he hears my offer.”
Harker slowly shakes his head before taking his phone out. “Alright… donotcome bitching to me about your time being wasted when this is over with.” He taps some buttons and holds the phone to his ear.
“Hey, Kade Morris wants to hire you… yeah, I told him that… yeah, I know you’re busy but you’re the only one I can think of… just… fucking hell, he’s not going to go for it… fine. Yeah, bye.”
I stare at him, already not impressed.
“He said he wants to meet you first. He only works for guys he likes, Kade. And you’re not a likeable guy,” he says.
“I’m goddamn Mr. Rogers,” I growl.
That makes Harker laugh as he shakes his head. “Oh, you’re going to die so hard.”
“Fuck off.”
“With that attitude, I’ll be the only one at your funeral.”
I glower at him as he laughs like he thinks he’s hilarious. Everyone else in the room is watching with wide eyes and remaining silent.
“Come to my office tomorrow. I’ll take you to see him,” he says.
“There is absolutely no reason that I need to go.”
“He’s not going to work for you if he doesn’t like you.”
“This is a pain in my ass.”
Harker shrugs. “Be there by ten in the morning. Don’t be late. He doesn’t like it when you’re late, either.”
“Is there anything this person does like?” I ask.
“He’s still ten times more pleasant than you. If I had to be stuck on an island with you or him, I’d pick him or drown myself.”
“You wouldn’t have to do it yourself, I’d do it for you,” I assure him.
“Perfect.”
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.
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.
Marie SextonMarie Sexton lives in Colorado. She’s a fan of just about anything that involves muscular young men piling on top of each other. In particular, she loves the Denver Broncos and enjoys going to the games with her husband. Her imaginary friends often tag along. Marie has one daughter, two cats, and one dog, all of whom seem bent on destroying what remains of her sanity. She loves them anyway.
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.
Davidson King
EMAIL: davidsonkingauthor@yahoo.com
Selina Kray
Marie Sexton
Dealer of Secrets by Davidson King
The Death Under the Dark Arches by Selina Kray
The Last Seer by Davidson King
Reckless Roulette by Alice Winters
