Tate sat beneath the covers, his iPad propped up against raised knees as he scrolled down the screen. His brow furrowed as Clay climbed in next to him. “Look at this. Rick’s sent me the police report from Dixon’s case. No one could find them earlier in the station. He made a stink about it and hey, presto. Now we have it.”
Clay picked up his reading glasses from the bedside table, unfolded them, and perched them on his nose. “What am I looking at?” he enquired, peering over at the tablet.
Tate’s finger moved across the screen as he pointed out areas of interest. “The man who alerted the cops didn’t find the body himself. He saw a severed hand, and what appeared to be a costume, then called the cops.”
Clay blinked. “But Dixon wasn’t missing any hands.”
Tate nodded. “I know. Turns out it was a prop, something used in a previous production of who knows what. The place was full of old stage stuff.” He ran his finger across another area of the report. “The cops checked it out, just in case, and they were the ones who discovered the real live body.” He sniggered. “Well, not live, but you know what I mean.”
Clay did. His partner’s dark and often twisted sense of humour was entertaining even if sometimes it bordered on being downright scary.
Tate frowned. “They found Dixon in the basement, still dressed in his fox costume. He must have had his suit on underneath, because, look here.” Tate pointed to what looked like an amateur mobile phone shot. “There’s a cufflink right there.”
Clay leaned in and sure enough, there was a gold cufflink in the shape of a fox in the right shirt cuff. “Hmm,” he mused. “The report says he’d collapsed there on the spot. Then the doctor on scene confirmed it looked like a heart attack and that was it. No bloody post-mortem or anything.” He rubbed his chin thoughtfully. “He must have been boiling in his suit and the costume. I suppose it was a cold night, and it was raining, so that might explain it. I’d be interested as to why no one saw a man dressed as a fox walking down to the theatre. I mean it’s not that far from the club, but the area is populated.”
Tate nodded. “I wondered about the lack of witnesses too. Someone should have seen something. And how could the cops not find the death suspicious, even a little, when the man was wearing a fox costume over his suit?”
Clay picked up his reading glasses from the bedside table, unfolded them, and perched them on his nose. “What am I looking at?” he enquired, peering over at the tablet.
Tate’s finger moved across the screen as he pointed out areas of interest. “The man who alerted the cops didn’t find the body himself. He saw a severed hand, and what appeared to be a costume, then called the cops.”
Clay blinked. “But Dixon wasn’t missing any hands.”
Tate nodded. “I know. Turns out it was a prop, something used in a previous production of who knows what. The place was full of old stage stuff.” He ran his finger across another area of the report. “The cops checked it out, just in case, and they were the ones who discovered the real live body.” He sniggered. “Well, not live, but you know what I mean.”
Clay did. His partner’s dark and often twisted sense of humour was entertaining even if sometimes it bordered on being downright scary.
Tate frowned. “They found Dixon in the basement, still dressed in his fox costume. He must have had his suit on underneath, because, look here.” Tate pointed to what looked like an amateur mobile phone shot. “There’s a cufflink right there.”
Clay leaned in and sure enough, there was a gold cufflink in the shape of a fox in the right shirt cuff. “Hmm,” he mused. “The report says he’d collapsed there on the spot. Then the doctor on scene confirmed it looked like a heart attack and that was it. No bloody post-mortem or anything.” He rubbed his chin thoughtfully. “He must have been boiling in his suit and the costume. I suppose it was a cold night, and it was raining, so that might explain it. I’d be interested as to why no one saw a man dressed as a fox walking down to the theatre. I mean it’s not that far from the club, but the area is populated.”
Tate nodded. “I wondered about the lack of witnesses too. Someone should have seen something. And how could the cops not find the death suspicious, even a little, when the man was wearing a fox costume over his suit?”
Welcome to Fetish Alley!
Susan attained PAN status with the Romance Writers of America with her first M/M book, Stripped Bare. She’s currently a member of The Society of Authors in the UK, and the Authors Guild in the US. She enjoys being a member of Queer Romance Ink, All Author, Book + Main Bites and the Paranormal Romance Guild.
The ‘Unofficial’ stuff
She loves going to the theatre, live music concerts (especially if it’s her man crush Adam Lambert) walks in the countryside, a good G &T, lazing away afternoons reading a good book, and watching re-runs of Silent Witness.
Her chequered past includes being mistaken for a prostitute in the city of Johannesburg, being chased by a rhino on a dusty Kenyan road, getting kicked out of a youth club for being a ‘bad influence’ (she encourages free thinking), and having an aunt who was engaged to Cliff Richard.
Win an eBook set of Feat of Clay and Damaged Goods
TWO MEN.
TORN. TORTURED. LOVED.
Though they went their separate ways, Tate Williams and Clay Mortimer have been crazy about each other since their school days. Clay went into the SAS. Tate became a cop. Neither mentioned their attraction to the other. Both sought out danger. Both found it.
Imprisoned and shot in an undercover assignment gone wrong, Tate somehow survived…and found his way back into Clay’s arms. His old friend is now the owner of an elite investigation agency and everything any man could want: patient, handsome, commanding. And Clay knows what it takes to survive. But Tate can’t bring himself to share all his secrets, nightmares that force him to rebel against everything. He finds solace from his past as a graffiti artist, a childhood passion, but his demons drive away all who might care for him. Only when he faces that past—and learns that everyone has tasted despair—can the two men truly be brothers-in-arms…and more.
❤️ ❤️ ❤️ ❤️ ❤️
THE SWEETEST GIFT
Tragedy and horror shaped Jackson Grady's life, leaving him orphaned and scarred. At eighteen he's ready to claim his future, but who could love his disfigured face and damaged soul? Definitely not a big, burly, beautiful Irish Traveller who is entirely the stuff of dreams.
Dare Rowan didn't mean to become obsessed with the blue-eyed man he first saw across a field, but that porcelain skin and innocent air demanded another meeting. Jax has the face of a wounded angel, and the rest of the young man is as heart-breakingly perfect. Jax is beautiful in every way and teaching him about love and life will be something Dare will embrace. Like unwrapping and savouring the candy at the shop where he works, Dare will show this young man everything Jax desired but never thought he'd have, and take Jax to new highs while he holds him through the lows. Between them, they’ll find out just how sweet life can be.
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ReplyDeleteCongrats on the new book! It looks fantastic.
ReplyDeleteThank you so much for being part of the tour :) It's very appreciated xxoo
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