On one side of the Atlantic exists a gorgeous abductee consigned to horrors aboard a modern-day slaver’s transport. Wrapped in unspeakable torments of body and soul, Sven struggles to keep alive the small children who shared his prison, at the cost of his own life, if necessary.
On the other side of the Atlantic lives a cop determined to rescue victims before the worst happens. Luis’ efforts, however, fall short, and he discovers Sven among the dead. Agonized, tormented, Luis struggles to find meaning in these horrific events and questions why he’s been called so strongly to someone he’s never met.
True, Luis has never met Sven in this lifetime, but their souls have known and loved in past lives, and they may do so again if Sven’s ghost has any say in the matter...
Genres: Gay/Paranormal/Ghosts/Hauntings/Interracial/Multicultural
Heat Level: 3
Advisory: This book contains some subject matter that may not be suitable for the more sensitive reader.
Advisory: This book contains some subject matter that may not be suitable for the more sensitive reader.
Length: Extended Amber Kiss (14k words)
Read a short excerpt...
...Uncomfortable moments passed as Luis waited for his body to acclimate. When it did, he counted fifty beds. Thirteen stood empty, but for a wafer-thin mattress. Thirty-seven had a dirty sheet and a threadbare, warehouse-type blanket. No pillows. No bathroom either, just the pots.
Six backyard storage sheds had been erected against the eastern wall. “Testing rooms,” they were called in the lingo used by these freaks. Evidence teams worked each one, determined to discover, retrieve, and log each microbe of DNA and strand of hair.
Ditto those who worked the main room and investigated every centimeter.
Christ, he loved those lab geeks. They’d rescued more delicate cases than he could count.
Pushed against the southern wall was a shipping container, the kind that carried light industrial or dry and packaged supplies. Red and rectangular, the steel loomed with chilling and merciless sentiment. It looked like the kind that rode ships and trains worldwide. It also looked like the walls of the container that had held Sven, visible on that hell-born video feed.
It had been shoved inside the warehouse in an obvious attempt to conceal its presence. Therefore, it followed that the container held something illegal. And since it was inside this particular warehouse, that “illegal something” was obvious: abducted kids of various ages, races, and gender. Furthermore, it was a hive of activity for the coroner teams, who moved in and out the barn-style doors.
Fifty beds. Thirty-seven used. No one still occupied a bunk bed. Coroner teams marched in and out. The kid had said, “He’s with the others.”
“No!” The word tore from Luis’ throat.
He moved across the warehouse floor by following a path lined by the yellow-and-black police tape and pushed his way past a score of workers to get inside the container. The miasma of death slammed into Luis with the first breath.
The front section was littered with trash, small nests of cloth—blankets?—and corners full of soiled newspapers, vomit, and more waste. The rear section crawled with personnel, who inched their way between bodies.
Dead bodies.
“Madonna,” Luis whispered. “Por favor, grant them eternal peace.”
He chanted the prayer like a rosary ritual with every step he took toward the dead. He’d been too late! Merciful God, how could such evil exist within Your creation? He’d prayed… God knew how hard he’d prayed. “Please let me get there in time…” Useless.
Why had his prayers been denied? Why had He let these children be stolen and murdered? Why?
“Villanueva? Over here.”
One of the cotton swab-looking workers waved at him. It took a moment before his brain could find the necessary synaptic bridge to recognize his captain’s voice. Dumont stood beside a blanket-draped body and waved Luis toward him.
“Over here,” called Dumont. “I think we’ve found your boy—er, found the Jorvik abductee.”
Luis forced himself to cross the distance and did so with heavy, careless footsteps. In the back of his mind was a vague squawk regarding the potential damage to evidence. In the forefront, however, all he could focus on was his failure.
He hadn’t been in time. Sven was gone.
When Luis was close enough, Dumont leaned over and pulled back the concealing blanket. Sven, that beautiful boy, lay on the floor in cold, stiff death. Luis fell to his knees as the truth hit him with conclusive force. He’d tried, but in the end, his best hadn’t been good enough...
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