Retired LAPD detective Quiddity Flight yearns for action, adventure, and good old-fashioned romance. He’s about to get it all...and it might just be the death of him.
Just as Quiddity accepts an insurance-fraud case, looking into the lifestyle and allegedly fake injury of multi-millionaire soccer player João del Sol, he finds that del Sol is deeply attracted to him.
But Quiddity has bigger problems on his hands. Del Sol is the best thing that’s come his way in a very long time, yet somebody apparently has it in for the sexy-but-slightly-grizzled, silver-fox cop. Missing posters start popping up around town offering a reward for information on his disappearance. Except he hasn’t disappeared. Then, new posters begin offering higher rewards for information about his murder. Except Quiddity Flight is still very much alive, and he’s not gonna sit around waiting to read his own obituary...
Just as Quiddity accepts an insurance-fraud case, looking into the lifestyle and allegedly fake injury of multi-millionaire soccer player João del Sol, he finds that del Sol is deeply attracted to him.
But Quiddity has bigger problems on his hands. Del Sol is the best thing that’s come his way in a very long time, yet somebody apparently has it in for the sexy-but-slightly-grizzled, silver-fox cop. Missing posters start popping up around town offering a reward for information on his disappearance. Except he hasn’t disappeared. Then, new posters begin offering higher rewards for information about his murder. Except Quiddity Flight is still very much alive, and he’s not gonna sit around waiting to read his own obituary...
Genres: Gay/Contemporary/Action/Adventure/Mystery/Detective/Sports/Athletes/BDSM (Light)
Heat Level: 3
Length: Novella (22k words)
Length: Novella (22k words)
Read a short excerpt...
...Raymond looked Quiddity right in the eye. “And if Besson is the murderous type, you can keep an eye on del Sol and make sure no harm comes his way. He could not be in safer hands.”
Quiddity’s heart swelled at the unexpected praise. Being an ex-cop was worse than being a previously convicted felon in some circles.
He thought for a moment. “So if you have some evidence, and there is an investigation already going on, why do you need me?”
“We don’t have proof. Even the paparazzi who claim to have seen him dancing in nightclubs have nothing on record. We don’t want João del Sol to have any idea he’s being watched. You’re the most discreet detective I know.” Raymond paused and lowered his gaze.
It had been painful for Quiddity who’d done one case for Raymond, snooping into his wife’s affairs. And affairs she’d been having. Galore. For months, Quiddity assumed his discovery of her crazy sex life of hookups via Tinder, had been the reason Raymond stopped hiring him.
“João del Sol lives on Arnaz Drive in Beverly Hills. He’s in a sprawling duplex worth a couple of million. The unit next door is empty. My idea is for you to move in and spend some time ogling, I mean watching him.”
“He’s easy on the eye, that’s for sure.” A month in Beverly Hills hadn’t been on his agenda, but Quiddity had no reason to go back to his place. He thought of the strange Missing posters and the fact that somebody had broken into his home.
A month in Beverly Hills suddenly seemed like a great idea. He scanned the attached photos of the duplex. It was gorgeous. An original 1920s Spanish-style house, it had been converted into two units, each with its own pool.
“Is this furniture in there?” he asked Raymond.
“Yep. It was rented out to a ballerina. She and her husband have moved out. I’ll arrange for some extra things to be delivered this afternoon. They kept the place half-empty because they practiced dancing all the time.”
Quiddity’s cell phone rang. He checked the readout and was surprised to see it was the café in his building.
“Mind if I take this quick call?” he asked Raymond.
“Not at all. Let me get the keys to the duplex for you. Can you start right away?”
When Quiddity nodded, Raymond looked relieved. “Here. Take your case notes.” Quiddity stuck them into his messenger bag next to the Missing posters, then took the call.
It was his waiter friend, Greg Hand.
“Quiddity, are you okay?” Greg asked, sounding agitated.
“Yeah, why?”
“Well, man, I saw these freaky posters all over the place. I thought…hell, I don’t know what I thought.”
“Oh, you mean the Missing posters? That’s somebody’s idea of a lousy joke.”
“A joke? I don’t see any Missing posters, Quid. These are posters of you saying you’re dead. There’s a reward for information on your homicide...”
Quiddity’s heart swelled at the unexpected praise. Being an ex-cop was worse than being a previously convicted felon in some circles.
He thought for a moment. “So if you have some evidence, and there is an investigation already going on, why do you need me?”
“We don’t have proof. Even the paparazzi who claim to have seen him dancing in nightclubs have nothing on record. We don’t want João del Sol to have any idea he’s being watched. You’re the most discreet detective I know.” Raymond paused and lowered his gaze.
It had been painful for Quiddity who’d done one case for Raymond, snooping into his wife’s affairs. And affairs she’d been having. Galore. For months, Quiddity assumed his discovery of her crazy sex life of hookups via Tinder, had been the reason Raymond stopped hiring him.
“João del Sol lives on Arnaz Drive in Beverly Hills. He’s in a sprawling duplex worth a couple of million. The unit next door is empty. My idea is for you to move in and spend some time ogling, I mean watching him.”
“He’s easy on the eye, that’s for sure.” A month in Beverly Hills hadn’t been on his agenda, but Quiddity had no reason to go back to his place. He thought of the strange Missing posters and the fact that somebody had broken into his home.
A month in Beverly Hills suddenly seemed like a great idea. He scanned the attached photos of the duplex. It was gorgeous. An original 1920s Spanish-style house, it had been converted into two units, each with its own pool.
“Is this furniture in there?” he asked Raymond.
“Yep. It was rented out to a ballerina. She and her husband have moved out. I’ll arrange for some extra things to be delivered this afternoon. They kept the place half-empty because they practiced dancing all the time.”
Quiddity’s cell phone rang. He checked the readout and was surprised to see it was the café in his building.
“Mind if I take this quick call?” he asked Raymond.
“Not at all. Let me get the keys to the duplex for you. Can you start right away?”
When Quiddity nodded, Raymond looked relieved. “Here. Take your case notes.” Quiddity stuck them into his messenger bag next to the Missing posters, then took the call.
It was his waiter friend, Greg Hand.
“Quiddity, are you okay?” Greg asked, sounding agitated.
“Yeah, why?”
“Well, man, I saw these freaky posters all over the place. I thought…hell, I don’t know what I thought.”
“Oh, you mean the Missing posters? That’s somebody’s idea of a lousy joke.”
“A joke? I don’t see any Missing posters, Quid. These are posters of you saying you’re dead. There’s a reward for information on your homicide...”
Oh gosh, posters now depicting Quid's death not just the missing posters, I think the stalker is angry with De Sol's attraction to the detective? I hope its not a publicity stunt....?
ReplyDeleteI love mysteries, as well as romances, so thank you for a chance to win this set of books.