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Wednesday, 11 February 2015

The King of Hell's Kitchen by A.J. Llewellyn & D.J. Manly

Tarot cards and BSDM spells “Murder” in Hells’ Kitchen...

Throughout his career as a New York homicide detective, Nash McCleery has seen his share of curious killings, but the latest murders in Hell’s Kitchen come complete with both torture and tarot cards. His search for the murderer leads him to the upscale apartment of Casey Baddock, a professional Dom-for-hire. Nash soon realizes that the only way to catch the killer may be for him to play the role of a sub in a BSDM dungeon.

Casey Baddock is all about control, but McCleery is making him feel a little off center. Can Casey help Nash find a murderer without surrendering his heart?

Genres: Gay/Contemporary/Mystery/Detective/BDSM/Menage (M/M/M)/Group Sex/Voyeurism
Heat Level: 3
Advisory: This book contains some material that may not be suitable for the more sensitive reader. 
Length: Extended Novella (34k words) 

Read a short excerpt...

...Nash McCleery took a seat on his designer sofa. He spent some time looking around, seeming particularly intrigued by one of the paintings on the wall, the torso and lower body of a naked man, sans head. “Where did you get that?” he asked.

“Why? You don’t like it?”

“It’s okay.” McCleery made a face.

“Everyone’s a critic,” Casey said, pouring some Scotch from the bar. “Can I pour you one?”

“I’m on duty.” Nash looked at him. “It seems to me you’ve been in this place for a while, but I’m told by a friend of Joshua’s that you just picked up a rent-controlled apartment.”

“Right.” Casey snorted. “Does this look like a rent-controlled apartment to you?”

“No. That’s why I’m asking.”

He seemed annoyed. Casey liked pissing off people. Especially stressed-out cops. He stood watching McCleery, sipping the drink. “I’m sure that irritating woman Sonia told you that. She was always telling me to leave Joshua. I told her I’d found a place. It made her happy. I frankly think she was infatuated with Joshua. So, anyway, why aren’t you arresting me?”

McCleery tilted his head. “Should I?”

“You’re the cop.”

“This is a nice sofa. Five or six grand?”

“About that.”

“You’re just full of bullshit, aren’t you, Casey?”

Casey put down the glass. “Can you be more specific?”

McCleery rubbed his palms on his thighs. He moved his neck around a bit. He seemed a tense guy, probably with a lot of stress at work, Casey deduced. The man carried the world on those broad shoulders of his. Those types of men burned out fast. The mean bastards with no sensitivity went on and on, but were far less effective at their jobs.

“Tell me about Chris Phantom and Joshua Clayton.”

“What do you want to know?”

“Joshua is dead.”

Casey’s expression didn’t change. “That’s too bad.”

“You must have known.”

“How? Because I killed him, Detective?”

“I didn’t say that.”

“No. You didn’t have to.”

Then something dawned on Casey. The cop did say he was Nash McCleery, Chris’s Nash McCleery. Shit.

“How did you meet Chris Phantom?”

“I could ask you the same question.” Casey met his gaze.

Nash looked startled for a moment, then regained his composure. “He told you about me.”

“He mentioned you, yes. Said you broke his heart.”

Nash laughed.

“That’s what I thought,” Casey replied. “Chris doesn’t have much of a heart to work with. Let’s say you chipped it.”

“Let’s say that.” McCleery seemed to be growing impatient. “How can you afford this place? You were living with Joshua, not paying any rent.”

“Sonia tell you that?”

“She could have.”

“Oh. Did you tell you she wanted to watch me and Joshua go at it?”

“Ah, no. She left out that part.”

“Bet she did,” Casey said. He worked his way over to the chair. He wasn’t sure how his legs managed to hold him steady.

“So shall we start over? I ask one question and you answer, and stop trying to fuck with my head. You’re good at it.”

Casey smiled. “I’m the Master...”

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