Blurb:When Ian Stiller goes to rescue his drunken friend from a BDSM club, he's surprised to find himself attracted to the owner, Daniel Rose. A killing spree throws the two men together when Rose decides he needs his favorite detective to help catch the murderer. Ian's disguise as Daniel's new sub takes a turn for the darker side when the undercover detective begins to suspect the killer is someone close to them.
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Excerpt:
Ian Stiller snapped awake as his cell phone rang. As a vice detective, he heard his phone's ringtone even in his dreams.
Reaching blindly, he batted his hand around the top of the nightstand. His fingers brushed against the plastic case moments before he heard it hit the floor.
Ian leaned over the side of the bed, stretching his body towards the small black case reaching... reaching.
"Ahhh!" With a loud thump he hit the hardwood floor. "Maybe I should've invested in some carpet," he muttered to the cat peeking at him curiously from under the bed. Henry purred and brushed his long fur up against Ian's face. Ian snorted the fluffy strands from his nose, grabbing his cell phone as it started to ring again.
"Hello."
"Ian." A familiar voice on the other end sobbed. "Gary left me."
"Good."
Ian disconnected and laid his cheek against the cool wood looking idly under his bed. Damn, there was a dust bunny revolution going on.
He made a mental note to hire a housekeeper. It might be a luxury, but he didn't have a lot of time or energy to spend his salary so he might as well make sure the dust bunnies didn't eat his cat.
The phone rang again.
A glance at the readout showed his friend Keith Tilden calling again. What the hell did Keith want? Ian wasn't known for his empathy and he hated Gary anyway. To his logical mind, Gary leaving Keith provided a great solution to a bad relationship.
Ian sighed and flipped open his phone. "Yes." Lying on the floor, the particles pressed into his skin. He definitely needed a housekeeper.
"You hung up on me!" Keith said.
His voice slurred, telling Ian Keith had been drinking.
The detective in him went on alert.
"Where are you?"
"At the club."
Even with Ian's well-renowned detective skills, he needed more information.
"Which club?"
"The Twisted Rose."
Ian bit back a curse. The Twisted Rose counted as the largest BDSM club in the Northwest. Keith didn't make the best decisions sober. God knew what kind he'd make, drunk in a bondage club, while wallowing in self-pity.
"Be careful not to get in over your head with some big leather daddy," Ian cautioned. He didn't want to ask but he'd hate himself if he abandoned a broken-hearted friend and found out something horrible happened to Keith. "Do you need me to come get you?"
Keith sobbed into the phone. "Please."
Ian sighed. This was why he kept to himself and didn't make very many friends. Friends were too much fucking work. "I'll be there in a few. How do I get in?"
Keith had spoken previously about the private club. They didn't let anyone in without a membership or exclusive invitation. As far as Ian knew, Keith had been a member since it opened three years ago.
"I'll leave your name at the door as my guest."
"Great."
Ian hung up not bothering to say goodbye. Only for Keith would he drag himself out of bed this time of night. Unfortunately, they'd been friends ever since Keith had done some pro bono work for the abuse victim of a man Ian had put away, and Ian never let his few friends down.
Sleeping in the nude made it easier to get dressed quickly. Thinking he would be returning in an hour or two, Ian didn't bother with underwear, slipping on his favorite worn denim jeans with a hole below his ass and a few rips on his inner thighs. He completed the outfit with a tight red tee that outlined his muscular chest.
As a cop, Ian kept himself in peak condition. The sight of the older cops with their desk job stomachs hanging out worked like a flashing caution sign of the importance of staying fit. Luckily, once Ian reached his top physical condition, he found it easy to maintain.
Glancing at the mirror he ran his fingers through his thick auburn hair, grown straight and long from his last undercover job. He pulled it back with a rubber band exposing the thick rings piercing through both ears.
He sighed at his reflection. Dark circles underscored his bloodshot blue eyes and his two-day old scruff had become a testimony to his exhaustion. Thankfully, he could get away with that kind of shit in vice.
Fuck, he needed more sleep.
Groaning in disgust, Ian grabbed his keys and headed out the door.
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