Quinn Novak is a Honolulu Police Department detective working to solve an unusual string of robberies in the economically depressed town of Makaha Beach. A gang of thieves appears to be trailing pest control units, then breaking into houses tented for termites. So one night, Quinn is assigned to watch over an important actor’s home.
Quinn has one problem, however—he’s afraid of the dark. At first, he seems able to cope with his phobia until he spies two men breaking into the house, and he follows them, despite the dangers of the pesticide and his fear.
Once inside the home, he appears to enter another realm—one in which two hot men desperately want him, and where he has the most incredible threesome of his life. But afterward, once he leaves, he yearns to get back to black…back to the dark and the two sexy men he left behind. Will he ever find them again?
Genres: Gay / Contemporary / Mystery / Detective / Ménage (M/M/M) / Group Sex / Series
Heat Level: 3
Length: Novella (26k words)
..I could hear them moving around the darkened house. They were not quiet. How the fuck had the security guard failed to hear their noise? I sneaked back out from under the tent and crept around front. She was asleep in her seat! I shot a picture of her to back up my claim. I was already violating every state police protocol known to man. Where the hell was Jackie?
Not wanting to wait, I entered the house through an open rear window. Every window in the house was open so I had no way of knowing if this was the suspects’ point of entry. The time stamp on the TV’s cable box gave off enough light that I could see just a little. My eyes began to sting, I was certain, from the poison.
Trying to keep my breaths shallow, I walked slowly through the first room and into the next. I could hear the noise coming from another room.
They were opening drawers, cursing softly when the floor creaked beneath their feet. “They had to have damned floorboards,” one of them bitched.
“Louie,” the other one said.
Oh, shit. The floorboards weren’t creaking under their feet, but mine.
“Somebody’s here,” the second man said. I turned and ran. I went back to the room I’d entered from and heard them close behind me. I grabbed my stun gun and turned, ready to fire, but ahead of me, oddly, was an open window. How did that get here? Had I lost my sense of direction? I didn’t remember a window being here. The room went black and I thought I would choke. It was hard to breathe. I felt hands at my back, pushing me. I resisted but fell through it.
When I toppled over the other side, I wasn’t in the garden of the house in Makaha Beach.
No. I was on a weird-looking street, with tall, angular buildings. Everything was steel-grey, sleek and odd looking. It was as though I’d stepped into a nightmare world of an H.R. Giger painting. It was a freakish dreamscape, and I had the strange sense of being in some kind of tunnel. Everything turned circular. My head was spinning and I fell to the ground, a stream of funny little vehicles whizzing past me.
Man, that’s some fast-acting bug spray. I’m really wiggin’ out here!
I felt as if I were underwater, drowning. One of the little vehicles just missed running over my outstretched hand. Somebody grabbed me from behind and my body was lifted off the ground.
“Gotcha,” a deep, male voice said as he turned me around. Before I could speak or think, his mouth clamped down over mine…
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A. J. Llewellyn lives in California, but dreams of living in Hawaii. Frequent trips to all the islands, bags of Kona coffee in his fridge and a healthy collection of Hawaiian records keep this writer refueled. A. J. loves male/male erotica, has a passion for all animals—especially the dog, the cat and the turtle. A. J. believes that love is a song best sung out loud.