Something wicked this way comes.
FBI Agent Ryan “Mac” McGuinness and con man Henry Page are on the run again. This time they’re headed back to where it all began: Altona, Indiana. Population: some goats. Henry’s not happy about lying low at the McGuinness family farm, but they’ve got nowhere else to go.
While Mac fights to clear his name and Henry struggles with whose side he’s really on, a ghost from the past threatens to destroy everything. And those aren’t the only storms on the radar. Cut off from both sides of the law, Mac and Henry must rely on their tenuous partnership to survive.
If Henry can convince himself to let Mac see the man behind the disguises, they’ll stand a chance of beating the forces that conspire against them. The course of true love never did run smooth, but for the two of them, it might be their only hope.
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“I don’t like cops.”
“I’m an agent, not a cop. And Henry can vouch for me.”
“I . . .” Reluctance was creeping into Remy’s tone. “I don’t know . . .”
Henry sighed and grabbed the phone back. “Rem? I’ll come with him, okay? I’ll come with Mac.”
“Henry . . .” Mac realized he had no way to finish that. Henry, what? Henry, that’s not what we agreed? Henry, that’s not the plan? Well, he should have known better than to figure Henry would stick to any damn plan.
“We’ll see you soon,” Henry said. He closed his eyes. “Love you too.”
Mac stared at the wall and wondered what those words would sound like directed at him. He thought back to the hospital. “Sebastian’s crazy about you. He loooves you.” Well, okay. Mac wondered what those words would sound like directed at him when Henry wasn’t drugged out of his mind and talking about himself in the third person.
Henry set the phone aside. “Says he needs two days. He’s gonna see what he can get together.”
“Is he really gonna get something together? Or is he gonna bolt?”
Henry shook his head. “I don’t know. I don’t think he’ll run. He’s, um, he’s probably more fucked up than me, though. Just FYI.”
Mac rubbed his back again.
“I told myself, after my mom, that I’d never get mixed up with an addict again.”
“But you did.”
“We, um, we hung out on the same street. When it was cold, to keep his hands warm, he did card tricks and coin tricks. Tried to teach me the three-card monte, but I was too clumsy.”
“You? You couldn’t pull off a con?”
“I work with my mouth, not my hands.”
“Apart from the occasional picking of pockets.”
“Apart from that,” Henry agreed. “Theft is easy. You wait until people are looking the other way. The three-card monte though, people know that’s a con. They’re looking for the trick, because they think they can outsmart the dealer.”
“But they can’t?”
“Of course they can’t. It’s a classic for a reason. And, even if they can, well, Remy can run pretty damn fast.”
“You’re pretty quick when you want to be too.” He rubbed his thumb over the knots in Henry’s spine.
“Job requirement,” Henry whispered.
“Not anymore.” Mac made his tone firmer. “When this is done, you’re through running.”
“Yeah, I’m through running.”
Henry stiffened. “Gotta make a living, Mac.”
His throat ached. “Well, I’m willing to date a man with a criminal history, but not one with a criminal future. So it’s up to you.”
“It is.” He tugged gently at Henry’s hair, twisting little elflocks together. “You said your life would have been different if you’d had a family stashed away on a farm. If you’d had somewhere you could go when you needed help. Well, how do you know you don’t have help, if you never ask?”
Henry turned his head to look at him. His face was pale in the moonlight. “I don’t think it’s that simple.”
“I’m not sure of anything, Mac.” Henry turned away again.
Lisa lives in tropical North Queensland, Australia. She doesn’t know why, because she hates the heat, but she suspects she’s too lazy to move. She spends half her time slaving away as a government minion, and the other half plotting her escape.
She attended university at sixteen, not because she was a child prodigy or anything, but because of a mix-up between international school systems early in life. She studied History and English, neither of them very thoroughly.
She shares her house a log-suffering partner, too many cats, a dog, a green tree frog that swims in the toilet, and as many possums as can break in every night. This is not how she imagined life as a grown-up.
J.A. Rock has worked as a dog groomer, knife seller, haunted house zombie, standardized patient, cashier, census taker, state fair quilt hanger, and, for one less-than-magical evening, a server—and would much rather be writing about those jobs than doing them. A lover of m/m BDSM romance, J.A. lives mostly in West Virginia, and always with a beloved dog, Professor Anne.
J.A. Rock is our featured author for the month of March. To celebrate the release of Tempest, we're offering When All the World Sleeps at 50% off!
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items picked especially for you by Henry: a pillow shaped like a donut, and a pair of
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