Closer: Bay City Paranormal Investigation book 4

by Ally Blue

  To learn more about Ally Blue, please visit http://www.allyblue.com. Send an email to Ally at ally@allyblue.com or join her Yahoo! group to join in the fun with other readers as well as Ally! http://groups.yahoo.com/group/loveisblue/.

  Look for these titles by Ally Blue

  Now Available:

  Willow Bend

  Love’s Evolution

  Oleander House

  Eros Rising

  What Hides Inside

  Catching a Buzz

  Fireflies

  Twilight

  Untamed Heart

  Closer

  Coming Soon:

  The Happy Onion

  An Inner Darkness

  Where the Heart Is

  In this world, trust is hard to find…and the one thing they need to survive.

  Poison

  © 2008 Joely Skye

  Tobias Smator lives down his late father’s execution by avoiding the spotlight—and responsibility. He doesn’t mind what people think of him as long as they leave him alone. Still, in this unremarkable half-life he’s fashioned for himself on deceptively low-tech Rimania, he’s not safe from political intrigue. Someone wants him dead.

  Alliance operative Geln Marac’s orders for his first assignment were simple: Stay uninvolved. Those orders go out the window, however, when he delivers an antidote to save Tobias from death by poisoning. His reward? Possible betrayal that lands him in the hands of police interrogators. To protect the Alliance, Geln resorts to a temporary mindwipe.

  Tobias is fascinated by the amnesiac man who saved his life. But Geln has attracted the attention of the high-powered Lord Eberly, who would use him as a pawn. Rather than sacrifice Geln to the political wolves, Tobias chooses to embrace his heritage.

  Geln’s memory reawakens to a precarious situation with no source of protection—except Tobias. There’s only one way forward for both of them.

  Trust—or die.

  Warning: this book contains hot nekkid otherplanetary manlove.

  Enjoy the following excerpt for Poison:

  After Tobias returned from the outside world, Geln told him, “Take off your clothes.”

  That brought Tobias up short. But then he walked to Geln and stopped, a gleam in his eye that made Geln a little breathless.

  “You first,” said Tobias.

  Geln slowly shook his head.

  “I was naked last time,” Tobias pointed out.

  “Half-naked,” Geln amended.

  Tobias shrugged one shoulder to indicate he didn’t think it made a difference.

  “All right.” Geln decided this wasn’t an impasse he was interested in keeping. “Strip yourself,” he added as he pulled off his shirt. A naked, responsive Tobias would be easier to work on. Dressed, Tobias wasn’t quite vulnerable enough.

  They stood nose to nose. “Lie down,” said Geln.

  A small half-smile played on Tobias’s face. He gripped both of Geln’s arms, gentle but firm, and pulled him to the bed so they sat together, Geln’s legs draped over Tobias.

  “I don’t want to lie down,” Tobias said softly, an edge there that surprised Geln. He could feel his heart kick up and couldn’t tell if it was exactly lust or fear or both. His cock hardened though.

  Tobias still had hands wrapped around each of Geln’s arms, an odd kind of embrace, as if Tobias didn’t fully trust him. Perhaps, Geln’s earlier ministrations had made him uneasy. Geln skimmed a hand down Tobias’s side, the movement restricted by Tobias’s clasp.

  His lover sucked in a breath and Geln did it again, enjoying the response.

  “If you let go of me, I’ll touch you all over,” Geln promised. “In case you haven’t noticed, you like it.”

  “I like it,” Tobias admitted, “but I’d rather you come this time.”

  “Don’t worry about that,” Geln murmured and clasped Tobias’s wrists, lifting his hands off. Before he could do more Tobias was kissing him, palms back on him, one on his neck, the other just under his arm. A thumb stroked the sensitive underside.

  Geln shuddered and Tobias angled his mouth to kiss more deeply, tongue playing with Geln’s, insisting, asking for more.

  He wanted to give way, he did, but it was hard.

  “Trust me, even if I don’t know what I’m doing.” This said against Geln’s ear and then he was pushed onto his back. Well, whatever “stuff” Tobias and the stable boy had gotten up to… That thought got lost as Tobias’s teeth came down on Geln, grazing the sensitive skin around his nipple, and Geln sucked in a long breath. A palm lay flat on his stomach now, warm, reassuring and he turned to see question in Tobias’s eyes.

  “Whatever,” said Geln.

  “Whatever?” repeated Tobias, somewhat taken aback, and his lust-darkened eyes seemed to lighten.

  “I mean”—Geln swallowed—“whatever you want, I want.”

  Very slowly, Tobias wrapped a hand around Geln’s dick, all the while watching.

  “I guess I don’t make a great top,” Geln said dryly, “though I was trying.”

  Tobias cocked his head as he ran a thumb across Geln’s slit. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  Geln gave a small hoot of laughter, which just made Tobias more baffled. “Don’t worry, neither do I. Besides, I don’t make a great bottom, either.” Geln pushed up, deciding that he’d better stop talking before he caused Tobias to lose all confidence.

  He ran fingers through Tobias’s hair. “I don’t think I’ve ever been with someone so lovely.” He kissed lightly, with some tongue. “I’m sorry I’m such a mess.”

  Tobias, he noted, hadn’t released his dick. “Don’t be sorry about this, about us,” Tobias said in low tones.

  “No. No.” To his dismay, Geln’s voice was shaky. He wrapped himself around Tobias’s neck and buried his face in Tobias’s throat. Strong arms held him and Tobias started up again, kissing, touching, exploring; and Geln gave it back. He didn’t care if he came first, he just wanted to be with someone who noticed what was going on in bed.

  When he was close, just from Tobias’s hand, Tobias shot him a glance, bashfulness there. “I don’t have much practice, well, any practice…”

  “Yes.”

  Tobias scooted back and bent over, hot breath touching Geln’s dick before his mouth took him in, a little unsteady, a little unsure while finding a rhythm.

  Sometimes a kiss is worth more than a thousand words.

  Unspoken

  © 2006 Willa Okati

  Once a famous vocalist, Ian has become mute through a mysterious set of circumstances that no doctor can explain. He has people he can call on, but what he really needs is a best friend, a companion, a lover. The very person he’s been looking for is about to arrive on his doorstep.

  At a low point, Ian encounters a strange man in his garden—a wandering musician, like the bards of older times. Andy accepts Ian for who he is, lack of voice included, and reassures Ian that love itself is one of the greatest forms of expression.

  Will Ian coax Andy to stay, save him, and share with him a love that will not be denied, even if it goes unspoken?

  Enjoy the following excerpt for Unspoken:

  As they entered the clean eating space, Andy laid a hand on Ian’s shoulder to get his attention and smiled ruefully when he turned around. “It’s just come to me that I’m a bit too dirty to be entering a spotless kitchen like this one.” At Ian’s puzzled look, Andy tapped the side of his nose. “Give me a moment. Does this door lead to the outside?”

  Ian nodded. Andy brought his hands together in a clap of satisfaction. “Wonderful! I won’t go any further than the yard, I promise.”

  Before Ian could think to stop him, Andy had plunged outside again, into the thick of the pelting, cold rain. Ian darted to the window and stared in disbelief. The man’s insane.

  Outside, Andy whooped and spun in circles, his feet dancing an almost Irish jig through piles of leaves as the pouring water soaked him instantly to the skin, his shirt going transp
arent. Ian’s gaze was drawn to the play of muscles in the man’s chest and the two dark brown nipples showing through. Thirstily, he drank in the sight until he realized what he was doing and stopped himself.

  I’m lusting after this stranger now? Ian, get a grip.

  “This’ll take care of the worst of my road grime!” Andy shouted, running both hands through his sopping hair. He loosed a burst of wild, fey laughter. “Here now, come and join me!”

  Ian withdrew slightly, startled. Go out in the middle of a storm? Not on his life.

  “Ah, come on, man. This’ll put color in your cheeks, so it will.” Andy spun in circles and went jumping through small piles of leaves. He stopped with his hands outstretched toward the window where, no doubt, he saw Ian watching.

  Their eyes met. A pulse of something—odd—passed between them, jolting Ian’s bones with a low thrum of electricity. He flinched away from the sensation at first but then, sensing how a cord of the tingling power stretched between himself and Andy, relaxed into the feeling. His very bones began to warm as he turned away, feeling Andy follow, attached to him by the strange sort of chemistry they shared.

  Ian had never felt anything like this with anyone. Gabriel had had his charms, as had the other men Ian had kept company with from time to time, but there was never a moment of pure connection where two souls had been lain bare to one another. Ian had the oddest feeling that when Andy had looked at him, he’d seen beyond flesh and bone to something deeper within. Something he recognized—yes, and approved of.

  Was it all a little too strange to be real? Too sudden? Oh, yes. Ian had no illusions that he’d stepped foot-first into sheer madness. On the other hand, did he want to question that which made him feel safe and protected? Oh, no.

  The sound of rain, lulling and soothing, pinged off the old tin roof above Ian’s head. He paused for a second to enjoy the sound, one he’d favored since his childhood, at the same time wishing he were brave enough to go pelting outdoors with this wild king of the road.

  Watching Ian, Andy came to a stop and favored him with another of those wide, warm grins. “It’s all right,” he called easily. “Try it someday, though, will you? You’ll love the way this feels.”

  Revenge can’t heal a wounded soul.

  Untamed Heart

  © 2008 Ally Blue

  When Leon Fisher finds his lover butchered in their bed, he does what any good assassin would do—he gets revenge. But killing the murderer doesn’t make the pain go away. Instead, it sends him on a vicious downward spiral into alcoholism and depression.

  In a bid to force Leon to sober up and regain his edge, his mysterious employers—known only as “the organization”—send him to a private property in the wilds of Alaska. In the lush and remote Tongass National Forest, Leon encounters Grim, a strange but alluring young man who saves Leon’s life after a bear attack, then brings him to a cabin in the depths of the woods to recover.

  Leon doesn’t expect to fall in love with this odd, subservient person, yet he can’t deny what he comes to feel for Grim. But Grim has a past he doesn’t talk about. A past just as dark and ugly as Leon’s. And both pasts are about to catch up with them.

  Warning, this title contains the following: explicit male/male sex, graphic language, intense violence, drug and alcohol use, and references to past abusive situations.

  Enjoy the following excerpt for Untamed Heart:

  Frank Gold never locked his doors.

  Leon Fisher, who’d been watching Frank’s house from the park across the street for the last week, was relieved by this fact. It meant entering the house after Frank was asleep that night would be a piece of cake.

  In any other circumstances, Leon would’ve been annoyed. He rather enjoyed a challenge, and what challenge did an unlocked door present?

  Of course, finding the man hadn’t presented much of a challenge either. A few well-placed threats, enough money in the right pockets, and Leon had all the information he needed. The many aliases hadn’t fooled him any. It was easy enough to put together the puzzle pieces of Frank’s history.

  Leon had lost the capacity to be surprised by the incompetence of law enforcement ages ago, or he might’ve been shocked by the sheer number of crimes Frank Gold had committed over the years without ever seeing the inside of a prison. But then again, getting away with murder—literally—was far easier than most people thought. All it took was cast-iron balls and a staggering amount of arrogance. Most serial killers, at least in Leon’s experience, had that in spades.

  Not that it would help Frank tonight, Leon thought, smiling grimly behind the magazine he was pretending to read. No lock could’ve kept him out. Frank Gold had signed his own death sentence the day he murdered Ted.

  Which, of course, was why Leon was currently relieved rather than annoyed. Sure, he loved a challenge. This time, however, all he wanted was revenge.

  The hours passed, and the park emptied as the mild afternoon faded into the hard chill of a January evening. At six o’clock, Frank Gold left his house and walked briskly down the street. Leon knew where he was going—Hoffman’s Deli, three blocks down. Frank went to Hoffman’s every day at six p.m., bought a roast beef sandwich with horseradish sauce and chips, and took it home to eat.

  Folding his magazine, Leon rose, picked up his bag and headed the other way, to the Thai place around the corner. Ted had loved Thai food. Leon had never cared for it before, but lately he found himself developing a taste for it.

  Much later, Leon sat under the big oak in the park and watched the light from Frank’s TV flicker in his living room window. Shielding his watch with one leather-gloved hand, Leon hit the button to light up the digital display. Nine thirty. In half an hour, Frank would turn off the TV and go to bed. Without locking his doors.

  He followed the same routine every single night, which had made it ridiculously easy for Leon to lay his plans. Yes, it would have been more satisfying if his target didn’t behave as though he actually wanted someone to walk into his house and kill him. But that was secondary. Mostly, Leon looked forward to watching Frank Gold suffer and die.

  Leon waited another hour after the light went off in Frank’s house before moving out from under the tree. Black bag in hand, he strolled across the street and into the yellow glow of Frank’s porch light. He didn’t bother to check and see if anyone was watching, just walked briskly up to the door and opened it. If you acted like you had a God-given right to be there, he’d found, you could walk in practically anywhere and people wouldn’t question it.

  The hinges squeaked when Leon entered the house and shut the door behind him, but the faint sound wasn’t enough to wake Frank. His bedroom was in the back of the single-story building, and he always kept the door shut. Leon had learned this by climbing the backyard fence and watching Frank prepare for bed four nights in a row.

  Those nights, it had taken all of Leon’s strength to resist the urge to kick in the window, leap into the austere little room and beat Frank Gold’s head against the floor until it burst like an egg.

  Such a death was too quick and easy for the bastard.

  Leon’s fingers clenched on the handle of his equipment bag. In a few minutes, the contents of that bag would make Frank Gold wish he’d never targeted Ted Stevenson as a victim in his torture-and-murder game.

  Silence. Dread. Ropes and blood and blue eyes…

  Leon shook himself, forcing back the images and the rage which always went with them. Not now, he ordered himself as he stalked down the short hallway to Frank’s bedroom. Save it for Frank.

  Twitching his jacket aside, Leon drew his gun and flicked the safety off. The suppressor was already in place over the muzzle. He slipped his bag over the wrist of his left hand, opened the door to Frank’s bedroom and aimed the gun directly at the salt-and-pepper head faintly visible on the pillow. The bed was situated with the wooden-slat headboard against the wall to Leon’s right. Frank lay on his right side, putting his back to the door.

  His un
locked bedroom door.

  Either suicidal, or stupid. Not that it mattered. He was dead either way.

  Moving with the speed and accuracy of long practice, Leon crossed to the bed, dropped the bag on the floor and jammed the gun’s muzzle against the base of Frank’s skull. He heard the sharp intake of breath when Frank woke, and felt a surge of fierce satisfaction.

  “Roll onto your stomach,” Leon ordered, in the cold, crisp voice he used for face-to-face kills. “Hands behind your head, fingers laced. I’m sure you know the drill.”

  Frank did exactly as Leon said, rolling onto his front and lacing his fingers behind his head. “Am I under arrest?”

  Leon had to laugh at that. “I’m not a cop, Frank.” Whipping the handcuffs from his pocket, Leon cuffed Frank’s wrists to the headboard. “Roll onto your back again.”

  “How? You’ve restrained my wrists so that I—”

  “Just fucking do it.” Leon backed up enough that Frank wouldn’t be able to kick him. “Now. Before I lose my patience.”

  Frank obediently turned over, much less gracefully than before. Leon waited. He wanted to look Frank in the face. Wanted to watch his pain. Wanted to watch the life drain from his eyes.

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