The Lucky Cat
Page 1
Table of Contents
Books by L.M. Somerton
Title Page
Legal Page
Book Description
Dedication
Trademark Acknowledgements
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
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About the Author
Pride Publishing books by L.M. Somerton
Single Books
Mountain Rescue
Black Dog
The Portrait
Stroke Rate
Chemical Bonds
Testing Lysander
Owned by the Sea
The Wyverns
Mantrap
Deathtrap
Rattrap
Sand Trap
Steel Trap
Tales from The Edge
Reaching the Edge
Living on the Edge
Dancing on the Edge
A Double-Edged Sword
Rough Around the Edges
Scorched Edges
Driven to the Edge
Binding the Edges
Investigating Love
Rasputin’s Kiss
Evil’s Embrace
Tarot’s Love
Warlocks
Elemental Love
Elemental Hope
Elemental Faith
The Retreat
Serving Him
Trusting Him
Fairground Attractions
Ghost Train
Merry-Go-Round
Helter Skelter
Treasure Trove Antiques
The Lucky Cat
Anthologies
Racing Hearts: Keeping the Luck
His Rules: Tagging Mackenzie
Hard Evidence: Secret’s Hold
Treasure Trove Antiques
THE LUCKY CAT
L.M. SOMERTON
The Lucky Cat
ISBN # 978-1-83943-066-4
©Copyright L.M. Somerton 2020
Cover Art by Louisa Maggio ©Copyright September 2020
Interior text design by Claire Siemaszkiewicz
Pride Publishing
This is a work of fiction. All characters, places and events are from the author’s imagination and should not be confused with fact. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, events or places is purely coincidental.
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced in any material form, whether by printing, photocopying, scanning or otherwise without the written permission of the publisher, Pride Publishing.
Applications should be addressed in the first instance, in writing, to Pride Publishing. Unauthorised or restricted acts in relation to this publication may result in civil proceedings and/or criminal prosecution.
The author and illustrator have asserted their respective rights under the Copyright Designs and Patents Acts 1988 (as amended) to be identified as the author of this book and illustrator of the artwork.
Published in 2020 by Pride Publishing, United Kingdom.
No part of this book may be reproduced, scanned, or distributed in any printed or electronic form without permission. Please do not participate in or encourage piracy of copyrighted materials in violation of the authors’ rights. Purchase only authorised copies.
Pride Publishing is an imprint of Totally Entwined Group Limited.
If you purchased this book without a cover you should be aware that this book is stolen property. It was reported as “unsold and destroyed” to the publisher and neither the author nor the publisher has received any payment for this “stripped book”.
Book one in the
Treasure Trove Antiques series
Antiques and ammunition do not mix well.
The antique trade is not known for its life or death excitement and Landry Carran is happy that he has to contend only with furniture polish, woodworm and his irascible boss. He gets all the thrills he needs at his favorite BDSM club, Scorch.
Detective Gage Roskam is hunting stolen jewels taken from a Tokyo exhibition then shipped to Seattle. Mired in a deadly race involving the Yakuza, an enigmatic Englishman and too many indecipherable clues, he doesn’t have time to indulge in Dominant fantasies.
When their worlds collide, neither Landry nor Gage expects things to get quite as complicated—or dangerous—as they do. When Landry steps into the path of some powerful, ruthless people, it’s up to Gage to protect him. Along the way they might just discover what they both need.
Dedication
With thanks and love to Paul and Will.
Trademark Acknowledgements
The author acknowledges the trademarked status and trademark owners of the following wordmarks mentioned in this work of fiction:
Munchkin: L. Frank Baum
Vikings: MGM Television
Starbucks: Starbucks Corporation
Anglepoise: George CarwardineF
Simple Green: Sunshine Makers, Inc.
Lassie: Eric Knight
Mohawk Blue Label Paste: Mohawk Finishing Products
The Addams Family: Charles Addams
The Importance of Being Earnest: Oscar Wilde
Netflix: Netflix, Inc.
To Catch a Thief: Paramount Pictures
Vans: VF Outdoor
Lexus: Toyota Motor Corporation
Prius: Toyota Motor Corporation
Jeep: Fiat Chrysler Automobiles N.V.
Lucky Charms: General Mills, Inc.
Secret Squirrel: Hanna-Barbera Productions, Inc.
Hong Kong Phooey: Hanna-Barbera Productions, Inc.
Archer: FX
Harry Potter: J.K. Rowling/Warner Bros.
Labyrinth: TriStar Pictures
Skype: Microsoft Corporation
Nike: Nike, Inc.
Magnum: Magnum, P.I., Universal Television
Remington Steele: MTM Television Distribution Group
Krispy Kreme: JAB Holding Company
Shrek: DreamWorks Pictures
Kermit: Jim Henson/The Walt Disney Company
Twinkies: Hostess Brands, Inc.
Cheetos: Frito-Lay, Inc.
Band-Aid: Johnson & Johnson
Tylenol: Johnson & Johnson
The Maze Runner: 20th Century Fox
Burberry: Burberry Group plc
Disney: The Walt Disney Company
Batman: DC Comics
Jell-O: Kraft Food Group, Inc.
Lycra: DuPont de Nemours, Inc.
Cookie Monster: Jim Henson/The Walt Disney Company
Sharpie: Newell Brands Inc.
Wendy’s: The Wendy’s Company
Wikipedia: Wikimedia Foundation
Walgreens: Walgreens Boots Alliance, Inc.
Miss Marple: Agatha Christie
Hercule Poirot: Agatha Christie
Hamlet: William Shakespeare
“We know what we are, but know not what we may be”: Hamlet, William Shakespeare
Amazon: Amazon.com, Inc.
DHL: Deutsche Post AG
Candy Crush: King.com Limited
Chapter One
Sometimes there were advantages to being vertically challenged. Landry, his ass sticking out from under a seventeenth-century folding card
table, paused to contemplate other occasions when his five-feet-six-inch stature had been of benefit. Not when attempting to get served at his favorite leather bar, though getting squished between all those black-clad hunks was always bearable. He snorted. Not when reaching for his preferred brand of chips at the market, which were always on the top shelf. Put there, he was sure, by the snotty assistant manager as revenge for Landry turning down his offer of a quick blow job in the staff restroom. As if. Never at family meals when he got to sit between his older twin brothers like a blond munchkin between two extras from Vikings. He reversed, wiggling his back end to avoid a willow-patterned platter balancing on a brass coal scuttle. His knees ached and he’d banged his elbow on a cast-iron fireguard, but he had rescued the battered cannonball making an escape attempt beneath teetering piles of stock.
“Well, there’s a pretty sight.”
“Hey!” Landry went for indignant rather than flattered. He tried to get up too soon and banged his head on solid, woodworm-free oak. “Fuck me!” He finally made it to open air and scrambled to his feet, rubbing his already messy hair into further disarray.
“Is that a request?”
Landry looked up…and up…into a pair of twinkling pale-blue eyes. The customer, because that was who Landry guessed the newcomer must be, was drop-dead, my-ass-is-yours gorgeous and he was grinning. Well, smirking.
“Funny man. What can I help you with, sir?” Landry gritted his teeth and remembered that Mr. Lao, his boss, would swat him like a bug if he snarked at a potential patron. Though, on this occasion, it might be worth it to mess with the man.
“Another leading question.”
Landry rolled his eyes. Black hair, blue eyes and a stubbled, chiseled chin did not equate to a free pass. “The massage parlor is three doors down, just before St. Peter’s. You can get a full-body whatever then confess all in the space of an hour.” He made an ineffective attempt to brush dust from the knees of his ripped black jeans. Blue Eyes reached into his jacket and produced a wallet, which he opened to display a Seattle PD badge and ID card.
“Gage Roskam. Is your boss around?”
Landry was more turned on than intimidated by the badge. Cop plus handcuffs equaled sexy time. Every cop he’d ever met had had a ‘don’t fuck with me’ attitude and a natural bent for control—just the type of man Landry liked to mess with. He batted his lashes. “And what makes you think I’m not the boss?”
“You’re not a sixty-eight-year-old Chinese guy by the name of Jian Lao?”
“Very observant, Officer. All that training paid off.” Landry put an extra bit of swing into his hips as he walked toward the cash desk at the rear of the shop.
“Putting your tax dollars to work, brat.”
“Hey! Aren’t you supposed to call me sir, what with you being a public servant and all?”
“In your dreams, and you should show more respect for law enforcement.”
“Gonna make me?”
“You’re lucky I’m on duty or I’d bend you over the nearest flat surface and give you the spanking you’re begging for.”
“Is that line in the big bad cop manual?” Landry scuttled behind the cash desk, relieved that it reached to his waist and therefore hid his burgeoning erection. “Because I don’t think it’s very professional.”
“I use language appropriate to the situation.” Gage grinned. “I can give you my badge number if you wanna make a complaint. Then again, if you’d like to engage in a deep and meaningful conversation about your attitude, you can use this number.” He grabbed a pen from a pot next to the cash register then scribbled his number on the top sheet of the pile of wrapping tissue.
Landry nibbled on his lower lip. He got propositioned a lot but there was something about Gage that appealed to him. He might as well have had ‘Dominant’ tattooed across his forehead, and that pushed all Landry’s submissive buttons. He’d also called Landry out on his snarky attitude, which had the dual effect of stimulating Landry’s intellect as he decided on the most appropriate retort and giving him the urge to drop to his knees. He resisted the latter option.
“Now you’re the one who’s dreaming. Mr. Lao isn’t here.” Landry checked his watch. “And as he headed out to lunch with a bunch of cronies from his bowling club, I don’t expect him back any time soon. So is there anything I can help you with that won’t involve me getting arrested?”
Gage gave him an intense look, which made Landry squirm and wish he’d put on a looser pair of pants that morning. “Fine. I have some pictures I want you to take a look at.” Gage pulled out his phone.
“How kinky are they?” Landry asked. “Because I think you should know there’s some stuff I’m just not into.”
“Only some stuff? You do surprise me. Are you into receiving stolen goods?”
“No! Of course not.” Landry bristled. “Treasure Trove Antiques is a reputable establishment. Mr. Lao doesn’t buy anything without checking out its provenance and I don’t buy anything at all because Mr. Lao won’t let me yet. I can’t tell the difference between Ming dynasty and tourist trash made in some underground sweatshop in Kowloon, though he is trying to teach me. I’m kind of his apprentice.”
“If I show you a bunch of pictures, would you know whether you have the items in stock?”
“That I can do.” Landry couldn’t help but preen a little. “Mr. Lao has trouble remembering what day of the week it is. He relies on me to be able to lay my hands on anything the customers are looking for, and in this place…” He gestured at the cavernous space piled high with row upon row of stock. “That’s nothing short of miraculous.”
“Then is there somewhere we can sit, because this may take a while?”
“I’ll have an extra-large, skinny, vanilla latte and a brownie.”
Gage sighed. “You’re lucky I’m a patient man. Where do you suggest I go for those?”
“Now that depends.” Landry tapped a finger against his lips. “You don’t look like a Starbucks man, but there’s one down the block if that floats your boat. The café next door is a small independent place and there’s not much I wouldn’t do for a regular supply of their baked goods.”
“What does a Starbucks man look like? No, don’t tell me. I don’t need to know.”
“My cooperation is contingent on provisions.”
“So you’re telling me you accept bribes?”
“Absolutely. So long as they involve chocolate. Or coffee. Preferably both and in large quantities.”
“I’ll be five minutes. Don’t go anywhere.”
“Perhaps you should cuff me, Officer.” Landry blinked.
“It’s Detective, and don’t tempt me.” Gage strolled toward the exit. Landry kept his gaze glued to the man’s ass, wishing that his jacket didn’t cover it quite so well. He licked his lips and pushed the heel of his hand against his erection.
“Down boy. Behave. You’re going to get me into so much trouble… Not that I wouldn’t enjoy engaging in a little crime and punishment role play with Detective Roskam.”
A carved, Middle Eastern table not far from the cash desk would allow Landry to keep an eye on the register while he helped out Mr. Hot Detective. He dragged a couple of sturdy 1930s chairs down an aisle, setting them behind the table. He also directed the battered Anglepoise lamp on one corner of the cash desk toward the table to give a bit more light, because Mr. Lao kept the place in semi-darkness in the hope that some of the customers wouldn’t look too closely at what they were buying.
There were a few people browsing the aisles and Landry rang up a purchase for a young couple who’d found a pressed-glass art deco vase for a parent’s birthday. He’d just finished wrapping it, having been careful to preserve the sheet of tissue with Gage’s number on it, when Gage returned carrying a cardboard tray of coffee and a paper bag. Landry eyed them, happy to see they came from the café next door. He wished his departing customers well then made a grab for the bag, poking his nose inside to find two sizeable brownies, double choco
late chip cookies and two white chocolate and blueberry muffins.
“Color me impressed,” Landry muttered around a mouthful of brownie. “Oh my God, this is so good.”
“Anyone would think you hadn’t been fed for a week.” Gage set the coffees on the table. He slipped off his jacket and hung it on the back of one of the chairs.
Landry couldn’t help but admire the way his shirt pulled tight across his broad chest. The man is fit! I would pay good dollars to take a peek beneath that cotton. “Hey, don’t judge. I woke up late because I forgot to set my alarm and didn’t have time for breakfast. Normally I’d sneak next door, but Mr. Lao went out before I got the chance and I can’t leave this place unattended. He has spies everywhere and he’d know, even if I only locked up for five minutes. There’s a kettle in the back but he only keeps tea. Tea! The man is deranged. He thinks coffee belongs in satanic rituals. There’s something seriously wrong with him. He bought the kettle in England when he was there on a buying trip and now he gets tea sent over every few months because he fell in love with some brand he can’t buy here.”
“Have you finished?” Gage sat down, adjusting the chair so he could stretch out his legs, crossing them at the ankles.
“Why, do you have somewhere more interesting to be?” Landry pouted.
“I’m pretty sure I could find somewhere less frustrating to spend time.” Gage handed over one of the coffees. “Here’s your concoction.”
“I suppose you think it’s unmanly to drink anything but strong black stuff.” Landry removed the lid of his cup and breathed in the sweet aroma. “You should try this. It might improve your temper.”
Gage took one of the cookies from the bag. “I’m plenty sweet enough for you.”
“Is that so? And what makes you think I’m interested in sweet men?”
“I’d guess that’s the last thing you’re interested in, or need. A brat like you requires a firm hand.”
From Gage’s tone, Landry guessed he’d be more than happy to provide that hand. “And there you go again with the inappropriate comments. Don’t you have some pictures to show me?”