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
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About the Author
Pride Publishing books by L.M. Somerton
Single title
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
Investigating Love: Rasputin’s Kiss
Investigating Love: Evil’s Embrace
Investigating Love: Tarot’s Love
Warlocks
Warlocks: Elemental Love
Warlocks: Elemental Hope
The Retreat
Serving Him
Anthologies
Racing Hearts: Keeping the Luck
His Rules: Tagging Mackenzie
Fairground Attractions
GHOST TRAIN
L.M. SOMERTON
Ghost Train
ISBN # 978-1-78651-696-1
©Copyright L.M. Somerton 2018
Cover Art by Erin Dameron-Hill ©Copyright November 2018
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 2018 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”.
GHOST TRAIN
Book one in the Fairground Attractions series
The ride of your life could be your last.
Garth’s summer job running the ghost train at the local amusement park is supposed to be a stress-free way to earn some much-needed cash. His Goth looks are a bonus as far as his boss is concerned. The sunshine is a stark contrast to the macabre, spooky scenes inside the ride, but when one of the corpses proves to be more realistic than it should be, shadows are cast on the summer.
Clem sees potential in the moody fairground assistant with spiky hair and pretty blue eyes. He can’t wait to explore Garth’s submissive nature. But Clem isn’t quite what he seems and he might be all that stands between Garth and a violent death. Earning Garth’s trust won’t be easy in a world where secrets can mean survival.
Dedication
To everyone doing things that scare them.
Trademark Acknowledgements
The author acknowledges the trademarked status and trademark owners of the following wordmarks mentioned in this work of fiction:
Interview with the Vampire: Warner Bros. Entertainment Inc.
Audi: Volkswagen Aktiengesellschaft
Alice’s Adventures in Wonderland: Lewis Carroll
Tannoy: Tannoy Ltd
2CV: Peugeot S.A.
Harry Potter: J K Rowling
Voldemort: J K Rowling
Frankenstein: Mary Shelly
Fast and Furious: Universal Pictures
Mensa: Mensa International
Chapter One
“Four teas, my lovelies. Food’ll be out in a minute.” Mo, proprietor of the eponymous Mo’s Café, deposited her tray on the edge of the table before setting a steaming mug in front of each of her four customers. “You boys back for the summer then?”
“Why else would we be here taking in the delights of your homage to seventies décor, Mo?” Garth accompanied his words with a sweep of his hand, displaying black-painted nails. He got a clip around the ear for his trouble.
“Cheeky boy.” Mo grinned. “It’s good to see you. You all look the same—except you, sweetie.” She ruffled Stevie’s candy-floss hair. “This was blue last year, but the lilac suits you.”
Stevie blushed to the roots of his mop and started to play with the salt cellar. Zach squeezed his shoulder.
“It’ll go well with the products on your stall, Stevie.”
Stevie gazed at him, his silver-gray eyes huge. “I’m not working at the candy-floss concession this year, Zach. I’m going to be running the carousel.” He sounded proud.
“Wow! That’s quite a promotion. The carousel’s a prime spot and so much fun. Dad’s put me back on the helter-skelter, which I think is his way of telling me I need more exercise, and Garth is on the ghost train as usual.”
Garth grinned. “Where else would he put me?” He flicked an imaginary piece of lint from the shoulder of his black leather jacket. “I fit right in.”
“What is it they call all that black?” Mo asked. “Gouda, gaudy… No, neither of those sounds right. Ghastly?”
“He’s a Goth, Mo,” Zach explained, raising his voice to be heard above his friends’ laughter. Mo wandered back to the counter, muttering about weird fashion sense and clothing better suited to funerals.
Garth shrugged. “She loves me.” He extracted a black lipstick from his jacket pocket then applied a fresh coat. “Last year she asked me if I’d been an extra in Interview with The Vampire. That film came out in 1994. I wasn’t even born!” He sniffed and examined his fingernails. “What about you, Adam? What’s Zach’s dad got you doing this year?”
Adam pushed his shoulders back and stuck his chest out. “Security. Same as before. He said I have to keep you three in line.” He raised his mug of tea in a toast. “Though he also admitted it was a hopeless task.”
Garth gave his friend the once over, admiring his well-muscled physique. Adam looked exactly like the county and England rugby player he was. He was a head taller than the rest of them at six foot four. Garth only made six feet because of his thick-soled biker boots. Stevie, the smallest of the group, had topped out at five foot six and Zach only a couple of inches more. Stand them in a line and they made a great slope.
�
��You have more chance of convincing Mo not to serve black pudding with her full English. Never gonna happen.” Zach clinked his mug against Adam’s. “But have at it. Stevie at least will enjoy you telling him what to do.”
Adam’s half-laugh told them that he would enjoy that just as much. Stevie’s pale cheeks pinked.
“Don’t tease me,” he muttered, not making eye contact. “You’re no different.”
Garth had the chance to contemplate Stevie’s words as Mo arrived to deposit four heaped plates in front of them. His arteries hardened as he examined the fragrant display of fried food. He inhaled the aroma before stabbing a sunshine-yellow egg yolk with his fork. “This summer, we’re going to find the men of our dreams. Pride week will ensure there’s plenty of choice. It’s just a shame that blokes don’t come labeled. It would save a lot of time and angsting if you could just check a tag that said Dommy top, loves Shibari or Spankable sub seeks firm hand. That kind of thing.” He loaded his fork with bacon.
“So what would our tags say, genius?” Adam asked.
Garth raised a sculpted eyebrow. “I think Zach is the man to answer that one.”
Apparently realizing he was under intense scrutiny from all three of his friends, Zach chewed, swallowed then took a swig of tea.
“Well, Stevie’s easy. Sweet, shy size queen seeks extra-large Dom for pain-free pleasure.”
Stevie shrugged. “He’s good.”
“What about me?” Garth asked.
“Emo brat pain slut, loves bondage, the stricter the better.”
Scowling, Garth stuck his tongue out. Zach was spot on.
“He got you too, Garth,” Stevie crowed. “Now it’s Adam’s turn.”
Zach chewed on a piece of thick sausage, looking as if he were thinking it might provide suitable inspiration. “Over-protective Dom needs sub to take care of. Love of chastity essential.”
Adam shoved a loaded fork into his mouth. He chewed and nodded in tandem. “Tag me now. I’m in.”
“So what would your label say, Zach? Do you know yourself as well as you think you know us?” Garth asked. “It’s one thing to describe your friends’ kinks but entirely another to admit your own out loud.”
“Zach only has eyes for one man,” Stevie said. “A certain tall, dark professor in the maths department.”
Garth and Adam murmured their agreement.
“Shame he’s not interested,” Zach said. “My tag will read unrequited lust a specialty.”
“Professor Raynott is gorgeous,” Stevie admitted. “But scary. I don’t think I’ve ever seen him smile. Is he even gay?”
“He has a rainbow sticker in the back window of his Audi,” Zach said. “I live in hope.”
“Stalker!” Stevie waved a knife at him.
Zach shrugged. “My gaydar is non-existent. I wanted to know if I was barking up the wrong tree.”
“More like an over-enthusiastic puppy peeing on the trunk.” Adam snorted tea. Garth and Stevie fell about laughing.
“I’m glad you all find my love life, or lack of it, so amusing.” Zach chuckled. “Even if I don’t hook a duck with the hot professor’s number on it, the summer promises to be entertaining.”
“True,” Garth agreed. It wasn’t raining, Mo’s breakfast was scrummy and he had two months to earn some cash and have fun with his friends. If any of them got lucky in the love lottery, they would celebrate together. “Life is good.”
* * * *
Garth removed his leather jacket then placed it in the cubby reserved for his personal items. Ritual fashion humiliation came with the job. He could wear his own black trousers, but the royal blue polo shirt was compulsory. It had the amusement park’s logo emblazoned across the back and Garth wouldn’t have chosen to wear it if his life depended on it. He considered himself lucky to be working the ghost train. It was only two years old and state of the art—a much cooler place to work than the helter-skelter or the carousel. Zach would be run ragged, dragging coir mats around, and Stevie would be in a permanent state of giddiness.
The ghost train’s special effects were terrifying and passengers expecting the kind of bone-shaking cheesy ride they might have experienced in their childhoods got the shock of their lives. Each carriage traveled through the ride on its own and, inside the cavernous warehouse that housed the experience, the layout was designed in a way that meant no carriage ever passed another. There was even a second story reached by a ramp, a tunnel and a section across a pool of inky water. An automatic camera took pictures of each car as it came through the exit doors. The expressions on customers’ faces as they emerged into daylight were priceless.
The entire ride was run by a computer and a lot of complicated electronics. All Garth had to do was switch it on, recite safety instructions to the occupants of each car then press the button that sent them on their way. Customers could view their pictures on a big screen, but purchases were made via a central booth, so he didn’t have to worry about taking money. It was mindless stuff, but he still had to be alert for any issues with the ride.
Every now and again, everything ground to a halt until he rebooted the computer. If that did happen, he had a Tannoy system to reassure anyone stuck inside. It wasn’t difficult, the pay was okay and, best of all, he had plenty of time to give the occupants of the carriages a quick once-over in the hope of spotting Mr. Right. Of course, he hadn’t the slightest idea what he might do if he did find Mr. Tall, Dark and Dominant, but he had plenty of time to daydream about the possibilities. It gave his brain a break from the intricacies of molecular physics and his skin a nice dose of vitamin D.
A bell sounded, signaling that the park had opened. The noise level built as rides whirred into action and pop music mixed in a clash of discordant harmonies. Soon the air would fill with the scent of hot dogs, toffee apples and deep-fried doughnuts all fighting for control of the visitors’ olfactory senses. Garth focused on his building line of customers and got to work.
By the end of the day, his head was pounding. His back ached and his neck was so stiff he suspected a steel rod connected his skull to his spine. All he wanted to do was go home, soak in a hot bath for at least three hours, then crash. After a few days he’d get used to the work and the physical demands it placed on his body. Muscle memory didn’t last a whole year and sitting in lecture theaters or the university library didn’t prepare him for standing all day, bending over the cars on the ride. Home, however, was still a bike ride away.
Stevie always stayed with Zach over the holidays because his parents lived abroad, so he would catch a ride with Zach and his dad. Adam was a local like Zach, and lived within walking distance of the park, at his parents’ place. He had a fantastic bedsit over their garage. Garth’s student accommodation allowed him to rent year-round. He had a self-contained flat with its own bathroom and tiny kitchenette, which suited him down to the ground. His unit was one of several in a block, in an area of extensive student housing. Over the summer it was very quiet. Neither of his immediate neighbors had stayed for the vacation, so he could play his favorite Goth rock music as loud as he liked without upsetting anyone. He lived within a short stroll of the university library, which meant he could also get ahead with his coursework for the coming year. Physics fascinated him and he was looking forward to getting started on his dissertation.
He rolled his shoulders, groaning at the creaks. Cycling across town was not going to be fun. He did his final checks, shutting everything down. The last music went silent and colored neon turned to darkness. The quiet was a relief. Garth reached into his cubby to pull out his jacket and wallet then jumped at a touch to his shoulder. He yelped, banged his head on a shelf then fell back on his arse in an ungainly sprawl.
“What the…” He rubbed at his sore skull.
“Sorry, I didn’t mean to startle you.”
Garth raised his eyes to view his tormentor. His neck protested as he tipped his head back, then even farther back. He eyed the extended hand with suspicion but decided that, a
s he’d already made a complete idiot of himself, accepting assistance couldn’t add to his humiliation.
“Can I help you?” Garth was pulled to his feet so fast he lost his balance and stumbled. The stranger steadied him with a hand on the small of his back. Warmth soaked through Garth’s thin shirt.
“You okay? I don’t want you bruising that cute backside any more than it already is.”
Garth gulped before gathering his inner snark. “Do you think it’s appropriate to be commenting on my arse? We just met. Who are you?”
Even in the dim light, Garth could detect the glint of amusement in steel blue eyes.
“Clem Chadwick, Sentinel Computer Services. Nice to meet you, Garth.”
“How do you know my name?” Garth scowled, even though his traitorous dick was twitching with excitement.
“You mean, apart from the name badge pinned to your chest?” Clem chuckled. “Your boss told me. I have to install a patch on the ghost train computer and had to wait ’til closing to do it. He said you wouldn’t mind hanging around for a few minutes.”
“I suppose not—so long as it is just a few minutes. It’s been a long day.” Garth went to sit in one of the cars, feeling grumpy. “Help yourself. I haven’t locked the cabin door yet, but you’ll have to power up again.” He didn’t try to hide his irritation.
Clem quirked an eyebrow. “Quite the brat, aren’t you?”
“Again with the personal comments! I’m tired and cranky. Sue me.”
“Spank you, more like.” Clem turned away with a grin.
Garth gaped. He was torn between running away and shouting Yes, please!
“Jesus. Fuck. I must be more tired than I thought,” he muttered, watching Clem from beneath his lashes. The man was a vision in those black jeans and there was no harm in fantasizing. He drifted into a doze, imagining what it might be like to be under Clem’s control, bound in his ropes, arse exposed for his hand or cane. In his dreams, there was no way that Clem would turn out to be either straight or vanilla. He shuddered and a small moan escaped his lips.
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