Evil's Embrace [Investigating Love: 2] by L.M. Somerton

Author:L.M. Somerton [Somerton, L.M.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Mystery & Detective, Romance, BDSM, Psychotic Killer, Undercover
Publisher: Totally Bound Publishing
Published: 2014-05-24T14:00:00+00:00

Chapter Eight

Warehouses loomed on either side of the grubby street, blocking out most of the light and turning mid-afternoon into a gloomy grey parody of daytime. The gutters were clogged with litter, and shattered glass covered the pavement where the sporadic street lights had clearly been used for target practice by the local yobs. Chunks of brick testified to that sport. In a doorway that reeked of stale urine, a pile of newspaper and filthy blankets moved to reveal an ageing tramp clutching a plastic bottle of meths. The atmosphere was depressing. Conor looked up at broken windows and imagined malevolent eyes peering down at him. He gave an involuntary shiver and took a harder look at the front entrance to Spikes.

In comparison to its neighbours, the bar was housed in a building that looked relatively well cared for. The windows were unbroken, probably because panels of heavy metal mesh covered them. The steps and the pavement directly in front of the club had been swept clean and it looked as though a power hose had been employed to scour away the detritus of the previous night. The double-width front door was panelled with sheets of studded steel and held closed with an enormous padlock.

Conor wore a pair of ancient black jeans, one of Alex’s old T-shirts that was a bit baggy on him and a plain black leather bike jacket that he had had for years, battered and very comfortable. He hadn’t shaved that morning and there were dark circles beneath his eyes thanks to Alex’s mission to keep him up all night…literally. He smiled to himself at the memory and massaged his bruised wrists.

Later he would be going back to the tiny, damp bedsit that he’d moved a few things into earlier that day—something he wasn’t looking forward to. He just hoped that the case would be resolved quickly and painlessly—he wasn’t sure how he was going to cope with being away from Alex for long. He could be alone—it was just that he knew he would miss him terribly.

He squared his shoulders and crossed the street. A narrow side alley led to a back door that was guarded by a huge bearded bouncer who was built like a tank. Conor was just over six foot tall and this guy towered over him. The bouncer’s longish hair was pulled back into a lank ponytail that grazed the collar of his denim jacket. The edges of extensive tattoos emerged from his T-shirt at the neck and there was a skull and crossbones inked onto the back of his beefy hand. Sharp brown eyes that were shaded by a set of bushy eyebrows examined Conor from head to toe. The tattooed giant ran his tongue across his lips suggestively before he spoke, “What can I do for you, pretty boy?”

The guy was practically drooling and Conor was feeling slightly anxious just looking at him. God only knew what thoughts were running through the big man’s head. Conor didn’t want to know.

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