Title: Shards of Trust
Series: The Trust Trilogy, Book Two
Author: Fox Beckman
Publisher: NineStar Press
Release Date: 01/23/2024
Heat Level: 3 – Some Sex
Pairing: M/NB
Length: 73800
Genre: Paranormal, Romance, urban fantasy, interracial, gay, nonbinary, time travel, witch, vampires
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Description
Things are going good for Ravi. Sure, a bunch of vampires want to turn Atlanta into a bloodsucker paradise, and sure, Ravi’s matchmaking aunt keeps shoving available bachelorettes at him left and right. Despite all that, Ravi’s secret affair with the enigmatic time traveler Cayenne is making him happier than he’s ever been in his life.
But Cayenne has secrets of their own, ones they can’t hide any longer, past and future on a collision course to disaster.
When the truth comes out, Ravi and Cayenne face their greatest challenge yet: each other.
Shards of Trust
Fox Beckman © 2024
All Rights Reserved
“Whoa, who are those creepy-looking fuckers?” Harry hands Ravi the binocs and digs out her phone. “You see ’em?”
Emerging from the truck to lurk in the shadows, three unusual men watch the movers intently, occasionally directing them through the delivery doors. The men don’t look to be of the same nationalities, but all three are dressed in expensive outfits of varying fashions. Each has a different stylish affectation; one with waist-length hair, one using an old-fashioned walking stick, and the other large dangling earrings in both ears.
“Yeah, I see them.”
Harry lines up a few shots, pinching the screen to zoom in. She grunts in frustration. “That’ll teach me to leave my good camera in the trunk. Awfully fancy threads. Why are a bunch of guys in Armani suits watching dirt get loaded into a vamp-owned building?”
Ravi can’t help turning to her, incredulous. “That’s a Savile Row suit, Harry.” Also, a Tom Ford sharkskin, and the other only a higher-end Ralph Lauren. But the Brixton navy Savile Row is the most obvious, surely.
Harry rolls her eyes so hugely she runs the risk they’ll fall straight out of her head. “Oh, I’m so sorry. You can tell from here?”
He blinks at her in disbelief. “Yeah.”
She mutters under her breath something about rich kids and trust funds. “I got some decent face shots. Hopefully, I can run them through the recognition software and get some hits. Wanna place bets?”
“My guess would be thralls. Daytime servants.”
“Ah,” Harry says, tapping on her phone. “Renfields, right?”
“I think so.” Ravi ruefully shakes his head. “I’m not the guy to ask. I took out some vamps in London, but I was just on the trigger.” He keeps watch on the action, such as it is, since the movers are finishing up. They load up their equipment, slide up the ramp, and the three men disappear into the building. “Dr. Corbin would know.”
Harry gives him one of her trademark wry smiles. “That’s a zillion times more bloodsucker experience than I’ve had. Hey, speaking of, what do you think the story is with Nate? How’s he know a vampire?”
Her smile is contagious, and Ravi offers one in trade. “You have to ask?”
With a dry chuckle, Harry checks her phone’s progress. “Our Doc, the big flirt.” She scans the street for anything else, but the action is over. Things are again quiet, no suspicious activity to speak of. “Hey, I called in Bobby Hernandez to help out with the footwork. Originally to help with Constance’s old big-bad demon problem, but if this vamp thing goes as shitty as The Trust thinks it will, it can’t hurt to have more eyes on the case, right?”
Ravi slumps down a fraction in the passenger seat before he can clamp a lid on his reaction. He blames the Tequila sunrise. “Robert is coming to Atlanta?”
“What’s that look for? You seemed to get along well during the whole”—Harry waves her hand expressively, annoyance obvious at the absurdity of her sentence—“that time we were shrunk down by the warlock with the magic dollhouse. That thing. He’s a good PI, with a lot more experience under his belt than me. I thought you two were buddy-buddy?”
Ravi gives her nothing but a blank stare.
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Prone to diving way too deep down research rabbit-holes and absolutely incapable of working without a curated playlist in the background, Fox Beckman lives in the Twin Cities and has far too many irons in the fire. Fox is writer, an artist, an occasional wrangler of kangaroos, a longsword fencer, an archer, a roller of dice, and a forager of mushrooms that aren’t deadly (probably).
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