Book 2 True Detective Series

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Revenge is his game, and Black Hemlock is willing to do anything to settle the score.
For years, Black Hemlock has been biding his time, sulking that bragging rights to a long ago cyber heist was snatched from him. Throw in betrayal and a broken heart, and he has the perfect motive for murder.
Once more True Detective Agency is called in to assist in finding the perpetrator, this time using Carson as bait. Fearless and capable, Carson has no problem going head-to-head with a killer with a penchant for poison.
As the trio delves into the lives and deaths of the victims, a buried secret could destroy them all.


Erotic Romantic Suspense includes elements of BDSM, explicit language, some violence and explicit descriptions of sex.


She stared at him, her face stale.

“Right. You treat the technology like public restrooms; you only touch what you have to.”

“And you wonder why I keep a typewriter.”

“I’ll go ask our resident Geek Squad and see if he can fix it.”

She pulled the dustcover from an old-fashioned typewriter and switched it on. It hummed to life.

“I’ll have my report ready by the time he gets it fixed,” she told him.

The phone rang at her elbow. She picked it up. “Yes?”

“Could you come to my office a moment, please?”

Puzzled, Nathalie hung up the phone.

Nathalie left the office she shared with Matt and paused just outside the door. An array of green plants were situated on a waist-high shelf. She picked up a small spray bottle and spritzed a few of the thirstier plants. She made a mental note to trim some of the dead leaves on the others.

She glanced to her left and Carson’s open door. Matt was seated on a corner of the desk. The waiting area held no reception desk, but it did hold several slate gray leather chairs and a couple of low silver and glass tables. The soft lavender walls were a soothing contrast to the more masculine furniture.

She straightened a jacket on the coat tree before continuing to Sterling’s office. His office was directly opposite the entryway, eliminating the need for a receptionist. She paused on the threshold and tapped on the open door.

He motioned her forward. “Close the door and have a seat.”

She closed the door but stood in front of his desk. “What’s going on?”

“Sit down,” he repeated.

“I’ll stand,” she replied firmly. Knots of apprehension tightened her stomach as she studied the tight lines around his mouth and eyes.

There was always a lingering sadness in Sterling’s eyes, but now worry and maybe a little fear resided in the irises. She twisted her fingers in the folds of her cargo pants. When she realized what she was doing, she forced her hands to relax. Whatever Sterling had to say couldn’t be that bad.

He sighed. “For whatever reason, Jude Murphy is up for parole.”

Nathalie gripped the desk as the world tilted. She didn’t remember sinking into the chair, but she was grateful for the support. “That’s—that’s impossible."

She sucked in a breath, her chest tight. She couldn’t breathe. No matter how hard she forced air into her lungs, they just wouldn’t expand. Pinpoints of light danced before her eyes. Sterling’s gentle voice called to her as if from a distance. She focused on his rich baritone and slowly the pressure eased.

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