About Inland Empire
Written by James Buchanan
196 pages / 89000 words
ISBN: 978-1-60370-732-9, 1-60370-732-8
Available file types - html, lit, pdf, prc, epub
Nicky and Brandon are back, and this time they're on Brandon's turf.
Nicky's still on disability when he comes to Riverside to visit Brandon and pick up his 'Querida' from the Bakersfield's impound lot. Brandon loves having Nicky around, but at the same time, he's worried someone might find out that Nicky's more than just a friend.
When Nicky becomes involved with the Task Force Brandon's on, the tension ratchets higher as Brandon's paranoia about being outed increases. Will his inability to step out of the closet mean the end of his relationship with Nicky? Or will the danger of the case they're on make it all a moot point?
Find out in this exciting sequel to Cheating Chance.
Review
Mychael Black, author of the Breakdown series, writes:
Detective Brandon Carr and his lover Gaming Agent Nick O’Malley are back in this action-packed sequel to Cheating Chance. Except this time, Nick is working with Brandon’s department.
Asian gangs are wreaking havoc in the city, and Nick’s been brought in to help Riverside. While his help is needed, it doesn’t sit too well with Brandon, who’s still firmly in the closet at work. With Nick around, Brandon’s going to have to be extra careful.
When work becomes too much, made worse when his homophobic landlady evicts him, Brandon lets it get to him. Unable to face the chance of coming out at work, Brandon risks losing something far more important than his job or his apartment.
Now he has to find a way to work everything out before it all comes crashing down beyond repair.
Inland Empire blows Cheating Chance right out of the water! I’ve always been a huge fan of Nicky and Brandon, and Buchanan’s insane ability to toss hot men, hot sex, and hot action into one book just amazes me. There’s not much downtime in Inland Empire, and believe me, you don’t want it. The action keeps going from start to finish, and only leaves you wanting more.
If you’re a fan of Nicky and Brandon (or of James Buchanan’s in general), then you absolutely will LOVE Inland Empire!
Sample
Weaver grumbled under his breath as they joined the mass exodus. Brandon had to dodge and swerve to keep up, but Weaver just plowed on through, his frame tending to cut a wake through any crowd. Catching up to him at the door to Vice, Brandon snagged Weaver’s collar to get his attention. “We got anything going on tonight?”
One eyebrow crawled up as Weaver turned on his partner and crossed his arms; he gave Brandon the quarter back stare Brandon had dubbed the look: part calculation, part intimidation.
Intimidation games had never worked well on Brandon, especially Weaver’s. While Brandon carried less bulk, he had more muscle and at least a few inches on his partner in the height department. That meant Weaver had to look up to stare him down. Brandon snorted. “I need to bail for a bit later and go run an errand.”
Settling his mass against the door-jamb, Weaver thought for a moment. “What errand, Baby D?” Weaver was as much his supervisor as partner.
Brandon waited for a group of uniforms to pass before answering. When he did respond, he kept his voice low. “I got to...” he hesitated a bit, “pick up Nicky at the airport.” He and Weaver were still at the not-comfortable-with-my-partner-being-gay phase. Not that Jeff Weaver said anything, but Brandon could tell. Any time the conversation went anywhere near Nicky, Weaver was quick to change the subject. “Now that the asshole who tried to kill him has pleaded, he can get his car back. We’re going to grab it out of CHP impound while he’s here.”
“Hmm.” Weaver stared across the hall, drumming his fingers on his arm. “What time does his flight get in?”
Not wanting to discuss it where anyone other then Weaver might hear, Brandon pushed past the man into the cramped den inhabited by Vice. Chestnut Station was marginally better than Orange Street HQ, but it had been built when detectives still dressed in suits and used rotary dialed telephones. Unplanned urban sprawl had hit the city so fast that they just kept jamming desks in instead of building something more modern. Threading through the maze of file cabinets, desks, and chairs, Brandon grabbed his messages out of the mail box. Only the big guys got voicemail.
Perching on the edge of someone’s workspace, Brandon flipped through the slips of paper. Nothing terribly urgent, just a few follow up calls on some of his old cases. “Ten-thirtyish. I’ll take it as a dinner break.” He and Weaver were currently on the two to twelve shift.
Still framed in the doorway, Weaver grumbled. “We got to hit the street in a bit.” Weaver’s eyes went narrow. “So after we do our little interview with the guy who claims some other Joe is running a stable out of his joint, you want me to ferry your ass all the way back here so you can get your bike? That’ll be an hour round trip at least. You’ll be late.”
“I’ll be quick.” Nervous habit kicking in, Brandon fiddled with the series of rings running down the outside of his ear. He’d have had to lose the jewelry on any assignment but Vice. “I told Nicky I might be a little late.” If Nicky had been a girlfriend instead of a boyfriend nobody would have given a damn about him taking a little personal time.
Glancing at his watch, Weaver growled. “Fuck, Brandon, its four now. There’s at least two hours worth of reports sitting there. We’re supposed to meet our complainant at eight. Plus actually do some police work.” Like he was trying to drill brains into Brandon’s skull, Weaver reached out and thumped Brandon’s forehead with thick fingers. “Look, we’ll go talk to our guy and then we’ll head over to the airport.”
“You don’t have to, Jeff. It’s out of your way and I can just handle it.”
“Actually, coming back here is really out of my way.” Weaver coughed and pushed away from the wall. “But you know what, I’m kinda curious. I want to see what kinda guy could make you become Mr. Responsibility all of a sudden. Almost every week you’re out to see him. ‘I can’t make dinner at your place ‘cause Nicky needs me to drive him to physical therapy tomorrow.’ In Vegas no less. I know guys who’ve married girls they didn’t do that shit for. So, I want to know.”
Brandon shrugged and he fell into step beside his partner as they headed toward the mass of files awaiting their attention. “You’ve never asked to see a picture or anything.”
Weaver thumped the edge of Brandon’s high-and-tight hair cut with his index finger, “You’ve never offered to show me one.”
“True.” Brandon shrugged. “I never have.”