About Shooting Gallery
by Kate Roman
107 pages / 30100 words
ISBN: 978-1-61040-126-5
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Mick Reese is a Korean War veteran turned private eye, making a living sifting through the seedy underbelly of 1953 Cincinnati. But the night he busts into the Shooting Gallery, a casino cum criminal hotbed, all that changes. Accidentally rescuing Julian Marion, only son of a notorious crime boss, doesn't bode well for Mick's life expectancy, but Mick hadn't planned on falling for Julian like a ton of bricks. Now they've got to find some way to escape a city on high alert and a madman bent on revenge. Every time Mick feels his resolve failing, he just looks in Julian's eyes and keeps on going.
Review
Alexa Snow, author of Sleeping Stone, writes: Mick Reese is a private
investigator with a shaky income, so when he's hired to rescue a young
drug-addicted woman from a casino known as the Shooting Gallery, he
doesn't ask a lot of questions. He isn't expecting to come out of the
place dragging more than one person behind him, but he does - and the
bonus individual is Julian Marion, son of the crime boss who owns the
casino. Slender and covered with bruises, yet with the manners of a
prince, Julian fascinates Mick in more ways than one, and Mick finds
himself determined to keep Julian safe no matter what the cost.
Here is a story that starts with a bang and moves on smoothly with
little time for restive contemplation. The action is unrelenting, making
this a quick and extremely satisfying read. The main characters are
appealing to the point where it would be impossible not to hope they get
their happy ending, and clever enough that it doesn't feel as if it's
handed to them on a silver platter. Despite the people working against
them, teamwork and determination prevail. There's a definite sense of
good winning out over evil, a sense that karma will reward or punish
those who deserve it. The story is told from Mick's point of view,
giving the narration a strong presence and the action a true urgency
that really adds to the experience for the reader. A wonderful romance
that has it all -- excitement, emotion and erotica!
Sample
Mick Reese swore as Angie stumbled, her plum-painted
fingernails digging into his skin. He caught her as she fell, shivering and
crying weakly into his jacket.
Mick knew what came next. He tried to stay out of the way as she noisily
vomited on the threadbare, gold carpet lining the narrow hallway.
When Angie recovered, he brushed away both her apologies and thanks. "Thank
me when we finally manage to get out of this nuthouse." She wiped a hand
shakily across her mouth, smearing already feathered lipstick. Her bloodshot
eyes were wide and unfocused.
"C'mon." Mick tugged Angie forward, doing most of the walking for both of
them. He indicated a narrow red door at the end of the dingy hall. "We're
almost there, okay? Through the door, down the steps and bam! You're a free
citizen again, and nothing Richard Marion can do about -- "
From a painted bronze door at Mick's shoulder came the unmistakable sound of
leather hitting flesh, then a choked off cry. Mick's heart tore in his
chest. He'd known from the start this case would be a doozy, and since he'd
taken Angie's sister's money, he'd seen and done things that made Korea look
like a Kiwanis luncheon. But something about that one voice, the raw,
frightened emotion it carried, stopped Mick in his tracks. He put an ear to
the door.
"Mr. Reese," Angie whined. "Mr. Reese, they'll be back soon, and -- "
Mick silenced her with an angry gesture, then pointed to the red door. "Go!"
he whispered hoarsely. "I'll meet you outside."
Angie started to protest and Mick shook her thin shoulders. "No time! Get
going! I'm right behind you!"
She took a few tottering steps, tripping on the broken straps of her
high-heeled shoes, then snuck a peek back at Mick.
With an oath, Mick gave her ass a firm smack, then pointed at the door.
Nodding, eyes filled with tears, Angie stumbled along the hall toward the
exit.
Behind the bronze door came the sound of a fresh strike: the snap of a whip
carving flesh, then another choked off cry. The noise ended abruptly, its
place taken by dark, low chuckling.
Mick frowned, pressing closer until his ear made contact with the peeling
paint.
Abruptly, the chuckling gave way to the twang of bedsprings and a frenzied,
animal-like wailing that froze Mick's blood. With a savage cry, he reared
back and kicked the door open, slamming it against the wall.
On a stained yellow coverlet, a naked boy of perhaps eighteen lay
spread-eagled, his back and buttocks lined with thin red welts. He was
tethered roughly to the bed, wrists handcuffed to the headboard and ankles
wrapped in thin chains that led away over the coverlet's edge. The bonds
were so taut as to give the lad no room to escape his vicious punishment,
and his straining muscles were limned with sweat. Under matted blond curls,
a pair of wide blue eyes turned in appeal to the door. Mick sagged against
the doorframe, overwhelmed by the sight of someone so beautiful so ill-used.
"You've just made the mistake of a lifetime, friend," a low voice snarled.
"And I'll make sure it's the last one you'll ever regret."
Mick's eyes flew to the room's other occupant. At the foot of the bed was a
burly, hideous ogre of a man, like something that had clawed its way free
from a Grimm's fairytale. Naked save a filthy towel tied around his waist,
the man was covered in a pelt of thick, dark fur. It began at his ankles and
crawled up over his thighs and chest and barely avoided joining the hair on
his head. His eyes were flat black like a shark's and a riding crop dangled
loosely from one wrist.
Mick recoiled at the waves of sheer hatred roiling off the youth's attacker
like a foul smell. The ogre snarled and took a step forward. Immediately,
Mick sprang. He leapt nimbly onto the edge of the bed and launched himself
at the man, knocking him off his feet.