Pretty cool title, huh?
Stockholm Syndrome
Gay MM erotic romance / thriller / suspense, super novel
Blurb
We don’t get to
choose who we fall in love with—and sometimes we fall too far…
Daniel Eames is a
bodyguard. Usually assigned to protecting politicians, he has fallen out of his
boss’s good books after getting too close to his last charge’s son but when
rising Hollywood star and Academy Award nominee Bryan McTiernan receives
peculiar letters and requires the best possible protection, Dan is put on the
job.
While he agrees
that the letters are more than harmless fan mail, he finds it impossible to
narrow down his suspicions and Bryan isn’t helping by alternately seducing and
irritating the hell out of him. Against his better judgement, Dan falls for
Bryan’s manipulations, but the more he gets to glimpse behind the façade of the
young actor, the more he realises that something in Bryan’s past has a strong hold
over him. While both Dan and Bryan are aware of this, neither sees the full
extent of his fixation.
With the help of
Gabe, a fellow bodyguard and friend, Dan pursues different theories and even
hires a private investigator to learn about Bryan’s well-hidden past. What he
discovers has the potential to destroy more than just a promising career and in
the end, Bryan has to make a choice—allow for his past fixation to take him
hostage again or run away and into Dan’s open arms?
Excerpt
I looked up from my desk and tossed
aside the paper clip I’d been toying with. "Seriously, an actor? You know
that’s not my usual clientele. Tell them to look elsewhere. Or send someone
else, I don’t care. I’m not interested."
Michelle met my scowl with perfect calm.
"Bronson wants you for the job, Daniel."
"Why on earth does he want
me?"
"Make an educated guess."
Michelle was my boss’s secretary. As she
stood there in my office, arms crossed in front of her chest and hips tilted, I
realised once again that she combined the looks of an Afghan with the
personality of a Doberman. I let out a weary sigh. "Babysitting Hollywood
wannabes really isn’t my field of expertise," I pointed out. "And
he’s on the other side of the fucking continent. Have they run out of
bodyguards in LA?"
She snorted. "Hardly, and it’s not
that they want to haul your ass over there because you’re so fucking fabulous
either. They guy lives here in New York and you know, this is just a thought,
but maybe Bronson wants you away from your so-called field of expertise after
the, ahem, cock-up you made of your last assignment." I didn’t like the
sugary tone in her voice, but she ignored the indignant stare I shot her and
added, "Besides, Bryan McTiernan is hardly a Hollywood wannabe. He’s
establishing himself as a household name. His last three films were huge box
office hits, he earned himself an Academy Award nomination last year and his
current film will probably win him one of the little golden boys."
"Good for him. If he’s such a big
star, he ought to have at least a dozen bodyguards by now. Why don’t they take
care of him?"
"Well, apparently Mr McTiernan has
never been too concerned about his safety and doesn’t think he needs any
security at all except for the usual muscle at big events. He wasn’t even the
one who asked for protection. His management, however, has a different opinion.
They want him to be safe and they’re willing to pay pretty much any
price."
My curiosity was raised, despite my
better judgement. "If they really said that, the boy’s got to be worth
something."
"He’s just entered the eight figure
league if that’s what you’re asking."
"Ten million bucks?"
She smirked. "Double that."
Impressed, I whistled through my teeth.
"Not bad. Tell me more. What’s his problem exactly?"
Michelle gave me the kind of knowing
half-smile that made me think she’d read my thoughts. "Stalker," she
said.
I reached for my coffee and leant back,
considering my options. When I’d started working in personal security a few
years ago, I’d promised myself to never get involved with the Hollywood babes,
no matter which place they called home, or with the rich and the famous. As far
as safety was concerned, it was hard enough to protect someone who didn’t lead
a life in the public eye, or had crazy fans that needed to be taken into
account. But even I recognised a big fish when I heard about it and if the guy
was worth that kind of money, then this case might be the perfect chance for me
to prove my own value to my employer. I put down the cup and took a breath. "Is
it serious?"
Michelle gave a shrug. "I really
have no idea, but it sounds serious enough. Looks like his stalker is the kind
who believes themselves to be his soul mate or some shit like that."
"I see. What do we have?"
"A bunch of letters."
"Okay. Threats?"
She shook her head.
"Personal contact of any
kind?"
"No."
I paused briefly, then I said,
"Could be nothing."
"I know. And yet it might be
everything. Either way, it’s not as though you’ve got anything else to do at
the moment, and as you can probably imagine, Mr B is dying to bag himself that
assignment. You know you’re not in his good books right now. This could be your
chance to jump right back into the first chapter."
So my thoughts hadn’t been all that
wrong. "Bronson can just go fuck himself," I grumbled. "Why
doesn’t he look after the kid himself if he wants the job so badly?"
Michelle rolled her eyes. "He wants
you to do it, Dan, and he wants you to do it well. Extremely well. He can
charge McTiernan’s management basically anything he wants for this job and
they. Will. Pay. Having you as his watchdog is still cheaper than what they
stand to lose if anything happens to him. And as for Bronson fucking
himself—rumour has it that you are the one who will be seriously fucked if you
don’t give Mr B a reason for keeping you, so do I really have to tell you that
this is going to be a test for you?"
"Fuck. Really?" I’d suspected
as much, but knowing I was officially on the boss’s shit list put a dent into
my well-polished box of self-esteem.
"Really. As I said. He wasn’t
impressed with what happened the last time."
I bit back a groan. As if I needed
reminding. "Fine. I’ll meet the kid. Make an appointment, would you?"
Smirking, Michelle turned and walked to
the door. "Already did. You’ll see him at three. The address is in your
phone."
"Oh, what would I do without
you?" I heaved a theatrical sigh.
"The same as you always do—try to
knock down walls with that stubborn head of yours and collect bruises in the
process."
* * * *
At five minutes before three, I pulled
up at the address Michelle had helpfully typed into my electronic calendar. I
was surprised at what I found. Instead of the huge, overpriced villa or town
house I’d expected, I parked in front of an apartment building that could have
been the address of any average Joe. An up-and-coming Hollywood star was
certainly not who I would have imagined to live in this neighbourhood. But then
again, underneath the makeup, big hair and larger-than-life personalities the
media created for them, they were all just ordinary people and the Big Apple
took another shade off their shine anyway.
I decided to wait for a couple more
minutes as I didn’t want to appear overly enthusiastic by showing up early. It
was true, I basically had to take on this assignment, but that was something my
client didn’t know. Besides, lingering around for a little longer gave me an
excuse to check out the hottie who’d just come running up the street. Yes,
running was the right expression. Instead of the moderate pace many joggers,
myself included, employed, the guy approached at full speed. He slowed down a
bit when he reached my car and looked straight at me in passing. He quirked a
dazzling smile, then he shot me a wink and bolted up the stairs to the
apartment building. I was still staring at the door after it had fallen shut.
Weirdo. Extremely pretty, though, from what I’d seen. I shook off the incident,
unclipped the seatbelt and got out of the car. Time for a first security check.
Buy
link:
Stockholm Syndrome
becomes available from all good distributors on August 16th
About the author
Sage
is a multi-published author of MM erotic romance novels and novellas and loves
exploring the flavours of gay erotic fiction.
A willing slave to all the fascinating guys who keep queuing up and want their stories told, Sage can almost always be found cooking up the next hot story or daydreaming about new ways of rubbing sexy male bodies together to make the sparks fly.
A willing slave to all the fascinating guys who keep queuing up and want their stories told, Sage can almost always be found cooking up the next hot story or daydreaming about new ways of rubbing sexy male bodies together to make the sparks fly.
Contact and buy links
e-mail: marlowe.sage@yahoo.co.uk
Twitter:
@SageMarlowe
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