Heath Firestone and his lover Anton Barrett find themselves embroiled in another treasure hunt. Four gems are missing from the golden scepter Heath found in his family’s treasure horde, and legend says if the stones are reset into the scepter, the barer will control the world.
Justin Pennington is determined to recover them, steal the scepter, and prove the legend true.
Graeme Hansen, and his boss Delilah, also search for the gems. Heath and Graeme’s paths cross, but not by accident, just after Heath discovers a nasty surprise in Reykjavik.
Still reeling from his Icelandic adventure and barely back in Paris, Heath and Graeme are kidnapped by Pennington’s henchmen. With three gems recovered, and the whereabouts of the fourth one known, Justin decides to end the hunt. He gives Heath a choice as Graeme languishes in Pennington Manor’s cellars: surrender the scepter, or forfeit the lives of his last remaining relatives.
|Series||The Golden Scepter: Book 2|
|Genre||M/M Erotic Romance/Suspense|
|Tags||Suspense, Gay, M/M, Erotic, Romance, Europe, Travel, Treasure hunt, Trains, Mystery, Action, Adventure|
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An angry though muffled shout resounded through the alley. Graeme sighed and scrambled down the ladder from the roof. Taking the lift down and hurrying out the door, he ran to the dumpster the bound thug huddled behind. “What?”
The man’s glare threw daggers at him.
“My, my. If looks could kill…” He got close to the man. “I’d shut it and sit still if I were you.” Graeme grasped his gun and brandished it for the man to see. “It would be such a pity to have to shoot you.”
The man’s glare continued, but he held still with no more sound coming from the gag. Graeme sniffed, the strong odor of the sock escaping from the duct tape. “Although, with that stinking sock shoved in your gob, it might be a mercy killing.”
With a grumble, the man turned his head away.
“Lovely. Now we understand each other. Sit there and stuff it.”
Graeme returned to his position on the roof and held his binoculars up. The men were dressing in the bedroom, and the restaurant guy moved into another part of the apartment. Hmm, getting ready to leave.
Firestone and Barrett joined the slender man at the table. Nope, not leaving. Having tea. Graeme’s stomach grumbled as he watched his quarry enjoying the desserts the café man presented to them with a flourish. Damn it, looks tasty.
Hello, what’s this? A black car pulled up to the curb next to the building. Graeme focused on the driver, watching him speaking into his cell phone. Returning his gaze to the apartment, he saw the three men jump up from the table and hurriedly pack up the remainder of the dessert. Bugger, they’re leaving. He returned to the street and leaned against the side of the building. A few minutes later, the front door of the building opened and the three men emerged. His targets each carried small packs, and the chef followed them.
Sinking against the wall, Graeme strained an ear toward the trio.
Heath hugged the café man. “Goodbye, Rene. We’ll see you soon.”
“Come to the café when you return from Iceland.”
Barrett also hugged the chef. “Farewell, my friend.”
The café man embraced him as well while the driver came around the car and held open the door. “Make sure this young man comes to no harm. I do not approve of another adventure.”
Barrett laughed and nodded toward Firestone. “Neither does he.” He turned to the driver. “Charles de Gaulle. Merci.”
The two men climbed into the sedan and the driver slammed the door behind them. He got in and revved up the car.
Shit. They’re off to the airport. No chance to bump into Firestone without Barrett being there.
After the car roared away, Graeme ducked out of sight as the café man passed by with a smile and spring in his step. He retreated up the alley and returned to the dumpster and the dozing man he’d left bound there.
Graeme tapped the man’s face with his hand. His eyes flew open and the angry glare returned.
“You did well. Hope you had a good sleep. I’m finished here, so what to do with you?”
Fear replaced anger in the man’s eyes.
Graeme reached behind the thug and pulled the ring from his finger, holding it in front of his face. “I don’t kill unless I must. I have, in point of fact, just saved your life.” He pocketed the ring. “Do yourself a favor and run. Fast as you can. Get far away from this sordid business if you want to live. He’ll kill you when he’s done with you.”
The man’s eyes widened as Graeme pulled his gun from his pocket. “But as I can’t have you following me… Sorry about this.” He held the barrel and brought the handle down onto the man’s neck.
Unconscious, the mercenary slumped against the dumpster.
Graeme sliced the tape around the man’s wrists with his pocket knife. “Sweet dreams.” He ran down the alley and into the streets of Paris.