Staying alive - #Murder #Mystery #GayRomance @JPBowie

Fancy a murder mystery, spiced up with some MM romance? Here are two, by my old friend J.P. Bowie! ~ Lisabet

Love on the Rocks

Waking up on a pile of rocks with a bullet in his shoulder isn’t something Joe Brady saw coming, but perhaps the cute paramedic who finds him can do more than just help heal his wound.

Detective Joe Brady wakes up lying at the bottom of a cliff on a pile of rocks with a blond-haired angel hovering over him. No, he’s not in heaven. The blond is Riley Peterson, and his dog Champ is the one responsible for finding Joe. Fortunately for Joe, Riley is a paramedic and quickly gets him the emergency attention he sorely needs.

Shot by his rogue partner Bob Murdoch when Joe discovered Murdoch was running a protection racket for drug pushers, Joe wants to find Murdoch and bring him to justice, but he’s got a long road to recovery in front of him. While Joe is recuperating, Murdoch is arrested, giving Joe time to get to know Riley, the handsome paramedic. The two quickly bond, but Riley has an ex-boyfriend who wants back in Riley’s life and certainly has no qualms about playing dirty to get what he wants.

Slashed tires, an assault in a parking lot, and a prison break all seem set to doom Joe and Riley’s budding relationship. And when the deranged Murdoch determines to make them pay for his fall from grace—at gunpoint—it seems their relationship isn’t the only thing in danger…

Excerpt

Riley Peterson and his dog, Champ are walking on the beach when…

“Let’s go, boy!” Champ ran toward him, ball grasped in his mouth which he dutifully dropped at Riley’s feet. “Think you’ve tired yourself out? Let’s go home then.”

They set off toward the steep steps that led to the clifftop when, without warning, Champ veered away, running at a large group of rocks cordoned off and displaying a sign saying Keep Out. Dangerous Rock Slide Area.

He must have seen a rabbit or a squirrel. The parkland at the top of the cliffs teemed with the little critters and they’d often find their way down onto the beach.

Champ had disappeared and Riley sighed with impatience. “Champ!” The dog whined then barked. What the hell? He ran to the rocks and climbed over the makeshift rope fence. “Champ, what is it boy?” He squeezed between two of the larger rocks, then froze. “Jesus…”

There were two bodies, both men, one lying on his back, the other face down. As a paramedic, Riley was used to seeing bodies, some dead, some unconscious, and from the looks of things, the younger of the two was most definitely dead. The back of his head was gone, and despite the fresh salty air, the smell of death permeated the narrow space.

He knelt by the other man and felt his neck for a pulse. It was there, but weak. How long has he been lying there? He pulled his cell phone from his shorts and punched in the number for his field station. “Hey, Val,” he said as soon as the operator answered, “Riley. I’m on the beach near the steps that lead up to Cliffside Drive. There’re two guys here, one dead, one badly injured.” He eased the unconscious man’s jacket away from his chest. “Appears as if he’s been shot just under his right shoulder. Lost a lot of blood by the looks of it. Need a team here right away.”

“I’m on it. We’ll have the guys there in a few.”

“Thanks.” He shut his phone off and slipped it back into his shorts’ pocket. He touched the man’s bruised face gently. “Hey, buddy, can you hear me?”

The man groaned. His eyes fluttered open and Riley’s breath hitched in his chest. Pale gray eyes gazed at him from under thick, dark eyelashes.

“Am I dead?” His voice was thick and croaky.

“Not yet.” Riley popped the top of his water bottle and held it to the man’s cracked lips. “You’re super-dehydrated. Sip a little of this. Not too much at first—that’s good…” He opened the man’s jacket further and felt around for any other injuries. “You know what happened?”

“I was shot, then I think they must’ve thrown me over a cliff or somethin’. Jeez, I hurt all over.”

“I bet. Don’t try to move. The medics are on their way. Who’s the other guy?”

“Other guy?” He moved his head just enough to take a look. “Son-of-a-bitch. That’s one of them. What are you doing?” he asked as Riley unbuttoned his shirt.

“Checking for injuries.” He couldn’t help but notice how fit the guy was. He pressed with care on the sides of the man’s muscular torso. “Sorry,” he said when the man winced, “but fortunately it looks like just some massive bruising. I don’t feel any broken ribs.” He ran his hands over the man’s legs. “Nothing broken there, either, by the looks of it.”

“Feels like every fucking thing is broken.”

“Have some more water.” He waited until the man had sipped some more then asked,

“What’s your name?”

“Brady, Joe… I’m a detective. The other guy’s Martin Boyd. Is he dead?”

“Yes. A friend of yours?”

“No way. Drug runner. I was arresting him when this happened.” He squinted up at Riley. “You’re kinda cute. All that blond hair. I thought you were an angel. What’s your name?”

Riley chuckled. “Riley Peterson. I’m a medic, and this here’s Champ. He found you.”

“Thanks, Champ.” 

Buy Links

Pride Publishing: https://www.pride-publishing.com/book/love-on-the-rocks

Amazon: https://tinyurl.com/y43f4a67
 

Murder by Design

An unexpected meeting in a bar gives Detective Sam Walker a real chance of finding long-awaited happiness. All he has to do is stay alive.

Detective Sam Walker gets a surprise phone call the day he wakes up with the hangover from hell. The caller informs him that his name is Justin and that they met the night before in a gay bar. Not only met, but kissed and traded phone numbers and Sam has no memory of it at all. Intrigued, Sam wants to meet Justin again, but any chance of that is delayed when he and his partner are assigned a murder investigation and told to take care of it ASAP.

Sam has a problem, a deeply personal one that he doesn’t talk about, but when he’s with Justin the problem seems to disappear and he’s convinced he’s been given a new lease on life. His elation is short-lived, however, when the case he and his partner are working on takes a dark turn.

Justin also has a problem…Maria Esteban, a fiery-tempered Puerto Rican who owns the fashion company Justin designs for. Theirs is a volatile relationship and when tragedy strikes, the finger of suspicion points at him.

Can Sam save Justin not only from a bigoted detective intent on cracking the case quickly, but from a new and unexpected source, too? Or is their love affair doomed before they can truly savor Sam’s newfound freedom from the past?

Excerpt

Sam is hungover after a night out with colleagues celebrating the taking down of child slave trafficking gang…

His cell buzzed and he reached for it. Not a number or name he recognized. Robertson, Justin?

“Sam Walker.”

“Hi, Sam.” The voice was nice, but he didn’t recognize it…or did he?

“Hi…uh, Justin? Do I know you?”

“Um, well…uh, you did last night.”

“Last night?” Sam searched his memory banks. I met this guy last night?

Justin laughed lightly. “Well you were kinda drunk, but I’m hurt you don’t remember me. You kissed me. Guess you don’t remember that either.”

I kissed him? He thought harder. After Martin had left—and he did remember that, some of the other guys had split too and he—that was right, he’d taken a cab over to the Blue Bar on Santa Monica.

“Uh…were you at the Blue Bar?”

“Ah, it’s starting to come back.” Justin laughed again…a nice laugh, low and throaty. “I was sitting at the bar, you came in, smiled at me, sat next to me, bought me a drink. We talked. You said you were a cop. Or was that a come-on? Are you a cop?”

“Uh, no, not a come-on. Uh, yeah I’m a cop…detective.”

“Okay, so we talked for some time. I figured at some point it was getting late and when I looked at my watch you said, ‘don’t go’, and you kissed me.”

Shit. Why couldn’t he remember? And what the hell else did he do—or rather, try to do? “Uh, wow, I’m sorry.”

“Sorry you don’t remember me or sorry you kissed me?”

“Both, I guess. Hope I didn’t come on too obnoxious.”

That laugh again…so sexy. Why can’t I put a face to it? “No, you didn’t. I said I had to go and you wanted my phone number, so we traded. After you kissed me you said, ‘call me’. So here I am, calling you.”

“And I bet you didn’t expect this kind of response. I’m sorry, Justin.”

“Don’t be, it’s okay.” His voice was gentle along with that trace of laughter. “You were kinda drunk, so…”

Sam groaned. “I’d like to make it up to you. Maybe meet for a drink sometime? I won’t put any moves on you, promise.”

“Well, where’s the fun in that?” Justin’s tone was a definite tease. “Now that you’ve offered, I would like to see you again…tonight? If that doesn’t sound too pushy.”

“Uh, can’t tonight. I’m having dinner with my partner and his family.”

“Oh, you have a partner?” Justin’s chirpy voice sounded suddenly deflated. “Then I guess this isn’t a good idea.”

“No, no…not a partner partner. Working partner.”

“Oh, okay. So what’s good for you?”

“Well, I’d like to say tomorrow night, but I’d have to call you once I know what my schedule looks like.”

“Sounds good.”

“Uh, this is going to sound crass, I know, but can you describe yourself so I know who to look for when we fix a time and place?”

Justin’s laughter was contagious. “Look in your phone, Detective. You took a selfie of us last night.”

I did? “I did?” Shit. This is beyond embarrassing. Just how hammered was I? He stared at the photograph of himself and Justin. How could I have forgotten what this hottie looks like? Curly auburn hair and a smile that would light up the darkest room…or heart.

“Wow.”

“Was that a good wow or a what-was-I-thinking wow?”

“That was a very good wow. And I look like a moron. What in hell were you thinking talking to me, anyway?”

“I thought you were cute.”

Sam laughed. “Your powers of observation are a mite faulty. Sad thing is I look even worse today.”

“How’s that possible?”

“Hey!” He laughed again. “You’re right. I promise to clean up my act for when we meet.”

“I liked what I saw the first time around and I’m looking forward to seeing you again. Oops, gotta go, Sam. Duty calls. Bye.”

“Oh, okay, bye.” Duty calls? What’s that about?

Buy Links

Pride Publishing: https://www.pride-publishing.com/book/murder-by-design

Amazon: https://tinyurl.com/y4whpo3g

About the Author

J.P. Bowie was born in Scotland and toured British theatres in numerous musical shows including Stephen Sondheim’s Company.

After emigrating to the States he worked in Las Vegas, Nevada for the magicians Siegfried and Roy as their Head of Wardrobe at the Mirage Hotel. He is currently living with his husband in sunny San Diego, California, where he spends his time writing and writing…

Email: jpbowie [at] att [dot] net

Website: www.jpbowie.com

Blog: http://wwwjpbowie.blogspot.com/

Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/jp.bowie.1

Twitter: https://twitter.com/jpbowie