2012 CAPA Nominee: Best GLBT
Detective Gabriel Ashby has never looked twice at another man, yet the criminal across from him, the man he’s interrogating, isn’t like any other. Gabe can’t deal with the sudden, intense need he has for one of NYPD’s Most Wanted. Everyone close to Angelo Pagan ends up dead, with the smug gang leader standing amid the rubble. Gabe would love nothing more than to bust Angelo’s ass and lock him up. So why is he seeing the bastard in his dreams at night?
Angelo Pagan knows attraction to Gabe is suicide. He’s resolute to ignore the chemistry…until a police raid goes wrong. He critically injures Gabe, changing the trajectory of both their lives. Now the two can’t get close enough. They settle into a forbidden affair threatened by lies and betrayal, living on different sides of the law with no way of breaching the gap between them. With the authorities looking to make an example of Angelo, Gabe has to decide if it’s really worth it to hate the sin but love the sinner.
“Everyone in position?”
Focusing on the heavy door of the warehouse hiding Angelo Pagan’s newest shipment of guns, Gabe spoke into his earpiece. “Ready.”
The other men—eight in all—situated at different positions around the building answered in the affirmative. Seems business didn’t stop even if the gang leader’s sister died. Gabe tightened his gloved fingers on his gun and waited for the all clear. He salivated at the thought of locking up the bastard Pagan, maybe then he’d get some rest from the erotic thoughts running through his head in the three days since he’d laid eyes on him. He shouldn’t be wondering about the feel of Pagan’s lips on his or what he’d taste like.
Not that he had anything against gays. His brother was gay for Christ’s sake, but Gabe had a live-in girlfriend who wanted a commitment. He couldn’t very well tell Trish the reason for their nonexistent sex life was his fantasies about another man.
“All right, people,” McCabe, the task force leader, spoke into the earpiece. “We’ve got warm bodies. Two in the bottom and one up top. Watch your asses. Go. Go. Go.”
Beside Gabe, two other officers knocked down the warehouse door with two swings of the battering ram. They all filed in.
“NYPD, nobody move!”
The occupants of the warehouse scurried through the crates piled all over the place, floor to ceiling.
Gabe turned to his left as cops and criminals alike scattered, moving toward the sound of footsteps with his gun at the ready. Heart thumping, he stepped carefully, one foot in front of the other as he peeked around the corner. He caught the silhouette of a body hurrying up to the second level.
Gabe climbed the stairs, treading lightly. “NYPD, come out with your hands up.” Low voices reached his ears. “Angelo Pagan, please show yourself.” They had no real proof of who was in the warehouse tonight, but Gabe couldn’t imagine Pagan staying behind the scenes. When the informant told them of the new shipment arriving tonight, everyone on the 72nd’s Gang Task Force automatically seized the opportunity to nab Pagan and his crew.
Gabe moved swiftly once he arrived on the second-floor landing, searching the first of the two rooms cluttered with barrels and crates. The place was empty so he moved on to the next.
A low crash reached Gabe before he entered the next room. He paused, finger on the trigger. “Whoever’s in there come out with your hands up.”
A bullet rang out, whizzing past his head. “Fuck.” He darted behind a barrel and crouched low. Was it Pagan shooting at him or had he ordered his people to take care of Gabe? The thought left a bitter taste in his mouth.
The sound of gunshots died down. Running feet and shouts echoed from downstairs. He crept from behind his hiding place, gun raised. Satisfied the area was clear, he took a step forward and froze.
Angelo Pagan and another man emerged from behind a door, assault rifles pointed at him. Gabe ignored the other man, keeping his attention on Pagan.
Those eyes flickered. “Cop.” Something akin to regret washed over his face before he smoothed out his features.
Gabe shook his head. “Pagan, don’t—” He didn’t hear the shot, but he felt the fiery burst of pain in his left shoulder. His knees buckled and he went down. And out.
A Caribbean transplant, Avril now lives in Brooklyn, N.Y with a tolerant Spousal Equivalent. Together they raise an eccentric daughter who loves reading and school (not so much school anymore). Avril’s earliest memories of reading revolve around discussing plot points of Nancy Drew and The Hardy Boys with an equally book-minded mother
Always in love with the written word, Avril finally decided to do the writing in August of ’09 and never looked back. Spicy love scenes, delicious heroes, and wicked women burn up the pages of Avril’s stories, but there’ll always be a happy ending; Av remains a believer of love in all its forms.
Addicted to cake, the ID Channel and the UFC, Avril writes Erotic and GLBT Romance for Ellora’s Cave, Evernight Publishing, eXtasy Books, Secret Cravings Publishing and Total-e-Bound.
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