King Slayer by Layla Reyne
Series (name + # in series): Fog City #2
Publisher: Layla Reyne (Self-Published)
Release Date (Print & Ebook): August 5, 2019 (E-book & Print)
Length (Print & Ebook): Approx. 51,000 words
Subgenre: M/M Romantic Suspense
Warnings: Explicit sex including mild kink; explicit language; violence.
All buy links or pre-order links: https://amzn.to/2LUTkDP
Never fall for a mark. Mission fail.
Christopher Perri—a.k.a. Dante Perry—infiltrated the Madigan organization with one goal: vengeance for his murdered partner. Falling for the assassin at the head of the table wasn’t part of the plan, but Hawes Madigan is not the cold, untouchable Prince of Killers Chris expected. Everything about the newly crowned king is hot, and every inch of him eminently touchable… and off-limits once Chris’s cover is blown.
Exposure couldn’t come at a worse time. Hawes’s throne is threatened, and Chris suspects the same person who killed his partner is behind the coup. Working with Hawes benefits them both, but Chris’s employer has other ideas. Dismantling criminal organizations is what Chris does best, and his boss expects the King Slayer to deliver.
But Hawes is taking the Madigans in a new direction, one Chris can get behind, and the two men form a shaky alliance strengthened by the irresistible attraction between them… until Chris
learns who killed his partner. Once he knows the truth, the King Slayer is unleashed, and Chris will stop at nothing to destroy those who betrayed him, including the king who stole his heart.
Twists and turns—and cliffhangers—continue in book two of the Fog City Trilogy. Read at your own risk!
Release Blitz Teasers and Excerpts:
Chris had mentally replayed that morning’s altercation in the BART station too many times, like the best broken record ever. Hawes’s too brief kiss, a phantom tingle on his lips that had lingered delightfully, torturously. His speed and skill in taking down Devon, the same agility and grace he’d displayed in dispatching Jodie. That wicked smile after. Chris couldn’t get the scene—or the man—out of his head.
Trained in combat as he was, Chris found something undeniably sexy about a person whose skills rivaled his own, a person who exercised that much confidence and control over their faculties and surroundings. Even sexier had been Hawes ceding all that confidence and control to Chris in their moments alone last week. He’d done so because he’d trusted Chris, and Chris had betrayed that trust, though not to the extent Hawes believed. Chris had a way to go toward winning back that trust, but last night’s meet and this morning’s kiss were good starts. Granted, the brief lip-lock was ninety-nine percent fueled by adrenaline, but Chris could work with the one percent.
Chris should be doing everything he could to throw Hawes Madigan off-balance, to make him feel unsafe and on-guard. He’d be more likely to make a mistake then, and Chris had an inside track. He knew better than most which buttons to push to multiply the mistakes. He’d made a physical and emotional connection with the cold, untouchable, beautiful, and efficient killer Izzy had described in her files. Chris didn’t disagree with the latter two, but the first two couldn’t be further from the truth. Everything about Hawes was hot, and every inch of him was eminently touchable. The waves of light brown hair, the smooth pale skin dotted with freckles, all those sharp angles. Chris had convinced himself that he’d been the one taking Hawes apart that night in the condo against the ladder, finding a way into the assassin’s mind and body,
but Hawes had snuck under Chris’s skin too. Further even, if the ache in his chest and groin were any indication.
“I needed to show whoever is behind this grab for power that I know the game they’re playing, that I can play it too, and that I’m not afraid to do what it takes to win. That I’ll fight for what’s mine and for the way I do things.” Gone was the ice. His eyes were energized, brimming over with a king’s confidence. And heated, the look in them a magnified version of the fire Chris had seen in them yesterday at the BART station. Right after the takedown, right before the too brief kiss.
Chris lifted a hand, wanting desperately to touch, to wallow for a spell in the desire that was pushing away his anger and in the relief that Hawes was safe. And here with him. But what right did he have? Yes, Hawes had initiated the kiss yesterday, but after all that had transpired between them, after Chris’s betrayal, he didn’t have a right to anything more from Hawes than what he’d given him already. Especially when more was the last thing Chris should be doing.
Never fall for a mark.
Undercover 101. Hell, avid reader 101. As many assignments as Chris had worked, as many books as he’d read, he fucking knew better. He should’ve recognized the signs and thrown up a wall sooner.
Would it have mattered?
Looking down at Hawes Madigan, naked and handcuffed to the headboard—his trim, hard body coiled for a fight, his blue eyes liquid fire, his cock still half-hard, and his sharp mind no doubt working overtime—Chris figured probably not. No amount of training, no amount of reading, no amount of proper carriage, hair ties, or weaponry would change the fact that the place he most wanted to be right then was in that bed—with the enemy.
With the Prince of Killers.
No, the king.
“According to Tran,” Chris said, “the explosives are our primary objective.”
“Which are where?”
Chris poured a mug of coffee and sipped in silence, not admitting to the unknown that was more dangerous than any of the Madigans.
“Exactly,” Wheeler said, correctly reading his nonanswer. “You don’t know where they are. Explosives made by professional assassins, which could land in the hands of even worse killers. I want to eliminate the organization that made them thereby stopping them from making more and eliminating those who could put the explosives to use.”
That was one way to look at the situation. A bit Rambo-esque in its idealism, because fuck knew they couldn’t eliminate all the targets.
“And you’re going to help me,” Wheeler added.
“What do you think I’ve been doing here? The past week with the Madigans, the past month of getting everything into place, the past three years following Izzy’s leads? I’m trying to find a way in so we can identify the real killers and find the explosives.”
“Well, you failed, King Slayer.”
Chris gritted his teeth.
“Isn’t that what they call you?”
There was a reason he understood Hawes’s loathing of his Prince of Killers moniker. A reason Chris knew exactly when to needle him with it and when to let it go. Because after taking down more than a few heads of criminal empires, Chris had earned his own moniker. One he liked about as much as Hawes liked his. Unfortunately, every time he slayed a king, collateral damage was unavoidable. Innocents wrapped up in the organization. Partners, kids, organization members who were just trying to do right by their families. Another reason why Hawes’s new order had resonated with Chris, why he wanted to help him, not slay him. But Chris couldn’t tell Wheeler any of that. “Yes, that’s what they call me,” he said instead.
Wheeler grinned, victorious. “Then let’s slay the fucking king already.”
About Layla Reyne: RITA Finalist Layla Reyne is the author of the Agents Irish and Whiskey, Trouble Brewing, and Changing Lanes series. A Carolina Tar Heel who now calls the San Francisco Bay Area home, Layla enjoys weaving her bi-coastal
experiences into her stories, along with adrenaline-fueled suspense and heart-pounding romance. She is a member of Romance Writers of America and its Kiss of Death and Rainbow Romance Writers chapters. Layla is a 2019 RWA® RITA® Finalist in Contemporary Romance (Mid-Length) and 2016 RWA® Golden Heart® Finalist in Romantic Suspense.
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