Stopping a murder that happened forty years earlier may be the only way to heal a tortured mind...
Six months after Jesse Madding is brutally tortured by Marcus Brooker, he is still experiencing
flashbacks, panic attacks, and jumping at his own shadow. His lovers, Gideon Keel and Emma Coolidge, would
do anything to help him, but Jesse cannot tolerate the thought of being alone, and refuses to be
hospitalized for treatment. Desperate for a change, Gideon and Emma suggest a radical solution.
Jesse wants to fix his life. More than anything, he wants to be normal again. He doesn't want to live in
fear. He doesn't want to be ashamed of his scarred and mutilated body. He doesn't want to shy away from
Gideon's touch. Certain that the holding pattern will kill him, he agrees to Gideon and Emma's proposed
solution: travel to an alternative dimension and save Marcus Brooker from witnessing Mary's grisly murder...
in order to save Brooker's soul.
Advisory: This book contains graphic violence, hardcore bondage and punishment, torture and blood play.
May not be suitable for the more sensitive reader.
EXCERPT
...Hoping that the door would be locked—though not knowing why a church would be locked at all—he marched
up the steps. But the knob turned easily in his hand, and he slipped out of the noon sun and into the
church’s cool recesses, the door shutting softly behind him. At first, he thought he was alone, but as his
eyes began to adjust, he saw the figure of a woman standing near the altar.
Though her back was to him and he’d only had the picture in his possession for a few days, Jesse would
have recognized Mary Straughn anywhere. She haunted his nightmares, the specter of everything that had gone
wrong and everything that could have been. The sole reason he had the life he had. But the picture hadn’t
prepared him for how dark and smooth her skin really was, or the fact that she was nearly as tall as him,
or how penetrating her eyes were when she glanced back to notice him, frozen in the entry.
“Hello. Can I help you with something?”
“No…I…I was just…” He hadn’t been prepared to meet her now, and his brain refused to supply any sort of
adequate response. He didn’t know if he wanted to hate her or love her. Somehow, the thought of hating her
seemed blasphemous. “I didn’t mean to…bother you.”
Something in her face softened, but it didn’t lessen the force of her gaze. “I’ll only be bothered if I
scare you off.” She stepped down into the aisle, her hand outstretched. “I’m Mary.”
Jesse took her hand politely, and was immediately struck by the warmth of her smooth skin, the firmness of
her grip. He knew he needed to pull himself together and begin behaving like a civilized person, but all he
could think was I’m shaking hands with a dead woman.
But she wasn’t dead. And she wouldn’t be. At least, not that night.
“I’m Jesse.” Suddenly, the details of the cover story he planned to tell came back to him. “I’m new to
town, and I’m looking for a new church. A few friends suggested I come here.”
A smile curved her wide mouth. He wouldn’t have thought it possible, but it made her even more arresting.
It reflected sincerity and intelligence, an even better welcome than her greeting.
“It’s good to know the word is spreading,” she said. “I’m probably biased, but I don’t think you’ll find a
better place to call home than right here.”
Jesse looked around the building for the first time. It was smaller than he expected. He imagined the pews
full of people, tried to imagine Gideon shouldering his way in and terrorizing them just because he could.
“It looks like a fine place to call home. When is the next meeting?”
“Tonight. Who’re your friends? Maybe I know them.”
“Michelle.” It was the only name that occurred to him, though he wasn’t even sure Mary would know her.
“Michelle. She owns a bookstore.”
But Mary nodded, like Michelle referred people to her church every day of the week. “Meetings usually
start at seven, but if you’d rather not have to come after sunset, Pastor Brooker always opens the doors
early. He’s here, if you’d like to meet him.” Before Jesse could stop her, Mary turned and called for him,
her voice filling the small space.
Before the other man even stepped into the room, Jesse knew he couldn’t deal with this. He wished Emma
were there. He wanted Gideon. Brooker’s not the same. He’s not the same man. And he believed that.
He believed the man who acted as pastor in this church wouldn’t harm him. But the past six months hadn’t
been dictated by logic, by what he believed. The past six months had been dictated by the physical memory
of violation. A memory that seeped into flesh and went to his bones.
Marcus stepped out of the rectory, smiling pleasantly. But it was the same face. And Marcus had smiled at
him often. Why shouldn’t he? He had thoroughly enjoyed every second of the torture. Everything went cold.
The greeting died on Brooker’s lips as concern darkened his tawny eyes. His gaze flickered to Mary, who
turned back to see the perspiration beading on Jesse’s forehead, the way all the color had suddenly leeched
from his skin.
“Are you all right?” she asked. She stepped forward and took his arm without waiting for an answer, her
grip surprisingly strong as she guided him into a pew. “Put your head between your knees. You look like
you’re going to be sick.”
He was going to be sick. Please, no, not here. Not here. Please. But his silent prayer evaporated
as the first wave of images crashed over him...
