Description
Arcanum Miami 1
Dale Spencer has spent decades putting criminals behind bars, but heading Miami’s new Arcanum Division means dealing with threats ordinary police work never prepared him for. When a gang-related murder exposes a trail of forbidden fae magic and enchanted weapons, the last thing Dale expects is a gorgeous fae diplomat who makes his already complicated investigation considerably more interesting. Theron Daeynore is powerful, charming, and entirely too tempting—and Dale has never been a man to ignore something he wants.
Theron Daeynore has survived centuries of fae politics, royal intrigue, and enemies who would happily see him dead. A stubborn, sharp-tongued human detective shouldn’t be capable of turning his carefully ordered world upside down, but Dale Spencer manages it with remarkable ease. Their attraction is immediate, their chemistry undeniable, and Theron has every intention of discovering where it leads. But as their investigation uncovers a dangerous conspiracy within his own clan, the two men find themselves navigating deadly betrayals, forbidden magic, and an enemy willing to kill to keep his secrets buried.
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EXCERPT:
The first indication that Dale Spencer’s evening was about to go to shit came when his phone rang halfway through dinner. The second was the name on the screen: Detective Gabriel Morales.
Dale stared at it for a moment, then set down his fork. He’d barely made a dent in his chicken parmesan, and the restaurant had the best damn marinara sauce in Miami. “Somebody better be dead,” he muttered. He answered. “Morales.”
“Evening, boss.”
“That’s debatable.”
Gabe chuckled. “You eating?”
“Was.”
“Sorry.”
“No, you’re not.”
“Not particularly.”
Dale sighed and pushed his plate away. “What’ve we got?”
“Miami PD caught a gang-related shooting in Allapattah about forty minutes ago. Two dead, three injured, and one suspect who apparently decided bullets weren’t sufficiently dramatic.”
Dale frowned. “Meaning?”
“Witnesses say the guy threw a cop across the street without touching him.”
“Telekinesis?”
“Looks that way. Uniforms managed to get him into custody, but he’s been raising hell ever since. They’ve got him isolated, and nobody wants to get close enough to cuff him again.”
“Can’t say I blame them.”
“PD’s requesting Arcanum.”
“Of course they are.” Dale glanced longingly at his dinner. “Who’s closest?”
“Rafe and Simone. Already heading there.”
“Good. Tell them I’ll meet them on-site.”
“Will do.”
Dale ended the call and signaled for the check. So much for a quiet Friday night.
* * *
The street looked like a war zone. Police cruisers blocked both ends of the intersection. Red and blue lights strobed against apartment buildings and shuttered storefronts. Yellow tape fluttered in the warm evening breeze, and the air smelled of exhaust, hot asphalt, and something metallic beneath it all: blood.
Dale parked behind an unmarked cruiser and climbed out. Rafael Castillo stood near the perimeter, talking to a uniformed officer. At six-foot-three, broad-shouldered, and built like a fucking refrigerator, the black bear shifter wasn’t difficult to spot.
Neither was Simone Baptiste. She stood beside a patrol car, her arms folded, looking thoroughly unimpressed with the man sitting in the back seat.
Dale approached. “Tell me somebody’s got good news.”
Rafe turned. “Hey, boss. Nice of you to join us.”
“Keep it up and you’re writing the incident report.”
Rafe grinned. “Already started it.”
“Then you’re writing mine, too,” Dale shot back.
Rafe grimaced. “Cruel and unusual punishment.”
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