Matchstick Men

♥♥♥♥♥
The perfect mix of suspense, feelings and steam. Adira August manages to not only give a really authentic representation of the B**M world, she also created a suspenseful page turner, all while building a strong relationship with well developed and multi layered MCs. Got me hooked on this series and I devoured all the other books in a week. This series is in my all time Top 10.
--Amazon Reviewer Heike

THIS IS BOOK ONE OF THE EPIC, 8-VOLUME, MM LOVE STORY: HUNT&CAM4EVER. IT BEGINS WITH HUNT AND CAM'S FIRST '"SCENE" AT THEIR CLUB. MURDER FOLLOWS A FEW DAYS LATER, SPARKING AN UNLIKELY D/s PAIRING AND AN INVESTIGATIVE PARTNERSHIP. EXCLUSIVELY ON AMAZON.

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Dispatched
The first thing I noticed was the freight train roar of ferocious wind. I opened my eyes. Light from the bathroom door. My bathroom is in the hall. The faint sound of an orchestra. The 1812 Overture.

Dispatch!

I scrambled across the mattress—the bed empty—and onto the floor, to the chair. I dug through clothes, found my pants and fumbled my phone out.

What time was it?

"Dane," I said.

"Got an unknown dead at a residence," dispatch came back.

"I'm on a three-day."

"Yeah, sorry about that."

The dispatcher did not sound at all sorry. I got up and sat on the edge of the bed.

"Captain VanDevere wants you on this. It's north of the country club."

While she was talking, Cam walked into the room in sweatpants and a tee, smelling freshly showered. He put a mug of steaming coffee on the nightstand next to me.

"Which one?" I asked, taking a sip. Damn that's good.

Cam turned on the bedside light and pulled open the nightstand drawer. He pointed to a pad and pen amongst various sex toys and potions. I nodded and grabbed them.

He disappeared into the bathroom.

I jotted down the address. "You have a victim's name?"

"No ID at the scene, yet. House is owned by C. Bennett Farleigh." She spelled the last name. The Farleighs were old money. Or as old as money gets in Denver. Cattle and minerals, if I remembered right.

"Who called it in?" I asked.

"Neighbor on a loud music complaint."

I blew out a breath. Parties meant lots of witnesses. Mostly drunk, uncooperative and worthless. But you'd think they'd at least know the name of the corpse..

After a few more details I told her to call Cushman to meet me at the scene. Cam waited at the end of the bed.

"Shower's running. Towels laid out. There's shaving stuff on the sink," he said. "You'll need underwear." He went to a dresser. "I'll lend you a clean shirt and tie."

"I keep a clip-on in the car console."

"With the extra ketchup packets? I don't think so."

"I should probably just go."

Cam turned around with a t-shirt and pair of black briefs in his hands. "You smell like last night. Which is a great scent on you, but I'm thinking Bodywash No. 9 for this gig."

Oh, yeah.Last night. Bedpost. Chain. Cam.

Shower.