Old spies make dangerous hostages.
A prisoner at the tender mercies of the British Secret Intelligence Services, Manuel has to believe that trading freedom for protection was his only hope of avoiding payback for his crimes. Yet his checkered past is neither forgiven nor forgotten. Every day, Manuel is tasked with providing his handlers new intelligence about the bloodthirsty power players he once served. And if he refuses, there are consequences.
In charge of Manuel’s debriefing is Cole, a high-ranking Section officer whose history is intimately intertwined with Manuel’s misdeeds. He has made it his mission to unearth Manuel’s secrets, however long that takes. He will break Manuel because it is necessary. Avenging a broken heart has nothing to do with it.
But time is not on their side. When Manuel’s former employer targets the safe house where he is imprisoned, his usefulness as an asset is called into question. As old passions awaken, both Cole and Manuel discover that letting go of the past may not be as easy as they’d hoped.
General Release Date: 24th November 2015
Nothing could beat the view—fog over the channel, tufts of scraggly dogwood lustrous with dew in the middle distance. A few early-riser seagulls drifting along on a squall in the dishwater gray sky.
Even with the electric fence tucked neatly into the tall hedgerow, it was a breathtaking sight.
Manuel wrestled the covers off his legs and propped himself up against the headboard as quietly as he could. If his minders realized he was awake, the day would start that much sooner. He wanted to cling to these precious moments of solitude when no demands were made on him, no questions barked in his ear.
He rubbed an absent hand into the meat of his thigh. Atrophy was part and parcel of his present circumstances. Perhaps today they would deign to allow him a run around the grounds. Or, if not that, then a slow, shambling walk. They could tag along, shadowing his steps like bodyguards. At least one of his handlers looked like he’d benefit from a little exercise.
Below, window shutters crept open with a telltale squeak. Silas, waking up.
Manuel closed his eyes and embraced the quiet sound. Down the hall, the woman who never talked would be mouthing her prayers, her lips moving furtively over Our Father as though she feared being told to stop.
Their strange, secluded prison was made up of people far more dangerous than Manuel. Yet the steel cuffs around his wrists and ankles were reserved for him and him alone. He knew this because the first week of his time at the Cottage, Silas had ventured into his room in the night.
The security breach had caused quite the commotion among their minders. Sternly worded lectures were audible through plaster late into the day. No one saw fit to inform Manuel of any measures taken to ensure Silas would not be visiting him again. He was almost disappointed when his nutjob cellie failed to slip through their handlers’ hands for a second time.
Nefarious intentions on his part were unlikely. There were days that Silas barely remembered his own name. He certainly didn’t seem to know who Manuel was.
Most didn’t. Manuel had worked years to preserve his anonymity.
One skinny white boy and it all amounted to nothing.
He flexed a foot in the restraints, jangling the ankle cuff. Come on. I’m ready. He didn’t have long to wait.
The knock on the door meant that it was Arthur pulling the early shift.
“I’m up,” Manuel called out. The walls were thin here and the plumbing clanged like beaten drums.
Falling asleep was a far more difficult task than waking.
Arthur greeted him with a placid smile. “Good morning, Mr. Sosa. Sleep well?”
He had a strong West Country accent, thick enough that Manuel occasionally found himself imitating it without meaning to. He knew that Arthur spent the nights when he was on duty paging through vintage car magazines. His father owned a Model 48, an old junker they were both striving to put to rights on the weekend—apparently without much success.
“Like a babe,” he lied. It wasn’t so much that no one cared to hear him blather on about his nightmares. If anything, they cared too much.
“Hip’s still bothering you?” Arthur asked, noticing his wince. “Doc’s coming in today. Maybe he’ll give you something…”
“Maybe.”
Arthur was a young man with a lifetime of surprises ahead of him. At his age, he still put faith in higher authority.
Manuel decided against dispelling that illusion. He swung his feet over the edge of the mattress once free, savoring the sensation of muscles stretching, his soles bare on the hardwood boards.
It was doubtful that Arthur, a lowly gofer in the agency’s sprawling operation, understood why he needed to be fettered in sleep. To his credit, he didn’t ask.
Manuel stared at his back as Arthur peeled back the gauzy curtains and let in the sun.
It wouldn’t take much to break his neck, steal his keys and hightail it out of this godforsaken place. Arthur wouldn’t even hear him coming. He wasn’t armed.
Youth, while occasionally a challenge, wouldn’t be enough to save him.
Helena Maeve has always been a globe trotter with a fondness for adventure, but only recently has she started putting to paper the many stories she's collected in her excursions. When she isn't writing erotic romance novels, she can usually be found in an airport or on a plane, furiously penning in her trusty little notebook.
Reviewed by Boy Meets Boy Reviews
The best of the series so far!
This is what I've been looking for out of this series. It caught my attention right out of the gate and held it throughout. It is lighter on the espion...
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Reviewed by Wicked Reads
It is always very interesting when the main protagonist is ‘in theory’ the bad guy. I love the detail, the little things which ground the events in a plausible reality, and which make it all the m...
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Helena Maeve - Divine Magazine feature
Hi, Divine Magazine, and thank you for having me. I’m Helena Maeve, your friendly neighborhood writer and self-confessed globetrotter. Stories have always come easy to me, the more unconventional the better, but as a queer lady it took me a good while to give the romance genre a shot.
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