A square-jawed dick, a smokey dame in trouble, a war in gangland, extra-dimensional technology. All in a day's work for our Mr. Gray.
Geoffrey gives an overview of the book:
Gray didn’t like guns. They were heavy, oily, clunky things that tended to put holes in people he cared about.
He wasn’t sure he actually cared about the red draped dame currently clutching his arm in terror but he was dead sure he didn’t want anybody airing her out before he found out what her deal was.
“I think someone’s trying to kill me,” she’d said in that hot breathy thing she called a voice. Then she’d turned her head to hide a tear while at the same time affording him a view of her ample cleavage that would have made a seeing-eye dog walk through a plate glass window.
Gray just smiled.
She looked like a high-end little number, the talk of the society pages, but there was some grit under those cherry colored nails if Harris Gray was any judge. And she was familiar too, now that he thought of it. It was like they had some kind of history together that he couldn’t remember.
She was good, whoever she was, that was the point. Even though there was obviously more going on with her than she wanted to spill, Gray had the feeling that getting to the heart of her matter would dig up the goods on his own situation.
That situation got a little less murky with each passing second. He was from someplace else. Another country? Another city? He wasn’t sure yet but it wasn’t here. As familiar as these environs were, he could feel in his bones that they weren’t exactly his. He was a cop or something in that other place. He had a partner, a woman, he thought, who went from place to place with him setting right what somebody had put wrong. There was definitely more to it but that was the gist.
“Well,” he said in the kind of low rumble that made girls' knees weak and guys make way. “We can’t have that, can we?”
copyright © 2007 geoffrey thorne. all rights reserved
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