Unedited excerpt from Lil Harvest #3
A demon? Mr. Bailey was a demon?
Heath sat in the holding cell and looked at the door that had just closed behind the man whose handsome face had adorned every cover of every newspaper and magazine for the past month. He kind of popped out of nowhere with a million-dollar business thriving on dogs. He was labeled the entrepreneur of the new millennia, and a woman’s magazine had run a three-page article on how every woman in New York would never know the charismatic man as one of the top ten most eligible bachelors since he was about to marry a woman as hot and successful as himself.
Hell, every gay man in New York would weep about the fact the dude was straight, and Heath had wanked off to one of those articles, staring at the man who wore a suit like he owned the world and deserved it.
But he was a demon?
The hot guy who’d stepped out of a shadow certainly was. He’d been hot. At least once he’d stopped rotting.
Heath couldn’t believe the conversation he’d just had. He couldn’t believe he’d been offered the strength to take revenge on the men who’d hauled him off in a car and taken turns on him in the woods. They’d just left him there afterward.
They’d worn suits, too, and bile still rose in the back of Heath’s throat when he remembered how casually one of them had taken off his jacket and hung it on a coat hanger in the back of the car. He’d taken his time with his cufflinks and rolling up his sleeves. That gold ring had left a scar on Heath’s cheek from when the man backhanded him to make him stop shouting for them to release him.
It had all gone a bit fuzzy after that. Except the pain as they tore into his ass. That had been front and center along with the scent of the wet spring soil of the forest bed.
It had been brutal, and he’d needed stitches. But he’d recognized those men from the magazines, too, and he’d definitely heeded their warning when they warned him against reporting them. Who’d believe a stripper over the district attorney’s son, the mayor’s son, and the son of a Wall Street shark with a double digit million income per year?
Yeah, he saw their point. But the Wall Street son still made a mistake when he stalked that girl home. He made himself vulnerable by hiding. He never saw the bat. And his story never saw the newspapers. Not the full story, anyway.
What really pissed Heath off was that he hadn’t been arrested for raping his rapist—they’d set him up on false charges, and he was now facing the charges of having raped a woman. Probably one of their own victims. He’d never even touched a girl. He’d known he was gay since he was nine years old.
His train of thought was broken when a cop entered the holding cell area. “Come on, Mr. Lloyd. You’re being transferred to county.”