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Steel City Sins

Book Three in the Steel City Nights Trilogy

By Elizabeth Coldwell

Steel City Sins
EPUB, 75 pages ebook Online Price:
£0.99
ISBN: 9781783752867
Imprint: Xcite Books
Published: 6th October 2014

Category: Contemporary, Gay, Mystery & Suspense
Series: Steel City Nights

Rating: 0 vote(s).



Steel City Sins – Book Three

Scott Beresford has worked hard at making Steel City one of Sheffield’s hottest nightclubs; and a break-in at the club’s premises strikes him as only a minor setback, at first.

Fraser Adams is the detective in charge of the case, and a man struggling to come to terms with his sexuality.

When it becomes clear this isn’t a routine burglary, and someone appears to want Scott dead, Fraser’s fight against his own feelings becomes a fight to save the man who has awoken his desires.

But will giving in to those needs prove the ultimate sin?

 

He was going to be late, and all because of the woman in front of him, still dithering over lottery scratchcards.

As she looked again at the selection on display, Scott bit the inside of his cheek, tamping down the urge to yell at her to just go ahead and fucking pick one. How hard could it be, he wondered, to decide between the half-dozen ways of losing her money that were on offer. At last, she pointed at one, handed over a couple of pound coins for two cards, and took them over to a corner of the lobby to scratch off the silver panels.

Finally reaching the head of the queue, Scott bought a packet of menthol chewing gum and a bottle of mineral water, making sure the pimply lad behind the counter handed over his all-important receipt. Things would have been so much easier, he reflected as he left the store, if David had access to on-street parking. But no, his accountant had chosen to move to an office in a side street just off Rotherham’s All Saints Square, a most car-unfriendly part of the town centre. David, however, had informed him of the wheeze known to most of his clients – the nearby Tesco superstore offered a couple of hours’ free parking, but only to their customers. That had meant Scott making what he thought would be a quick stop-off at the kiosk in the lobby, until Mrs Scratchcard had intervened.

He ran through the little shopping precinct that stood before the supermarket, almost colliding with an overweight bottle blonde pushing two toddlers in a twin buggy. The woman launched a blistering volley of swear words in his direction and he half-turned, yelling at her, ‘Do you kiss those kids goodnight with that mouth?’ before dashing across the road in the moment before the lights of the pedestrian crossing turned back to red.

Not needing to glance up at the clock face on Rotherham Minster to know he was behind schedule, he did so anyway. Its hands stood at five past five. That meant trouble.

Scott took the worn stone steps that led up to the Minster two at a time. The offices of Hanley and Dale, Chartered Accountants, stood in a row of low, stone buildings off to the left of the churchyard. When he pushed at the main door, it refused to open. Terri, David’s secretary, must have already left for the evening. He pressed the buzzer, and waited a long moment before a familiar voice replied, ‘You should have been here seven minutes ago.’

‘Yes, I’m sorry. The traffic on the Parkway was –’

David cut him off sharply. ‘No excuses, Scott. Just come straight to my office.’

The door lock opened with an audible click, and Scott made his way inside. Normally, Terri would have greeted him with her usual cheerful smile, and led him through to the back offices. Tonight, the reception area was silent, both Terri’s computer and the espresso machine that stood on the table beside her desk switched off. As he walked past the office of David’s colleague, Jonathan Dale, he noticed that too was empty. So, the two of them were alone in the building. Just the way David liked it.

He knocked on David’s office door, wondering where the butterflies that suddenly fluttered in his gut had come from. This was just a routine meeting, he told himself – a chance for his accountant to go through the books of Steel City in detail, and let him know whether he had enough capital to put in a bid for the restaurant premises that had just come vacant a block from the nightclub. He’d been looking into expanding his empire for a while now, buoyed by the club’s success and the goodwill his name generated in the local business community, but there had been nothing suitable on the market, until now.

Come on, who are you trying to kid, he asked himself as David barked at him to enter. There’s nothing routine about what goes on when you come here, and you know it. He took a breath, centring himself, and stepped into the office.

David didn’t look up from the piece of paperwork that had his attention. ‘I don’t need to ask whether you have a good excuse for not being here dead on five like I asked you to, because obviously you don’t.’

‘No, as I said, I’m sorry – sir.’ The final word rose unbidden to Scott’s lips, and a small, traitorous part of him wondered whether he had deliberately set off from Sheffield at the last possible minute, meaning there was every chance he’d incur David’s wrath by getting caught up in traffic and arriving late. Of course, the man would have already guessed this might happen. It wasn’t the first time Scott had tried to engineer this type of situation. Topping from the bottom was how David had contemptuously referred to it.

‘You brought what I asked you to?’ David finally raised his head, fixing Scott with a withering gaze.

‘Yes, sir.’ Scott placed a folder containing the various bank statements and assorted pieces of paperwork relating to the club on David’s desk.

‘Well, at least you’re capable of getting something right. But that doesn’t mitigate in your favour when it comes to your punishment for tardiness.

Of course it didn’t. As soon as the clock had ticked past five, Scott knew that David would have been counting the minutes till his arrival, each one that passed adding another demerit point to his tally. What the penalty for racking up those points might be, he could only guess.

Elizabeth Coldwell

Elizabeth Coldwell joined Xcite Books in 2011. Formerly the editor of the UK edition of Forum magazine and co-founder of the Guild of Erotic Writers, she has been writing erotic fiction for over twenty years and her work has been widely published in the UK and US. She enjoys writing across the spectrum of erotica genres, from m/m space opera to girl/girl messy fun, vanilla to BDSM, paranormal to contemporary.

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