‘Someone’s after you. I am so angry, so . . . scared. I will not let anything happen to you. I’m going to protect you with my life.’
‘Don’t die for me.’
‘I promise.’

This is Book 2 of The Thief and His Hunter trilogy, a Gay Romance Thriller and Dark Romance novella.

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Vulpis is being framed for murder. As Conor strives to find out who might be after him, truths from a past job are unearthed when confronted with not one, but two potential threats. After nearly losing his life, Theron vies to protect Conor who must now put himself in harm’s way in order to lure out his enemies.

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Excerpt from Chapter 1:

Theron paced in Martha’s office, seething. ‘Conor’s not a killer, he didn’t do it.’

Conor was tight-lipped. Seeing him this upset was angering Theron even more, making him want to protect him so much more.

‘I know he was up on the roofs,’ Theron went on, ‘but I swear, he got there at the same time as me.’

‘I know. I had you in my ear the whole time. I would have recognised the sounds of a murder.’ The crime scene was currently being processed by forensics, and the hypothised cause of death was a stab wound to the gut. ‘Besides, I have further proof of your location, Conor.’

‘Martha?’ warned Theron. He didn’t like what her tone was alluding to. ‘What have you omitted to tell us?’

‘I’ve been tracking Conor.’ Martha raised her hands in defence as Theron opened his mouth to interject. ‘It was part of the deal I made with my superiors.’

‘Uh, sorry, but Conor never takes his phone with him,’ said Theron.

‘Never said it was his phone.’

Conor pulled his hood back, checking it.

‘The hood, isn’t it?’ concluded Theron, pointing a thumb at the garment.

‘And it’s a good thing I did.’ Martha folded her arms. ‘With Conor on probation, he needs all the evidence on his side.’

‘Yeah, well, you call me when the forensics have more evidence.’ Theron took Conor by the hand and began leading him out of the office.

‘And where are you going?’

Theron stopped, looking over his shoulder. ‘Home. Where it’s safe.’

Theron led Conor to the car, muttering angrily to himself. ‘I’m sorry,’ he said more softly before starting the vehicle. ‘I don’t want you to think I’m angry at you. None of this is your fault, darling.’

Conor didn’t answer. His silence was worrying.

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