Droplets
of blood seeped from Darien's wolf tattoo, mesmerizing him. They trickled over
the inside of his bicep, splattering against the bar floor.
Darien ran his hand back through his
hair and frowned. Why was the wolf bleeding? It was supposed to look sexy. Turn
chicks on. Not bleed. He blinked as a thought formed. Maybe it wasn't the
tattoo. Could he be bleeding? He didn't remember getting hurt. But that might
be because he'd had too many vodka shots.
Expensive gold-infused vodka.
An order snapped out in Thai ripped
his focus away from the cost of the booze.
Stumbling with the translation, his
gut clenched - Check everyone. Anybody
alive. Kill them.
A shrill female scream. A gunshot.
Silence.
That'd be one of the hookers. Damn. Hope it wasn't the one
with the butterfly tattoo above her clit. She had a mouth on her that performed
miracles. Dude! What the fuck! Must be the vodka talking. Stay focused.
There are guys with guns out there.
Darien stretched his neck out and
peered around the edge of the bar. In his line of vision, a male leg stuck out
from under a table. Expensive looking shoe. Presumably Italian leather.
Probably belonged to Nai Jâhng.
Darien raised his eyebrows. Wow.
Somebody had the balls to kill a Triad boss.
He shifted his glance. A few feet to
the left lay a female arm with brilliant orange fingernails. He shivered at the
memory of those nails grazing his balls. He focused on a tiny object a foot in
front of him. Shards of glass were scattered about. He frowned, trying to
remember what happened. He'd walked behind the private club's bar to get
another bottle of vodka when, one by one, bottles started exploding. Next thing
he knew, he was on the floor, looking at the blood dripping from his tattoo. He
glanced at his arm. The bleeding had stopped.
Okay, so he wasn't gonna bleed to
death. Good. Now he just had to get his dumbass outta there. Past them. The
guys with the guns. How the fuck could he do that?
Voices interrupted his thoughts. The
tones were panicked or angry, and the words too fast for him to translate,
although he understood the meaning of the three rapid gunshots, followed by a
short groan. The door at the opposite end of the bar, leading to the kitchen,
swooshed as someone pushed it open.
Gunfire and screams sounded from the
kitchen. The door swung open again. Darien translated the shooter's words,
"Nobody alive in there. I'll check the offices upstairs."
Darien slid back, trying not to disturb
the glass. He did his best not to yelp when a sharp edge sliced through the
skin on his knee. With deliberate movements, he backtracked the length of the
Black Dragon's bar. Squatting, he peeked around the end.
Three men stood with their backs to
him, dressed in black pants and muscle shirts. Each one held an assault rifle.
A bleeding sun tattoo visible on one attacker's shoulder. Daeng Arthit Triad.
Not good. So not good.
He looked forward. The kitchen door
was six feet away. Six feet of wide-open, easily visible space. It might as
well be six inches or a mile. He couldn't risk it. Wouldn't. He didn't want to
get shot.
He shifted his weight off the knee,
pressing on a piece of shattered bottle. What the fuck, dude? You're gonna
die if they find you. Better to be running for your life than just lay here and
let 'em kill you. That was the logical side of his head's opinion.
The chicken shit side said, Stay
here. Stay down. You're safe.
A yell and several more gunshots
drifted down from the floor above. The men pounded up the stairs.
Without taking a moment to think,
Darien bolted through the kitchen doors, then skidded to a stop. The rancid
smell of burning food and fresh blood hit him deep in the pit of his stomach.
Four bodies lay facing him, eyes wide, obviously unseeing. One of the dead
chefs held a massive meat cleaver clenched in his right hand.
Never bring a knife to a gunfight. He shook his head.
Quoting movies at a time like this? Focus, dude.
Heart pounding, Darien cast his gaze
about the room, looking for an escape, while his ears listened for the sound of
running footsteps coming up behind. He fought the nausea of rising fear as he
moved forward, searching for an exit while trying to keep his gaze from the corpses.
Please let this be some shitty
nightmare, and I'm gonna wake up now. Fuck!
In the back-right corner, he spotted a
door. With renewed hope, he raced to freedom. He bolted through the doorway,
skidded in the pool of blood, lost his balance and crashed onto the dead
hooker. He tried not to be judgmental, but in the brief glance he’d had, a girl
on her knees in front of a man with no pants on was obviously on the clock. Or
cock, as the case might be.
He braced his hands on the blood-soaked floor and pushed himself to his knees. The back of her head was missing, and her dead John had no face. Just a bloody, pulpy mess. He laid sprawled back on the desk. Big enough guy to be one of the ones who was supposed to be guarding the front entrance. Well, he went out with a bang.
To save Darien's life his brother asks,
"Can you walk in high heels?"
Erika
Bailey, owner/manager of a drag queen club in
Bangkok, Thailand has happily settled into all aspects of her new life, except
for her lack of a love life. When a new diva auditions, Erika is bewildered
over her instant attraction to the blond God, Apollo.
Darien
Scott is on vacation after a world tour and
mistakenly figures the safest place to be is at The Black Dragon with the head
of a Triad. When the club is hit, Darien is the only person to get out alive.
Now he's running from the police and a
Triad. Mistake number 1.
Disguised as a drag queen, he's hired by
Erika, but falls hard for his new boss, then struggles with not coming clean
with her. Mistake number 2.
Can he fix his mistakes and find a life
filled with love or is he headed straight for mistake number 3?
Amazon - https://www.amazon.com/dp/B0984JP3NW
Read and review - https://booksprout.co/publisher/book/update/82738
Pinterest - https://www.pinterest.ca/daryldevore2013/what-happened-in-bangkok/
Inspiration for a book can comes from unusual places and at crazy times.
What inspired What Happened in Bangkok? A song on the radio. Hubby and I were in the car on the way to
visit with our daughter. Gloria Gaynor’s I Will Survive was playing and
I turned around, grabbed my laptop, and wrote the first 3 chapters of a book
that I had no idea I was going to write which turned into a trilogy.
If you are scratching your head thinking this sounds familiar – this is a re-release. I received my rights back from my publisher and decided these stories needed to be back out there.
