Saturday, March 2, 2013



A Hoale Construction Mystery: Book 3

Bringing Bobby’s Gym into the twenty-first century should have been fun. But the dead guy draped over the weight machine definitely took the joy out of it!

The Hoale Construction gang has taken on the task of bringing Bobby’s Gym into the twenty-first century. But the dead guy hanging from the new lat machine is putting a serious crimp in their timeline.

When Bobby becomes the number one suspect for the murder, Adam and the gang are forced to try and clear him. But who is the guy? And was Bobby really the last one to see him alive?

Questions only seem to multiply the deeper they dig. Until they uncover a connection with a group of thugs who call themselves the Indiana Mobsters. Things just continue to spiral downward from there.


The guard behind him shoved him inside and the other guard slammed the door closed. He heard the sound of a key turning in the lock and ran to the door. The knob wouldn’t turn. He pounded on the door with his fists. “I want a lawyer!”

“That won’t be necessary, Señor Hoale.”

Adam whipped around, his heart in his throat. A man stood at the back of the room, half in the shadows. He wore an ugly dark blue uniform with a wide black belt around his waist. A black, military style hat dipped low over his face, showing only a square jaw and strong chin, which was decorated by a sexy little goatee. “Who the hell are you?”

The man pushed away from the wall and started toward him, his gloved hands coming into view. He held a short, black leather whip in one hand. “I’m your worst nightmare.”

The bad movie line was delivered with a decidedly Hispanic accent. Had Adam somehow gotten on the wrong side of the Mexican police? Not easy to do when you live in Indiana. He swallowed hard. “Look, I don’t know what’s going on…”

“Shut up, Señor Hoale.” The man’s gruff voice seemed somehow familiar and Adam tilted his head, trying to get a better look at him under the hat. The stranger walked with a slight limp, his right leg not bending as well as the left. Adam frowned. He didn’t know anybody with a limp.

The other man stopped in front of him and stuck the whip under Adam’s chin, forcing his gaze upward. “Nothing you can say right now will help and you’ll only piss me off so I’d advise you to keep your mouth closed and listen.”

Adam experienced a strong sense of déjà vu. He tried to lower his chin to get a look at the man again. The whip tightened against his chin. The man pressed closer, his lips stopping close enough to Adam’s ear that it tickled when he spoke. “You are a very sexy man, Señor Hoale.”

Adam blinked, frowned, and started to rebuke the other man. But when the stranger cupped his crotch in one, black-gloved hand, Adam coughed out a laugh, finally realizing why the words and the persona seemed so familiar. It was corrupt Police Commander Cristiano Inocente from Dirk’s last action film, Murder Especial.

Adam grinned. “I’m gonna kick your ass, Commander.”

Dirk’s tongue slipped out and tasted the rim of Adam’s ear. “I don’t think so, guapo. You will scream like a girl as I take you from behind.” The whip slipped down his throat and shoved past the buttons on his shirt, rubbing his nipples until they were rigid.


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