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    For Fox Sake
    For Fox Sake
    For Fox Sake
    Ebook206 pages2 hours

    For Fox Sake

    By Susan Mac Nicol

    3.5/5

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    About this ebook

    The Places You'll Go And The Things That You'll See

    Former SAS soldier, Clay Mortimer, the M in M&W Investigations, had thought he'd seen it all. But when his ex calls and asks for a favour Clay is intrigued, and then a bit surprised. He and his partner, Tate Williams, have a robust and imaginative sex life, but the things they see and learn in Fetish Alley take their understanding of human behaviour to the next level. Tate's take is part kid in a candy store fascination, part shocked. At the end of the day, all good detective work requires an open mind and the skill to ferret out the truth. Still, the layers of deceit and avarice they encounter are more than par for the course, particularly from people who are not keen about outsiders to the world of Fetish Alley.

    LanguageEnglish
    PublisherBoroughs Publishing Group
    Release dateFeb 5, 2019
    ISBN9781948029650
    For Fox Sake
    Author

    Susan Mac Nicol

    'The Official Stuff' Susan writes steamy, sexy, and fun contemporary romance stories, some suspenseful, some gritty and dark, and she hopes, always entertaining. She’s also Editor-in-Chief at Divine Magazine, an online LGBTQ e-zine, and a member of The Society of Authors, the Writers Guild of Great Britain, and the Authors Guild in the US. Susan is also an award-winning screenplay writer, with scripts based on two of her own published works. Sight Unseen has garnered no less than five awards to date, and her TV pilot, Reel Life, based on her debut novel, Cassandra by Starlight, was also a winner at the Oaxaca Film Fest.. 'The Unofficial Stuff' Susan loves going to the theatre, live music concerts (especially if it’s her man-crush Adam Lambert), walks in the countryside, a good G and T, lazing away afternoons reading a good book, and watching re-runs of Silent Witness. Her chequered past includes stories like being mistaken for a prostitute in the city of Johannesburg, being chased by a rhino on a dusty Kenyan road, getting kicked out of a youth club for being a bad influence (she encouraged free thinking), and having an aunt who was engaged to Cliff Richard. Connect with Susan: website: authorsusanmacnicol.com facebook: Author-Susan-Mac-Nicol twitter: SusanMacNicol7 instagram: susiemax77 linkedin: susanmacnicol

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      Book preview

      For Fox Sake - Susan Mac Nicol

      The Places You’ll Go And The Things That You’ll See

      Former SAS soldier, Clay Mortimer, the M in M&W Investigations, had thought he’d seen it all. But when his ex calls and asks for a favour, Clay is intrigued, and then a bit surprised. He and his partner, Tate Williams, have a robust and imaginative sex life, but the things they see and learn in Fetish Alley take their understanding of human behaviour to the next level. Tate’s take is part kid in a candy store fascination, part shocked. At the end of the day, all good detective work requires an open mind and the skill to ferret out the truth. Still, the layers of deceit and avarice they encounter are more than par for the course, particularly from people who are not keen about outsiders to the world of Fetish Alley.

      ALSO BY SUSAN MAC NICOL

      THE STARLIGHT SERIES

      Cassandra by Starlight

      Together in Starlight

      Forever in Starlight

      THE MEN OF LONDON SERIES

      Love You Senseless

      Sight & Sinners

      Suit Yourself

      Feat of Clay

      Cross to Bare

      Flying Solo

      Damaged Goods

      Hard Climate

      Survival Game

      Not So Secret Santa

      OTHER TITLES

      Stripped Bare

      Saving Alexander

      Worth Keeping

      Double Alchemy

      Double Alchemy: Climax

      Love and Punishment

      Sight Unseen

      Unlikely in Love

      Living On Air

      Soul of Discretion

      Promises Kept

      FOR FOX SAKE

      Fetish Alley Series – Book 1

      Susan Mac Nicol

      www.BOROUGHSPUBLISHINGGROUP.com

      PUBLISHER’S NOTE: This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, business establishments or persons, living or dead, is coincidental. Boroughs Publishing Group does not have any control over and does not assume responsibility for author or third-party websites, blogs or critiques or their content.

      FOR FOX SAKE

      Copyright © 2019 Susan Elaine Mac Nicol

      Smashwords Edition

      All rights reserved. Unless specifically noted, no part of this publication may be reproduced, scanned, stored in a retrieval system or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of Boroughs Publishing Group. The scanning, uploading and distribution of this book via the Internet or by any other means without the permission of Boroughs Publishing Group is illegal and punishable by law. Participation in the piracy of copyrighted materials violates the author’s rights.

      ISBN 978-1-948029-65-0

      E-book formatting by Maureen Cutajar

      www.gopublished.com

      To everyone out there who follows their dreams and enjoys life doing what makes them happy, despite what the rest of the (oft unenlightened) world may think. I applaud you and your individuality and can only say – rock on!

      ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

      I need to thank my old friend, Ann, who, as usual, looked at this manuscript with a critical eye to make sure I was treating my subject matter accurately and fairly. She’s a wonderful asset to my writing research. I want to give a shout out to Judy Zweifel for checking my Italian translation, and my work colleague Lilia for checking the Lithuanian. You ladies are awesome.

      I want to give a HUGE thanks to my dear friend and artist Marcus Cotton for the wonderful drawings he did of Tate and Clay. He’s so damn talented.

      And to my editor, Michelle Klayman, from Boroughs Publishing Group, thank you for the discourse that helps make my stories better.

      AUTHOR’S NOTE

      This series has been educational and fun to research. I pitched this idea to my publisher some time ago, and needless to say, she thought it was a doozy. I’ve tried to be respectful to the fetish scene and the people in it. Clay and Tate are drawn into this world and every case takes them to a different scenario, but, of course, there’s always something hinky going on. In every world there are good and bad people, and this one is no exception.

      For Fox Sake deals with people enjoying the furry fandom. I say fandom because, in essence, this is what it seems to be, although there are different schools of thought on the subject. For the purposes of this story, I’ve represented it as a sexual fetish, because that’s how I wanted to write it. That doesn’t mean that this is all this particular fandom is about, and if you do some research, you’ll get a balanced view on what different people think. Look on the Internet and talk to people involved, then you’ll be able to make your own decision about how you feel.

      CONTENTS

      Chapter 1

      Chapter 2

      Chapter 3

      Chapter 4

      Chapter 5

      Chapter 6

      Chapter 7

      Chapter 8

      Chapter 9

      Chapter 10

      Chapter 11

      Chapter 12

      Chapter 13

      Chapter 14

      Translation Glossary

      About the Author

      FOR FOX SAKE

      fetish ˈfɛtɪʃ/ noun

      a form of sexual desire in which gratification is linked to an abnormal degree to a particular object, item of clothing, part of the body, etc.

      "A man with a fetish for surgical masks"

      synonyms: fixation, sexual fixation, obsession, compulsion, mania

      kink /kɪŋk/

      A quirk of character or behaviour. A person’s unusual sexual preference.

      Chapter 1

      Min-Jun swore loudly as he braved the drizzling, grey November rain in search of his elusive pet, Mr Fagin. The cat, named after Min-Jun’s favourite villain from Oliver Twist, was in the habit of sneaking out of Min-Jun’s apartment. He didn’t know why Mr Fagin did it every time it rained, but Min-Jun suspected it was for the pure enjoyment of seeing him get soaked while the cat watched him from the relative warmth of a building’s shelter, or from underneath a dumpster.

      Mr Fagin, Min-Jun hissed as he trailed the torch down the dark alleyway. You come back here right now. I have a special treat for you, he cajoled, hoping to coax the cat out from wherever he was hiding.

      The London alleyway remained dark, silent, and cat-less. Min-Jun waved the torch from side to side, hoping to spot luminous eyes peering back at him. As he walked down the alley, glancing around lest anyone else was lurking there, up to no good, he spotted a glint of light from under the rotten board planking covering up the basement cellar of a dilapidated old theatre.

      Min-Jun knew the place well—his third-floor flat overlooked the dismal street of abandoned warehouses, fish-and-chip shops, and boarded-up premises.

      With a shout of glee, he aimed his torch towards the eyes that shone in the blackness. I see you, he crowed as he knelt down on the wet pavement and pulled back the partial board, peering into the dark depths beyond. You are naughty, Mr Fagin. Now come on out.

      Hearing no answering meow, Min-Jun shone his torch into the hole he’d made. He leapt back, adrenaline-fuelled terror playing havoc with his heart. His startled yowl must have woken the other occupants of the paint-peeling apartment block he resided in. With shaking hands, he aimed the torch back into the basement.

      Inside, lying still, if not a bit haphazard, was the body of a large, orange fox with huge yellow eyes and a swathe of grinning teeth. Not a fox as in meadows and forests and the now-banned foxhunt, but a fox as large as a six-foot man.

      Min-Jun looked around and seeing no one to call him out on it, he lay down on his belly. He reached inside, taking care to avoid the broken glass around the window frame, and clasped the closest part of the costume, which was a bedraggled paw. A relieved smile spread across Min-Jun’s face.

      Ha-ha, he chuckled as the rain pelted down on him. It is only a silly fur costume. Who would leave such a thing here, it’s— He broke off, staring in puzzlement at the flashing item, not far from the arm, that had attracted his eye. The dim streetlight had reflected not off a cat’s eyes but a man’s large, silver signet ring, with something like an opal set in the centre.

      Min-Jun stretched over to get it, ignoring the dirt and mud on his jeans. Perhaps someone had lost it and he could claim it as his own. His cousin Stanley had a pawnshop in Wandsworth. If this ring was real, it might fetch enough money for Min-Jun to buy that new art set he wanted.

      It was only when he found out the ring was still attached to a severed hand that Min-Jun screamed again.

      This time for his life.

      ***

      Yeah, just there. Right there…God, that feels good. Tate squirmed as his lover Clay drew a back scratcher down the middle of his naked back. That damned shirt has a lot to answer for. It was like wearing a fucking sack.

      Clay chuckled as he drew the scratcher up again. They were lying in bed, dim light reflecting shadows across the room. Christ, you are such a baby. You wore it only for a few hours. That’s what happens when you go to a black-tie event. People expect you to wear one. With that comes a proper shirt.

      I didn’t want to go, remember? Tate grumbled as he turned to look at Clay. It was you with your damned ‘It’ll be fun, Tate. Let’s go sit with a bunch of douches for half a night and talk shit.’ The only good thing about tonight was the booze and the dinner. He pursed his lips. All that small talk makes me tired. He scowled and shifted deeper under the duvet, waving a hand in thanks at Clay.

      Tate’s back was reddened by weals where the back scratcher had done its job. Beneath the redness, Clay could still see the scars of bullet holes. Tate sighed with relief. I don’t know how you bloody do it, wearing a suit all day.

      Clay raised one sardonic eyebrow at him. T, you’re supposed to wear one too when we’re on the job. He ran a hand across his bristled cheek. Did you forget you’re the other half of Mortimer and Williams Investigations? The customers we deal with have a certain expectation how we dress.

      Tate smirked. As the main owner’s squeeze, I get preferential treatment. I’m allowed to wear jeans and motorcycle jackets. He scowled again. And what’s with the whole calling me T thing? I blame that little bastard Jax for that. He’s been talking like a dude in the hood ever since he met that urban dancer, you know, that Bobby Gilham guy, at some music festival. The kid seriously needs a talking to. It’s getting so I can’t understand a word he says anymore. Dare should take him in hand.

      Clay snorted with laughter. You know he only does it to bait you. I’d hazard a guess Jax has no idea about half the things he says, and Bobby gives him lessons in street speak before he sees you. That kid, as you call him, has grown up.

      Clay’s tone was wistful. Tate smirked. He loved it when his man went all Daddy Bear. And yes, Jax was no longer the shy young man he’d been when they’d met. He’d graduated from university with a degree in psychology, had turned twenty-one, and come into a substantial amount of money thanks to his trust fund. He had a vision of creating his own Halfway House with his partner, Dare. The couple was sickeningly and deliriously happy, excited about their new business venture together, and Tate had never been prouder of their young charge.

      Thank God tomorrow is Sunday, Tate muttered. I plan on sleeping in, staying in my underpants, and mooching around the house all day.

      Clay raised an eyebrow. I can get behind you on the underwear thing. In more ways than one, he murmured, and Tate chuckled.

      You never miss an opportunity to get down and dirty, do you? He smiled at Clay. Not that I’m complaining. I know when I’m onto a good thing.

      The two men regarded each other with affection. The love in Clay’s eyes had always been Tate’s safety blanket, his one solace from the eternal storm he lived in, a storm that lessened in intensity with each passing day. They’d been through tumultuous times together, and there was no one Tate depended on more to have by his side. As a friend, a lover, a business partner, and a fellow operative. Neither of them was officially in the service of the police force or the military anymore, but with Clay being former SAS and Tate ex-Drug Squad, he believed operative was a good word to describe what they did in their investigative firm.

      The couple ran an exclusive agency, assisting in cases passed over by the government and private sector. Mortimer and Williams, aka M&W, had been in operation for a while now and had an impressive list of solved cases to their credit. They operated across the globe, with a small, close-knit, and hand-chosen network. Their combined contacts had knowledge of the seedier part of life, and made M&W a great team.

      One thing Tate loved about his man was that Clay was inordinately fond of taking on local cases when he got asked to, finding it hard to refuse anyone in need. The last one was for an elderly neighbour lady down the road, which involved recovering stolen funds from a Nigerian hacker. Unfortunately, she’d fallen prey to the sly advances of an organised phishing group and lost her life savings.

      M&W had someone who could out-hack the hacker. Tomas Pavlis, a firebrand with bright blue eyes and a bad temper, was a young Lithuanian hacker genius whom Draven Samuels, another one of M&W Investigations’ operatives, had cornered and brought back to London. Tomas had been stealing millions from a state-based charity operating in Russia via the UK—ostensibly to help refugees. The stolen money had been returned to its rightful owner—Mortimer Investigations’ client—because Clay hadn’t wanted to get on the wrong side of the Russian syndicate controlling it. The human rights violations were real, and Tomas’s sympathies well founded, but his activity had been as a small, irritating cog in the bigger picture at play. Clay and Draven had finally brought the whole outfit down, but Tomas hadn’t been happy returning the money.

      When Draven had caught up with Tomas and his illicit activities, he’d been given an ultimatum: work for Mortimer and Williams Investigations or their client would probably charge him with the offences.

      Draven had persuaded the young man that he was worth far more out of jail. Tomas had finally agreed to work with M&W. His talents did not go wasted.

      At Clay’s request, Tomas had tracked down the money—Clay and Tate never asked how Tomas did what he did—and retrieved it for poor Mrs Elderflower, who’d been eternally grateful.

      Unfortunately, a bit too much. Now, Tate and Clay were flooded with plates of cookies, homemade chocolates, and endless stories about her grandchildren and her miniature dachshund, Darcy.

      In fact…Tate slid open his bedside drawer and hummed with pleasure when he saw a stash of her chocolates still there. He plucked two out and handed one to Clay, who took it with a sigh of satisfaction.

      I didn’t realise you had any left, or I’d have filched them. His lover made a moue of regret. I finished mine long ago.

      Yeah, well, these belong to me, Tate growled. I will kill you with my bare hands if I see them disappearing.

      Clay snorted. You can try, babe. He popped the sweet into his mouth. Tate did the same and for a short time, there was silence.

      Until Clay’s mobile rang. Tate smirked as his partner turned to glower at him. Clearly, Clay didn’t appreciate the change to his ringtone of the Spice Girls warbling out, Tell me what you want, what you really, really want.

      Stabbing the mobile with a fierce finger, turning off the upbeat tune, Clay ignored Tate’s mouthed, "I was bored,

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