Burn Me Deadly: An Eddie Lacrosse Novel, Book 2 by Alex Bledsoe, Stefan Rudnicki, Inc. Blackstone Audio

By Alex Bledsoe, Stefan Rudnicki, Inc. Blackstone Audio

Alex Bledsoe’s first novel, The Sword-Edged Blonde, drew rave studies for its inventive mix of fantasy and hard-boiled detective fiction. Now Bledsoe returns with an all-new story of suggest streets and medieval intrigue.Above Angelina’s Tavern in down-and-dirty Neceda you’ll locate the workplace of Eddie LaCrosse, a contract sword jockey who, for twenty-five gold items an afternoon, will tackle any job wanting homicide for hire. Eddie’s on his long ago from a regimen research whilst his horse almost runs down a half-naked blonde in deep trouble. opposed to his greater judgment, he supplies to guard the fearful younger girl, in simple terms to discover himself waylaid by way of unknown assailants and left for lifeless beside her mutilated body.Eddie isn’t the type of man to simply enable whatever like this pass. But who killed Laura Lesperitt? Eddie’s quest for payback leads him to a tangled secret related to a infamous crime lord, a backwoods dragon cult, royal scandals, and a duplicitous femme fatale who has difficulty preserving her outfits on. As our bodies pile up, attracting the unwelcome consciousness of the king’s guards, Eddie needs to use all his wits if he hopes to outlive . . .

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Argoset put the tablet back in his pocket. ” I shrugged. “It’s your job, not mine. ” He nodded again. His eerie, steady quality made me nervous, especially since it emanated from such a boyish face. I could imagine what it would do to someone who really did have a guilty conscience. Finally he said, “I don’t believe you, Mr. LaCrosse, but I do believe that your injuries will slow you down considerably and keep you from getting in my way. So I’ll leave you with this. A crime has been committed, and as far as we know, you are one of the victims.

A single candle on the table lit her skin in flickering waves of amber. Distant music from Angelina’s tavern mingled with the street sounds into a rolling, tinkling buzz. Inside we were warm, safe and sated. Liz shifted a little, and clutched me tighter. I grunted as my ribs protested, but Liz didn’t wake and I wasn’t going to disturb her. Nothing like nearly dying to make you appreciate things like sex with your girlfriend. I was too weak to participate much in the physical part of our reunion, but my enjoyment seemed reward enough for her.

She had gray hair and kindly eyes that belied her no-nonsense tone. She wore flowing robes and at her throat hung the crescent symbol marking her as a moon priestess, a religious sect that flourished in this part of the world. “I’m Donna Bennings. You’re in the moon goddess hospital, just outside Neceda. Can you understand me, Mr. ” “Yeah,” I said, mostly into the drool-damp spot on my pillow. ” she asked. “It back to me,” I repeated. I began to roll onto my back, and she moved to help, cradling my head.

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