By Jason Webster
Max Camara is feeling low. Ominous cracks have seemed within the partitions of his flat; the physique of a well known paella chef has been washed up at the seashore; there are rows and threats approximately abortion clinics; town corridor are set on demolishing El Cabanyal, the vibrant fisherman's area on Valencia's sea-front. As Cámara untangles those threads, he stumbles right into a net of corruption and violence, uncovering deep animosities and hidden secrets and techniques, and forcing him to question his personal doubts and desires.Starring the decided Cámara, together with his love of flamenco and brandy, and low doped-out excessive, A loss of life in Valencia delves into concerns that rouse unruly passions and divide the Spanish buyers.
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Additional resources for A Death in Valencia (Max Camara, Book 2)
Sabin’s voice was hard, uncompromising, a roar compared to the Hunter’s pleading. “An answer. Please. ” She gave a single nod. Without word or warning, he cut the Hunter’s throat. CHAPTER FIVE SABIN HAD MURDERED a man in front of her. Several hours had since passed and they’d even switched locations, but the bloody image of that human falling to his knees, then to his face, gurgling then silent, so silent, refused to leave her mind. Gwen had known that kind of fierceness churned inside of Sabin—the same kind of fierceness that had driven her to murder.
Utterly trusting, she rested her head in the hollow of his neck. “I’ve dreamed about this, too,” she whispered. “So warm. ” He swallowed the sudden lump in his throat, felt Doubt prowling the corridors of his mind, rattling the bars, desperate to escape, to obliterate Gwen’s ease with him. Too much faith, the demon said, as if that were some sort of disease. The perfect amount, if Sabin were being honest with himself. He liked that a woman was looking at him as if he were a prince of light rather than a king of darkness, someone she needed to run screaming from.
She didn’t trust them, didn’t want to risk poisoning or the vulnerability of unconsciousness or nakedness, and that was understandable. But damn it, he was seething with the need to force her to do those things. For her own good. Without the shit that had been pumped into her cell, she had to be feeling every bit of her starvation. She had to be exhausted and dirty as she was— from the past two days, as well as her confinement, which was strange because the other women had been clean—she couldn’t possibly be comfortable.