One Last Heist
by Dahlia Donovan
Genre: M/M Romantic Suspense
One
last heist.
last heist.
It
should’ve been easy. Crack a safe, steal from a villain, and go on
vacation. The last thing Mack and Toshiro expect is to descend into a
nightmare of betrayal.
should’ve been easy. Crack a safe, steal from a villain, and go on
vacation. The last thing Mack and Toshiro expect is to descend into a
nightmare of betrayal.
Mack
Ueda-Easton loves three things: his husband, heists, and his odd
family of friends. He lives life on the edge. The only cloud on his
horizon is the degenerative disease stealing his sight.
Ueda-Easton loves three things: his husband, heists, and his odd
family of friends. He lives life on the edge. The only cloud on his
horizon is the degenerative disease stealing his sight.
Toshiro
Ueda-Easton tries to juggle his husband, his autistic sister, his
interfering mother, and all of their heists. He knows they’re
spiraling out of control and the journey they’re travelling can’t
last.
Ueda-Easton tries to juggle his husband, his autistic sister, his
interfering mother, and all of their heists. He knows they’re
spiraling out of control and the journey they’re travelling can’t
last.
What
neither of them expect is to get catapulted straight into a dangerous
conspiracy. They’re now in a race to come out on top. If they fail,
the consequences are unimaginable.
neither of them expect is to get catapulted straight into a dangerous
conspiracy. They’re now in a race to come out on top. If they fail,
the consequences are unimaginable.
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“Would you just admit you can’t see in the dark?” Toshiro snapped in pure frustration. “Mack. Are you listening to me?”
“I’m fine. My ears work perfectly.”
Fine.
He’s fine.
Right.
Fine, my arse.
Well, my arse is fine.
“You walked into the table.” Toshiro watched in the darkened room through the night vision on his camera while his stubborn husband stumbled around. “And into the sofa—oh, and the wall. Classic. You’re supposed to crack the safe, not take a header into it.”
“Toshi,” Mack whispered his nickname sharply. “Couldn’t you yell at me in Cantonese or Japanese or any one of the hundred languages you speak? It would still be distracting, but I wouldn’t understand a word of it.”
“I speak thirty languages—not a hundred.” Toshiro grinned even though Mack couldn’t see it. “I suppose the point of a timed run-through of cracking the safe might require your full attention. Oh, look, you tripped over the carpet again.”
“Toshiro Ueda-Easton.”
“Gregor Tempest Mackay Ueda-Easton. Fine, fine. I’ll be quiet. Continue walking into the wall, but I’m not explaining your concussion to the others.” Toshiro continued to ramble about the idiotic stubbornness of his husband in Portuguese, one of the many languages he’d picked up over the years. “Idiota.”
“I understood that one.” Mack tossed one of the drill bits of his safe-drilling rig in his husband’s general direction—missing him completely. “Keep cussing me out in Spanish.”
“Portuguese.”
Dahlia
Donovan wrote her first romance series after a crazy dream about
shifters and damsels in distress. She prefers irreverent humour and
unconventional characters. An autistic and occasional hermit, her
life wouldn’t be complete without her husband and her massive
collection of books and video games.
Donovan wrote her first romance series after a crazy dream about
shifters and damsels in distress. She prefers irreverent humour and
unconventional characters. An autistic and occasional hermit, her
life wouldn’t be complete without her husband and her massive
collection of books and video games.
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