Alina Popescu, Writer

Blog Tour – Collateral Damage by J.T. Cheyanne

Blog Tour – Collateral Damage by J.T. Cheyanne
June 24
22:00 2016


Fleeing the questions and horrific memories in Miami-Dade, Trevor Garrett accepts a deputy position in the small town of Rolling Fork, Mississippi. Plagued by anxiety attacks and an abhorrence to being touched, Trevor rebuffs his best friend’s attempts to set him up. He has no desire for any type of relationship; until the local golden boy strolls into his line of sight at the neighborhood dive…

Logan Andrews just wants to take care of his mama. After years of serving his country in the Army Special Forces, Logan resigns when he learns his mother is suffering from advanced stages of Alzheimer’s disease. A night out with old friends turns heated when the newest deputy in town catches his attention…

When a sexually deviant killer sets his sights on the gay men in the area, Trevor is assigned the case. In a wicked twist, all evidence points to Logan. Can Trevor’s past be repeating itself? In a race against a killer, Trevor struggles to overcome his own insecurities and clear the man whose touch sets him on fire. Will he succeed or will their budding relationship become Collateral Damage?

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Carlo’s. The brass name plaque with Victorian curlicues around the edges and black lettering across the face named the establishment. Its simple elegance belied the entertainment Logan knew was going on behind the guarded doors. A private club, it catered only to the gay male community. Membership was required and each individual was thoroughly vetted before they were granted access.

Soundproof walls and glass prevented the average person from hearing the heavy thump of the club music that would be playing on a Thursday night. Blackout windows and curtains protected the members from prying eyes. Inside the door, two security guards waited to check the ID of anyone who opened the door. The rules were simple, no ID, no entry, even if you were a regular.

Logan fished out his wallet and tugged his membership card from behind his driver’s license. His dimples flashed up at him from the photo taking up half of the front of the card. He grimaced at the image of himself. No fucking way he felt like smiling after Trevor had sent him away like a recalcitrant child. Even after the hour and a half drive from Rolling Fork to Jackson, he still didn’t know why the man had flashed cold so damned fast.

He palmed the door and swung it open fueled by the force of his temper. Dual towers of muscle rose from their stools with matching glares. Twins, and damned good looking ones.

“Identification and membership card,” the big man on his left rumbled. Clark, according to the name tag pinned to his shirt. Logan’s gaze flipped to the other guy and an unexpected laugh erupted.

“Seriously, your parents named you Clark and Kent?” The dimples appeared despite his aggravation with Trevor.

“Don’t make me smash your face, pretty boy,” Kent growled. An elbow dug into his ribs. Clark handed over Logan’s information. One of Kent’s eyebrows lifted. Logan maintained his relaxed posture. He saw the recognition in their eyes when they both looked back at him.

“Surprised you didn’t ask us which one is Superman, Mr. Andrews,” Kent finally replied. “That’s the usual question.” He handed Logan the two cards and nodded at his brother. Clark picked up the phone, but before he could press a button, the door behind them opened.

“He didn’t ask because he is Superman,” a soft voice full of Southern comfort drawled. The pair of wide shoulders split to reveal Carson in all of his dainty glory. At five feet-five inches tall, the man was a full foot shorter than Logan. Although he was small and nothing he did caused him to gain weight, he was no twink. His body was whipcord lean and muscled in all of the right places.

Dressed in a light gray Tom Ford suit with a crimson button down beneath, he was a picture of evening elegance. He flipped his perfectly styled hair and smiled. “Logan, baby, you should have called ahead. I would have been waiting for you. It’s damned good to see you.”

Logan accepted the embrace from the smaller man catching a whiff of his preferred cologne, Chanel No. 5. The scent brought back memories of his first time with the man in his arms. His first time ever with someone of the same sex. They had both been scared and nervous, but so very horny. All of his firsts had been with Carson Wright, first hand-job, blowjob and first top and bottom.

The sex hadn’t been great at first, but by the end of their senior year, they’d learned what made the other feel good. Neither of them had been in love, but parting from Carson had been far harder than saying goodbye to Stef. However, Carson had understood his decision; he wanted out of Rolling Fork just as much as Logan did.

“You’re tense. You need a drink.” Carson slipped his hand around Logan’s arm. “Come inside and let me show you how our little investment has grown.”

“I think I’m underdressed,” Logan said, giving Carson another once over.

Carson squeezed his arm and laughed. “Oh you are, darling, for the gentleman’s lounge, but somehow I don’t think the men inside would complain about your attire.” Carson pressed close, but it was all about the friendship and not a suggestion for more.

“Don’t worry. You’ll fit right in with the club set upstairs. Or, you could strip down to that g-string I know you’re wearing and join the Twister marathon going on downstairs. Winners get free lap dances from a dancer of their choice.”

While he talked, Carson tugged him through the door behind the twins. In the hallway, they met another pair of men standing between two elevators in front of a set of wooden double doors. Their clothes hinted at money; however, their demeanor was all military. Logan recognized like and saw they did as well.


About the author

#1 Best Selling Author of Grand Slam, J.T. Cheyanne is a genre crosser who writes romance and paranormal in the m/m and m/f genres. J.T. Cheyanne resides in the beautiful state of Alabama. J.T. lives with her two sons and daughter. An avid reader since fourth grade, she has only just started writing her own stories. She also has several works published with her co-author, V.L. Moon.

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Alina Popescu

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