Darker Than Any Shadow: A Tai Randolph Mystery (Tai Randolph Mysteries)
The dog days of summer have arrived, and Tai Randolph is feeling the heat. Running her uncle's gun shop is more demanding than she ever imagined. Her best friend Rico is competing for a national slam poetry title. And Atlanta is overrun with hundreds of fame-hungry performance poets clogging all the good bars.
She's also got her brand-new relationship with corporate security agent Trey Seaver to deal with. SWAT-trained and rule-obsessed, Trey has a brain geared for statistics and flow charts, not romance. And while Tai finds him irresistibly fascinating, dating a human lie detector who can kill with his bare hands is a somewhat precarious endeavor.
And then just when she thinks she might get a handle on things, one of Rico's fellow poets is murdered . . . and Rico becomes the prime suspect.
Tai pushes up her sleeves and comes to his defense with every trick in her book a little lying here, a little snooping there. Trey wants her off the case immediately. So does Rico. Every poet in Atlanta has a secret, it seems, and one of them is willing to kill to keep theirs quiet. But someone else wants her on the job, someone dropping anonymous clues and clandestine tip-offs her way. Someone with an agenda that's looking either positively heroic . . . or downright deadly.
Will Tai's relationship with Trey survive another foray into amateur sleuthing? And even more importantly, will she?
I’m cold.” “It’s shock. You’ll feel better when you can get dry.” I moved closer to him and dropped my voice. “Have you been able to read anyone?” “No, not clearly anyway.” “Damn. I was hoping your secret weapon would help me sort this out.” It was an ability both simple and astonishing—ever since The Accident, Trey could spot a lie with uncanny accuracy. The damage to his right frontal lobe had left him with an enhanced sensitivity to micro-emotive expressions, which
was a first of some kind, that was for sure. I dragged myself up. My mouth felt sore, and when I rolled over, a tender spot on my hip protested. I explored it gingerly. Definitely a bruise, probably from when I crashed into the counter. Or maybe not. There were other moments… I shook my head clear. Coffee. I needed coffee. A whole lot of it, sweet as pie to kickstart my metabolism and strong as swamp water to clear my head. I stuck the pot under the faucet and turned it on. There was an
a different everything—different name, different look, different shtick. Except for the magician part, I’m betting that was the same. You don’t get this good that fast, and when you do, you don’t abandon it.” Rico stared at the screen-size image of Lex, the enigmatic smile, the irresistible magnetism. “This was all an act?” “I don’t know which part was act and which was real. Maybe Lex didn’t either.” I gathered my things. “Come on. You have to get ready for the open mike tonight, and I
corner to check the 11Alive noon update. The dark-haired reporter had a steely gaze and broad shoulders, like Superman touching down to deliver a bit of breaking news. It was a rehash of everything I already knew—Lex was a thief, abruptly ditching his life in South Florida for vagrancy and barely getting by in Atlanta, perhaps pissing off several underworld types in the process. “This makes no sense,” Frankie complained. “Lex’s death had nothing to do with gangsters! What about the
This isn’t about his job, it’s about you.” “Me?” “Haven’t you noticed? No matter what he’s doing—arguing with poets, taking down suspects, drawing diagrams—he’s always got one eye cocked in your direction.” I sighed. “Yeah, I think I’m at the top of his loose cannon list.” Rico popped me on the shoulder. “That’s not what I mean. That man cares about you. That’s why he’s down there.” Rico’s words hit me right in the stomach. Caring? Trey? I mean, he seemed to like me,