Book Title: My Iron Knight (An Enemy Territory Story)
Author: S. J. Coles
Publisher: Pride Publishing
Release Date: April 12, 2022
Genre: Contemporary M/M Romance, Biker Romance, Action/Suspense/Drama
Tropes: Forbidden love, Enemies to Lovers, Small Town Romance
Heat Rating: 4 flames
Length: 32 900 words/ 137 pages
It is a standalone story and does not end on a cliffhanger.
Dash Cassidy loves his town even more than his bike, but his priorities have a violent shift in gear when an irresistible Russian hitman comes along.
Up to now, Dash has been more than happy to muscle his way through life as his father did before him, even if he is starting to suspect that something might be missing.
But now there’s a new player in town. Iris Damaro has plans to make Salvation the center of her international smuggling operation. Dash isn’t going to sit still while Damaro steamrolls through his town, but when the crime boss sends her alluring Russian number two, Nikita Vasiliev, to do her negotiating, Dash realizes he may be in over his head.
Can Dash figure out where his priorities lie before his town—or his heart—is lost forever?
The doorbell jangled and in stepped Nikita Vasiliev.
He was perfect, not a speck of dust or gleam of sweat on him. He wore a tight black T-shirt and jeans, which did very little to stop Dash from picturing what might lay underneath. His bare arms were surprisingly toned, the muscles sliding under his pale skin as he moved. His smile was thin and his eyes, like white-hot needles, drove right into Dash’s belly. His suited shadows followed, their expressions hidden by sunglasses.
“I told her the same thing I told you,” Vasiliev said smoothly. “I told her to think about it.”
Dash stood, his hand on his gun. Furniture scraped as the diners stood and looked vainly at the exit, now blocked by the suited goons.
“No, please,” Vasiliev said as he came forward, sinuous as a snake, his fine-boned hands held out, palms up. “Do not let us interrupt your meals.” The diners slowly lowered themselves back to their seats, and the Russian turned his smile on Dash. “Mr. Cassidy, let’s not ruin these fine people’s mornings.”
“What do you want, Vasiliev?”
He raised his eyebrows. “Your pronunciation is improving. Did you look it up on YouTube?”
“Gentlemen,” Rosie barked, “this here may be an old- fashioned business, but it’s still my business. Either you order something or take your business elsewhere.”
“I’d say that’s fair,” the Russian said, perusing the menu on the wall. “My associates will take a coffee. I believe I would very much like to try your...blueberry pancakes?”
“Comin’ up,” she said, nodding reassuringly at Big Bill through the hatch, as his face had grown stormy. “Cassidy?” she said, tilting her chin. “I don’t care who your daddy were. My place, my rules.”
“Refill,” he said without moving.
A wider smile spread over Vasiliev’s sculpted mouth. He drifted past Dash to a booth against the wall. “Shall we act like civilized adults?”
Dash glanced at the heavies as they took stools at the end of the counter, between him and the door, and sat.
Vasiliev lowered himself into the seat opposite, interweaving his long fingers on the scarred Formica tabletop. Dash realized for the first time that his fingers were slightly crooked, the skin webbed with scars as fine as silver thread.
Rosie slapped a plate of pancakes and a syrup jug on the table. She set a fresh coffee in front of Dash with a hard look then hastened back behind the counter.
“What are you doing here?” Dash asked in a low voice.
“Quite incredible,” Vasiliev said, pouring syrup on the pancakes. “I was just about to ask you the same thing.”
“You don’t scare me, Vasiliev.”
“Don’t I?” He met Dash’s eyes as he lifted a forkful of pancake to his mouth. He chewed, scowled then pushed the plate away. “Bliaha. How can you have something so sweet for breakfast? May I?” Before Dash could speak, Vasiliev had sipped from Dash’s mug, his blue eyes boring into his over the rim. “Ah,” he said, lowering the cup. “Seems America does get some things right.”
“What do you want with Rosie?” Dash said, fighting to keep his voice under control.
“I came to see if she had had any further thoughts on our proposal,” Vasiliev said, dabbing his mouth with a napkin. “But I’m guessing her position is as yet unchanged. No matter. She has thirteen more days...just like you.”
“What happens then?”
“That’s our business.”
Dash leaned forward on his elbows. “Your boss may be used to getting what she wants, but she won’t get what she wants from us.”
“Then she’ll kill you all.”
“I’d like to see her try.”
About the Author. . .