The Roadcut: A Darke and Flare Mystery Story: A Darke and Flare Mystery, #2.5

By Parker Avrile

A romantic gay road trip takes a wrong turn into danger...

A man flees the scene of a crime in a stolen vehicle. Half an hour later, his burning car is discovered at the foot of a ravine.   

 

If it was an accident, where's the body?  

 

For that matter, if it was murder, where's the body?  

 

Darke and Flare were looking forward to a getting-to-know-you romantic getaway without people shooting at them or putting them in cuffs. They've gotten away to the wrong mountain.

 

This 15,000-word novella is a complete road trip mystery set in the world of the Darke and Flare gay romantic suspense series. The action takes place after the events of, "The Double," but before the events of, "Where Missing Boys Go." However, the story is designed so that it can be read at any time without spoiling the novels.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Paris April Press
• Release date: Dec 3, 2020
• ISBN: 9781393047681

Parker Avrile

Like Kyle, I ran away to Vegas. Now I'm running from it. 

Book preview

The Roadcut

A Darke and Flare Mystery Story

by

Parker Avrile

©2020 by Parker Avrile & Paris April Press

All rights reserved

A MAN FLEES THE SCENE of a crime in a stolen vehicle. Half an hour later, his burning car is discovered at the foot of a ravine. If it was an accident, where's the body?

For that matter, if it was murder, where's the body?

Darke and Flare were looking forward to a getting-to-know-you romantic getaway without people shooting at them or putting them in cuffs. They've gotten away to the wrong mountain.

This 15,000-word novella is a complete road trip mystery set in the world of the Darke and Flare gay romantic suspense series. The action takes place after the events of, The Double, but before the events of, Where Missing Boys Go. However, the story is designed so that it can be read at any time without spoiling any of the novels.

Please do not upload my story to free, sharing, or pirate sites, and do not sell or give it away as your own work. This work is fiction, and no real persons or events are described therein.

Chapter One

The maroon BMW 330i undoubtedly knew where we were, but I didn't. Hours before, Darke turned off the elegant voice that kept telling him he'd missed his turn. Truth is, he hadn't missed many turns, and every one of them put us on a smaller road.

Let's get lost, he said. It'll be fun.

Don't know about fun but it was easier than you'd think. The day before, we abandoned the interstate for state highway. From there, we drifted more or less at random down rural county roads and winding country lanes. Once we found ourselves on an unpaved forestry road that was more puddle and pothole than path. Twice, we got stuck behind tractors, lights flashing importantly to tell us they couldn't be expected to break their regal fifteen miles an hour.

Darke's wide shoulders were relaxed, and his capable hands were easy on the wheel. He had a contagious gift for being happy in the moment, and this moment was a blue afternoon in October 2019. Taking turns in the driver's seat, we'd gone a long way past stubbled fields marked here and there by cairns of orange pumpkins.

Now the fields were gone, and we were deep into forest. Tall skinny trees blazed yellow and pinky-red on either side of us. Darke slowed when he spotted a final cairn. Ghost pumpkins the white of night moths sat piled to mark a right turn onto a dirt road.

I shivered. Ghosts, a fun idea in the city, seemed sinister out in the boonies.

Darke's sunglasses hid his remarkable eyes, but the corners of his mouth twitched up. Although there was no one behind us to see the signal, he hit his blinker.

If someone comes from the other direction, who backs up? I asked.

Laughing, he slotted the Beamer into the narrowest lane yet. The skinny trees on either side weren't quite tall enough to touch in the middle, but you still had the impression you'd entered a living tunnel.

The lane wasn't bad as dirt roads go. Somebody kept the potholes filled, and yesterday's rain dampened down the dust. The lack of traffic and Darke's deft driving relaxed me. My eyes felt heavy, so I let them close.

At some point, I jolted awake to the swoony feel of the car ascending a mountain made of hairpin turns. Outside my window, green vines twined around yellow trees to reach the sunlight raining into the cut made for the road. Not so much sunlight now. The shadows were longer, deeper. Darke had taken off the sunglasses.

How long had I slept? Half an hour? An hour? I would've expected the dirt road to peter out long before.

He flicked sapphire side-eye in my direction. We are now well and truly lost. It's official.

That isn't how any of this works, I said. The car can tell us...

His left hand squeezed my right thigh. Ah, Flare, you know that's cheating. Anyway... He didn't finish a sentence he'd already finished too many times before.

It's good to be lost. Good to take time to figure out what comes next.

Well.

What came next was me and Darke. What came next was getting to know each other when people weren't shooting at us or putting us in handcuffs.

There were other things to think about too. Our future. We'd run out of money sometime. We'd need work. My father's law firm was always waiting to gobble up his only son.

Stop thinking so loud. Darke squeezed my thigh harder, a sexy promise for the night ahead. Let the day happen. His hand slid up to find my bulge. The Beamer slowed to ten miles an hour.

You're creating a traffic hazard.

What traffic? But he put his hand back on the wheel at two o'clock.

Not long after that, we found