Title: Prince of Killers (Fog City #1)
Author: Layla Reyne
Cover Design: Cate Ashwood Designs
Cover Photography: Wander Aguiar Photography
Publisher: Self Published
Release Date: June 10, 2019
Genre(s): M/M Romantic Suspense
Reviewed By: Kirstin and Bob, and Tosha
No indiscriminate killing. No collateral damage. No unvetted targets.
These are the rules Hawes Madigan lives by. Rules that make being Fog City’s Prince of Killers bearable. Soon, he’ll be king—of an organization of assassins—and the crown has never felt heavier. Until the mysterious Dante Perry swaggers into his life.
Dante looks like a rock god and carries himself like one too, all loose-limbed and casually confident. He also carries a concealed weapon, a private investigator’s license, and a message for the prince. Someone inside Hawes’s organization is out to kill the future king.
In the chaos that follows the timely warning, Hawes comes to depend on Dante. On his skills as an investigator, on the steadiness he offers, and on their moments alone when Hawes lets Dante take control. As alliances are tested and traitors exposed, Hawes needs Dante at his back and in his bed. But if the PI ever learns Hawes’s darkest secret, Hawes is sure to get a knife to the heart—and a bullet to the brain—instead.
There’s no shortage of twists and turns in this new romantic suspense trilogy from Layla Reyne. Prince of Killers is book one of three. Fair warning: buckle up, cliffhangers ahead!
Explicit sex including mild kink; explicit language; violence; instances and/or discussion of homophobia; off-page instances and/or discussion of PTSD, drug use, and abuse of minor characters.
It was half past two by the time the Lyft pulled to the curb in front of Hawes’s building. As predicted, Kane had read them the riot act, then questioned them in-depth about Jodie and Ray. Holt’s cover story had held and was supported by the evidence called in. Relatively satisfied, or just dog-tired, Kane had given them a much sterner warning to keep him apprised of any situations, then cleared out. Hawes had done the same shortly thereafter, against Helena’s wishes. She’d wanted him to stay at the house, but Hawes needed to decompress within the comfort of his own four walls.
Holt had swept the area around the four-story South Beach condo building and confirmed all was clear. Inside the unit was always a risk—Hawes refused interior cameras—but exterior footage from the past few hours showed only the usual residents entering the building. No one had approached his end-unit’s door.
Apparently they hadn’t looked hard enough, or more likely, the man leaning against the side of the building reading a paperback, knew exactly where to stand to avoid the cameras.
“Where’s the bike?” Hawes asked. All the building’s parking areas were in view of Holt’s or other surrounding cameras. They would have seen the Hog on the security footage.
“In a garage up the block,” Dante answered as he tucked away the book, a popular fantasy series. “One that doesn’t have wired cameras.”
Caution dictated—more and more with each passing hour—that Hawes not let this man into his life, much less into his home. A well-founded warning. A perfectly timed kill. A work-around designed to thwart their security. Letting him in was a risk, but Hawes had committed to keeping this potential enemy close, to seeing what more he knew about the threat to his family, should he make another approach. And now here he was.
Those were the logical reasons to let Dante in. There was also the illogical. The part of Hawes that had been unsteady since the alley, that he’d kept hidden from his siblings, and that was already settling in Dante’s presence. When Dante shoved off the wall and stepped directly into a camera’s line of sight, it settled further.
“Could have given you a ride if you’d wanted.” The smirk was for Hawes’s benefit. The dark eyes flitting to the camera were for the benefit of whoever was watching. A white flag of sorts. He was exposing himself here as much as Hawes.
Good enough for Hawes, whose traitorous body led his mind astray, considering other things he’d like to ride. He pushed back one side of his leather jacket and dug his keys out of his jeans pocket, ignoring his vibrating phone in the other. “If I never ride on that bike again, it’ll be too soon.” He swiped his key fob over the building’s lock and opened the front door for Dante to enter ahead of him. Less risk, relatively.
Get to know more about Layla Reyne in this fun Review Tour Q&A!
Do you listen to audiobooks? If so, are there any you’d recommend?
Yes! One of my day jobs is as a legal resource editor, and I always have an audiobook playing when I’m doing that work. The Tales of Verania series by TJ Klune, narrated by Michael Lesley, is an absolute treasure.
What are your five favorite words?
I just need one: Fuck, especially the way Tristan James says it narrating audiobooks 😉
Do you have a favorite cover from one of your books?
This one! Cate Ashwood who did all the Fog City covers sent me the cover concept for Prince of Killers first, and I screamed “Holy Shit!” so loudly that my dogs startled. And I kept repeating “Holy Shit” for like the next week. She deserves so much credit, as does Wander Aguiar for the gorgeous photos, and Patrick Sean (the model) for just being that damn gorgeous.
About Layla Reyne
2016 RWA® Golden Heart® Finalist Layla Reyne was raised in North Carolina and now calls San Francisco home. She enjoys weaving her bicoastal experiences into her stories, along with adrenaline-fueled suspense and heart-pounding romance. When she’s not writing stories to excite her readers, she downloads too many books, watches too much television, and cooks too much food with her scientist husband, much to the delight of their smushed-face, leftover-loving dogs.