Prism Book Alliance® would like to thank Rodd Clark for stopping by today.
Title: Rubble and the Wreckage
Author: Rodd Clark
Publisher: Driven Press
Cover Artist: Mumson Designs
Genre: Action/Adventure, Crime Fiction, Fiction, Gay, Gay Fiction, M/M Romance, Thriller
Gabriel Church knows you can’t take a life without first understanding just how feeble life is, how tentative and weak it stands alone. If you desire murder, you hold a life in your hand. Whether you release it to grant life or grip tighter to end it, it is at your command and discretion. Gabriel is a serial killer with a story he wants told.
Christian Maxwell studied abnormal psychology in college but chose instead to focus on a career in writing. His background comes in handy when he thinks of writing about a serial killer. He can’t think of anyone more qualified to write the story of Gabriel Lee Church, and do so in the murderer’s own words. It’s been done before, but never with a killer who has yet to be captured or convicted.
There was never anything more than a gentleman’s understanding between the two men that Christian would record Gabriel’s life story. The killer did not ask for his complicity in any crimes, nor did he ever ask for his silence. Christian’s interest in the man, though, is fast becoming something more than academic. When the writer and his subject become unexpected friends and then lovers, the question remains: What is Gabriel’s endgame . . . and why does he want his story told?
“A closeted writer had found his footing, and a killer had found a reason not to kill.”
Get to know Gabriel Church of the M/M Romantic Thriller “Rubble and the Wreckage” before the release of the newest chapter in the Gabriel Church Tales.
Look for “Torn & Frayed” to be released in October 2015 to learn what happens to the killer and the lover he has drawn into his web of calamity.
“I’VE BEEN CAREFUL not to ask before now, but how many would you say you’ve killed?”
It had already whispered in his brain. There were ramifications to the answer that he didn’t really want to explore. But how could Christian complete his manuscript without knowing the answer?
“An actual accounting? I suppose I can understand why that number might be important to you, but people who become victims, are not necessarily just numbers in my eyes. Think of it as a journey, and they’re not people, but mile markers.”
With that cold, analytical retort, Church had once again slipped into another persona. His grin faded with every flash of memory he was forced to relive. His posture seemed guarded and closed at first, but as he reclined back into the salon chair with his naked chest exposed and the writer’s eyes darting uncomfortably back and forth, another unseen personality found its way to the surface. This one wanted nothing more than to unbalance Christian and gain some sadistic enjoyment in watching him squirm under all that unspoken pressure. Church rested his head inside the crux of his massive intertwined palms and set out to witness Christian dance under his manipulations.
Church reminded him of an old tomcat he once had, one who loved to catch mice but spent almost an hour batting the poor thing from paw to paw while the rodent breathed its heavily labored final breaths from its many failed attempts to escape death. Eventually that old barn cat would tire of his own game and pull the mouse’s head off with a single bite before dragging it off to the shadows, presumably to eat. It was just like the game Church enjoyed playing with him. And as it went was proving effective. Christian didn’t like being in Church’s company when both were relaxed, when both could shed the professionalism of their relationship and become friendly. He also did not like the distraction of such a tantalizing figure sitting so close to him. He expected by now, he would’ve been more composed and calm, and given it all, it was rather amazing just how collected he appeared, given that Church was still just a few feet away. It had only been a couple of hours. The tea pitcher was draining and the sandwiches were growing stale. He’d hoped by then he would have gotten used to being in the killer’s company, that he’d be accustomed to the sensual way Church would bite his bottom lip when he remembered something painful, or that he didn’t get a tad panic-stricken when the man would brush past him or reach over him to grab another quarter-cut club sandwich from the tray. But time refused to alter his nervous state. “I think the readers would like to know if there had ever been time for romance during all the killings.” Christian carried the pretense of writing and never raised his head.
“Yes, I’m sure the readers want to know that. But I would have to tell them I never had much interest in what you call romance. I got laid. I found occasion to blow my jizz wherever I wanted, yes. But ‘romance’ is for fourteen-year-old schoolgirls, don’t you think?”
“So, during the height of the murders, or before, there was never any person who you were involved with? No one who might have altered your, err, homicidal course at any time?”
Church stared over the rim of his glass of tea at Christian. There was an unfamiliar look in his eyes, he seemed to be both exploring the man’s question and considering for the first time the possibility that someone he might have loved could have changed his destiny, for the better. But the black cloud reassembled somewhere on his face.
“I was never in love, so the point is moot I suppose. Since I have never loved another person, then I guess my destiny was, as they say, pre-ordained. I didn’t become a better man because no one ever mattered enough to me. Then again, that works on the assumption that I’m not a good man, even currently, doesn’t it?”
“Do you consider yourself a good man?” Christian decided, rather resolutely, that he wouldn’t get answers to all of his questions, but he traveled the path forward and trained his eyes on the killer to await a reply.
“Good is a relative term. I’m good at what I do, I don’t hurt the ones I kill unnecessarily, so I suppose it’s up for debate.”
“I beg to consider, the families of your victims may not agree with you.”
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About the Author
Rodd Clark lives in Dallas, TX at the moment, yet claims to hail from the deep sticks of rural Oklahoma. You may check out his web presence at RODDCLARK.COM. You will find he has a consuming interest in the M/M Mystery, Romance and Thriller genres, but he acknowledges his love for many different kinds of books, and in many different areas. Reviewers have written that he has a dark and distinctive voice and his writing explores those deeper aspects to his flawed yet loveable characters.
I have a number of paperbacks, most of which are signed, to giveaway. Over the between now (11 Mar 2017) and 31 Mar 2017, every comment on the blog (this post and all other new posts), will be entered to win 1 of these paperbacks. There are also some misc swag items, so there will be a few packs of these to give away as well.
Thank you so much for your support over the last 4 years. Prism will be closing its doors on 1 April 2017. All content will remain available, but no new content will appear after 31 Mar 2017. As such all request forms have been turned off. Again Thank you,
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