When you've go too far, there's no way back.

“Hunter, when you were in a state of emergency—physically, emotionally, psychologically—a team went into action. What the lead psychiatrist did is a little like being medically stalked. I have extensive notes, recordings of interviews, files of background information about you.”

I gestured at the black flash drive case, all twelve spaces occupied, lying open on my desk. It had been overnighted from the hospital in Cleveland.

He didn’t look at me; he hadn’t made direct eye contact since he entered my office. Tall, a little gaunt, hard-edged, what would usually be called “laugh lines” deeply etched. Dark hair unkempt, unshaven. But a striking-looking man: stormy, grey-blue eyes thickly lashed, cleanly-drawn winged brows. Compelling, I was sure, when not in the throes of depression.

He stared just over my shoulder, toward the window behind me. I caught the steady, slanting fall of heavy white flakes in my peripheral vision through the other window in my office.

I was sure the man was hearing what I said, so I went on.

“You were sedated at the time these decisions were made and permission for this type of intense biographical investigation was granted by your husband. How do you feel about that? About him deciding for you that every part of your private life could be delved into by strangers?”

He shot me a filthy look, a split-second of intense hate. My heart pounded. Aware that he could be armed—that he’d killed—and knowing depression so often spilled over into rage, I considered ending the session.

But this was a veteran homicide detective well known around the department for cool control in the most chaotic and dangerous situations. Friend of some very influential people. I pressed on.

“Lieutenant, if I’m going to certify you to the medical unit for an extended period of time, I need information. If you won’t talk to me, I’ll have to go through these files. Your husband also gave permission for me to do that.”

He was on his feet at my desk, leaning over the desktop, braced by two closed fists.

“You don’t ever mention Camden Snow again. In your life.”

He picked up the flash drive case and walked out the door. He didn’t rush. He was in no hurry, not concerned that I’d try to stop him and retrieve the files.

He simply left.

I took a breath. I’d need a minute for my hand to stop trembling before I picked up the phone.

Hunter “The Great” Dane had just ended his career.

Do not buy this book if you have not read the Hunt&Cam4Ever series. It begins with Matchstick Men,and is an epic M/M BDSM love story set in the world of a homicide detective. The sex is genuine, explicit and powerful. The characters real, the crimes drawn from real life by a former cop-turned-author.

---

86,000 words. Every secret held back revealed. The depth of Cam's sadism released. The true nature of Hunter's submission realized. And a brutal murder with a motive so shocking, Natani isn't sure she can convince a jury it's genuine. For readers of Hunt&Cam4Ever only. Even if you've read the other books, if you haven't read Shadow Men, Book 7 yet, do not start this one.