TUAREG out today from Loose ID!

TUAREG out today from Loose ID!

http://www.loose-id.com/Tuareg.aspx

Blurb: When photographer Leon Davis takes a job tracking down the nearly-extinct Zanzibar leopard, he isn’t expecting to fall in love with the mysterious and sexy Tuareg tribal leader, Ibrahim Ag Akhamok. Ibrahim has his own secrets, and he knows more than he lets on about the leopard. And what about Piers, the murdered photographer that Leon replaced? Until Leon discovers what Piers was doing in Zanzibar, and who killed him, he can’t face his own demons -- and he can’t earn the love of the powerful and dangerous Tuareg.

Excerpt:

Leon got in line at the Starbucks in the lobby behind Maggie. He loved the way she dressed, some sort of Katherine Hepburn-Annie Hall hybrid of tweed pants and vests, with thick-soled boots in the winter and heavy linen with oxfords in the summer. She turned around and gave him an up and down, her forehead creasing. “What’s the matter, Leon?”

“Nothing. Why?”

“You look like you didn’t sleep. Did you hear about Piers?”

“Piers is a prick. Whatever happened, I’m sure he deserved it. What, did he get arrested for being an asshole?”

Maggie winced. “Baby, you don’t want to say that too loud unless you want to put yourself on the suspect list. He’s dead. Killed while on assignment to the beautiful island of Zanzibar.”

“No way.”

She leaned closer, and he could hear the relish in her voice. “Run through with a Tuareg sword.” Maggie didn’t like Piers any more than he did.

Leon stared at the young barista making espresso and thought about Piers. Well, he wasn’t happy he was dead, of course, but what he had said to Maggie was still true. Run through with a sword? Piers had a way of digging too deep and too personal, standing too close, looking over your shoulder to read whatever was in your hands. Leon sometimes felt like Piers had taken a sharp steel surgical tool, shoved it into his liver, taken a little piece out, and studied it. His stomach always ached when he spent too much time in Piers’s company. Piers knew he made people uncomfortable. Was he just being a good reporter, as he claimed? Leon didn’t think so. He thought Piers liked watching people try to squirm out of his fist when he squeezed tight.

“Double latte, right?” The line shifted impatiently behind him, and he realized he must have been standing there too long, not saying anything.

“Yeah, thanks.” He pulled a five out of his pocket and paid the cashier. Zanzibar? Run through with a Tuareg sword? He must have pissed somebody off. The Tuareg were armed, and they spoke with the steel in their fist. But they were farther north, right? In the Sahara? He moved away to the serving counter and spoke to Maggie again. “So are they sending anyone? To finish his assignment? What was he working on?”

“They’ll probably send someone,” she said, looking at him curiously. “Leon, can I ask you something?” She didn’t wait for an answer. “Why do you still dress like you’re in high school? You’re wearing jeans and a T-shirt from the Onion and a hoodie, for Christ’s sake, and you must know they’re thinking about offering you a job. You’ve got hair halfway down your back. Who wears their hair this long anymore? How old are you? Twenty-seven? Twenty-eight? Why are you carrying a backpack around with you everywhere? A backpack, a hoodie, hair in a ponytail—you’re a little moodier than usual, and people are going to start watching to see when you pop out of the men’s room with an automatic weapon.”

Leon felt his mouth drop open, and he reached for his latte without looking. “Wha—It’s cameras! There’re my cameras! I mean…”

She narrowed her eyes again. “You look like one of those guys who hops the freight trains out west. Who am I thinking of?”

“Jack Kerouac. Cool. Well, too bad there’s not a freight train going through DC, heading west right now. I would hop it just to end this conversation. It’s like you’re channeling my mother.”

Maggie laughed, a big, rich laugh that had everyone in the Starbucks line looking over at them. “All I’m saying is, a button-down shirt wouldn’t kill you and might even make you look a little bit more like a grown-up. Now drink your coffee, and let’s get to work.”