Avelrow Publishing
by Rowan Kincaid
Book 1 of Belfast Night Crimes
At that hour Belfast belonged to wind, black water, and the sort of men who mistook darkness for a deed. The cranes loomed over the docks like iron saints gone feral, long arms braced above the shipping lanes while the river shoved oil-dark against the pilings. Rust, salt, diesel, old bad decisions - the whole harbour reeked of them. She should not have answered the phone.
Public sample through Chapter 2
About the book
At that hour Belfast belonged to wind, black water, and the sort of men who mistook darkness for a deed. The cranes loomed over the docks like iron saints gone feral, long arms braced above the shipping lanes while the river shoved oil-dark against the pilings. Rust, salt, diesel, old bad decisions - the whole harbour reeked of them. She should not have answered the phone.
This title is part of Belfast Night Crimes, Book 1.
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