“Listen, sweetheart.” His voice was all gravel, breath warm on her face. “I’m not a martyr, so I’ll give you the spiel once, and I’m not gonna torture myself about it afterward. I’m too old for you. You’re smart, and you’re talented, and you’re going to school—you ought to change your name and run as far away from the life as you can get. Marry some dopey little shithead art nerd. Your old man’s a spooky short weirdo, and he’s absolutely gonna kill me for this. But f***, I love you.” He pressed his forehead to hers. “I oughta play the better man and tell you to get lost, but I’m not gonna. If you want me, I’m never gonna tell you no.”
I think it's no secret by this point that I will find any reason to write about Devin's Brood when it comes to Dartmoor. They're my favorites, the whole gang. Beware of Dog was the most fun I've had writing Dartmoor in years. It's also the book that continues to tug at me. I loved writing about Cass and Shep, and about Raven and Toly, too. I know the Knoxville crew will always be the readers' favorite, but the Manhattan bunch are the ones who keep offering me little plot bunnies, as if I didn't already have enough to write. When I'm meant to be writing something else, I find myself thinking about Raven and Toly's kids; about Shep blundering his way through Cass's art and fashion world. When my brain wanders back to the world of outlaw bikers, it usually finds its way to one or both of those couples.
A new chapter of Inherent Violence will go up tomorrow, and I'm hoping to have some time to work on my Substack vignette about Tommy's (horrendous) wedding this weekend. A little domestic fluff and humor to get us through all the drama about to unfold in other areas.
If you haven't picked up Beware of Dog yet, it's the last official Dartmoor/Lean Dogs novel, and one of my favorites in the bunch. Join me over on Substack for all things future Dartmoor.
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