Trapped in darkness, can an escort find a man to help him into the light?
Gabriel Reyes never gave in. He fought and was hurt, was abused but escaped with his life. He made his way in the world using the one thing he was good at: sex. He earned a place with a man who controls everything but Gabriel is safe; he’s made it.
Cameron Stafford hires Gabriel for a night, needing nothing more than a pretend boyfriend to get his dysfunctional family off his back. With the money he has in the bank and his own hotel, why won’t they just leave him alone? It doesn’t matter that a degenerative disease has stolen his vision, or that his last boyfriend was a bastard who tried to steal from him; for now he has purpose.
When Gabriel and Cam fall for each other, can they find real happiness and, maybe, a forever that will save them both?
Be aware: emotional and physical abuse are depicted on the page in this book.
A new story set in the world of Jack and Riley Campbell-Hayes and the Double D Ranch, Texas.
“..Gabriel’s journey towards a place where he begins to recognise that he is worth more and might be loveable and even capable of loving somebody else is breathtaking if far from easy. Because this story doesn’t come with miracles, sudden flashes of insight and easy ‘happy-ever-afters’. And while that made the story at times very hard to read, it also provided a level of reality that made the ending to this story all the more touching and so very worthy of the tears in my eyes.
So my friends, heed the warning and then lose yourself in a story that will touch your heart and stay with you for a very long time.” – The Way She Reads
“I love reading RJ Scott books because she tackles sensitive matters with delicacy and grace. Her writing style is very visceral and poignant that I am often moved to tears. As with book 1, this second book was very angsty, emotionally taxing and subtly encouraging. The threads of hope kept me going through the hard to read parts because I know that we will eventually make it over to the other side.” – Oh My Shelves
“It tugs at the heart strings. It makes you laugh. It makes you cry. It makes you angry. It makes you wonder how one person could inflict that much abuse on another human being. It makes you not want to stop reading until you’ve read the entire story cover-to-cover in one sitting.
It also make you wonder (at least it did me) what plot bunnies RJ is dealing with for the next Legacy series novel.
I wish I could give it 100 stars, but the most I can give it is 5, so 5 it is. Gabriel (The Second Legacy) is a definite must read!” – Jim’s Reading Room
Four weeks ago
Gabriel picked up the scissors and twisted them in his hand, watching the bathroom light bouncing off the shiny silver. These were kitchen scissors, ones he’d liberated from the messy drawer neither he nor Stefan ever used. They’d been caught up in a mess of string, batteries, and three wooden spoons. The blades looked sharp enough, and as he couldn’t remember ever using them, he hoped to hell they would do the job.
He drew them over his wrist, over the faint scar that was hidden under a tattoo, and thought about where he’d come from and what he’d done to survive. They’d held him down—gripped his hair and twisted it hard and held him down.
Just like the ones before.
Determined, he took the cold metal away from his wrist and looked back at the mirror. How did he do this? Gathering a handful of hair, he ran his fingers through the length of it, which generally brushed his shoulders, and held it high. Awkwardly, he began chopping at the dark length, ignoring the way it caught on his naked chest. He was making a real mess of this, but nothing would stop him now. With each slice of the blades, more of the curling dark hair he assumed he’d inherited from his father fell to the floor, and each push of his fingers through his hair returned less length to cut.
“What the hell?” Stefan asked from the door.
Gabriel stiffened. He’d known Stefan was home and he hadn’t locked the bathroom door, but he hadn’t wanted Stefan to find him doing this. Stefan would be angry; their clients liked Gabriel’s long hair.
“Gabriel?” Stefan stood next to him and they exchanged looks in the mirror. “What happened?” He didn’t seem angry, just concerned. Gabriel had learned to read all the expressions on Stefan’s face.
“I just wanted a change,” Gabriel rasped, then regretted talking at all as Stefan’s eyes narrowed in on the bruises forming on his neck.
“Jesus, Gabe, what did you do?” Stefan touched him then, a brief press of fingers to Gabriel’s arm, and it was all Gabriel could do not to move away. The flinch was enough, though, and Stefan stepped back. “This was an easy fucking job. How did you fuck it up?”
Easy for whom? Gabriel thought dully. Easy for the guy who’d had his friends over and decided Gabriel was fair game. What else could Gabriel expect? He’d been born to this.
“This is getting fucking dangerous, even for you,” Stefan snapped, leaning on the wall by the sink so Gabriel couldn’t fail to see him. “What did you do wrong?”
Gabriel dipped his eyes then; he didn’t have an answer, and Stefan would lose his shit if he knew what Gabriel had done tonight. Because it had been Gabriel who’d said yes to it all. Or at least he thought he’d said yes; everything was hazy after the first vodka.
“You didn’t go outside what I agreed you could do there,” Stefan snapped abruptly, and stood away from the wall, his fists balled at his sides. “Tell me you didn’t do that.”
Gabriel hacked at another handful of hair, and this time he held on to it, dropping it into the sink and watching the curls float into a pile. He hadn’t realized he had a red tint to his hair, but it was obvious against the white of the porcelain.
“Okay,” he said evenly, “then I won’t tell you.” He was skating close to the edge, but perhaps Stefan punching him to the floor would render him unconscious and stop the fire in his brain.
It worked. Stefan cursed loudly and grabbed the scissors, tossing them away to clatter into the bath. Then he grabbed Gabriel by the length of hair that was left and twisted his fingers cruelly, forcing his head back.
“You fucking idiot,” he said. “I hope they fucking paid.”