Alex Cross is a cop. A damn good cop. He's 6'3" tall, taut with muscles, and strikingly handsome. He's a doctor, too. A damn good doctor. A psychologist to the slum kids. His washboard stomach gleams in the afternoon light, as he plays Nora Jones and Coltrane on his piano, stroking his children's heads with his other arms. The phone rings, and he wonders if it's the FBI again, offering him that job running the DC police. He lets it ring again, and again, and again. He really doesn't have time for the FBI. Because he's a damn good father, too.
What utter, utter, utter trash.
As in "Like Water For Elephants," every character in this Mills & Boon spinoff action novel is beautiful, perfect, confident, doubt- and flaw-less, cultured, smart, handsome, and wears a sixpack. Every honorable character knows the right thing to do, when to do it, how to do it, why it needs to be done. Like the black-belt karate expert / Cormac McCarthy-reading academic / honors med student / model, who's kidnapped and repeatedly raped by a serial killer, then falls 30 yards into a shallow rocky stream, and hours later joins the FBI on the killer's manhunt.
What sniveling, pathetic, horrid trash.
Picked this up hoping for a complex and addictive Dragon Tattoo thriller, or perhaps even some cheap and fun David Goodis-styled pulp, but no. This was Mills & Boon trash.