Room 313 Paradise Motel

<p><em>He trusted sequins over evidence. Now he's out of time.</em></p><p>Joe Harlan's no hero. He's a washed-up private eye with a bad liver a cheap suit and a talent for getting played. When a redhead with ice in her veins and lipstick like a warning sign drags him into a Paradise Motel blackmail scheme Joe figures it's just another con wrapped in perfume.</p><p>But this one comes loaded - a missing maid a .38 that won't stay in its holster and a double-indemnity policy signed in blood and betrayal. The cops want him caged. The mob wants him cut to size. And Candy Lane - or Rita or whatever name she's using tonight - wants him to take the fall before she disappears with the payout.</p><p>Now Joe's locked in a race through rain-slick streets and cheap neon motels with every shadow holding a gun and every kiss tasting like a lie. Each clue pulls him deeper into Rita's web - a setup so tight it squeaks. There's no way out but through and every turn ends in a trigger pull.</p><p><em>In the city's sick glow love is a hustle death is a business and the truth is just another con waiting to cash out.</em></p>