Where the Night Ends

A Max Drexler Novel

De: Dennis Waller

Narrado por: Virtual Voice

Max Drexler isn't a hero. He's a private eye in 1950s Dallas, a city where truth is a chameleon and danger dances in the alleyways. He's not conventionally handsome nor does he try to be, but he's a man who knows the city's shadows better than his own reflection. His face is a roadmap of bad decisions, and the shadows under his eyes are deep enough to hide secrets.

When his latest client, the stunning Evelyn Carson, walks into his life, Max knows better than to trust appearances. He's an expert in murder, a merciless tapestry woven with lies and betrayals. And this woman, with her haunted eyes and desperate plea, is now a thread in that dangerous design. Max's gut tells him one thing: Innocent? Don't be a fool, Drexler.
Framed for her husband’s murder, the stunning Evelyn Carson pulls Max into a lethal crossfire of blackmail and betrayal. Caught between duty and desire, the law and lust, and the cold, hard logic of the case, their uneasy alliance becomes a desperate gamble for survival. An undeniable heat ignites between them, but they are not alone. Shadows move, unseen witnesses to their every move, and the deadliest threat is the one they can't see coming.

But Max is not the only one playing this game. He's dealing with men like Rogers, who remind him, "Let’s get one thing crystal clear Drexler. I ain’t double-crossing nobody. I work for Savino. If Savino says this is how it’s going down, then that’s how it goes down... Capiche?"

In this treacherous landscape, someone is always watching, and the deadliest threat is the one lurking just beyond the lamplight. Can Max navigate this treacherous landscape without selling a piece of his soul for a chance at justice? Or will he find himself entangled in more than he might be able to handle?



Excerpts from the pages of Max Drexler-

Max sat hunched at the dimly lit bar and stared at his glass. He swirled the scotch with a weary finger, the ice clinking softly like a morbid metronome counting down the seconds. In the smoky reflection of the mirror behind the bar, his face looked like a roadmap of bad decisions, the shadows under his eyes deep enough to hide secrets. He stared at his reflection, a stranger staring back, wondering if he'd just sold a piece of his soul for a chance at justice, knowing with a sickening certainty that he should have walked away when the path was still clear.

Innocent? Don't be a fool, Drexler. He knew better than to trust appearances. Murder was his business, a merciless tapestry woven with lies and betrayals. And this woman, with her haunted eyes and desperate plea, was now a thread in that dangerous design.

The interior of the house was eerily still, the silence amplifying the ghosts of happier times, the echoes of laughter now replaced by an oppressive quiet. Dust motes, disturbed by their entry, danced in the sunbeams that slanted through the tall, leaded windows, illuminating the expensive furnishings that now seemed cold and lifeless, draped in an invisible shroud of sorrow. Evelyn moved through the opulent rooms like a phantom, her footsteps barely disturbing the silence on the polished hardwood floors, each step a mournful sigh.

“I told you to let this go and get out of town, didn’t I?” Stevens’ words were heavy with weary accusation. “You’re over your head, Max.” “What am I caught up in Thaddeus? What’s going on?” Max demanded, his voice tight, desperate for answers. “Barbieri is an enforcer for the Accardi family.” Stevens’ words were short, each syllable a falling blow of a hammer. Max leaned heavily against the warm metal of one of the patrol cars, the sudden revelation hitting him harder than any punch. He let out a deep, shuddering sigh that whistled through his cracked ribs and muttered, “The Sicilians?”