Category: Detective

Black Latex was such a success that Hack quickly wrote this sequel about the birth of the Jonny & Boris Detective Agency. It’s arguably one of Hack’s best written books, although sales were disappointing because of a lack of his signature anal sex scenes in the narrative. It was a mistake that he swore never to repeat.

They tossed Jonny M. and Boris out of the Van Nuys Police Department like yesterday’s garbage — no pension, no ceremony, not even a lousy handshake. The brass said they didn’t “fit in,” but everybody knew the truth: they were the only clean pair of badges left in a precinct slick with grease and booze. Jonny took it like a man out of luck, cigarette trembling in his lips as the neon light of “Van Nuys Liquors” blinked across his face. Boris, his loyal pug partner with the instincts of a bloodhound and the patience of a saint, just squinted and growled low. That night, in the back booth of a Chinese diner off Sepulveda, Jonny scrawled “JONNY & BORIS DETECTIVE AGENCY” on a cocktail napkin — their new badge, self-issued.

Meanwhile, the city kept rotting. The weak were still prey, and the strong were still taking their cut. But now there were two guardian angels in the gutter, watching from the shadows. They weren’t saints — not by a long shot — but they were the last line between Van Nuys and hell itself. Word got around fast that if you were in trouble and couldn’t trust a cop, you called Jonny & Boris. The phone never stopped ringing, and neither did the trouble.

Then there was Snow Mercy — the kind of woman you don’t forget even when you’re trying to. She’d been the city’s silent savior in black latex, a one-woman storm of vengeance and stilettos. But when Jonny and Boris got canned, she shed the darkness like an old skin. The catsuit turned red, slick as blood and twice as dangerous. It wasn’t just a fashion statement — it was a declaration of war. She worked alone now, and rumor had it she didn’t trust anyone, not even the men who once saved her from a bullet in the back alley behind Club Babylon.

But the mob remembered her all too well. They grabbed her one rainy night, thinking she was the bait that would finally break Jonny and Boris. Only they didn’t know Snow Mercy like the boys did. By the time Jonny traced the ransom call, the mob warehouse was already on fire, and Snow was walking out — heels clicking, hair singed, but eyes cold as chrome. The boys arrived just in time to see her toss a lighter over her shoulder. “I didn’t need saving,” she said, and vanished into the smoke. Jonny lit a cigarette, Boris barked once, and the city of Van Nuys exhaled — for now.