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ISBN-10: 1-77115-176-5
Genre: Suspense/Thriller/Romance
eBook Length: 180 Pages
Published: May 2014

From inside the flap

Ex-homicide sergeant Derek Logan is burned out on police work, on women, on life. Then he is hired as helicopter pilot / bodyguard for a wealthy family in Panama. Sparks fly when he's forced to work with lovely, but abrasive police investigator Alejandra Valadez to combat a kidnap-for-ransom and drug-trafficking empire controlled by a murderous and sadistic general. Even more deadly for Logan their conflict takes place in 1989 amid the volatile relations between the U.S. and Panama preceding Operation Just Cause the U.S. invasion of Panama.

Logan (Excerpt)

Chapter One

Wednesday, March 12, 1986

Santa Laura, California

The sun crept up from the horizon; the morning air tingled crisp. The two detectives would serve this warrant while the dew was still on the grass. Armed robbers generally were denizens of the dark, not most alert in the early morning. Ed Hendricks was certified armed and dangerous, no knock-and-notice required on this one. They parked at the curb half a block away from the Excelsior Hotel with an unobstructed view of the entrance. The hotel's name reflected the elegance of an establishment constructed long before this block found itself deteriorating in the core of the inner city.

Logan led the way through the hotel's weathered, brass-fixtured door. His nostrils curled up. Every step on the threadbare carpet brought up a tiny puff of dust emitted acrid odors collected from scores of pathetic lives. At the counter he showed the desk clerk his shield, closed his wallet, and slipped it back into his pocket. He drew the photo from his jacket and laid it on the counter.

"Detectives, huh?" The desk clerk leaned over and studied the photo. The man's comb-over didn't cover his bald spot. "Yeah, this guy's in Room 312; checked in a couple of nights ago. Should still be here. Saw him late last night at the ice machine, when I came on shift. Room 312 is in the back, on the third floor."

"Any fire escapes on the outside?"

"Naw, they're all inside." He studied the two detectives. "What did the guy do, anyhow?"

"We just want to talk to him," Logan said.

"Sure." He gave a knowing smirk.

"You're not planning to call him, are you?"

Mike Warren's baleful gaze was fixed on the clerk's eyes. He stiffened and shook his head.

"No way, man. He's all yours."

Warren headed to the elevator, Logan to the stairs. When Logan stepped out from the stairwell on the third floor, Warren was waiting by the elevator. As they approached Room 312 both men patted their waists for the heft of their weapons. Just before 312, they saw the door to 314 was open with a housekeeping cart parked in the hallway. Warren gestured inside 314.

"I'll get us a little help."

Logan nodded. Warren went inside 314, and emerged seconds later with a Hispanic girl in her early 20s wearing a powder-blue uniform. The two men followed her next door to 312. No 'do not disturb' tag hung on the doorknob. She knocked on the door.

"Housekeeping," she called.

No answer. The girl glanced up at Warren. He nodded. She slipped her key in the lock, opened the door, and again looked up at Warren. He gestured that she leave. She went back into toward 314 her eyes widening as she watched the two detectives draw their handguns. They stepped inside the room, Logan to the left, Warren to the right, both with their weapons extended, each sweeping the room. They grinned.

Edwin M. Hendricks, professional convenience-store robber extraordinaire, was passed out on the bed naked atop tousled sheets. Wrapped in his romantic embrace was a garishly painted lady of the evening. The woman was some 60 pounds overweight and naked, but for the black lace garter belt that contrasted violently with flesh the color and texture of large-curd cottage cheese. On the nightstand beside the bed stood an almost-empty quart of cheap gin and a couple of empty plastic cups. Ed Hendricks knew how to live the good life.

Logan handed the booking sheet to the admitting deputy.

"If you guys could give Mr. Hendricks a room with a quiet cellmate, I'm sure he would appreciate your consideration. He's suffering a bit of a hangover."

The deputy grinned. "Always happy to accommodate."

The barred gate rolled open. Logan directed Hendricks through the gate into jail intake. The gate clanked closed behind the prisoner. Hendricks backed up against the bars; he knew the drill. Logan unlocked the cuffs and slipped them back into his belt pouch.

"You enjoy a rewarding stay here, sir."

"Fuck you, pig."

Behind Logan, Warren chuckled. "You know, robbing convenience stores is dangerous work. This is the thanks we get for giving Ed the opportunity to rehabilitate and become a productive citizen."

The two detectives retrieved their sidearms from the security lock-boxes and stepped out the steel door into a postcard-perfect sunny Santa Laura afternoon. Logan opened the passenger door of their tan unmarked Ford sedan and slid into the seat.

"Want to celebrate suppressing crime over a late lunch at Alberto's?"