Get it now for just 99 cents. Publication will be July 1, 2016, after which the price will jump to 2.99.
Get it now for just 99 cents. Publication will be July 1, 2016, after which the price will jump to 2.99.
Two years after his court-ordered exile, Nick Walker has hit bottom. He’s out of a job, has lost his fiancée, his best friend, and everything he cares about–and the man responsible has got away.
After the gunfight on the Alpha Centauri Express, terrorist Kenneth Saracen fled Federation space, heading for parts unknown. Nick tracked him until the leads ran out, but now the trail has gone cold. Once the toast of Federation law enforcement, Nick is out of leads, out of ideas, and has nothing left to live for.
But he still has one friend who hasn’t given up on him. Victoria Cross, once his lover, now his lawyer, is determined to find Nick and drag him back to civilization. She knows his anguish from personal experience, and understands where his self-destructive path must lead. Come hell or high altitude, she will find him and set him on the trail again. She knows he’ll resist her efforts, but she has an ace in the hole that he won’t be able to ignore:
She knows where to find Saracen.
Don’t miss the action and intrigue of Nick #6, Manhunt on Tau Ceti 4.
Coming soon to the Amazon Kindle Store.
Publication scheduled for July 1, 2016.
Pre-orders available in June
Nick Walker will be back soon (spring 2016) in Manhunt on Tau Ceti 4.
In the meantime, I have a recommendation for Nick fans that you’re going to love. Victory Crayne is a good friend of mine who is working on a science fiction series of her own, and the first novel is now on sale at Amazon. Freedom is the first of at least three planned novels in the new Jake Dani series; I’ve read it and highly recommend it.
If you like Nick Walker, you’re going to love Jake Dani. So…while you wait for Nick’s return, give Jake a shot. I promise you won’t be disappointed.
Available on Kindle and in paperback.
From Thanksgiving 2015 through New Year 2016, all 5 Starport books will be on sale for 99 cents each. Take advantage of this special to experience the exciting Starport universe. Politics, war, sex, intrigue, and true love—Starport has it all.
Prisoners of Eroak
On sale now at Amazon.com, just 99 cents each.
Nick Walker #5, Gunfight on the Alpha Centauri Express, is now available for pre-order. Order before September 1, 2015 for just 99 cents. After release, the price will jump to $2.99.
Barely recovered from his adventure at Binary Flats, Nick Walker is suddenly sucked into another situation so bizarre it almost defies belief. His reputation as a two-fisted lawman has spread throughout the settled galaxy; many compare him to Yancy West, the fictional Hollywood hero of the Ancient West, and billions are grateful for what he does.
But not everybody.
Just as he is about to take on the most dangerous adversary he has yet faced—a terrorist organization intent on the overthrow of the Federation—Nick gets sucker-punched by a “legal-eagle” tinhorn in a $4000 business suit who thinks Nick’s law enforcement methods are just too violent. Assistant U.F. Attorney Brian Godney seeks an injunction against Nick, and a court hearing to determine if excessive-force charges can be filed.
If that isn’t enough, Godney’s assistant is U.F. Attorney Victoria Cross, a former Star Marine with whom Nick was once involved…and his fiancée, Suzanne Norgaard, isn’t going to be happy about that. Nick finds himself juggling terror attacks, the media, and courtroom drama as he struggles to make sense of it all—and if the U.F. Attorney doesn’t get his head…the terrorist leader wants him dead.
Don’t miss this fast-paced, high-octane adventure as Nick Walker faces the possibility of prison even as he tries to save the planet from the raging terror threat. It will all come to a head during the Gunfight on the Alpha Centauri Express.
Rated R for language and violence.
Here is a preview:
Nathan pushed off from the station wall and squared himself as he watched them approach. The five teens were laughing and joking, but it quickly became apparent they weren’t really together. As they approached the terminal they stopped, as if to say good-bye. One of the girls impulsively kissed both boys, and with a final laugh and wave, the boys separated from the girls and walked away.
The girls kept coming.
They were weirdly dressed.
They had no luggage.
They definitely weren’t locals.
One was heavy and wore a dress that draped her like a tent to within an inch of the ground. The others were skinny as flagpoles, their unkempt hair long and stringy; all three wore bead strings around their necks and one had flowers in her hair. They proceeded toward the station as if they hadn’t seen him, still laughing and joking, but Nathan saw furtive glances in his direction. The hair on his neck began to tingle.
They were thirty yards away. He began strolling in their direction, his pulse ratcheting up another notch to double-time.
The train sounded its horn and began to move, returning back the way it had come. The girls, still pretending they hadn’t noticed him, stopped at the baggage cart and began matching their boarding passes to the luggage tags. They identified two bags and hauled them off the cart; one was so heavy it took two of them to lift it. Nathan reached them just as they set it on the platform.
“Evening, ladies,” he said casually, trying to keep the tension out of his voice. “Welcome to Trimmer Springs.”
All three turned to face him, eyeing him from head to toe. They were smiling, but he detected animosity—the smiles weren’t friendly.
“Hey, check out the pig with the cowboy hat!” the fat girl said, and the other two giggled.
A second girl nodded at the .45 in his holster.
“How many people have you killed with that?” she asked, her eyes an open challenge.
“What brings you to town?” he asked.
“It’s a free planet,” the fat one said. “We can go anywhere we want.”
“That’s right!” the third girl declared. “So stop hassling us.”
Nathan grinned. “I welcome you to town and now I’m hassling you?”
“That’s what pigs do, isn’t it? Hassle people?”
“Maybe in your world. Not in mine.”
“What do pigs do in your world, then?” asked the second one.
“They shoot people with big guns,” said the third girl.
Nathan planted his feet. “You don’t look like you’re from this area. Do you have relatives in town?”
“Not in this town,” the third girl said.
“Then I think you got off at the wrong station.”
“Oh, well.” The fat girl sneered at him. “Too late now. The train’s already gone.”
“Is there a hotel around here?” the second girl asked.
“Maybe we can stay at your place,” said the third one.
“Yeah, how about that?” said the fat one. “You are kind of cute…for a pig.”
The second girl plucked a flower out of her hair and stepped forward, reaching for his hat. Nathan instinctively took a step back and put up both hands to block her, his danger flags snapping at high alert.
“What’s the matter, pig? You don’t like flowers?”
“Flower Power!” shouted the fat girl.
Nathan’s scalp tingled. “Don’t you mean, ‘Power to the people’?”
All three registered shock at his utterance, then sprang into action.
“That’s right, bitch!” snarled the girl with the flower.
She lunged for his weapon, but he blocked her and elbowed her aside. The third girl also sprang at him—he didn’t see the knife until it impacted his body vest. The blade skidded off, but she drew back and lunged again, aiming for his throat. His combat training kicked in and he nailed her in the face with his right fist, leaving his gun momentarily exposed. The knife wielder hit the platform with a cry, but the flower girl leaped for his gun again, jerking it halfway out of the holster before he slugged her in the face with his left. As she fell, he jerked the .45 free of her hand and swung it toward the fat girl.
He was almost too late. As Nathan was fighting off the attack, the fat girl hiked her tent up around her waist and unslung an ugly semi-automatic machine pistol. She swung it toward him just as he gained control of his .45, and he found himself staring into the stubby 10mm muzzle. For one frozen instant he hesitated; the fat girl did not.
“Kill the pig! Kill the pig! Kill the pig!” the others shrieked, their shrill voices cutting through the gathering dusk.
The fat girl pulled the trigger.
Bounty Hunter at Binary Flats, the fourth book in the Nick Walker, U.F. Marshal series, is here! The book will be on sale July 4, but pre-orders are available now. You can get yours here.
In volume 4, Nick is still operating out of Trimmer Springs on Alpha Centauri 2, but is called away to investigate a death threat to a Colonial senator. Things quickly go haywire when he gets conflicting stories from various witnesses and none of the evidence adds up. The shocking truth behind the death threat sends him into more danger than he has ever faced before, but at least this time he has backup. Don’t miss a single heart-stopping second of this fast-paced adventure.
Here is just a sample.
Nick Walker saw the flashing lights from six blocks away and turned his hovercar in that direction. He’d arrived in Camarrell just minutes earlier, letting his GPS guide him to his destination. But flashing lights and hovering police cruisers were too good to pass up—something was going down and he had to see it for himself.
He set down a block away, just outside the barricade manned by uniformed officers. He stepped out of the car onto the sidewalk, gazing in the direction of all the excitement. He could hear the police spokesman’s body-blaster clearly. His adrenaline notched up a level as he started walking toward the commotion.
“Sorry, sir, you have to stand back. This is a restricted area.”
Nick glanced at the young cop who barred his way. A rookie, he guessed, less than a year on the job. Still afraid of everything and uncertain of his own authority…it was in the eyes. Without a word he lifted his right hand and showed the officer what was in it. The kid’s eyes widened slightly; he looked Nick up and down, noting the twin holsters on his gunbelt. He nodded reluctantly.
“Okay. I guess it’s okay.”
Nick winked at him and walked on past. As he ducked under the barricade, he pushed his western-style hat down over his wavy brown hair and walked resolutely forward at a steady pace. Half a block from the scene, he drew both guns from his holsters and switched them, leaving the laser pistol on the left side and placing the .44 on his right. He didn’t expect to shoot anybody, but if it came to intimidation, the .44 was a hell of a lot scarier.
By the time he reached the scene, it was pretty clear that neither side was going to prevail anytime soon. Nick stopped just behind the rifleman on the sidewalk, watching and listening. He could hear the woman sobbing, and the kid was practically sobbing, too; Nick could hear his harsh breathing as he waited, trembling, looking for a way out.
Nick touched the cop with the rifle on the shoulder.
The cop jumped in panic and swung the rifle toward him, then caught his breath as he saw what Nick held in his right hand.
“Jesus, God! You nearly got yourself shot! Who the hell are you?”
“Stand down,” Nick said quietly. “I got this.”
He didn’t give the cop a chance to form a reply, but walked on past him, his attention focused on the suspect. Behind him the cop was talking to his superiors on his implant. The second sidewalk cop, who had flanked the suspect from the other side, was glaring at Nick in consternation, his rifle still aimed at the kid.
“Hey, you! Get the fuck outta here! Who do you think you are, Yancy West?”
Nick didn’t reply, but held up his hand for the cop to see what it held. He subsided in confusion, but didn’t lower his rifle. Nick approached the suspect, his attention riveted, but the challenges just kept coming. The officer in the street with the body-blaster weighed in.
“Hey! Get that goddamn cowboy out of there! Schumaker! Take that man into custody!”
“He has a badge, sir,” Schumaker replied.
“To hell with his badge! My kid’s got a badge—get him out of there!”
But Schumaker, the man Nick had tapped on the shoulder, wasn’t so sure.
“I think he outranks you, sir!”
Nick let them discuss it while he closed in on the suspect. The kid with the gun was staring at him with hollow eyes, sweat dripping off his chin. Nick saw desperation in his eyes and knew exactly how he felt. He drew the .44 and aimed it directly at the kid’s face.
“Let the woman go,” he said in a cold voice.
Panting hard, the kid swallowed. “No way, man. If I let her go they’re gonna kill me!”
“No, they won’t kill you. But I will.”
The kid was trembling so hard he was choking the woman. Nick heard her gagging for air.
“Let her go or you both die.”
“You back off! I’ll shoot her if you don’t!”
Nick smiled slowly, looking as evil as he knew how. “Promise?”
The kid blinked. “What?”
“Promise me you’re going to kill her.”
“What—why would you want me to do that?”
“Because I can’t legally shoot you unless you do.”
“You—you mean, you want me to shoot her?”
Nick nodded eagerly. “Oh, yeah, I really do. Then I can blow your head into tomato soup. I haven’t killed anybody in a couple of weeks, and I’m getting edgy. The minute you shoot her, I can kill you and nobody will care.”
A yellow puddle began to spread around the suspect’s feet. His voice became even more ragged.
“You’re crazy, man! You’re fucking crazy!”
Pre-order NOW at Amazon.com.
Capt. James Carson keyed the microphone with his chin.
“Sadat Control, ResQMed One One requesting position for launch,” he said easily. His ship sat on the lift at the edge of the flight tunnel on board UFF Anwar Sadat. The big carrier was cruising roughly two million miles off Pluto, supported by six destroyers and one star cruiser. Four fighter squadrons had launched just minutes earlier, and it was time to get the rescue ships out and into position.
“ResQMed One One, stand by. Break. Lumberjack, what is your status?”
Carson’s eyebrows lifted a notch. He’d never been asked to wait to position for launch. He exchanged glances with Lt. Ho as they listened to the chatter between the STC and Lumberjack.
“Lumberjack requesting emergency recovery!” came the excited response. The pilot sounded young, and he was definitely scared. “My cockpit is full of smoke, I don’t know where it’s coming from!”
The STC hesitated barely a second before responding.
“Lumberjack, you are cleared for immediate recovery. All weapons systems are powered off?”
“That’s affirm!” Carson could hear the young pilot gasping.
“Your approach looks good, Lumberjack. Recovery in eighty seconds. Break. ResQMed One One, maintain position.”
“ResQMed One One, roger,” Carson said quickly. He and Ho craned their necks to the right, peering down the quarter-mile tunnel in the direction from which Lumberjack would be coming. If the landing was routine, he would stop two hundred yards short of them. If he didn’t stop, they weren’t in his way; they were still on the lift that had brought them up from the hangar bay.
In spite of himself, Carson felt his heart thump a little faster.
The STC continued talking to Lumberjack as the seconds ticked by, giving him landing information as it became available. The pilot’s replies were terse and terrified.
“Recovery in twenty seconds,” the STC said.
Carson keyed his intercom.
“This is the captain. They’re bringing in a hot fighter, so everybody hang onto something back there.”
He could see the fighter’s strobe light now, eleven miles out and coming like hell, just a blue-white flash in the distance.
“Jesus!” Ho muttered. “Looks like he’s coming awfully fast!”
Approved landing speed for fighter recovery was two hundred knots. The approaching ship seemed to be coming much harder than that.
“Lumberjack! Fire retros! Your speed is increasing. I say again, fire retros now!”
“Oh, shit!” Carson looked out the window to his left, wondering if there was any way to get the lift lowered in time. But it was too late, and he knew it. He looked to the right again, in time to see Lumberjack hit the tunnel with all nose rockets firing at full thrust.
Whatever had happened to fill Lumberjack’s cockpit with smoke, there would have been no problem had he hit the tunnel at approved landing speed. But he arrived at close to four hundred knots, and fired his retros too late. The top turret struck the tunnel ceiling a glancing blow and disintegrated; the fighter ricocheted into the floor, then tumbled out of control as it hurtled down the length of the ship, bouncing from side to side, top to bottom. The Nakashima fighter’s fuel and liquid oxygen tanks ruptured, and with the nose rockets still lit, exploded.
Carson and Ho ducked as a gash of flame boiled over the rescue ship, fragments slamming the fuselage like pellets from a shotgun. Air exploded out of the cockpit, and in spite of his collision harness, the sudden decompression jerked Carson halfway out of his seat.
It all happened in the space of a heartbeat. The ResQMed was slammed against the bulkhead beside the lift and came to rest at an angle. Carson sat up and peered out in disbelief, grateful for once that pressure suits were required during launch. The flame disappeared once the LOX was consumed, but wreckage littered the tunnel, pieces large and small that smoked even in the airlessness of space. Clearly, Lumberjack and his gunner were dead.