Here is a photo of the front cover of my new book, White Devils.

 

White Devils

 Chapter 1

April, six months later

 

“That’s not going to work, Larry. Your plan lacks seriousness, depth, and a genuine chance of success.”

Larry snorted, the tattoo on his left cheek rippled from the rush of air emanating from his nostrils.  “You’ve always got something better, don’t you, Blondie?” 

Connie smiled because he was used to this from Larry the Nazi. Connie studied him. Larry was significant, not just tall, but large: broad shoulders, muscular, taut. His neck was thick, melding into the trapezius muscle sitting atop his shoulders. His core was broad and hard. It wouldn't be difficult to imagine him as a professional lineman in the National Football League. Connie chortled. Larry reminded him of Bluto, the big, stupid character in the old Popeye cartoons.

“Now what, Blondie? Are you laughing at me?”

His face red, fists clenched, Larry glared at Connie.

Connie retained the smile and held his ground. He knew how to handle a person who always resorted to physical intimidation when he couldn’t contemplate other options. His experiences with a brutal stepfather had taught him plenty.

“I’m not laughing at you,” Connie said, his voice steady.

“It kind of looked that way.” Larry’s red face seemed to darken.

Connie didn’t move, but held Larry’s stare; his tone was soothing. “I know you put some thought into this, but did you research the alarm system, the number of guards inside and out, how much time we need to get the job done, getting our bodies out of there safely? I'm sorry, but we need a better plan." 

 Larry paused as comprehension seeped into his brain. He broke off the stare.

Connie watched Larry’s Adam’s apple move up then down. The large muscles in his shoulders and arms relaxed. His head drooped. 

“I just wanted to give an outline for now. I don’t have enough info to account for those other factors.” 

Larry actually sounded intelligent, but Connie could almost see the steroids leaking from his skin. He knew his brain had been compromised. In fact, it was probably one of the reasons Larry joined the white supremacist movement in the first place. The ‘roids had built gigantic muscles on the man but had partially atrophied his brain in the process.

He stepped close to Larry and placed a light touch on his shoulder.

“It’s a nice beginning. We’ll study the place inside and out, observe, and check the location of guards.” 

White Devils

 My new book, the third in a series of three Gerald Hodges stories, will be released in a month. It tells of a new beginning for Gerald Hodges, and a new identity. He starts a "help" business in Vancouver, B.C. (akin to the Equilizer movies) and gets involved with a young couple, stolen securities and bonds, white nationalists, and a black woman who lives alone in the B.C. woods. Double crosses and cut throat thugs dominate the action.