Haus of Rhi

Mike's handler is looking at a black and white print of  Sergei and the Doctrine general at a meeting. He can tell there's something going on. Smoke billowed from his nose as Mike exhaled in one long stream. It hung in the stillness of the room, layered above the floor like incense in a temple, glinting in the sunlight. “Not sure what.” He shrugged his shoulders, the simple observation a completely honest assessment. The man’s bark of laughter reminded him of a hacksaw against steel, and Mike took another long drag. “Find out, then...there might be a way to exploit it.” Get your copy of "Dark Edge of Honor" and read the rest, over here .

My very first 6-Sentence Sunday! Going to start off easy, with an excerpt from "Dark Edge of Honor" where Mike gets his first good look at Sergei. (He's such a perv.) The deep baritone carried across the short distance, smooth and thick, so heavily accented that it took a few seconds of lag for Mike's brain to translate. It was a pathetic excuse for a balcony--forget a lounge chair, the soldier barely had room to pace its measure, let alone turn around. The man studied the structure, bounced his weight back and forth in his widespread stance, arms folded. Mother of gods, the man was built like a battle cruiser and easily topped six foot. The spread of his shoulders dwarfed the doorway at his back. There was no missing the strain of musculature beneath the dark fabric and blood-red pinstriped trousers as he shifted his weight, then twisted to glance back over his shoulder into the dark confines of the room behind him. Read a full excerpt or get a copy of it from C...