Short
Stories
Get Out of Denver, Featured in Hard Country (Rough Country Collection series)
“I’m stuck in Denver, and I can’t even see the Rocky Mountains, which, really, is the whole point of Denver, right? But the same Pacific winds that blow across Hawaii and make the islands an idyllic sun-splashed sort of paradise are blowing across California, the northern half of which is on fire—again. The windblown smoke drapes over Denver and the Rocky Mountains like a butterscotch-colored tablecloth, blotting out the scenery but not the ungodly heat, which these crazy locals call “a dry heat.” Like a hundred and seven is some kind of special, acceptable, hot.”
Chambers, Winter 2025, Starlite Pulp Review
“The knock on my hotel room door came at two-fifteen in the morning. The staccato rapraprap startled me for a couple of reasons. For one, nobody knocks on a hotel room door in the wee hours with good intent.”
Making a Living Making a Killing, published October 2015, Yellow Mama
“I don’t usually kill anyone before noon, but since Vance was drinking whiskey in the passenger seat at nine o’clock in the morning, it didn’t feel like morning anyway.”
Rats, Winter 2023, Starlite Pulp Review
“It’s four o’clock in the morning, and I’m in the back of a van going down the interstate at eighty miles an hour. It’s not what you think.”
Anything You Want, published February 2014, Thrills, Kills ‘n’ Chaos
“I’d never killed a woman before, but the more Cindy talked, the more inclined I was to change my position. The only thing I wanted to hear come out of her mouth had to do with a pile of money, not some bullshit about gun control. As far as I was concerned, I had the gun pointed at her face under control. “
A Crimson Halo, published April 2015, Near To The Knuckle
Jack Cable, a small-town detective with big-time problems, in a tale of deceit and betrayal: “Joe set his pistol on the counter and poured a cup of coffee from the machine. He took a sip, then slid the magazine out of the 9mm. The mag held 17. He reloaded the gun and stuck it in the back of his jeans and took a sip.”
Kenny’s Saturday Night Cake Walk, published July 2013, The Dead Mule School of Southern Literature
“Bobby flipped him an ice-cold Bud out of the refrigerator, over his shoulder, before heading out through the kitchen door and into the back yard – mostly ankle-high crabgrass and dandelion. A couple of lawn chairs. Bobby took one, Kenny the other. They sat and drank down the top half of their beers.”
“Moonpie was laughing his ass off as we bounced all over the Pacific sky while our C-5 refueled from another plane. Guys were puking all over the place, and the ones who weren’t were as green as St. Patrick’s Day.”
Phantom Pain, April 2021, Yellow Mama
“Taking a man’s fingers off one at a time takes planning.”
Buckshot, Featured in Streets of Your Town: PI Stories
“Paul Shoemaker was exactly the kind of guy who would break your jaw if you slept with his wife. I could tell as soon as he walked into the diner on the edge of town. A shade under six feet, muscles going soft but still damned strong from his factory job out near the airport. And the surliness of a guy who feels the world has done him wrong his whole life. He flopped into a chair across the table from me and glared, first at the stack of pancakes on my plate, then at me. I started to introduce myself, but he cut me off.”