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Murder on the East China Sea

A Murder Mystery Novella


When you get a friend in trouble… You’re responsible to get him out. Whatever the cost!


Air Force crew chief Connor Pierce wants to help his lonely assistant get comfortable around women. But when the stripper he lets loose on his romantically challenged friend is brutally murdered at a strip club outside Kadena Air Base in Okinawa, Connor must dodge Air Force Security Police, local law enforcement and the unruly Okinawan Yakuza. Worst of all, his ex-lover’s husband is lead agent on the case for the Air Force Office of Special Investigations and is hell bent on tying Connor to the crime. 


Can he outsmart the Special Investigator who wants to make him an accessory to murder? Will he survive the vengeance of the Okinawan Yakuza?

A thriller mystery full of sexual betrayal, loyalty and redemption.

Excerpt: Chapter One

Trying to help Eugene Garboski get comfortable around women turned out to be murder. And I was the most likely victim if my wife caught a whiff of the perfume my half-naked seat mate was rubbing all over me. Every time the front door opened my body snapped eyes right to see who’d spotted me.

“Damn, Connor Pierce! You’re like catnip for strippers,” Garboski yelled over the raucous dance pulse. Bulging eyes glistening with anticipation, he had stuffed his large frame inside an individualized booth along the strip club wall. Shallow breaths and strobe lights gave him the look of a twelve-year-old with his first Playboy.



Cigarette smoke from behind wrapped my shoulders, encircling the Filipino dancer’s neck. 

Her lithe and nearly naked body felt as smooth as the finest suede.


“Invite one over.” I nodded toward a pair of silken-haired bar girls serving the military crowd overpriced beer.

G cocked his head in a pseudo laugh, turning to gawk at the exhibition on stage.

The woman in my lap pressed her hot cheek against mine.


I groaned. Her sexual hunger tugged with tortuous insistence against the sex I was missing at home. 

Slender fingers traced the outline of that desire in my khakis.

Well-trained digits tantalized my hairline. Almond eyes lured me into the pulsing blast of neon. 

Someone opened the door, muting Foreigner’s crushing backbeat. A patron glared with one eye at the intrusion. The runway dancer, equally luscious and petite, slipped her bra free revealing athletic breasts.

Electric bubbles churned in my groin. I closed my eyes. An unbidden image of Nansi’s angry face popped them open, shoving me backward an inch. 

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