The Privateer's Cross available November 16!

My story "The Privateer's Cross" will be released from JMS Books on November 16!

Henry meets Cole in a spooky cemetery for a quick hook-up during Mardi Gras in New Orleans.  During their encounter, Henry finds a beautiful crucifix in a pile of dirt.  Suddenly, they are being followed by the ghost of a pirate, wanting his treasure returned.  Unfortunately there is nowhere to hide even among the thousands of people in town for the celebrations.  What must Henry and Cole do to escape the fate that the ghost has in mind for them?

Excerpt:

A familiar figure crossed the intersection ahead of them.  Henry recognized the tattoos and beefy arms, which now held onto a limp body draped over John’s shoulder. 

“Don’t ask,” Henry cut off Cole’s obvious question.  “You don’t want to know.” 

They passed by a narrow opening between two buildings.  A tall, handsome man in a pirate outfit stepped from the shadows and onto the sidewalk.

“Soumets-toi á moi.”

Cole jumped with a cry of surprise at the sudden appearance. 

Henry heard Cole shout and spun around.  “What’s the matter?  Are you all right?”

“That pirate scared me.

“What pirate?”

“The  one standing right…”  Cole broke off as he looked back down the street, but Henry saw no one.  Cole paled.  He ran back to the opening.  “There was a guy standing right here.”  His voice shook as he pointed to a spot on the sidewalk.

“What did he look like?”

“Cute.”

Henry was beginning to see a trend in Cole’s paranormal sightings but decided not to mention his  thoughts.

“He was dressed as a pirate, I think.”  Cole said.  “Kinda like the guy on the float last night.  I think it was the same guy on the float and the one in the mirror this morning.  Now I’m certain I’ve seen him before somewhere but I can’t remember.” 

“I wonder if this has anything to do with the crucifix we found,” Henry mused.  “Come on.”

They wandered through the abandoned streets to Decatur Street, where the Jean Lafitte National Historic Park and French Quarter Visitor Center stood.  The museum employee, whose name tag identified her as Ann, seemed to be pleased and surprised to find someone up and around as early as she was.  She gave them a big smile.

“This is one of the largest museums dedicated to preserving the history of one of New Orleans’s roguish sons, Jean Lafitte,” she announced, the pride obvious in her voice.  She motioned to a portrait on a nearby wall. 

Cole grabbed Henry’s arm.  “I think that’s him!”

“What?”  Henry and Ann said simultaneously.

“That’s who?”  Henry asked further.

“I think that’s the guy I keep seeing.”  Cole paused for a second.