drhallsr

After the explosive events surrounding MPF6's destruction on Karkin Four, Wic and his team of daredevil operators join forces with the rebel force known as the Blood Guard. While the Phantoms desire to help relocate human refugees to safer worlds, they're forced to confront a more pressing objective: cut off the head of the beast and keep the Androchidan Empire from enslaving another world. Wic is immediately flung into the heat of battle, driven by retaliation, a need for justice, and the need to send a message to all other deviant species who'd wish to take advantage of the innocent.

The Merry Band of Pirates stopped the enemy from stealing a Sentinel, and destroyed its Elder starship, so why weren’t the Pirates planning a victory party? The enemy was not what they thought it was. It was much, much worse.

We were fighting on the wrong side of a war we couldn't win. And that was the good news. The Ruhar hit us on Columbus Day. There we were, innocently drifting along the cosmos on our little blue marble, like the native Americans in 1492. Over the horizon come ships of a technologically advanced, aggressive culture, and BAM! There go the good old days, when humans only got killed by each other. So, Columbus Day. It fits. When the morning sky twinkled again, this time with Kristang starships jumping in to hammer the Ruhar, we thought we were saved.

Colonel Joe Bishop made a promise and he's going to keep it; taking the captured alien starship Flying Dutchman back out. He doesn't agree when the UN decides to send almost 70 elite Special Operations troops, hotshot pilots, and scientists with him; the mission is a fool's errand he doesn't expect to ever return from. At least, this time, the Earth is safe, right? Not so much.

On the outside, Lyle Tarpin is a clean-cut Hollywood actor whose star is on the rise. Inside, he's battling his own demons, shunning relationships and finding solace in the arms of a string of anonymous women paid very well for their discretion. But when he's photographed in a compromising position by an over-eager reporter, the only way to save his career is to say that the woman he was with is his fiancée. And now Lyle has to play a very public game with the only woman who's ever managed to get under his skin.

Roth and I are on an open-ended tour of the world. Roth being Roth, this means missionary in Morocco, reverse cowgirl in Calcutta, bent over the bow of a houseboat in Hanoi, slow and sleepy on St. John. Anywhere and everywhere, in every conceivable position and some I didn't know were possible. Life is pretty incredible. Until I wake up in his chateau in France alone. On the bed next to me is a note. There are only four words: "He belongs to me."