Juárez Dance is the first self-published release by Sam Hawken. Currently available only from Amazon, Juárez Dance brings the same darkness and human detail to bear as Hawken’s previous novels, The Dead Women of Juárez and Tequila Sunset.
“Sam Hawken has been slowly but surely making his presence known in the crime fiction community over the past few years, and Juárez Dance is another blazingly colorful feather in his cap. If you’re not reading Hawken’s work yet, get on it now.” — Elizabeth A. White
“Juárez Dance is a hitman novel told with atmosphere, enthusiasm and talent: I devoured the book in a single train ride, barely pausing to look up until I was done.” — Russel D. McLean
Cooper Townsend is a man whose trade is death. He kills for money and feels nothing. He is an island untouched by the world, living a life of self-indulgence in Mexico with nice clothes, a fine apartment and the company of women who take money and ask no questions.
When Cooper takes a contract that threads the line between life and death for his target, he steps into another world: the Mexico of true money and unfettered power. There he finds that sin is the most powerful driver behind the lives of the fabulously wealthy. One sin in particular draws him into a cycle of deception that can only end in bloodshed and may yet hold the key to personal salvation.
Cooper Townsend is about to learn that love is the most dangerous thing of all.
Cooper drank Canadian Club because it seemed the closest thing to real liquor the minibar had to offer. A fifteen-year-old whiskey was better than something blended, or a cheap vodka or something flavored out of a chemical lab. He poured the little bottles over ice and sat in an uncomfortable chair with a pistol balanced on the arm rest.
He was in Dallas and from the window of the hotel room it was possible to see the control tower for the expansive Dallas rail yards. The triple-underpass was nearby and the cursed triangle of Dealey Plaza. One of these days Cooper planned to visit the museum at the old book depository because that was one hell of a hit, even if they caught the wrong man.
The sound of a television turned too loud came through the wall by the bed. The room was not a big one and didn’t even have a writing desk. This was a place to go when accommodations didn’t really matter, when luxury wasn’t even a secondary concern. There was a bed, four walls, a chair, a round table tucked into the corner and the minibar. Thank God for the minibar.
For more information on Juárez Dance, see the blog.