“Kirstenbosch” by Zurina Saban
He was painfully aware of his sweat. It oozed out of his pores and swam down his temples and cheeks without bothering to bead. His T-shirt was stuck to the flat mounds of his breasts . . .
He was painfully aware of his sweat. It oozed out of his pores and swam down his temples and cheeks without bothering to bead. His T-shirt was stuck to the flat mounds of his breasts . . .
To celebrate the release of Buffalo Noir, the latest in Akashic’s Noir Series, we’re pleased to give you a look at coeditor Ed Park’s own personal Buffalo noir with his introduction, “Ice-Cold Stories.”
A hush had fallen over Hvar. The fish market was closed, and the cold cement countertops were empty and the knives and scales aremained untouched. The cold weather of fall had descended upon us with a ferocious howl of wind and a violent clap of thunder, and I watched the few bright patches of shimmery water fade into a dark sea . . .
I’m patiently scoping out my next victim, but I’m distracted. Thanks to the news, I’m not savoring the moment like I normally do . . .
To celebrate the release of Zagreb Noir, the latest in Akashic’s Noir Series, we’re pleased to give you a look at Zagreb’s dark history with editor Ivan Sršen’s introduction, “Surviving to Tell the Story.”
Laure always believed she would die young, a murder victim. At 40, she had assumed time for the killing had run out. Yet here she was, kneeling on gravel in the middle of the night, about to die in the high-altitude plains of Ladakh . . .
Whenever I start a restoration project, I take before-photos, and when I finish, I take after-shots . . .
Detective Mercer wasn’t all that sure the man he had bound in the trunk of his cruiser was the right guy, but he was sure enough that he’d risk his badge over it . . .