New York Mayor Johnny Fiore was larger than life. A crime-fighter, hero to New Yorkers and, in an instant, a dead mayor in a midtown hotel. McMorrow, in the city with ex-cop buddy Butch Casey, is shocked to hear of the mayor’s stabbing–and his friend’s arrest on murder charges. McMorrow knows Butch couldn’t have done it so he sets out to clear his friend. Soon McMorrow’s a suspect himself, and could be the next murder victim. Ex-New Yorker McMorrow finds Manhattan is more dangerous than ever.
People were looking at fruit. They were walking up and down with grocery bags, coffee in paper cups. The man with the dog was still picking at the ground. I felt in my pocket for the car keys. Got my fingers on the door opener. Took a last glance behind me. There were no cars coming up the block, nobody in the cars that were parked.
I turned back. The man with the dog was still crouched at the curb. And as I watched, he put the Baggie of droppings in the pocket of his windbreaker. Took something else out.
And put it under the Rover’s windshield wiper.
I started to say, “Hey,” but caught myself. He’d turned away from me and was walking up the block. The dog was trotting jauntily and the man hurried him along.
They turned the corner, wove through the crowd. Then the man reached down and picked the dog up. I wanted to see his face, but his back was toward me, and he was hurrying, He stepped out into traffic, crossed between the passing cars and broke into a trot. I waited as the cars rushed past and when the traffic broke, he was gone.
I turned back.
Eyed the car from a distance, the white paper still on its windshield. I walked to the fruit stand; felt the peaches. Looked up and down the block, then bought two apples. The man dropped them in a sack. I turned and unlocked the Rover’s doors. Snatched the paper and jumped in the driver’s seat.
I backed up, jockeyed out of the space. Hit the gas and rounded the corner, floored it through a yellow light, turned at the next block and unfolded the paper as I drove.
It was Roxanne.
A blurry likeness. A fax of a fax. A headshot from a newspaper, with a fragment of a story.
The note was typed. Two lines.
LEAVE N.Y. A.M. TODAY WED. NO MORE CALLS. NO MORE TALKS.
OR SHE’S DEAD. YOU’LL GET HER IN MAIL. HEAD FIRST. LAST CHANCE.
In PORT CITY SHAKEDOWN, the first Brandon Blake novel, Brandon gets a full dose of bad guys. A brawl in a funeral home introduces him to Joel Fuller, a sociopathic hustler. Fuller is fresh out of jail and determined to take Brandon out—after Fuller and his sidekick Kelvin shake him down.
Rocky isn’t a tough guy. He’s a skinny little kid with crooked glasses, and he shouldn’t be homeless in Portland, Maine. When McMorrow and Roxanne pluck him from under the stomping feet of a gang of street kids, Rocky latches onto McMorrow–and drags him into a world of murder, both old and new. Why is McMorrow protecting Rocky? The cops want to know. Why is Rocky on the run? McMorrow wants to know. Why does death follow in Rocky’s wake? Jack and Roxanne need to find out before they’re added to the list. 
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