To Sleep Gently
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Nightmare Award-Winning Novel.
When career criminal Jack Dempster gets caught and put away for five years in prison, he finds time to seriously reconsider his chosen line of work. Before he can make any serious decision, some old acquaintances track him down with a proposal. They want him to go to Santa Fe, New Mexico. With the help of an inside man, he's to lead a small group of professionals on a daring robbery of the El Dorado Hotel, one of the finest, and most secure establishments in the Southwest.
Double-crosses, love triangles, and immersion in his own self-destructive past conspire to lead him to ruin. It's not easy to sleep when searching for normalcy in the heart of a brutal past.
"Some people write from the heart, but Trent Zelazny leaves his blood on the page." --Erin Underwood, Underwords
"Trent Zelazny's work is pure Punk Classicism, with a spirit and heart and ferocious inquiry that dance across multiple genres and forever change their landscape... He never disappoints." --Edward Morris, author of Fathers and Sons: Blackguard
"Trent Zelazny is the best hard-boiled noir writer of this generation!" --Sarah L. Covert, Editor of She Never Slept
"I have someone new to admire." --Joe R. Lansdale, Edgar Award winner and eight-time Bram Stoker Award winner
"Trent Zelazny has already begun to carve out his own genre niche. He's got the right stuff to make fiction both engrossing and literate." --Tom Piccirilli, winner of two International Thriller Awards and four Bram Stoker Awards
cigarette between its fingers. The moment he stepped into the room, the conversation ended. Dempster took in the sight of all three of them, crossed over to the table and sat down. "What's up?" "Spent the whole morning going over the route," Clark said, smoke seeping from his nose. "Found a couple alternative routes but it still looks like the best way is what we discussed last night." "That's what I decided too," Dempster said. He looked at Evan and Jimmy. "You guys talk with Mister Skeele
supplied him with, a casual, lightweight, single-breasted blazer with matching trousers, though he found that it hadn't been necessary. There didn't appear to be a dress code. He breezed past the front desk, giving it only the quickest glance and seeing Gardner, who happened to have his back turned at that moment. Past the elevators and just before the lobby's lounge, he made a right and faced the Nidah Spa, where through the giant glass doors he saw a middle-aged woman behind a desk, content
same on this end." Chapter Ten Sandra didn't call. It was six o'clock and he'd been in his room for the past two hours with a paperback he'd read nearly all the way through but hadn't absorbed more than a couple sentences of. If one were to ask him what the book was about, he probably couldn't have explained it, even if he looked at the cover again and reread the back. He felt tired and groggy. It was hot and the place was stuffy and dry, and every once in a while he closed his eyes in
general direction," Jimmy said. "I don't think that counts." Dempster watched Clark sag sideways. He hoped and prayed that Gardner wasn't going to be getting in touch with them tomorrow to tell them it was time. They would have to postpone it if he did, and who knew how long it might be before things would be right again. "This is the last time we're doing anything like this," he said. "No more partying until after the job." The waitress came by to check on them. Dempster ordered four waters.
give him any. Two men entered the room. Each had a beer in his hand. A cigarette dangled from the mouth of the one on the left. The one on the right, given the presence he embodied, appeared to be the one in charge. He was stocky and standing strong, but weakness and surprise showed clearly through his feigned cool. Dempster didn't like these guys either. "Something we can help you with, sir?" This from the stocky one. His tone was also feigned self-confidence. "Which one of you is Wolfe?"