This Was Bricktop... ...bastard offspring of an octoroon wench and a passing stranger.
In New Orleans they called him Jeff Carson. No one there suspected that this handsome, red-haired young rogue with the beguiling smile was a runaway black.
Certainly not the sex-starved widow who was the key to his new future. Nor Jean Lafitte, the pirate, who trusted him. Not even Chloe, the beautiful slave girl who loved him.
No one - not even his mistresses - had ever seen the tell-tale brand on his back; the mark that could betray him to the world.
But one person did know who he was. An enemy from his past, waiting for him in New Orleans. Waiting to kill him.
Lance Horner's novels are irredeemable filth. No wonder I love them! However, the storytelling spark which sustained earlier efforts seems to be lacking here. Horner races through the lurid proceedings by rote and rushes toward, what feels like, a hastily concocted and unsatisfying resolution.