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HUNT THE KILLER
He was an ex-con walking the last steps toward freedom after four years in prison....
He was an ex-con--torn between the lust to get the man who "sent him up the river" and the vow to go straight;
torn between returning to his faithful wife and his pulse-quickening Cuban mistress....
As the prison gates closed behind him he met--not his wife but the enticing Cuban. She took him to a private retreat in the woods. She was everything that he remembered.
Then suddenly she was cold--COLD AND DEAD IN HIS ARMS!
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SLEEP WITH THE DEVIL
MURDER'S Like Taking A Woman--The first one is the hardest. The first time he killed a man Les Ferron was nervous and scared. But after that it got easier. He didn't even think about it after awhile--everything was automatic. But then Les met Amy Wayne--beautiful, innocent and rich. He couldn't kill her--and he couldn't make love to her either. All he could do was let her drive him crazy--
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TO KISS, OR KILL
It was no dream. . . .
He sat on the edge of the bed and held his face in his hands, thinking of what the psychiatrist had said when they had discharged him this morning.
"You've been sick, Barney, you've been a very sick man. Well men don't see or hear the things you've seen and heard. Well men don't do the things you've done. You've lived too fast, too intensely. You've burned too many candles. You've taken too many punches. Now we're dismissing you as cured. But no more fights. No more excitement. No more late hours. The next time you come back here, you'll stay."
He got up and paced the floor, wiping the sweat from the hair on his chest with his palms. He thought of taking a shower.
He was reaching for the shower faucet when he saw her. His mouth gaped open. The doctors were wrong in assuming he was cured. He could swear there was a nude girl in his bathroom. She was lying on her back on the tile, one leg straight, one white knee raised. More, she was the little blonde with whom he'd walked out of Johnny's Bar that afternoon.
And she was very, very dead.
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