Captain Brett Logan, Jr””the main character from my upcoming release LANDLOCKED””was so much fun to create. It’s no secret I have a soft spot for bad girls and this was the first time I’d undertaken a real bad boy. A pirate, smuggler and outlaw, Logan lives life on the edge, running from the ghosts of the past when he trips over a future with the only woman he’s ever dared to love. But never having created this type of character before, I had to look to other examples in fiction to help steer me in the right direction.

I took a dash of Captain Jack Sparrow from the PIRATES OF THE CARIBBEAN series, a pinch of Raylan Givens from JUSTIFIED, a little Batman and a bit of rogue from old-fashioned romance novels and voila! Out came Brett Logan.

I hope my tribute to this time honored character-type holds his own and thrills the readers as much as he thrilled me to write about.

Here’s a quick look at my very first bad boy:

Saline spray rose up off the ocean and Captain Logan’s purse seiner, The Yellow Rose, carved her way through the choppy Gulf of Mexico waters. A garish vessel, painted red, white and blue, it flew the Texas flag and operated under the protection those colors afforded. Despite the blockades along the Gulf Coast and the trouble up North, his ship was rarely boarded by Reformer inspectors. The old adage still rang true””Don’t mess with Texas“”a fact Captain Logan relied upon. And exploited.

His small crew did busywork to ready the ship for dock. He checked the horizon with his binoculars. Even with the maximum magnification, the island of Galveston appeared as a mere smudge in the distance. Still, they were making good time. In another hour or so, they’d make port. The sizable man sank into his seat on the bridge. Weary from over two weeks either at sea or lying low in the swamps of Gulfland, he looked forward to a few days at home. No more salt cod and flatbread or canned beef stew. He couldn’t wait to sink his teeth into an Angus burger. Or a porterhouse. Or Blanca’s barbecue brisket. His lean stomach growled and the thought of Blanca reminded him of other neglected needs.

Jacques, his first mate, peeked into the doorway. “Everything’s shipshape, mon capitaine.” The dark-skinned creole laughed at his favorite joke.

Logan did his best to crack a smile. No matter how long between ports, Jacques DuBois was always in a good mood, a quality that annoyed the captain to no end.

“Is the extra cargo well sealed?”

“Bien sûr. Don’t worry.” Jacques clapped an arm around his friend. “We’ve done this a couple times before.”

At this Logan did laugh. In truth, they’d done this same run along the Gulfland coast well over two hundred times, and every time they came back loaded down with silver, gold and Republic credits that would be hard to explain for a humble fishing vessel.

Pouring a shot of tequila for himself and one for Logan, the man pulled up a wooden crate to sit on. “I’m worried about you.”

The captain threw back his drink and let the burn fade before he replied, “What on earth for?”

“You look tired. Not the kind of tired that a few days rest will fix, but deep down soul kind of tired. That raid last month got bloody.”

“Wasn’t my blood, so what’s the big deal?”

“I’m just saying, with that sort of thing hanging over his head, a man can get sloppy, make mistakes.”

Logan shrugged. Heads rolled in the course of his business. Jacques knew that as well as anyone else. And all their men came home. The same couldn’t be said for that band of Reformer troops. Oh well. Foreign bastards had invaded the United States at its weakest and torn it apart. To hell with all of them.

“If you don’t want to come on the next run, that’s fine.”

“Don’t get me wrong, mon ami.” Jacques rolled his glass between his thick hands. “I’m just telling you what I hear.”

“So the rest of the crew has lost confidence in me too?”

Jacques got to his feet and shook his head. “You’re the most pigheaded”” I’m not saying anyone’s lost confidence, but there’s a reason they call you “Loco Logan’. I’m saying you need to take a longer break.”

“I’ll take it under advisement,” Logan said, though he had no intention of doing so. He scooted down into his chair and pulled his Stetson over his gray eyes. “Wake me when we make port.”

“Aye, Captain.”

The slaps of Jacques’s boot soles against the ship’s teak deck receded as Logan gave over to the pull of sleep.

LANDLOCKED by Cindy Jacks available June 15th http://www.jasminejade.com/m-683-cindy-jacks.aspx