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Table of contents
PREFACE
CHAPTER-1-2
CHAPTER-3
CHAPTER-4-5-6-7
CHAPTER-8-9
CHAPTER-10-11
CHAPTER-12-13-14-15
CHAPTER-16-17
CHAPTER-18-19
CHAPTER-20-21-22
CHAPTER-23-24-25
CHAPTER-26-27-28
CHAPTER-29-30
CHAPTER-31.1
CHAPTER-31.2
CHAPTER-31.3
CHAPTER-32
CHAPTER-33
CHAPTER-34-35-36-37-38
CHAPTER-39-40-41-42
CHAPTER-43-44-45
CHAPTER-46-47
CHAPTER-48
CHAPTER-49-50
CHAPTER-51
CHAPTER-52-53
The Sex Life of the Gods. Michael Knerr. CHAPTER-1-2
CHAPTER-3
CHAPTER-4
CHAPTER-5-6
CHAPTER-7-8
CHAPTER-9-10
CHAPTER-11-12
CHAPTER-13-14
CHAPTER-15-16
CHAPTER-17-18

clothes. When he started to put his pants on, his wallet dropped from 

the hip pocket and flopped open on the floor. He picked it up, his eyes 

absently noticing the card that was exposed in the clear, plastic 

window. It was a Selective Service Registration Certificate and someone 

had written "small scar on right forearm" under the column for general 

markings. Absently he glanced at his right forearm, then his eyes 

widened in shock. 

 

There was no scar! 

 

A man cannot lose a scar, he told himself. He checked the card again. It 

was his, made out to Nicholas Howard Danson; but the scar was missing. 

He searched his arm and it wasn't there. The full realization of the 

whole thing struck him suddenly like a punch in the mouth. He was _not_ 

Nicholas Howard Danson! 

 

Who was he? What the hell was going on? Had he killed the real Danson 

because they were obviously look alikes, and stolen the guy's I.D. Why? 

Was he escaping from some kind of crime? Was he a criminal, and what did 

the strange dreams have to do with it? 

 

Numbly he climbed into the rest of his clothes and made damned sure the 

.44 magnum was loaded when he strapped it on. His hands shook 

uncontrollably and he felt trapped. It would only be a matter of time 

before those people at the wreck figured out the whole story and came 

howling after him. He had to get out. 

 

The screech of car brakes startled him and he leaped to the window. A 

police car was in the lane and a single, plainclothes cop was getting 

out. It could only be Nolan. He watched as Brice pulled his Police 

Positive from the speed rig and headed toward the house. Then Nick 

hauled out his magnum and slammed it into the window. 

 

Brice dived behind a bush as the magnum threw a .44 slug that barely 

missed the cop. The .38 barked back and Nick ducked the splinters as the 

bullet chipped the window frame. 

 

"Come out, you fool," Brice roared. 

 

"You go to hell," Nick yelled and fired again. "Who tipped you off, 

Nolan? Beth?" 

 

"You left Danson's watch where your flying saucer cracked up!" Brice 

snapped another shot at the window. 

 

Flying saucer? Nick blinked. What the hell was that stupid cop talking 

about? 

 

"What'd you do with Nick," Brice roared. 

 

Nick let the magnum answer for him, not trusting his voice. In the few 

seconds that followed Nick, in his nervous excitement, emptied the 

revolver at Brice, but never even grazed him. He cursed and began 

thumbing cartridges into the Ruger. He was almost finished, when Nolan 

caught onto the maneuver and decided to come in closer. He stood up and 

began sprinting toward the house. Nick had just yanked the hammer of the 

gun back to fire as Brice came into the open but he never made it. 

 

Suddenly, in the middle of the yard, Detective Lieutenant Nolan Brice 


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