The second Henry Thompson book, Six Bad Things, picks up Henry’s story a few years down the line. Henry’s got himself stashed south of the border, lying low and sitting on some cash of disputed ownership. Russian gangsters, Mayan temples, silicon millionaires, murderous surfers, a rabid dog, exotic dancers, pill-popping-crossbow-wielding rodeo clowns, and the Miami Dolphins are among the obstacles Henry crashes into along the road to Las Vegas. As usual, it’s all about the money. Henry’s got it, and everybody with a gun or a knife or a halfway decent threat in hand wants it. There’s blood on the highway alright, and lots of it belongs to Henry.Some nice things people said:

“Six Bad Things rocks and rolls from the first page. This is one mean, cold, slit-eyed mother of a book, and Charlie Huston is the real deal.”
—Peter Straub

“SIX BAD THINGS IS RELENTLESS. IT GRABS YOU BY THE THROAT, OR SLIGHTLY LOWER, AND NEVER LETS GO.”
—Jeff Lindsay, author of Darkly Dreaming Dexter

“Tell Charlie Huston he owes me a night’s sleep. Had to finish the book—it was bloody amazing. If there is such a thing as compassionate noir, Charlie has found it. A true marvel.”
—Ken Bruen, author of The Guards

What was going on:
When I wrote Caught Stealing I wasn’t planning a trilogy, but one night, long before the book was sold, I had an image of Henry on a beach in Mexico. I wrote a few pages, and over the next couple years I started getting an idea of what might happen to Henry next.
When Caught Stealing was bought by Ballantine it was as the first book in a two book deal. Mark Tavani, my editor, asked what I had in mind for the second book. I mentioned that it could be a sequel, but if we went that way it would have to be the second book in a trilogy. He went for it.
I was bartending and waiting tables at Angus McIndoe Restaurant (pronounced McAndoo, and another of the better places to ply the trade) when the advance for my first book deal came through. I was able to stop working just long enough to edit Caught Stealing and write Six Bad Things. It was pretty fucking cool. Going back to the grind sucked. But little things like knowing you’ve sold your first two books can make slinging drinks and hash a little easier.
And I kept writing. And I stayed lucky. And I sold some more stuff. I worked my last bartending shift in March 2004. Knock wood.