Promises Made, Promises Broken - SYTYCW (Bad Reputation)

New Title available now!

My latest work, Pinups and Possibilities, is now available on amazon!

http://www.amazon.com/Pinups-Possibilities-Melinda-Di-Lorenzo-ebook/dp/B00MTGFAA8/ref=sr_1_1?s=digital-text&ie=UTF8&qid=1415211564&sr=1-1&keywords=melinda+di+lorenzo

Here is a sample:

Prologue – 3 Months Ago

Gary Howell stood in front of his boss’s office door with his heart in his throat and rock-like dread in his stomach.

Six years, he told himself. I’ve been fearing this moment and now it’s here.

There was no doubt in Howell’s mind that his secret had been found out.  The two bodyguards gripping his arms told him there was nothing social about his requested presence.

“Bring him in!”

Cohen Blue’s voice carried through the mostly-closed door, and the sound of it made Howell want to reach for what he held in his coat pocket.  He forced himself to keep his hands at his sides instead.

The bodyguard shoved the door open and pushed Howell through it. 

Howell stumbled, but righted himself almost immediately and without flinching, faced his boss’s glare.  At that moment, he realized Cohen’s eye were bloodshot and full of rage.  He took an unconscious step back before he could stop himself.

“You’ve been keeping a terrible secret from me, Doctor.” Cohen’s words were not-quite slurred.

“I’m not a doctor,” Howell corrected, purposely ignoring the rest of his boss’s statement.

“Anymore.”

“Anymore,” Howell agreed.

The two men stared at each other for a long moment before Cohen took a deep sip of his Scotch.

Then he sighed and asked, “Do you want to know how I found out?”

“That depends on what you think you found out.”

Cohen cracked a humourless smile. “I think that’s the first time I’ve heard you make a smart-ass remark since…Well, since ever. Well done, Howell. You finally grew some balls.”

“It’s not balls. I’m just tired, Cohen. And old,” Howell replied.

“I won’t argue with that.”

“How courteous of you.”

Cohen rattled his ice cubes. “They say a picture is worth a thousand words, don’t they, Howell?”

Howell’s chest tightened. “Tell me what you want, shoot me, or let me go.”

Cohen laughed. “No patience today, huh?”

“I don’t feel like playing games.”

“A picture, Howell, is worth way more than a thousand words. It’s worth a life. Or in this case…several of them. Let’s talk about yours first.”

Cohen reached into his back pocket and pulled out a photograph.  His finger traced the curved line of the figure showcased there, then he flipped it over, set it down on his desk, and slid it toward Howell. 

A name, written in Howell’s own hand, glared up at him from the dog-eared photo.

“The cleaning lady was in your office today, dusting,” Cohen stated. “Her duster got caught on the bottom of your file cabinet. When she yanked it out, she was very surprised to find that stuck to the feathers. She thought it might be important and she very kindly turned it in to me. So what I want, Howell…is this one thing. Jayme Duncan.”

So often over the last half of a decade, Howell had thought the name and not said it.  So often he’d thought of the people attached to it and forced himself to steer his mind elsewhere.  He’d stuffed the memory so far into the recesses of his brain that it often seemed like fiction rather than fact. Now, hearing it on Cohen’s lips made everything real once again. 

Howell closed his eyes against the roiling in his gut.

Cohen repeated the name in a slow, dangerous voice.  “Jayme. Duncan.”

If Cohen’s intention was to intimidate, he failed miserably.  Howell’s hackles rose protectively instead.  He opened his eyes again and he clenched his hands into palm-biting fists.  He said nothing.

“Tell me about Jayme,” Cohen commanded.

Howell didn’t reply, and Cohen slammed his glass against his desk, sloshing the amber liquid over the side.

“Jayme fucking Duncan!” he yelled. “A last known location. Now!”

Howell finally answered, and when he did, it was in a choked voice that betrayed his lie. “I have no clue.”

“You’ve always been a terrible liar.” Cohen grinned and called out toward the door. “C’mon back in, boys! It’s your lucky day!”

Howell knew what was coming next.  He closed his eyes.  He was weak.  He knew that too.  He’d always known it.  But he wasn’t going to let Cohen’s men beat the truth out of him.

Howell reached into his pocket and closed his shaking hand around the oddly warm metallic object there.

Sometimes, it was now or never, and sometimes it was just never.