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Authors: Havan Fellows

Wicked Solutions (4 page)

BOOK: Wicked Solutions
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Wick tossed the newspaper down on his desk; it teetered near the edge and finally settled. The big bold header over a picture of two men trying to hide in the shadows blared "BUSTED" with the sub-title explaining how two prominent rival companies were caught in the act of insider trading. What better way to raise stock options than fraudulently pit them against each other from the inside, where they could monitor all aspects of the deception?

Sure, it was a wuss move on Wick's part. Slinking around and taking pictures of the unsuspecting duo in the dark—leaking them to the newspaper for a front page cover story. But hey, it kept him off the witness stand. That combined with the thumb drive made a case that no defense attorney could poke holes in, unless of course the state's attorney screwed up big time. Either way it cleared his calendar of this crap.

Brad still paper pushed at his job, informing Wick that nothing had changed with his position, but that the management was under huge overhauls. Upon a few strategically asked questions, Wick also learned that a certain Ned Harris seemed to have just disappeared. Brad contemplated that maybe Ned was in on the illegal activity, evidently not knowing the truth behind Mr. Harris.

Wick kept his damn mouth shut. He didn't want that type of complication. It had taken all his willpower to move away from Ned that night over a month ago. But he didn't seem to have the willpower not to allow his mind to wonder overit every day since…

So damn easy…he shook his head and jerked away from Ned. Quickly back stepping until his ass hit the counter and his hand brushed the side of the hot coffee pot, causing him to jerk away from that also.

The smirk Ned bestowed just for him pissed Wick off and encouraged his ass-hattery into motion. "I'm sure if you put all your blue heads together you will figure something out. You even try to pull me into this and I'll make sure your every secret is front page news."

Ned shook his head sadly. "You'd try, maybe. I believe you would, too. But you have to know who I am in order to pull that off."
He stepped closer to Wick. It took all of Wick's willpower not to scramble on top of the damn counter. Knowing Ned played with him purposely helped his resolve. Damn this man would be a dangerous person in his life, whether friend or foe.
"You have no idea what I'm capable of, Ned. Don't begin a game you can't finish."
Patting the pocket that held the thumb drive, Ned leaned the rest of the distance toward Wick and whispered in his ear, "It's not about the winning or losing that's fun, it's how you play the game." He quickly turned and headed to the front door. "I'll see what I can do with this information, I might be back. Either way, I'm quite certain our paths will cross again, Wink."

The End?

Nope...not really.
Check out what Wick is up to next on March 15, 2013. Until then there is plenty of Pulp Friction to keep you happy...

Released on January 1, 2013
Lee Brazil's
Chances Are
His Grandma always said he'd come to no good. Chances Are, she's right.
Meet Chance:
"I'm Chance, this is my place. You want me; this is where you can find me."
The problem with that, of course, was that it wasn't my name. My name was actually Aaron Dumont.

I picked up the name Chance as a kid when my grandma kept telling me "Chances are you'll come to no good, just like your pa." She had said it so often, it just kind of stuck. I've been Chance ever since. When she passed away and left me the remains of her estate, I sold everything but a few special items then invested it all in a nest egg for a rainy day.

I figured that's what she'd intended it for anyway. She'd said as soon as I joined the police force back in the eighties. "Chances are you'll come to no good there. It's a dangerous job and you're an accident waiting to happen."

She was right too.
Excerpt:

"I have to go. Gerry leaves now. Sorry to leave you hanging." I had to get behind the bar. We do a steady business with the cops and the neighborhood people, and even though it was ten o'clock, I had four more hours until closing.

"Call me." His voice was husky and I fancied I heard just the slightest
clink
of that metal stud clicking against his teeth.
He wasn't the first visitor to my office, not the first face I'd stared at, trying to forget the one that was burned into my retinas, but he was different. I might have to get his name.
Shit. I don't think I even gave him my name
.

"I'm Chance, this is my place. You want me; this is where you can find me." I won't call. Been there, done that. Got the emotionally stunted psyche to prove it. I shoved him out the door ahead of me and let it close on our little interlude with a sensation akin to gratitude. The problem with that, of course, was that it wasn't my name. My name was actually Aaron Dumont.

I picked up the name Chance as a kid when my grandma kept telling me "Chances are you'll come to no good, just like your pa." She had said it so often, it just kind of stuck. I've been Chance ever since. When she passed away and left me the remains of her estate, I sold everything but a few special items then invested it all in a nest egg for a rainy day.

I figured that's what she'd intended it for anyway. She'd said as soon as I joined the police force back in the eighties. "Chances are you'll come to no good there. It's a dangerous job and you're an accident waiting to happen."

She was right too. That nest egg came in handy after the not-so-accidental shooting that ended my career. After my injuries healed and the physical therapy was done, I loafed around doing nothing for a bit, sinking into depression and dying slowly inside of sheer boredom. Then I found the bar, and Chances Are was born. I don't know if the name was a tribute to the woman who loved and understood me or a
fuck you
to the one who ruled my childhood with an iron fist. Since they're the same ruthless, gently bred Southern lady, I don't spend a lot of time dwelling on the motivation behind the name.

Every night found me here, polishing glasses, pouring drinks, and soaking up the world. I got to talk shop with local law enforcement without being responsible for the paperwork. The neighborhood itself was eclectic and I got plenty of customers in on any given night who were prone to chat and flirt and sometimes, like the rookie, even a little more.

He was still there, watching me when he thought I wasn't looking, taking the ribbing his buddies were dishing out with a flush and a faint smile. I was impressed. Rory Gaines had backbone. I liked that. It kind of made me want to test his limits, crush his spirit, just to see if he'd let me, but I knew that was the bitterness of lost love, and I'd never actually do it. I don't think.

As I polished the shot glasses, I was giving serious thought to actually going back to my office and digging that business card he'd given me out of the trash can. When the front door burst open and smashed into the wall with a sound so akin to gunfire that several of the off duty cops in the room dropped to one knee and reached for weapons they weren't supposed to be carrying in my establishment, I forgot about everything else.

And...
Being released on February 1, 2013
L.E. Harner's
Triple Threat
Because anything two can do, three can do better.

Master Archer found his forever with fellow Dom, Zachery, but when their discreet recovery business interferes with their personal time, Archer buys exactly what his lover needs— submissive Jeremiah.

Excerpt:

“Come here, Zachary,” he said. His voice was a low growl, nothing like the cultured tones he’d used with our guest. My dick responded, despite the vigorous workout from earlier this morning.

I moved to stand between his spread knees, prepared to kneel if that’s what he wanted, but he seemed content to wrap his arms around my waist and rest his cheek against my stomach. He rubbed his hand over my heated ass, his firm stroke raising my level of awareness. “Do you still feel me, here?”

His words shivered through me.
“I think I might still be feeling you through next Tuesday, but I could take more.” Archer threw his head back and laughed. “Such an eager boy. Are you sure you’re a

switch?” His to ne was teasing, but his hard hand squeezed my ass, and I moaned in pleasure. He laughed again and the sound eased the slight concern I’d felt at his earlier shift in attitude. “We have a lot to do in a short amount of time.”
“You have a plan?”
“I do.” Archer reached for his e-tablet and I opened a new document on the laptop. Archer was a genius, and there was no telling how fast his ideas would pour out once he got going.
“Check the calendar,“ Archer said, his own fingers turning electronic pages.
“What am I looking for?”
“Hold on…” He shook his head. “Opera…no…damn, there’s a premiere…what about…” he looked up, his eyes shining. “Check Thursday, three weeks from tonight.”
I checked. “There’s nothing on your schedule, shall I save it?”
“Yes. We’re throwing a party. Scour our old client list. I particularly want Peter and Cartier to attend. Ah, and don’t forget to add Wick. What do you think, Zachary? Will we draw Franklin in?”
I laughed—it was a beautiful plan. “Master Archer is coming out of retirement for one evening to host a private reprise of Wilde Sides in his beautiful home, and bringing in three other Masters he personally trained? How could a pain slut like Franklin resist?”

Havan Fellows Author Bio

 

I annoy, love, respect, scare, seduce, hurt, anger, infatuate, frustrate, flatter, envy, amuse and tolerate everyone. I just do it better in writing thanks to a little thing called...edits.

Okay no, seriously...I'm a simple minded person who enjoys the escape from real life through a book. I write with the group Story Orgy and hope to continue doing so for a long time and I follow my muse where ever he takes me … he hasn't failed me yet! I'm also published with Breathless Press. And just like every other red blooded human – I love hearing from people. So feel free to drop me a line– whether it's a comment on my blog, an email, a tweet or you track me down on FaceBook or Google + … it's easy to catch someone who wants to be caught.

Blog
http://havanshawthaven.blogspot.com
Email –
[email protected]
Twitter – @havanfellows
FaceBook
http://www.facebook.com/HavanFellowsauthor?fref=ts
Google +
https://plus.google.com/100539863028704367957/posts

Additional titles by Havan Fellows
Story Orgy
And The Prompt Is...Vol 1
And The Prompt Is...Holiday Edition
(also avail as a solo release
And The Prompt Is...A Trace of Christmas Spirit) And The Prompt Is...Road Trip Edition
Synchronous Seductions Trilogy

Harlan's Ryde Emery's Ritches
Geoff's Teddy

Anthologies
Freaky Flashes
Free Read
Lucky Night

 

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