Body of Trust: A Romantic Suspense Novel

was the star of the town. A high school football star who could drink at fifteen because I knew how to catch a thirty-yard toss into the end zone. My friends and I stole from the drugstore, sped down Main Street, and started fires on abandoned lots. The cops always looked the other way. My grades were shit. My mother was on me to do better, but I didn’t have to. The teachers were gonna pass me, so I could play.

I was on top of the world.

Then, I got into an accident. I was drag-racing on the outskirts of town, being wild and reckless. My car had spun out, and I’d hit another car. The driver’s name was Will, and he was a friend of mine. He broke both legs and spent weeks in the hospital. We brought him cards and wreaths of flowers with wishes to get well. The homecoming game was dedicated to him, and when he came out on the field in his wheelchair and stood up for the first time in months, everyone cheered.

What they didn’t know was, Will was now addicted to pills.

Given to him to dull the pain of his injuries, he had been so determined to walk again that he overextended his dosage, so he could work through the discomfort.

When it came time to graduate, Will never walked. A local dealer had supplied him throughout our senior year. Will had put himself in a coma by prom and was dead by graduation.

While I got my piece of paper for a certificate I’d never earned, all I could think was, Will would be here if it wasn’t for me.

A week after graduation, I went to the alley where dealers were known to hang out. I posed as a junkie, and once I got my baggie and confirmed it was the same motherfucker who had supplied Will with his fix, I beat him to a pulp. A citizen’s arrest with the use of my fists. I left that lowlife down on the ground.

I didn’t think about him again for two years. I went to the same bars, bonfires, and to bed with the same girls. Each night, I’d go home and think there had to be something more. The autobiography I’d read years before sat by my bed. I’d read it over twenty times.

As soon as I had my associate’s degree, I knew life for me hadn’t been the same for a while. I idolized the FBI and undercover agents. It seemed like a cool-as-fuck career, and I wanted to be like that guy I’d read about in the book.

As I drove away from my house, I passed that alleyway one last time and was relieved to see it was empty. There were more dealers to get. More lowlifes to put away. I had found my calling.

My life has been good. I’ve seen a lot of dark, but I’ve witnessed so many walks of life. Whether you have money or not and no matter your skin, gender, sexual orientation, or circumstance, at the end of the day, everyone has the same goal. To make it through the day.

Everyone thinks tomorrow is going to be better. You know what? It almost always is.

If you can just get through the shit you’re in, the other side is so much better. You just can’t give up on yourself—or just as importantly, that one person.

Yes, at the heart of every good person is another one they’re fighting for. We all need someone we love more than ourselves. The one you don’t want to let down. The one you won’t stop fighting for.

I’ve always held my family in my heart. I know I am a good man they can be proud of. Having that faith has been enough to keep me going.

Then, I met Amelia.

Romancing her wasn’t the plan. We had this undeniable attraction. As she came apart in my arms that night, I knew I was done for.

This woman is mine, and I would do anything to keep her.

I can’t stop thinking about her. The sound of her laugh … the way she gnaws her thumb when she’s nervous, lifts her pinkie when she drinks a Moscow mule, bites her lip when she’s thinking too hard, or how her mouth forms a perfect circle when she’s about to come.

Her skin is so soft, and there are three freckles on her stomach. I could savor those freckles my entire life and never get enough. Just as I could listen to her tell stories.

I walk into my bedroom and turn on the shower, hating that I can’t go see her. If she didn’t need to see a doctor, I would have made her come home with me. That’s the only reason I agreed to let Enzo take her away. I’d thought I lost her today. More than once. That pain will change a man.

Going to Raphael Sorrentino’s home is out of the question. I’m stuck in purgatory between the New York Mafia and the FBI. Enzo might have helped get Amelia and me out of Dodge, but I know that wasn’t for me. It was for her. As far as they’re concerned, I’m still a narc who is out to get them. They’re one hundred percent correct.

The case against Frank Evangelista and Raphael Sorrentino continues to stand. You can save a man’s daughter, but that’s shit if you plan on sending him to prison.

Climbing into the shower, I let the ice-cold water hit my aching bones. There isn’t enough shampoo in the world to get the dried blood out from under my fingernails. I’m covered in dirt and sweat. The water is freezing, but I stay in past the point of pain because it’s good for my injuries. I need to heal quickly.

When I’m finished, I look in the mirror and can’t believe the shape I’m in. My eye is red and blue, and one is swollen shut. I know that because I can’t see a goddamn thing through it. The