Keeping Faith (eBook) - Unshakable #2

261 pages | eBook | 6x9"
Date of publication: 11/28/2014
  • ISBN: 978-1-941984-15-4
  • Model: 55543 words

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Heat Rating: 3 Flames


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Trent, Brock, and AJ are excited to spend Christmas together in their new home but secrets and dark dealings by Trent's estranged father interrupt their plans. Brock is kidnapped and Trent and AJ scramble to find a way to get Brock back before it is too late.

Several months after Trent Harte was drafted into the NFL, he, AJ Barnes, and Brock Everette are settling into their new home in Miami. Christmas is approaching and they are excited to share another holiday season with each other. Unbeknownst to them, William Harte, Trent's estranged father double-crossed a deadly adversary and then disappeared. To draw William out of hiding, Trent becomes a target. In a horrible twist of fate, the kidnappers grab Brock instead leaving AJ and Trent scrambling to find a way get Brock back. Detectives believe Trent is responsible, and with each passing hour the likelihood of Brock returning home alive dwindles.

Brock traded his safety to ensure his lovers were out of harm's way. He would do it again even knowing he'd end up captured and restrained in a part of town that no one in their right mind would willingly go. The kidnappers are terrifying, but Brock is a fighter, holding onto hope with both hands. He must decide to either wait to be rescued or find a way to escape. Stuck between the wills of a ruthless assassin and an insane mob thug, something needs to happen soon or he'll never see Trent and AJ again.


"If you enjoy stories about men who love each other deeply no matter what anyone else thinks, and if you're looking for an action-packed, intense read that is as suspenseful and emotionally intense as it is touching and hot, then you will probably enjoy this novel. All I can say is: I'd like some more stories about Brock, Trent, and AJ, please!"

Serena Yates for Rainbow Book Reviews


Sammy applied more powder to the bruise below her left eye. The blue-green swelling sat atop the apple of her cheekbone. The dark smattering of freckles that usually covered her cheeks and nose were barely visible under the thick application of foundation and powder, and yet the bruise was still faintly visible. She had already reapplied the eyeliner twice now but couldn't control the wayward tears streaking the meticulously applied makeup. She couldn't appear before Paul less than perfect.

She took a deep fortifying breath to steel her nerves for the meeting she would have with her boyfriend, Paul Bishop. Her packed suitcase sat on the foot of the bed. Soon she'd leave, out from underneath his controlling thumb. She'd known what she was getting into when she became involved with the head of the West Coast mob. Although she hadn't realized she would be with him this long. The more time she spent with Paul, the more she wanted to take a gun and riddle him with holes, especially after last night. A small shiver shook her body at the memory.

After two more deep breaths, she picked up the tube of lipstick and applied it to her bow shaped lips with a surprisingly steady hand. Paul served a purpose, she reminded herself. Her search was almost over--if she could make it through seeing Paul one more time, without slipping up. The thought of her trip to Miami pushed away the dark memories causing her to smile at her image in the vanity mirror. All the sacrifices would be worth what waited for her there. She was so close to her goal.

She ran the hairbrush through her long, wavy, golden brown locks one last time, applied a light spray of Paul's favorite perfume, then she rose from the vanity and approached the black Gucci dress hanging on the back of the closet door. The sleeves were long, perfect for hiding the additional bruising on her forearms and upper wrists. The scoop neck would showcase the heavy necklace Paul had selected before he left her alone this morning. The skirt reached her knees but she didn't have to worry about covering dark blemishes on her legs.

Once slipped on, the dress hung in perfect silky waves. She tugged gently on the cuffs ensuring no mars on her skin were showing. It wasn't her fault she bruised but if one of Paul's colleagues caught a glimpse of one, Paul made her suffer for making him appear bad to men he respected or who he needed to respect him. Beating a woman was passé nowadays, something only thugs did, not men as influential as Paul Bishop. She promised herself never again would a man raise a hand to her.


She donned black Prada heels and the tasteless necklace Paul used to proclaim his ownership of her, took her handbag, and exited the bedroom suite. The shoes clacked loudly against the marble floor. Sammy allowed herself a moment to detest the noise, just as she despised the mansion and all the evil hidden by the glamour and money. The place had been sucking the life out of her soul but another half an hour and she would be free.

One of Paul's musclemen, Marco Kinsley, stood outside the office double doors. He was one of the few of Paul's men who never made her feel like a piece of meat. Paul required those who entered the house or who would be seen with him to wear suits. As always, Marco appeared very monochrome in his black suit, black shirt, and black tie. He never wore another color. Once when Sammy felt a little bold, she'd asked him why he chose all black. Black, he had said, hides the most gruesome of messes at first glance. After that, Sammy didn't ask him any more questions.

"Good morning, Ms. Teasdale, the boss is waiting."

Sammy gifted him with a bright smile. "Thank you, Marco."

He hurriedly opened the door and stepped aside to allow her to enter the room.

Paul's office was designed to be intimidating. His large walnut desk and chair were austere enough to impress first time visitors into thinking Paul sat on a throne, a place of power. Sammy had witnessed both good and bad men crushed in this very room. As a house rule, murder was never conducted within the mansion or on its grounds, but that didn't mean the demise of individuals wasn't planned here.

"Samantha, dear, the car is ready to take you the airport." Paul merely glanced up at her from the contents of the manila file he studied.

Sammy gave him a wide smile but only after faltering for a brief second. He caught the hesitation. "Are you still upset over last night? Did James not deliver my apology this morning?"

She fingered the ring, a five carat sapphire set in a circle of diamonds. She hated it. "Your gift is beautiful and I am thankful. You are too generous. I only worry I'll upset you again."

Paul finally sat straight and gave her his full attention. A handsome man with a charming smile and cold eyes, Paul was in his midforties but he had prematurely grayed after he turned thirty. His silvery white hair didn't take away from his appearance, instead adding to the air of refinement about him. Paul held out a manicured hand to her. Sammy forced her feet to move, loathing to touch him, even if only briefly.

Once her palm slid against his, he pulled her down into his lap. "I already explained last night it wasn't your fault. William Harte will pay for what he made me do." He ran a knuckle under the covered bruise on her cheek.

His cell phone rang and after glancing at the name on the screen he answered. "Your status?"

Sammy wanted to move from his lap but his firm grip on her hip told her to stay. He would tell her when he wanted her to get up.

"What do you mean he hasn't touched his accounts? Harte is a pampered elitist. He doesn't know the meaning of going without. He must have other accounts you haven't discovered. Dig deeper, I want the man found!"

She scanned the desk. A silver five by seven framed photo of Paul's elegant wife, Patricia, sat next to the computer monitor. At first Sammy had been guilt ridden when she discovered Paul was married, until she met Paul's wife. Patricia came from an influential family in Europe. For two weeks every year, Patricia came to the States to visit with Paul. On one such visit, Patricia had walked into Sammy's suite of rooms in a flourish of expensive silk and designer accessories. She appraised Sammy as if she were an item up for auction. "You're a pert one, aren't you? As always, Paul, your taste is impeccable." With a pat on the cheek, Patricia accepted Paul's proffered elbow, the two leaving Sammy standing in the middle of the room in stunned silence.

Paul hung up the phone with an angry growl.

"Sweetheart, I'm going to miss my plane."

Sammy refrained from trying to wiggle away. Patience was the key when dealing with Paul.

"I won't be joining you in Miami with this unfinished business with Harte. You will cut your trip short and be back here on Christmas Eve." Paul stroked her thigh, his fingers stopping at the edge of the dress's hem.

"Of course," she replied as if it were already a given.

Paul patted her leg, the signal for her to rise. Dutifully she leaned forward to give him a kiss. He caught her chin. "Not now, you're wearing lipstick and I'll never get all of it off." He grasped her chin and turned her head where he pecked her on the cheek. "Now, go."

Sammy moved from his lap and adjusted her skirt so it fell properly. "I'll call you when I arrive," she promised. Not that she would be returning.

Paul grunted in acknowledgement. He had already mentally dismissed her, the manila folder opened once more. Before she could cross the room again, the oak door opened and a man only known as The Gentleman, Gent for short, entered the room. He paused upon seeing Sammy. Her steps faltered. Of all the people to run into before leaving.

She was one of a handful of people who knew Gent's name and his relationship to Paul. Sammy never ever let on she knew their secret for it was something they closely guarded. She doubted she'd live long if they suspected she knew Paul's personal assassin was his sister's only child, Aldrich.

Sammy's heart pounded in her chest. Even knowing what she did, she couldn't bring herself to dislike him too much. Aldrich had always been kind and courteous. She'd heard the rumors he was dangerous, bits of conversation here and there hinting at the viciousness of Paul's "dog". Maybe she'd spent too much time living in this world of ambiguous morals, black deeds, and cutthroat business. When she looked at Aldrich she didn't see the monster others claimed him to be. She guessed him to be around her age of twenty-seven but she couldn't be sure. She found she'd miss seeing him even if he sometimes scared the hell out of her. Not because of what people said about him but because of everyone who associated with Paul, Aldrich was the only one who could possibly discover her true identity and why she had become Paul's mistress.

Series: Unshakable


About Lexi Ander:
Fireborn Publishing Main Page

Lexi has always been an avid reader, and at a young age started reading (secretly) her mother’s romances (the ones she was told not to touch). She was the only teenager she knew of who would be grounded from reading. Later, with a pencil and a note book, she wrote her own stories and shared them with friends because she loved to see their reactions. A Texas transplant, Lexi now kicks her boots up in the Midwest with her Yankee husband and her eighty-pound puppies named after vacuum cleaners.


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This book was added to our catalog on Sunday 28 September, 2014.

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