Frank Gaffney Novels & Stories

Still, Frank was known as the office gossiper, too, and he always had the latest news, so I endured his playful banter and nicknames in order to find out the information I would otherwise not know. I quickly minimized my tab so Frank wouldn't see my notes on the mafia gang rivalry. The last thing I needed was for him to run his mouth and ask Mr. Jeffers why he wasn't assigned the case, which would have alerted him to the fact that I hadn't let the matter go. Frank had only been at the Brooklyn Enquirer for a year and was given better stories to report on than me. I guess that’s what kissing up gets you in this world. "Hey, what's your new project?" he asked, his fingers effortlessly gliding

He's doing it again with out even noticing he's doing it. Nixon is a man who I've come to learn hates change and this bond, is changing him and he doesn't seem to want to let it happen or accept it. Which is why we're standing in the kitchen arguing. "For fucks sake's Harper you act like a fucking women sometimes" "I'm gay of course I act like a women sometimes!" I answer back. "Trust me it's a flaw" "Then reject the fucking bond and move on with your life if you regret what we did and the promise you made when you marked me" He growls at my outburst and I roll my eyes. "You know what fuck you Nixon."

Nick POV We all sit in my father’s office quiet and trying to process what just happened. My father made calls to the pack hospital and had people go from house to house to make sure no pack members passed and that everyone was accounted for in the pack. After of few hours we found out that all the pack members where here and that no one recently passed in the pack hospital. There were a few pack members that were away either on vacation or business trips but their family members where able to get in contact with them. The only person that is from the pack and we have no contact with is Mariah. The scream of anguish that Mariah’s mom let out when my father said it must have been Mariah’s pac

It won't be necessary to for him to keep bothering himself about the crime tape anymore. It was as if her anger aroused thinking about what Frank and Gwen have done. Not even thinking twice about her life being at the brink of a sudden dangerous situation. It felt like falling down a cliff rather than dying in the hands of such a mindless Bob. Frank was the type of person who gets desperate need for making money no matter the circumstances. As long as the amount is huge he wouldn't give a damn piece of shit about the odd reason. He tends to enjoy being involved in crime and others will get punished for it. He was never will to change from wanting to be a convicted felon. Yet Gwen would never

'There was a sudden deem lights, Phelan remembers someone, who was Don Carlton telling her to go lay down and rest. She tried to refuse, but he was too strong, and she was unable to stop him. It was so sudden that Don stood, watching Phelan in a distant approached her in a smile that shed some lights in the deem lights that came from the window. A meter from Phelan, Don put his hands on her shoulders, and then made an excuse and left.

“Coffee.” “Thanks,” Gabe said, relieved and annoyed at himself for being relieved. He slid into the chair by the desk and put the half-idol on a blotter pad as if it might decide to roll. The kettle began its patient rumble. Frank’s hand hovered over the whiskey again, then didn’t. He spooned grounds with the brisk economy of a man who’d mainlined caffeine through too many funerals. On the desk lay a leather-covered journal, cracked at the hinge. Handwriting skated in brown ink across brittle pages—Latin here, scratchy English marginalia there. A name plate at the front: Fr. J. B. Valente, S.J. (1983).

The groans of the injured echoed faintly against the marble walls. And in the middle of it, him. Nolan. Standing tall, chest heaving, blood soaking his shirt. His eyes were still sharp, searching the room as though he refused to let his guard down even now. He was tending to a few who are wounded. He was taking care of them, making sure that they were all right. He was helping out with lifting anything that was heavy. But I saw it. The way his left shoulder hung wrong. The deep gash along his collarbone, still dripping. He was doing his best not to show, but I knew that it hurts him. I had seen the way the rogue bit him.

deep down, I never wanted to go home again. Was it even my home? "I'm sorry, Quinn, but I can't leave you with him. We owe Mickey and our debt was paid until he saw you. You're young and you're most definitely his type but we refuse to give him what he wants so he will take it," Danny sounded frantic again, "you don't know Mickey. He's a dangerous man." "Who is he?" I asked, blinking away my tears as much as I could. "He's a Made man and a few years ago he took up being the head of the mafioso," Gunnar replied, rounding his desk to stand at my side.

It's from Meg. 16:52 From: Megan McCartney *Niels came by here and asked me a discreet questionnaire about you. With a strange focus on your current relationship status. I allowed myself to say that you're "available" haha. (In a more discreet way, of course.) Sorry, but I was tempted to give him your number. You won't kill me, will you? Megan McCartney, Assistant in Finance at Ryan Enterprises.* Is she crazy? Damn it. Using the work email. I grab my phone after deleting the email and shutting down the computer.

"My father was great man of honor. A strong lad even in his early days. A charmer, a respectable, honorable man. A hard worker, one hell of a negotiator. Affluent, independent of means and very moneyed. I reckon everyone sat here, must have been once jealous. All his mates were jealous. My father was very very uhm tolerable. May his soul Rest In Peace." Gerald Gallagher said seemingly just blabbering anything that came out of his mouth.