Brady Allen, Danielle Ackley-Mcphail, Diane Raetz, Edward J. McFadden III, Georgina Morales, Jessica McHugh, John L. French, lucky 13, matt schiariti, Michael Laimo, Padwolf Publishing, Patrick Thomas, Robert Waters, Sarah A. Hoyt, Trent Zelazny
Now available from Padwolf Publishing:
Lucky 13, a collection of tales of crime & mayhem. All 13 stories contain some element of luck, whether good, bad, or indifferent. My story “This Is Only Going To Hurt” is in there, along with stories from Trent Zelazny, Jessica McHugh, Matt Schiariti, Sarah A. Hoyt, Brady Allen, Danielle Ackley-Mcphail, Patrick Thomas, Robert Waters, Diane Raetz, Georgina Morales, John L. French, and Michael Laimo. It was edited by the very awesome Edward J. McFadden III, author of numerous books and stories including one of my favorites from the past couple years: The Black Death of Babylon.
Want to know what “This Is Only Going To Hurt” is all about? Why not read the intro:
Frank cracked an eye open and stared at the clock. It was too blurry to read, but the darkness outside told him all he needed to know—it was too damn early. When the phone rang again, he reached for it. He knocked over a bottle of something, and it dropped to the floor.
Fuck. He slapped his hand around the cluttered nightstand until he found the phone. Should have turned this thing off. He fumbled with the keypad and sighed when he found the answer button.
“Yeah, who’s this?”
“It’s Barron,” a voice said.
“You’re not my brother,” Frank said. “You’re a girl.”
“I know,” the voice said. “It’s about your brother. He’s missing.”
“Who is this?”
“Xiuying,” she said.
Frank sat up and reached for the lamp. As soon as he clicked it on, he squeezed his eyes shut and dropped back down to the bed. The light was not helping his head. “What do you want?”
“I need your help,” she said. “Barron needs your help.”
“He wouldn’t even call me if he was dying,” Frank said.
“I know. That’s why I’m calling.” Frank opened his eyes and looked across the room at his desk. Amid the scattered paper and empty bottles, a framed photo of him and Barron remained upright. It had been taken years earlier, back when Frank was an honest cop and Barron still lived in New York. They looked like friends, but things had changed.
“Where is he?”
“I last saw him yesterday,” Xiuying said. “He had a meeting. He never came back.”
“What do you want from me?”
“Come to Guangzhou, help me find your brother.”
“I can’t fly to China,” Frank said. “I’m not even supposed to leave the country.”
“I know. Your brother told me.”
“Oh yeah?” Frank said. He sat up again and looked at the stack of documents on his desk collecting bourbon stains. “What else did he tell you?”
“He told me you have no love for Internal Affairs. He told me you would leave the first real chance you got.”
“That sounds like bullshit,” Frank said, even though he knew better. Barron knew better. Frank’s investigation was not going well. Maybe it is time to go. “A ticket to Guangzhou is damn expensive.”
“It’s already paid for,” Xiuying said. “You leave in four hours.”
“That’s not a lot of time,” he said.
“Then you’d better get dressed.”