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| Romantic Suspense, Mafia Romance, Family Saga, Organized Crime |
The Always Cambridge Series chronicles the life of Holly Cambridge through her tumultuous childhood and violent teen years and the consequences that stem from being the daughter of mob boss, Bill Cambridge.
Always Cambridge : Book One
His only duty is to keep her safe, but he can’t save her…
Holly Cambridge is just a typical kid, or so she thinks, until one day, she takes a good look around and realizes her friends don’t have bodyguards dogging their every step.
At the age of sixteen, Holly is assigned a new bodyguard, Randy Phillips. He is a tall, muscular, God-like force in the young, impressionable and lonely girl’s life. He is her friend, her confident, her conscience, and the older man she adores beyond reason.
Randy Phillips is fully aware of his young charge’s adolescent crush on him. Although he is flattered by the adulation, he maintains a safe distance and professional demeanor until Holly is wounded in a rival family blood feud, and the course of both their lives is changed forever.
Excerpt from Always Cambridge, Book 1
***This is the pivotal scene that changes everything for Holly and Randy
“Randy!”
Patrick appeared in the doorway of Cambridge’s office. I’d been sitting here all goddamn afternoon trying to figure out what was up with the computer system when all I wanted to do was get back to Holly. It was times like these that I realized I still had a lot to learn. Maybe I should have let her come with me. She would have diagnosed the problem and had it fixed by now. And she’d be with me and I wouldn’t be worried about her and my stomach wouldn’t hurt. I rubbed the back of my neck again trying to brush away the cold feeling.
“Randy! They’ve been hit.”
“Shit! Which patrol?” I asked still distracted. When Paddy didn’t answer right away I looked to where he stood in the door. He was pale and I could see him trembling from where I sat.
“Jeffy and Dale,” he answered gravely.
A cold hole punched into my chest. “Holly?”
He nodded once. “They’re all down.”
I raced past him, pulling on my coat as I ran. I jammed into the nearest car in the courtyard—a whole procession of them were ready to leave. “Hurry the f*ck up!” I yelled.
Everyone in the car was talking as we pulled away. I didn’t listen. I couldn’t. My head was buzzing. It was full of noise. My chest hurt. I felt cold but I could feel sweat beading on my forehead and running down my back.
Could we not go any f*ckin’ faster?
“Are the cops there?” someone asked.
“Yeah, cops are everywhere. EMTs are there too.”
I felt like I was going to jump out of my own skin. “Hurry the f*ck up,” I cursed at them as we came to a stop.
“F*ck off, Phillips. I’m goin’ as fast as I can. Traffics backed up because of the…”
I didn’t hear the rest. I couldn’t take it anymore. I bolted from the car and ran towards the food bank. About a block away, I was stopped by cops barring anyone entrance. They had barricades up and yellow tape to keep people out.
F*ck! I had to get to her. I should have been there!
I looked around. Down the alley. Up to the rooftops.
I pushed the guy in front of me hard, so he’d collide with the cop who wouldn’t let me through. While they wrestled, I sprinted down the alleyway, through the back door of the bakery, ran through the store and out the front door. Now I was on the inside of the barricades. There were people everywhere. I kept my head down, moving without being noticed.
The rest of the guys arrived at the cordoned off area. I heard the Cambridge name and the cops went into a f*ckin’ frenzy. I took off, using them as a distraction. There would be some arrests, I knew. We were armed for this war.
As I approached the food bank I saw broken glass everywhere. The plate glass windows were gone from every store in the vicinity, shattered. As I moved closer to the black Cambridge car I could see that it was riddled with bullet holes.
I saw Dale first. He was face down, his body half on the sidewalk, half on the road. Behind the car, a pool of blood ran like a rivulet down the crease between the curb and the road.
Holly! Her name resonated in my head.
Everything around me seemed to be moving in slow motion. Even me. I wanted to go faster but I couldn’t seem to get my body to catch up with my racing mind. The only thing I could hear was my own ragged breathing and my heartbeat drumming in my ears, and the blaring sirens off in the distance.
Holly!
Jeffy was on his back, closer to the building. The back of his head was gone.
Holly!
Trent lay face down on the sidewalk, his big body blocking the door of the food bank, as if he’d tried to put himself between the bullets and…Holly!
An ambulance was backed up against the curb, back doors wide open. Cops stood in front of the store entrance, taking pictures and numbering spent casings.
F*ck! They were all dead!
Holly!
I moved towards the door. I saw EMTs and a stretcher inside the building. One of the paramedics came to the door and said to a uniform, “We’re ready to transport. Can you move this guy so we can get out?”
“Yeah. I think we’ve got all the pictures we need. Just need a chalk line.”
“Hurry up, this one’s getting shocky,” came another voice from inside.
“Holly?” Was that my voice?
“You can’t go in there?” said one cop.
“How’d you get here?” asked the other.
Mrs. Small was just inside the door holding a bandage to her head. Her shirt and face were covered in blood. I pushed at the cop, suddenly more frantic than ever to get in there. The clawing inside my chest was gonna blow. The cop held me back.
“Holly!” I roared.
“Please let him through,” Mrs. Small cried. “He’s the young lady’s young man. She needs him. Please.”
“We can’t let you in there. You’ll contaminate our crime scene.”
“Oh, God!” My head swam. My vision tunneled. Crime scene. “Please!” My own voice echoed in my head. “Please. Just tell me. Tell me she’s not dead!”
Always Cambridge
Running
Misfortune of Birth
Law and Order : Crime and Chaos
Afterlife
Always Holly
I’m an award-winning, bestselling author of mystery/thrillers and contemporary erotic romance. I’m also a freelance writer/photographer and blogger. When I’m not writing I can often be found in The Florida Keys, indulging my passion for parasailing while seeking out the perfect Mojito.
How did I, in three short months, get to the heart of my Mexican-American family? It wasn’t easy, believe me. Especially since I was the family’s desgraciada. The disgraced one. Ever since I turned eighteen and had my legal name changed from Dolores—which means aches and pains in Spanish—to Dina. My namesake, Grandma Dolores Gómez, refused to speak to me or acknowledge my existence for about a year after the name change. Before that, I was simply the family brat and rebel. The know-it-all.
