Broken Trust

By Heide Katros

Broken Trust is a contemporary romantic suspense that takes place in Orlando, Florida

• Language: English
• Publisher: Heide Katros
• Release date: Aug 27, 2014
• ISBN: 9781502226969

Book preview

Life ends when you stop dreaming...

Hope ends when you stop believing...

Love ends when you stop caring...and

Friendship ends when you stop sharing.

I don’t know who wrote the poem above, but the gist of it is integral to my writing.

This novel is for you Alex. It is nothing about you or how you conduct your life. I just want to dedicate this book to you, because you are special to me. I also want to thank Mitch for his unflagging support, my friends Kate, Diane, and Lou for putting in more than their two cents worth. I am truly blessed.

Praise for Heide Katros

Bewitching Angel

Four Roses! Bewitching Angel is a delightful story of a woman on the run. This is certainly a book worth reading –LoveRomances.com

Click, Click, Delete

She has the talent to elicit the empathy of her readers for her characters and her fluid style of writing make her stories come to life  -Sizzling Romances

Don’t Look Now

Don’t Look Now left me spellbound. Heide Katros has a great gift. Avid Admirer – Lou Kaunzinger

... Heide Katros writes fast paced, thrilling suspense and something new with every turn of the page ... Diane Davis White, multi-published author

Sweet Redemption

Kidnapping..check.  White slave trading...check.  Murder...check. Mystery...Check. Suspense...Check. Sex....check check. This book was a great read. It had a little of everything. It kept me on the edge of my seat, I had to keep reading it to find out what would happen next.  All I can say is I want a computer room like Jack has.  Wait, I want a room like Jack has filled with Ms. Katros books.  I hope there will be another book in this series! Reviewed by Bitten By Love 5 hearts from Brandy

Pirate Child

I really enjoyed this book by Heide Katros. In my opinion, she could give any other good romance writer a run for their money. This book kept me in suspense throughout. At times, I had tears in my eyes, and other times I was laughing. It was just a well-written book that I really enjoyed. It had true love that would last a lifetime and heartbreak that made you want to cry and of course, there always has to be a villain. I do believe this was the first of her books I've read, but I do intend to see what else she has to offer. 4 Angels from Fallen Angel, reviewed by Dee

Just wanted to say just read Make me No Promises and was absolutely intrigued!

Would love to read others and will do so.

Thanks Barb

Chapter One

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The sun made its slow ascent into a cloudless azure sky. The air was still scented with the earthy smell that comes with the aftermath of a brief early morning rain. It accentuated the fragrance of the myriad of spring flowers, not that it would last long. That crisp freshness would dissipate as soon as the sun would reach its zenith. This was Florida after all and you expected the sun to beat down mercilessly and turn every last droplet into a haze of humidity.

Kirsten tripped along on elegant Alfani spike heels that made little clicking noises on the tiled floor of the hospital foyer. She loved shoes and she really wouldn’t have bought them, if they hadn’t been on sale at Macy’s. Her short white skirt molded to her butt like a second skin and the blue chiffon blouse she wore on top, the one with the frills and the little capped sleeves, was just the right addition to allow her to look sexy yet still professional. It also brought out the color in her eyes.

A freelance journalist didn’t exactly make beaucoup dollars, but maybe this human interest story about the little boy who’d been injured while riding a four wheeler might help pay the rent. Kirsten hoped her story would also help the family meet the expenses they would incur if his injuries required an extended stay.

Clutching a clipboard to her chest, her large leather satchel-like bag slung over her shoulder, she squinted at the plaques near the elevator trying to make out which floor would be the Children’s Ward.

Her hand reached for the up button, when the elevator opened abruptly and a man stepped out, almost mowing her down. She’d squeaked her surprise when she came up short against a solid male chest and was enveloped for her own safety by a pair of powerful arms. She never expected so much muscle underneath that set of green scrubs. The man grinning down at her displayed a row of unbelievably white teeth that called attention to a mouth that could have been chiseled by Michealangelo.

Pardon me, Miss, he muttered, the timbre of a foreign accent sliding over her like warm honey. I am sorry. I guess I was a bit preoccupied. Yet, he didn’t relinquish his hold on her and continued to smile down into her eyes.

Kirsten made no move to extricate herself from his embrace. How could she, when she felt like a bug under a microscope, held in place by dark eyes that seemed to be able to look straight into her soul.

Finally she found her voice. I am sorry. It was really my fault. If anyone was preoccupied it was me. I was trying to figure out the floor housing the children’s ward. I’m a journalist and I am doing a human interest story on a little boy, who has been seriously injured in an accident while driving a four wheeler.

God, she was babbling. Why on earth would she tell this stranger that she was a journalist and why she was here? Didn’t she know by now that journalists were more often than not regarded like pond scum? Journalists weren’t all vultures in the hunt for scandal, but it was no use trying to defend one’s position.

She tried covertly to read the name tag clipped to the vee of his shirt, but he forestalled her by saying, In that case let me show you where it is.  With an impish grin that reflected in his dark brown eyes, he inclined his head.  Paolo Suarez at your service. I just came from that floor. You are looking for the little Johnson boy.

Without further ado he casually cupped her elbow and led her to an elevator marked ‘personnel only.’ As he depressed the up button he cocked his head in her direction. Mind telling me your name?"

She laughed softly. You don’t mince words, Paolo Suarez. And no I don’t mind. My name is Kirsten Cooper. They shook hands and she was very aware that he held her hand longer than necessary. Unfortunately, she didn’t mind. He was handsome in an exotic way. Over six feet tall with the wide shoulders of an athlete he almost dwarfed her five feet six, even with her high heels. He was definitely easy to look at, and the deep timbre of his voice sent ripples of sexual awareness through her.

He continued to smile. Well, Kirsten Cooper, it’s nice to make your acquaintance. I hate to have to leave you once we get to the fourth floor, but I have an errand down in radiology before I get off.

He paused and she saw myriad emotions flit across his face, before he blurted, "I would love to meet you for a drink this evening. There is a small bar just around the corner of the hospital. The Green Dragon also serves up some excellent Sushi." He tilted his head at her with a plea in those dark mischievous sparkling eyes.

She hesitated only a moment. She hadn’t been on a date in months and Paolo really intrigued her. Okay, what time should we meet? It shocked her that she would agree so easily.

I don’t live too far from here. Since I worked the night shift, I would like to get home to a nice shower and some shut-eye. So what about six o’clock?

That sounds good. I’ll see you then and thanks for taking the time to show me the way. She handed him a business card. In case something comes up, will you let me know?

He tucked the card into the pocket of his scrub shirt and shook his head. I won’t allow anything to come up. He cut her a little mock salute as she stepped out of the elevator, then punched the downward button.

Paolo looked forward to the evening. Kirsten was fine in every way. She appeared to be tall, though it was hard to tell considering the spike heeled shoes she’d been wearing. She certainly had style and her blue eyes dominated a pretty face that looked at you with frank interest. Journalist? Hm, that sounded interesting and a far shot from the nurses he had to contend with on a daily basis.

His mind flitted back to his first impression of her. He would have never guessed her as a journalist. She struck him as a small town girl who hadn’t quite gotten her feet wet in a big city. There was still wonder in those baby blues of hers. But that figure! There was nothing small town about that. He whistled under his breath. Thanks to his height he’d been able to peek into the cleavage of her blouse and she certainly had a pair of luscious breasts. Real, too.

He yawned. It had been a long night. There had been a car accident and the driver who’d been involved in it had to have emergency surgery. Paolo had been called in to assist, when Doctor Helen Hewitt claimed feeling faint and nauseated. Rumors circulated that she was pregnant, no real proof, just rumors and those were always in the forefront of the staff. What the heck, it was none of his business what the lady did with her life.

He quickly checked in with Radiology, signed off on some paperwork before he jogged down the last flight of stairs to the garage. He tiredly rubbed the back of his neck, hoping to massage some of the kinks out of it as he strode toward his black Lexus convertible, thinking ahead to the days when he would not have to pull nightshifts anymore.

Paolo Suarez had come to the United States after his parents were killed in a hurricane that struck their home on the island of Puerto Rico. He continued to look for his sister that went missing in that same storm, hoping she somehow survived, though after all these years the chances she would turn up were slim to none.

Paolo arrived in America nearly broke. He lived with an aunt for a short time and then enlisted in the Navy and served five years. He’d loved the Navy. He’d asked to be assigned to sick bay. At first he’d aspired to become a male nurse, but the doctor in charge told him one day that he would help him get a degree in medicine, since he felt Paolo had much to offer the sick. He still could hear his superior saying, Suarez you have golden hands. You have the fine touch of a surgeon, the heart of a tiger, and it would be a waste if you would only expend your energy on nursing. Mind you, it will help you in the long run, because nurses are hard workers and if you know how to appreciate them, they’ll go the extra mile for you. Over the years, he found those words to be true.

They’d made port in many foreign places, places he would not been able to visit on his own. But he most loved, when they stopped to help those in need. And slowly the idea that he could make it through med school started to take root in his mind. He had only a few more months of residency and he could either continue to practice at the hospital or join a group of colleagues. All that remained to be seen yet. Hell, there were days like today, when he wasn’t sure if all the trouble was worth it. Studying when he was bone tired, working with little sleep—and then Kirsten’s face popped into his mind.

She was dynamite on spiked heels. It would be nice to spend a couple of hours with her. Maybe she’d even be willing to do the horizontal tango with him afterwards. He chuckled, and his groin tightened in anticipation at that thought. Girls were so much easier these days than when he attended high school in Puerto Rico.

Geez what was he thinking? Kirsten hadn’t struck him like an easy lay. Shaking his head, he drove out of the parking garage and into the bright morning sunshine. Traffic was brisk on I-4, but then when wasn’t it? He only had to drive a few miles to his second story apartment. He clicked the garage door from afar; glad he didn’t have to struggle with pulling it up and down. He was beat. Eyeing the flight of stairs he almost regretted that he lived on the second story. He didn’t need the exercise, because he worked out religiously.  He rarely used the elevators at the hospital, though today he was glad he had.

Running up the steps to his apartment he pulled his shirt over his head, ready for that shower and a well deserved nap.

Chapter Two

Kirsten was happy with her interview. Jimmy Johnson turned out to be a ten year old, wise beyond his years. He took the blame for his accident saying that he’d been careless and that he was lucky he didn’t lose his foot. He really brightened when she dug into her large satchel and handed over a wrapped present.

For me?

She nodded. I thought it might help to chase away some of the loneliness and maybe some of your pain.

He squealed in delight when he tore the wrap and uncovered a set of Hot Wheels cars. His eyes turned pensive, when he admitted, I wanted some of those forever, but I got two older brothers and money is always tight.

It shocked Kirsten that a ten year old should worry about money matters, but then again, she had accepted this assignment in hopes she could help the family by eliciting some sympathy toward their plight. People usually were generous if they were told about a tragedy such as Jimmy’s. When she’d stopped at the nurse’s station she’d been told that it would be a long hard road for him to recover and that he would have to learn to walk again.

It was past noon, when she walked out of the hospital. She’d spent more time with Jimmy than she’d anticipated. She grinned to herself when she remembered what a charmer he was. His squeal of delight that she’d brought him a gift would echo through her mind for a long time. Kids were so easy to please.

Tilting her face toward the sun, she realized that she should be grateful that she was healthy. Hopefully the article she intended to write would help Jimmy’s family financially.

She beeped her little silver VW Passat and slipped into the seat. It was stifling hot inside, even though she’d left her windows cracked a couple of inches. She opened all the windows and cranked the A/C on full speed to get the hot air out. Blowing at a stray strand of hair that had fallen into her face, she backed up and headed for the road. It was only a ten minute drive to the apartment she shared with a girl named Carla Brown.

They’d met at a writer’s conference. Carla aspired to write a great novel some day, while Kirsten attended to check out agents. They happened to be seated at the same table. What started out as a polite conversation ended in going to dinner together and exchanging life histories.  They came to the conclusion that it was a matter of fate that they met. They found they had a lot in common, and when Kirsten told Carla she needed to move, they decided to rent an apartment together.

It worked out well so far, since Carla held a job as a receptionist at an optometrist’s office and was gone most of the day. That gave Kirsten the apartment to herself and she could work on her assignments without being disturbed.

Knowing that a lot depended on how well her story about Jimmy would turn out, she intended to write her best report ever. Donations from sympathetic readers were crucial for him and his family, since his full recovery would be a slow, hard road.

Fifteen minutes later, she sat at her laptop typing away at a furious pace. She’d shed her sexy little skirt, blouse and spike heels in favor of a pair of cut-off shorts and a sleeveless T-shirt. Her hair was trussed up in a pony tail.

Of course, it wasn’t just the matter of writing the story. She had to sell the editor of The Orlando Sentinel on it, so he would publish it, and not just on a back page, but in a prominent spot.

It was mid-afternoon when she finished the article to her liking. Checking the clock, she knew she would have barely enough time to get the paper to the downtown offices. Under normal circumstances she would have sent it via e-mail, but this piece was too close to her heart. That’s why she intended to deliver it in person. She wanted to make sure that her boss got it without delay.

She took a quick shower, put on a flirty flowered chiffon skirt and a pink off the shoulder blouse that picked up one of the colors in the skirt. She slipped her feet into a pair of white wedge heels, changed to a smaller white purse and flew out the door in order to make the deadline for the next day.

A short time later she fidgeted warily in the chair in front of Mr. Shelby’s desk waiting with fingers crossed for his decision.

The editor finally looked at her over rimless reading glasses and cleared his throat as he handed the sheet of paper back to her. Miss Cooper that is a fine article. It almost brought me to tears. Just take it to the proofreader and tell him I said to find a prominent spot for it.

Kirsten jumped to her feet, her expression saying more than words. Thank you Mr. Shelby. I really appreciate your consideration. She was out the door before he could say anything else.

Kirsten danced her way to the proofreading room and then out the door, back into a now oppressively humid afternoon. It was barely four o’clock. She felt tempted to celebrate by going shopping, but she knew she couldn’t afford that. Besides, she had another article to write, this one about a professional athlete who wasn’t going to let his sexual persuasion stop him from playing the game. It would be another human interest story, and she knew it wouldn’t be an easy one to write. Still, she felt she could wrap her head around the man’s feelings. She knew what it meant to be ostracized.

Her teen years played before her mind’s eye like a bad movie. It was rare that she allowed herself to think back to those days, but sometimes it had a cleansing effect on her.

At fourteen she lost both parents to a car accident. Her brother Michael, then just twelve, was taken in by her mother’s sister, but Kirsten proved to be too rebellious and soon found herself handed from one foster care home to the next. By sixteen she was a bitter teen, bent on self-destruction and everything around her.

One night, when she and another foster girl, Kathy Freed, were sitting in an alley trying to get drunk on a six pack of beer and a pint bottle of cheap whiskey, she opened up to the pain and the betrayal she felt.

Hey, you can’t blame your parents for getting killed in a car accident. At least you had some time with them. I barely knew mine. My dad left my mom pregnant with me, and her way of coping with that was to turn to meth. When I was five, she blew herself up trying to make her own. I’ve been in so many foster care homes, I can’t count them anymore. Kathy chuckled without humor. And in another year I’ll be tossed to the wolves. I’ll be eighteen and that is when the foster system turns you loose.

What are you going to do?

Kathy shrugged. I don’t have much education. Maybe I can find a job where they are willing to let me take some courses. You know. Go to night school, take some college courses and pay the company back by working it off. I ain’t dumb.

Her hopelessness cut to Kirsten’s soul. In a moment of epiphany she saw herself two years from then. Would she be left without an education? What would she do? Serve hamburgers or waitress at some dead end job?

Shocked to the bone, she stood up from where she’d squatted and pulled Kathy up with her. I ain’t dumb either, and the correct way is I’m not dumb. My mom was big on diction, because good grammar can take you a long way. Let’s get out of here. Starting tonight we work together. Bring up our grades and stick together if we feel a tendency to slip up.

Kathy stared at her as if she had just stepped out of a spaceship. Are you for real?

In answer Kirsten dumped the rest of her beer to the ground. You bet. You made me realize that I’ve been wallowing in self pity. I’ve been a regular bitch around those who tried to help me. Maybe if I write to my aunt she’ll take me back, but in the meantime I intend to make the best of my situation. I hope you are with me. We may never get rich, but we can regain our self-respect.

Kathy continued to stare, but she wordlessly emptied her beer to the ground, too. They pinky swore to stick together and help each other. From that day forward they became model foster children.

When Kathy did find a company who allowed her to study at their expense and pay it off by working for them, they were both delirious with joy. Sure, Kathy struggled, but she got a degree as a paralegal. And they stayed in touch, though not regularly, but Kirsten knew her friend still worked with the company who’d given her that chance.

Kirsten had called her aunt the very next day and begged to be allowed to come and live with them. Aunt Ella was skeptical at first, but she was willing to give it a try. And it wasn’t easy to get her out of foster care, but by the time she graduated from high school with honors, everyone was pleased that she had turned her life around. By then she also knew she wanted to be a writer, so she studied journalism. She hoped through journalism she could help those who were lost to find their way back.

Kirsten parked her Passat in the driveway, locked it, and walked into her ground floor apartment. Exhaling a relieved breath she looked around the small living room, threw her arms wide and danced around in a little circle.

This had been a good day and it wasn’t even over yet. She had a date. But business first. She slipped out of her blouse and skirt and sat down in her underwear to start the story about the pro football player who’d decided to come out of the closet. Knowing how she could get lost in a story, she set her alarm.

It startled her a moment, when the alarm went off. But then she grinned, realizing that if she hadn’t set the timer she’d be late for her date.

She took what she called an essential shower, giggling all the while. And essential shower meant she would quickly wash from neck to thighs. Her arms and legs didn’t really need anything. In some ways she was a real neat freak, her personal hygiene being one of those near obsessions. Sure, she had showered earlier, but writing and getting into the story got her hot and bothered and she didn’t want a hint of anything but perfume and woman about her when she met up with Paolo.

After she slipped into some fresh lacy underwear, she changed outfits again. She squirted some Estee Lauder Sensuous Noir on her wrists and a couple of squirts into the hollow of her throat. She didn’t want to come on too strong to Paolo. Just because he’d come across like someone she might want to get to know better didn’t mean that they had much in common. Once they got to talking he might turn out to be a real bore. God, she’d been around a few, and for the past several months she’d given up dating for that reason. Men could be so self absorbed. His Google profile hadn’t given much of an insight either. She almost giggled out loud, when she considered that at least it didn’t paint him an ax murderer.

Doing a little balancing act, she stepped into high heeled sandals. Standing in front of her mirror, she glanced over her shoulder to make sure her flowered pencil skirt was smoothed over her hips before she gave her white blouse a final tug. Except for the low cut neckline it was almost demure. Then she checked if she had enough money to pay her share of the bill. She didn’t need mad money, since she was driving herself. And just before she left she scribbled a note to Carla telling her she was on a date. Will be at the Green Dragon.

By the time she drove down I-4 she got a case of nerves. Dating had become a risk. Too many crazies out there, even if Google hadn’t raised any red flags. She emended that to too many good looking crazies. And now that she thought about it, she wondered if it was presumptuous to expect something to eat considering he’d asked her to meet before seven o’clock. Oh, heck, she didn’t remember. What was correct etiquette? Dinner after seven o’clock or after six? It was at moments like these that she realized how much she missed during her years in foster care. There had been no one to teach her etiquette. They probably didn’t even know how to spell it. Just then an ad for The Green Dragon loomed on a billboard ahead.

Her hands got clammy and she could feel her heart beat a little faster. Should she or shouldn’t she? It was either take the exit ramp now or keep going. She chose the ramp.

The Green Dragon sported a ho-hum façade except for the dragon sign over the entrance. Someone had shown a lot of artistic imagination considering