Empty Promises

by Edwin Dasso

  “I understand, Dr. Bass—”

  “I doubt you do, Mr. Secretary!” Jack snarled.

  “And we want investigative and monitoring powers for prescription narcotics returned to the DEA,” the DEA director interjected. “We can help you assure the correct language is in the bill when it goes to vote.”

  “Then you need to fire that piece-of-shit FDA commissioner who works for you. The director here,” Jack pointed at the DEA man, “will provide you the name of someone he thinks will be a suitable replacement. Once that appointment is approved, that person will start an investigation into the supracentyl studies that occurred at the VA…in coordination with the DEA.”

  Thorn’s face drained of color. “What if the findings implicate me?”

  Jack shrugged. “Your problem, not mine. If you’re involved, then I guess you’ll suffer the consequences.”

  Thorn moaned softly.

  “I’m sure you’ll have the full support—and protection—of the DEA during the investigations.”

  The DEA man scowled as if he was looking at a fresh puddle of puke but nodded. “Much as it nauseates me to agree, I’ll protect you…as long as you follow the script.”

  Thorn turned a nervous gaze to the DEA director then jutted out his chin. “Maybe I’ll just make a deal with the DOJ instead!” he challenged.

  The DEA man just shrugged. “I’m not in charge of making deals. If you want to turn evidence, I’ll get the appropriate Justice Department people involved for that discussion.” He bent forward, leaning an elbow on the secretary’s desk. “But if you try to cut and run to save your own bacon, I’ll make it my personal mission to pursue every possible avenue to see you locked up for the rest of your life.” He slid back in his chair and took a deep breath. “And I might just leak some info to the Russians that you’ve got the money they gave Schanlon.”

  “You wouldn’t!”

  The DEA director huffed. “In a heartbeat…and never think twice about it.”

  Thorn slumped in his chair, his lip trembling. “O-okay…”

  Epilogue

  The Following Day

  Jack knelt down at the fresh grave site in Arlington National Cemetery and placed his hand on the head stone as he bowed his head.

  “George, I thought I’d stop by since I was in town.”

  After a few minutes of silence, he stood, turning to look toward a nearby hillock where Lori’s grave was located. An ethereal memory of Lori and him getting shot at when they were stationed in Panama flickered through his mind but dissolved quickly into nothing, leaving him confused. He smiled sadly and turned back to the grave he stood near

  “I’m sorry I couldn’t get you a resting place closer to Lori…I’m sure she’s happy for your company, though.”

  He got down on one knee.

  “George, you were the closest thing I ever had to a real father…and I thank you for that. You were everything a man could ask for as a father and a role model—I’ll really miss you.”

  His shoulders sagged.

  “I’m sorry for getting you involved in something that got you killed.” He was silent for a couple of minutes as he reminisced about the good times he, Amanda and Hank had had with Smithson. “And I’ll make sure I follow up on your advice about talking with Brent Love about my moodiness. If you were concerned about it, I know I should be. I never want to be the person that people don’t like.”

  He stood, saluted the marker and shuffled away through the morning mist that covered the dewy grass.

  * * *

  Weeks Later

  Jack and Amanda were sitting next to each other on the living room couch, watching the evening news. There were several reports about the investigations of Pharmadosh, as well as the new legislation being proposed to prevent similar events in the future.

  “In a related vein, there has been an anonymous donation of fifty million dollars to develop treatment programs for veterans who are dealing with addiction, especially those who also suffer from PTSD,” the newscaster stated.

  “And with the new Director of VA Research, I’m sure everything will be on the straight and narrow,” Jack said resolutely.

  Jack turned off the TV and twisted toward Sara, who was sitting in another chair with Sasha on her lap. Jack cleared his throat.

  “Um…there’s something I wanted to run by all of you,” he said.

  Amanda, Sara, and Sasha all turned their heads to him in unison, confused but curious looks on their faces. The corners of Sara’s lips curled up so slightly as to be barely noticeable.

  “Amanda, I-I’ve noticed how well you and Sasha are getting along…”

  Sasha nodded excitedly then dashed over to Amanda, hopping onto her lap and giving her a big hug. Amanda smiled broadly and embraced the little girl.

  “She’s the little sister I never had, Dad.”

  Jack nodded, his eyes starting to moisten. “Well, what would you all think if we all became roommates?” He stared blankly at the floor. “With George dead, we seem to have some room to spare,” he mumbled, his voice trailing off.

  “Ohh, Jack,” Sara teased. “You dirty old man.”

  He spun toward Sara and held a hand up like a traffic cop. “By that, I mean we could all live under the same roof…be there for each other.” He pointed at Sara and himself. “This would be strictly platonic—you and Sasha just move in with us.”

  Sara stared at Jack a few seconds then snorted playfully. “You think I’m attracted to you?”

  Jack gazed at her and blushed. “I-I just meant…”

  Sara burst out laughing, and Amanda quickly joined in.

  “I’m just messing with you.” Sara looked demurely at him. “It’s a start, I guess.”

  Jack slid back on the couch and, not knowing what else to do, just shrugged and smiled goofily.

  Hank strode into the room from the hallway to the bedrooms.

  “Did I just hear what I think I did?” he asked as he gazed at Jack and the three girls.

  Sara looked at Hank and nodded. “Yep. Jack just asked me to move in with him.”

  Jack straightened and held up a finger. “Hey! Wait a minute. That’s not how I put it!”

  Hank turned to Jack. “Jack Bass, you dirty, old man,” he quipped then started guffawing.

  “I’m not a dirty old man!” Jack looked around at his roomies then rested his head in his palm. “Oh, did I just make a big mistake?” he groaned then chuckled.

  I would be most grateful if you’d follow this link to leave a review for “Empty Promises.” I hope you enjoyed it!

  https://www.amazon.com/Empty-Promises-Black-Cloud-Chronicles-ebook/dp/B07GRD2HXY/ref=sr_1_fkmrnull_6?crid=2TTXS5LFYWSLG&keywords=edwin+dasso&qid=1551907987&s=books&sprefix=edwin+d%2Ctools%2C254&sr=1-6-fkmrnull

  An excerpt from “Stuffed,” Book 1, of the new medical thriller action series by Edwin Dasso

  https://www.amazon.com/Stuffed-You-Cant-Back-Book-ebook/dp/B06XQ768MW/ref=sr_1_fkmrnull_7?crid=2TTXS5LFYWSLG&keywords=edwin+dasso&qid=1551908020&s=books&sprefix=edwin+d%2Ctools%2C254&sr=1-7-fkmrnull

  Prologue

  Saturday, 7:30 P.M.

  Her shark-like eyes zeroed in on the laggard of the herd within moments of entering the fray, a predatory smirk, made more vivid by ruby-red lipstick, crinkling her full, Eastern European-bred lips. Like a leopard slithering from a savannah tree, she slid from her fleeting perch atop the landing of the staircase leading down into the large ballroom, her petite, svelte frame gracefully descending into the din of bustling revelers. Her creamy-white skin was dramatically contrasted against the low-cut black gown, which showed off her ample but well-proportioned breasts, drawing the hungry gazes of many a man in the room. She returned some of their gazes, even smiling and nodding to a few, but, no matter how charming or handsome, none of them would be sharing her bed tonight—no, she had other things in mind. Her eyes, like those of a stalking panther, never lost sight of her intended prey.

  Yes, the hunt was on. Her smile br
oadened at the thought.

  * * *

  Randall was new to the salesforce of Pharmadosh Pharmaceutical Company. This was his first large sales conference, and he knew he should not be hovering at the buffet and should be doing a better job of engaging doctors and convincing them to prescribe Pharmadosh drugs. As he filled his plate for the second time, he rehearsed his elevator speech about the benefits of prescribing his company’s drugs, regardless of their high cost and questionable efficacy. Though his uncle, a highly placed executive at the company, had gotten him the position, Randall still had to prove himself. He had no sales experience or pharmacy training, which made him largely unqualified for his new role. Being a recent college graduate, though, he was glad to have a job. If he wanted to keep this high-paying position, he’d have to deliver results—nepotism or not.

  He stuffed a shrimp into his mouth as he thought, Dammit, I can do this! In spite of his nagging feelings of insecurity, he swallowed and set his jaw, determined not to fail to prove his worth this night.

  “Hello”—the diminutive but elegant woman in a black gown glanced at Randall’s nametag—“Randall.” As she gazed up at him, her perfect white teeth were framed by glossy, highlighted lips drawn into a beautiful, disarming smile.

  Randall stopped chewing and looked down at the woman, instantly mesmerized by her chic beauty, bits of food falling from his mouth as it hung open while he stood frozen, gawking at her. Randall was quite obese and, generally, not considered by many to be attractive, and he was entirely unprepared for such a beautiful woman to approach him like this. He quickly but awkwardly returned the smile, unable to move his gaze from the woman’s engaging eyes.

  He gulped down the mouthful of food, almost choking as he rushed to respond. “Uhhh…hi…”

  The woman held out her hand. “I’m Dr. Graze.” She ran her gaze over the crowd. “I hate these sort of functions…so many people…and too much schmoozing for my tastes…” She turned her eyes back to him. “What about you…Randall—what do you think?”

  Randall leaned in close, almost spilling food from his plate. “I hate them, too…but the food’s good, and, well…I just started this job, and schmoozing is what I have to do,” he whispered conspiratorially as he glanced around the room. “My boss is watching me like a hawk tonight to see how I do. He expects a report tomorrow morning on all the leads I’ve developed.” He threw a handful of black olives into his mouth and chomped on them.

  “Oh? And just what is it you do for Pharmadosh, Randall?”

  Randall’s gaze apprehensively darted across the crowd again, seeking out his boss, then he leaned in close. “I’m a sales rep. You know—I’m supposed to sweet talk all you doctors into prescribing our drugs.” Off balance, he stumbled slightly as he’d leaned over to speak, his cheek brushing Dr. Graze’s ear. “Oh, I’m sorry about that—I think I’ve already had a little too much to drink.” An embarrassed, childlike giggle escaped his lips as he straightened.

  Dr. Graze reached up, put a hand behind Randall’s neck, and pulled his face close again, brushing her lips against Randall’s ear, her warm breath caressing it. “That’s okay—I didn’t mind a bit,” she purred alluringly then leaned back, looking over the rim of her wineglass at Randall, the unspoken invitation clearly written on her face.

  Randall stood bolt upright, as if shocked by some invisible lightning bolt coursing through his body. He had little experience with women trying to seduce him, but even he felt she was giving some strong signals. His gaping eyes rapidly darted about the room before again settling on Dr. Graze’s.

  “Umm, are you saying what I think you’re saying?” he mumbled.

  Dr. Graze shrugged her bare shoulders demurely and continued to gaze over the rim of her glass, her eyes sparkling like dark sapphires, a slight nod reaffirming the invitation.

  “I don’t know what you’re thinking, but…yes, I’d like to go somewhere…more private.” She winked at him. “After all, I’m a doctor—and I’d like you like to ‘sweettalk’…me.”

  Randall wrung his hands, shifting nervously from foot to foot, his gaze wandering absently for a few seconds before settling again on Dr. Graze’s face. He nodded once then bent, his lips quivering as he put them near Dr. Graze’s ear. “I-I’m in room 2110. Give me fifteen minutes,” he whispered in barely controlled excitement.

  “Certainly, Randall. It’ll give me a chance to rub shoulders with some of my colleagues…before the night gets much more interesting.” She turned slowly, the back of her hand softly brushing against Randall’s hand before she disappeared into the crowd.

  He tossed his plate on the buffet table, stumbling as he turned to hurry away.

  * * *

  Randall grunted loudly as he rolled from between Dr. Graze’s spread thighs, still gasping for breath from the unaccustomed physical effort and orgasm, sweat pouring from his body onto hers, trickling off her and soaking the bedsheets.

  “Oh, my god…you’re a…great…lover!” Randall managed to wheeze out.

  Dr. Graze smiled. “Thank you, Randall—you’re pretty good yourself. Such a…powerful man.” She slowly sat upright then turned and quickly threw a leg over Randall, climbing atop his belly like a bull rider saddling up, the tattoo of a snake on her thigh wriggling as if it was alive as the muscles beneath it rippled. She then slid down his ample belly and straddled his hips.

  He puffed his chest out slightly. “Thanks.”

  Dr. Graves climbed up over his abdomen, her nipples fully erect as she gently brushed Randall’s lips with hers.

  “Would you like to try something that would make it even better the second time?”

  “What? I don’t know if I could handle anything ‘better’ than what we’ve already had…and I’ve never had a second time.” He chuckled. “Hell, I’ve barely ever had first times!”

  Dr. Graze gently caressed Randall’s cheek with the back of her fingers. “Oh, come on, my dear Randall—you’re young. Too young to avoid trying new things.”

  She looked down at him, watching expectantly as he chewed his lip, his expression uncertain.

  “C’mon, I have this great trick for a super orgasm—let’s give it a try!”

  Randall suddenly took a deep breath and squirmed beneath her, wriggling excitedly. “Yes, you’re right — I’m young and should be game for a little more adventure. But it’s gotta be quick—I’m sure my boss is wondering where I am.”

  “Oh, trust me, it’ll be quick! First, close your eyes,” Dr. Graves said as she clamped her legs tightly onto Randall, pinning his arms firmly against his sides.

  “Ohhh, I like where this is going,” Randall moaned as he gulped in another lungful of air. “I can already feel a good one working up.”

  “Me, too, you big hunk, me, too,” Dr. Graves keened, her mounting anticipation obvious in her voice. She suddenly leaned back, shooting a hand into her purse near their feet, extracting a stiletto, the blade flashing open as quick as lightning before she spun back and plunged it to the hilt into Randall’s heart.

  Randall’s eyes shot open, a look of panic and disbelief on his face as he looked at the knife protruding from his chest. Red rivulets of blood flowed beneath his man-breast and down his side. He began to sob weakly as he looked into his killer’s eyes, a pleading expression on his face.

  “Wh-why?” he gasped just before his eyes rolled back, and he lost consciousness.

  Dr. Graze jiggled the tip of the knife around inside the chest of her victim, staring hungrily at the mask of fear frozen on his face, his body twitching and writhing as his brain, starved for oxygen, gave up control of his muscles.

  “Yeah, baby, c’mon—wiggle that fat!” Dr. Graves began to rock and moan as she held the knife in one hand while fondling her own breast with the other.

  As Randall’s body contorted in a final death spasm beneath her, Dr. Graves threw her head back, arching her spine.

  “Oh, my god!” she screamed as her body coiled uncontrollably in an intense orgasm.


  After the final shudders of her carnal release subsided, she removed the knife from Randall’s ribcage and collapsed on top of his still body. After a couple of minutes of breathing heavily, she moved her lips near the ear of her quarry, kissing it gently.

  “That’s why, you fat ass. I told you I had something for a super orgasm, but I didn’t say it was for yours.” She cackled loudly as she flopped, spent, onto the bed.

  After a couple of deep breaths, she suddenly sat up, hurriedly dressed, then dug a nail file and alcohol swabs from her purse to clean under Randall’s fingernails. She followed up with a small, portable vacuum, meticulously vacuuming all the hair and flakes of skin she could see from the bed they had lain upon.

  After closely scrutinizing the mattress, she again rummaged in her purse, finally pulling out a cellphone then hitting a speed-dial button.

  “Bring the truck—I have another delivery ready. Bring extra help; it’s a big one.”

  If you liked this story, or even if you didn’t, it would be greatly appreciated if you left a fair review on Amazon. This book was largely the result of feedback from readers so your feedback is extremely useful to me. Thanks!

  About the Author

  Ed Dasso's works of fiction leverage many of his "stranger than fiction" experiences from years of practice at major medical centers and community hospitals.

  "You might be surprised at some of the events in the books that are based on an actual experience."

  Fiction writing is a revival of a lost love from earlier periods in his life where he enjoyed writing short stories. Look for additional books soon in the "Jack Bass Black Cloud Chronicles" series.