Tougher to Love
Diana DeRicci
Published by Purple Sword Publications at Smashwords
This is a work of fiction. Names, places, characters, and events are fictitious in every regard. Any similarities to actual events and persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental. Any trademarks, service marks, product names, or named features are assumed to be the property of their respective owners, and are used only for reference. There is no implied endorsement if any of these terms are used. Except for review purposes, the reproduction of this book in whole or part, electronically or mechanically, constitutes a copyright violation.
TOUGHER TO LOVE
© 2011 DIANA DERICCI
ISBN 978-1-61292-029-0
Cover Art Layout by Anastasia Rabiyah
Image DWS Photography
Edited By Traci Markou
Dedication:
First, I want to thank and dedicate this book to my readers. I love to write, but sharing my stories with readers who understand the characters and enjoy their tales is priceless. Second, I really must give much love and kudos to my publisher. Traci, you rock the cosmos.
I hope that everyone gets to walk in the sunlight and be happy in their life. Reading and writing these stories is a little snapshot of that sunlight for all of us.
Chapter One
Bleary sunlight warmed Ian Cravelle’s bedroom. Stretching his arms over his head, he retracted that thought. His room was as cold as an icebox. A well-lit icebox. Stupid heater. He’d have to go beat it up again, show the ancient contraption who ruled. Though as time went on between them, he was beginning to suspect it really wasn’t him.
A solid knocking on his door dragged him the remaining way out of sleep. Stumbling, he reached for the robe at the end of the bed. He cursed under his breath. It had to be thirty below. A shiver danced down his back as frigid currents shrouded his sleep-warmed skin with goose bumps. He wrapped the flannel up tight, not caring if it made him look like an old fart or not. Walking his way into his house shoes, he obeyed the summons of the repeated knocking, rubbing a hand over the scruffy sign of his beard along the way. He only hoped whoever needed him this damn badly at this hour wasn’t expecting him to rise and shine. Anyone who knew him, knew better.
Standing at the door, he tossed the bolt and unlocked it. Inching it open, he blinked, lifting a hand to cover a yawn.
“Uncle Ian!”
“Oomph!” He staggered a step as arms cinched his waist with a steel grip.
Ian raised his head and snagged on bright blue eyes and a not too pleased smile, as though the man in uniform had tasted something rather bitter. “Do you know this young lady?”
Ian swallowed, hunting for his voice. He found it cowering deep in his throat. “Terror? Terra? What are you doing here?”
Sobs wrenched her shoulders. He put a comforting arm around her out of reflex.
“What’s going on?” Ian finally found the wherewithal to ask, not caring who had the answer.
“This young lady was found this morning loitering by a church. She gave this address as her home.”
Glancing down, he realized she was barely dressed. A long sleeved shirt and jeans, but no jacket or socks. “Terror?” She trembled like a newborn colt in his arms.
“I can’t go home, Uncle Ian,” she whispered with cracks in the words. “Striker kicked me out.”
“Say what?” he snapped.
The officer crossed his arms. A swirl of wind raised the hem of Ian’s robe and reminded him that it was freezing, colder than a witch’s tit outside. “Okay, come inside. Officer?”
Those blue eyes hadn’t blinked once. At least not that Ian saw. “Drew. Officer Drew.”
Ian nodded. “Let me get some coffee and go beat the sh—beat the heater into working again. You’re welcome to come in and get a cup and an answer or two.”
“Believe me, I wasn’t leaving without at least the last part of that offer.”
Ian twisted his head, hearing his neck pop. Officer Drew’s expression went to perplexed then blank in the twitch of an eye.
Gratefully, it was still early enough in the morning, no one had come out to see why a Sheriff’s cruiser was sitting in front of Ian’s house. “Come on, Terra. Let’s get you warmed up.” Once everyone was inside, Ian closed the door and locked it. Keeping Terra close, he led her and her escort to the kitchen. “Sit. I’ll be right back.” She nodded, misery and a near hopefulness in her expression. “You can too, Officer Drew. Give me five minutes and a conversation with Cantankerous and I’ll get that coffee started.”
Drew’s response was a curt nod, though he remained on his feet with his arms crossed over his chest. Shaking his head, Ian returned to his bedroom to swiftly dress in thick fleece, running through his morning routine in probably less than three minutes, with two minutes to go to the basement. Opening the heater shell, he pulled, tugged, kicked and cursed, then shoved the reworked wires back into place, bypassing the latest casualty, a fried fuse. He’d been replacing them like light bulbs, one after another. Flipping the power off, he counted to five and then gave it the juice. At first, he thought the old beast had finally given up the ghost—of course, in the dead of winter to be spiteful—but a heartbeat later, a clank was followed by a rattled hum, though it sounded more like a diesel engine in the confines of the basement.
“Thank you, you pile of scrap.” Sighing, he marched up the stairs and shut the basement door. That heater was older than he was, but they had a long history and he just hadn’t been able to do the old bastard in…yet. But this looked like it was going to be the winter it pushed him too hard. Before passing his bedroom, he detoured inside and grabbed the top quilt off his bed.
“It’ll take about half an hour, but it’ll cut the freeze off at least,” Ian said, walking into the kitchen. He settled the blanket over Terra’s shoulders to help her warm up.
Two sets of eyes watched him get the coffeepot filled and gurgling. He turned and leaned against the counter, crossing his arms to fully take in his fourteen year-old niece. Officer Drew had taken up his own position on the opposite side of the table.
“Okay, tell me why Striker kicked you out and why you were out in this freeze.”
Terra hiked her shoulders, gripping the quilt between tight fingers, her short black hair straight as a board and shaggy, to fall around her ears and over her eyes. A streak of deep blue to the side of a temple added to her own style.
“Mama was drunk,” she whispered.
Ian flinched. His sister was not going to win any parenting awards. He adored his niece, and tried to be there for Maria, but Striker was like a bad fix to a coke addict. Six months she’d been with that sleaze ball and now her only daughter was huddling on the steps of a church with four feet of snow on the ground.
Her dark brown eyes dropped. “Striker thought I should earn my keep. I fought him.” Her voice was dropping, a whisper of sound. “He kicked me out.”
Ian tensed, then forcefully released his jaw. A second later, he sank to a knee in front of her. He knew what was coming but had never anticipated it happening in his world, to someone in his family. “Terra, did he touch you?”
He saw a haze of red when she nodded stiffly. Ian should have been surprised, but he wasn’t. He’d hated Striker on sight, knew he was bad to the bone and not in any way the Thorogood song portrayed a badass. That mofo was just a gene step from slime.
He kept his voice low and soothing with a herculean effort, because the one person he wanted to maim wasn’t there and the fury boiling inside of him would only frighten the girl more. “Did he hurt you?”
She twitched and he noticed the way her fingers were curling around her ribs. He thought she’d been hugging herself for comfort, holding the blanket snug. He was beginning to get a different suspicion now.
“Terra, stand up for me.” Shaking, she did. “Lift your shirt so I can see.”
“He’ll blame me,” she choked out, looking down at the floor.
“Terror, you know that won’t happen. We have an officer right here who is seeing this.” He glanced toward the silently observant man across the table. He hadn’t moved nor spoken since Ian had walked into the kitchen. A single nod of mutual agreement showed they were on the same page. A scowling frown was deepening the grooves above his eyes.
A flicker of blue, an icy color, told Ian all he needed to know. The cop wasn’t unfamiliar with the scenario.
“Just enough to let us see where he hit you,” he gently prodded.
Weaving her arms lower, she let the blanket fall to the chair, then clutched the lower part of her shirt and lifted it over her ribs and above her waist to expose her back. A slow hiss was the only sign of Ian’s rage. Black and blue bruising was beginning to darken her torso where obvious belt strikes welted her skin.
“I think this changes a few things, Officer Drew,” Ian said through a tight jaw. “All right, you can let it down.” With a thankful whoosh of air she did, retaking her chair without meeting anyone’s gaze.
Ian turned to the counter, gathering cups along with his thoughts. He poured, giving himself time not to snarl. He couldn’t believe his sister had allowed this, but what did he know about what she’d been up to the last few months? He’d barely seen her over Christmas, and he’d avoided her because of the scumbag she’d taken up with. He rolled his shoulders in shame. He’d been turning a blind eye and his niece was paying the price.
Time to step up. For Terra, he knew he could without a single hesitation. “She’s a minor, and as her next of kin, I’ll take her in.” He filled three mugs, placing them before the two at the table. Milk and sugar followed. Holding the last mug, he faced the man across the table. “I also want to press charges and get my sister the help she needs.”
“I can help with that,” Officer Drew replied solemnly. “Terra? I’m going to go get my camera and computer. I need to make an official report and I’ll have to take pictures.”
She trembled, but managed a thin, “Okay.” She dumped a huge spoonful of sugar into her coffee, stirred then sipped. She grimaced but didn’t let it dissuade her.
When the cop had left, Ian tugged a chair close and sat at her side. “Terra, did he rape you?”
She winced, but shook her head. “It’s why he beat me and kicked me out. I wouldn’t make it easy enough for him.”
Lifting a hand, he swept fallen hair out of her eyes. “I’m sorry, Terror. How long has this been happening?”
“About two weeks. Mama’s been…” She faltered, sipped, then stared at her mug. “Not sober enough and it’s been pissing him off.”
“And last night…” He knew she’d have to answer the same questions, and with a lot more detail, but he had to hear it for himself. Because when he confronted the fucker, he wanted to have the reasons for killing him down to the letter. Purposefully, he unclenched the fisted hand on his thigh, feeling blood reach his fingertips again.
“He did something to Mama. She didn’t wake up yesterday morning, or she was too hung-over. He wouldn’t let me talk to her before school. I haven’t seen her since Wednesday,” she quietly admitted.
“Shit,” he breathed. “Wait here.”
He didn’t jump from the chair but he moved like a fire was under his ass just the same. Shooting outside, he ran for the patrol car. “I need you to do a resident check at my sister’s house. I think her boyfriend may have hurt her. Terra hasn’t seen her mother in three days.”
Officer Drew was already reaching for the radio to make the request before he’d finished speaking. Ian leaned on the roof of the car, his heart hammering with a dull thud into his ribs. He rested limp against the car’s frame with his eyes covered by a forearm. He gave the address and waited.
“It’ll take some time for them to get out there.”
The calm voice penetrated his worry and fear, making Ian lift the dead weight of his head. “Just let me know what they find. I had no idea it was this bad.”
“Family rarely does.” An urging motion had Ian stepping back, giving the officer room.
Ian studied the other man as he stooped and palmed the necessary items. He was broad in the shoulders, though getting a better idea of what else wasn’t easy beneath a winter uniform jacket. The man had piercing blue eyes and midnight black hair with a hint of gray peppered throughout. Ian typically wasn’t agreeable with law enforcement—they were usually harassing him for his ride, or the leather. Or any other number of fictitious infractions that they could nail him for.
Ian wasn’t a law breaker, just a plain working man, but add a Harley, black leather and a few marks on his record and he suddenly became a rebel without a cause.
When the man before him straightened, he held out a card. “In case you’re thinking of trying to find this asshole yourself, don’t. I’ve seen that look before too,” he cautioned. “If anyone gets thrown in jail, odds are against you and then Terra will be homeless, so don’t do it.”
Ian twisted to stare at the house. The man made sense, as much as Ian hated it. He took the card, reading. “What’s the C. for?”
“Caleb.”
A good, strong name. “He deserves—”
“What he deserves will be delivered by the justice system and the grace of God,” he interrupted smoothly. “Not a lone man with a vengeful streak.” Caleb studied him in contemplative quiet. “You don’t strike me as the kind of man who does foolish things. Don’t start with this.”
Turning away, Officer Drew strode up the walk and into Ian’s house to question his niece.
Ian hung to the sidelines as Terra answered a long list of detailed questions. He had been right about hearing them again, and what she would have to answer. He’d been questioned a few times himself over his lifetime. It was never easy.
When it was time to take the pictures, Ian left them in the kitchen. He couldn’t stand to see those bruises again and not want to beat the living shit out of the asshole responsible. Searching through his clothes, he found items that Terra could wear until they could get her sorted out and living with him. At least he had spare bedrooms.
Holy Terror. That had been her nickname from about two and a half to seven. Then Terror just stuck. With sweatpants that he knew would be too long and a heavy shirt that likely would drape over her smaller frame set out, he’d let her do what she needed to do, take a shower or just sleep for the next few days. He also found his pain reliever in the medicine cabinet and left it on the sink edge for her to find.
“All done?” Ian called, not wanting to just barge in.
“Finished.”
He had to admit, he liked Caleb’s cool drawl. Slow. Purposeful. The kind of man who could be explosive deep down. Scratching his chin he realized he’d never even shaved. Entering the kitchen, he found them at the table, Terra nursing a fresh cup of coffee and Officer Drew signing forms. He paused though when the radio at Caleb’s shoulder squawked.
“Go ahead.” He released the converse button.
A voice crackled then came through loud and clear. “There’s no contact at Chalmers Street.”
“Any sign of recent activity?”
“Negative.”
“Ask him if there’s a blue car in the driveway.” Terra bit her lip.
Caleb relayed the question.
“Affirmative. Four-door sedan.”
Terra’s fingers tightened on her mug and she raised a frightened look to Ian. “That’s Mom’s car. If it’s there, she’s there. She doesn’t ride in the winter, period.” Ian nodded. He knew that about his sister. “She has to be there.”
Efficient and calm, Caleb gave the orders to do a full search. With a shared glance, they both knew what they’d find, and what Ian prayed they wouldn’t.
* * * *
Caleb stood on Ian’s front porch a few hours later. He let out a crystallized breath, then knocked. This was going to be hard. Terra was the age of his own young niece. Now she was a child with no parent.
Ian opened the door, and with a look, a silent conversation that happened in the blink of an eye, the man knew. He paled and shook, his brown eyes closing for a moment in shock. His hand tightened where he held the door ajar, whitening the skin of his knuckles. Harsh breaths rocked his chest until he could stand straight. Stiffening his spine, he focused on Caleb then opened the door wider. “Come in.”
Once inside, Caleb reached and brushed his fingertips to Ian’s elbow. “I’m sorry.” Sorrow filled his brown eyes. It didn’t matter how long Caleb had been a cop, he knew that pain and knew it cut deep.
Ian led the way to the kitchen and motioned for Caleb to wait. He did as Ian vanished around the corner of the small home. The murmur of voices reached him. He stuffed his hands into his pockets.
The girl he’d found huddled on the church grounds looked like she was walking around in her daddy’s clothes. Ian was a tall man, fairly stocky and broad, like himself. Terra’s black hair was shaggy and loose. Caleb could see the family resemblance between them with the dark looks, and unfortunately, the shared uncertainty they both wore on their faces.
Faint smudges under her eyes proved the strain of the last few days. She hadn’t wanted to go to the emergency room, though he’d more than suggested it. She swore it hadn’t gone that far. Caleb doubted she was lying, but it was hard not to want to make sure.
“Why don’t you sit down?” Caleb said when they stood at the table.
She pulled out a chair and sank onto it. Ian stood at her shoulder.
“I’m sorry, Terra. We searched the house and…” Caleb lifted to catch Ian’s dulled gaze. Locking on the teenager, he said in a flat monotone, “Your mother is dead. The officers found her in her room.”
Terra’s eyes welled up like a faucet had been turned on. “No! She can’t be.” Ian’s hand formed to her shoulder when she tried to lurch from the chair. Her entire body trembled. “She was there! You’re lying!”
Ian kept her in the chair. When Caleb didn’t move, didn’t push back, she crumpled.
Caleb would spare her the harder details, but he knew Ian would want to know, had a right to know what they’d found. A warrant was already posted for Striker, AKA Jimmy Loweson. With the evidence found at the house and the abuse he’d delivered to Maria’s daughter, he was a wanted man.
Terra buried herself into her hands, racking sobs brittle in the tense quiet of the kitchen. Ian reached behind him and opened a drawer. With a hand towel in his fingers, he offered it to Terra. She bawled into it, gasping and crying.
“I am sorry, Terra.” Caleb noted the tight lines around Ian’s mouth, the white around the bridge of his nose. Anger glittered like ice in his eyes. Answering the questions in those damning eyes, he explained, “There’s a warrant for his arrest. He’s being charged with murder and aggravated assault.” His tone left the there’s more unsaid.
Ian didn’t speak, walking around the table. Caleb followed, his job done.
“Finish it,” Ian demanded. He had shaved, exposing the hard line of his jaw, the blunt angle of his cheekbones, and a scar that could have only come from a fistfight.
“Striker was running drugs. Maria died of an overdose and alcohol poisoning. If she didn’t have a problem before, he made sure she did.”
“Oh, God.” Ian wavered on his feet. Caleb loosened his hands in his pockets in case Ian swayed too much, but the man regained himself. Ian’s voice was thick when he spoke. “No, she didn’t, but I knew Striker was bad for her.” Bleak eyes. Hollow eyes. They tore at Caleb. “Had she been beaten?”
He nodded.
Ian jerked away, swallowing. “How long… Do you know when…” His voice trailed off, his eyes drawing closed, waiting for the answer.
“At least twenty-four hours.”
Ian’s shoulders caved. A raw sob struck. A shaking hand covered the lower half of his face then scrubbed downward. Terra had still been home then. Her mother had been murdered and she, thankfully, hadn’t been aware. Caleb knew Ian was just grateful she’d come to him, that she was safe. “I haven’t talked to her in almost a month.” A snarl slashed Ian’s face. Narrowed eyes pinned Caleb. “You better find that fucker first, Drew.”
“We will.”
Chapter Two
Ian was numb. Maria was gone. Terra’s mother, his older sister. He went through the motions of closing her life, his heart bleeding as it healed. Gathering her property. Signing as Terra’s guardian. Days turned into cold, bitterly cold, weeks.
Their parents were gone, which only left him and his niece. While he didn’t proclaim it, he knew why he was alone, why he’d never married. He’d tried to do the normal thing, the expected relationship, but got out before it was too late to stop the catastrophe that loomed like a bad highway ad sign. He could see it coming for miles, but hadn’t wanted to acknowledge it, or admit it.
Ian touched, kissed—hell, fucked—like it was a chore. Nearly twenty years before, he did what was expected. He hadn’t known any different. Then he’d met Danny. He was the one who’d shown Ian the light, made it imperative that he break up with the girl he’d been dating. Oh, he’d hurt her, Ian knew he had. It couldn’t be helped under the circumstances.
It wasn’t every day a man took out his girl to break up, only to tell her the truth, or a near truth. No, he hadn’t been in love with her, but after an explosive weekend with Danny, he also knew he’d never be able to look at a woman the same way again.
Young and able to sow his oats the way he’d wanted, that had been Danny. Ian had been in his early twenties, and had only had three girlfriends up to then. The first he lost his virginity to, the second had broken up with him, which had been more of a relief than he’d let on at the time. Even then, he was beginning to wonder just what was wrong with him, why he couldn’t enjoy their bodies more, enjoy their femininity more. He’d honestly wondered if there was something really wrong with him. The third girlfriend proved all the arguments and accusations he’d heard up to then correct.
Three girlfriends and two boyfriends. He’d been alone for the last eight years. He wasn’t some pussy-footed beach comber. He wasn’t a fashion parade walking through Times Square. Ian was a mechanic, working hard for the money he made, an honest wage to pay his mortgage and keep food on the table in a town where jobs were hard to find. The kind of town where smart kids left after graduation.
Because Jasper sure wasn’t ready for a gay man. Definitely not an out gay man.
Maria hadn’t even known. No one did. A man’s business was private, and Ian liked it kept that way. The boyfriends he’d had weren’t from town, and he never brought them home. Ian had met Danny on a ride. There were gay men in riding clubs, and some were even able to live openly with whomever they wanted, a significant other. A partner.
Just thinking about it sent a shiver of apprehension down Ian’s spine. Danny had been young and nearly sparkled, he was so full of life. A couple years younger than Ian, he’d practically seduced Ian out of his socks.
The age of enlightenment had hit. Danny may have been young, but he’d also been smart, and for his age, wise. They’d stayed in contact for almost a year, then Danny said he’d met someone and wanted to try for something a little deeper than a weekend sleepover. Ian had let him go without a grudge.
Sipping his coffee at the kitchen table, he managed a gentle smile, remembering the other man. He’d certainly filled out leather chaps in phenomenal ways. It had been a few years later when he’d met Becker. They had lasted a little less than six months, but again, he refused to bring it home, and Becker had left him in the dust.
Ian had resigned himself to a life of solitude and the occasional burst of familial bonding when Maria had needed him.
Setting the mug before him on the table, he rubbed stiff fingers into dry eyes. Except now, there was no more of even that. And there was Terra to think about. His holy terror. He could still remember her with wild, inky black pigtails and a gap-toothed grin that melted even the hardest heart. The last thing he would do would be to expose his Terror to that. She didn’t need another apocalyptic moment in her life.
Spring was almost on them, the snow finally melting. He didn’t mind the snow, hated the sludge. Terra was back in school. They were both dealing, both healing, mostly. Watching the sun come up on a Saturday morning felt almost normal. He rarely slept late on the weekends because his internal clock wouldn’t let him. He didn’t enforce a schedule with Terra. He knew she needed whatever sleep she could get.
A light knock on his door broke into his thoughts. Scooting away from the table, he rose to answer it. The man on the other side surprised him.
“Officer Drew. What can I do for you?” A glance beyond his shoulders proved the rest of the neighborhood was just as slow to start their Saturday as he was. No one was out yet.
“Caleb this morning. Not on duty.” He shrugged his shoulders, his hands stuffed into his light jacket. The heavy winter parka wasn’t in sight. “Came to see how you and Terra were doing.” Lashes lowered to hide those sky blue eyes. “Can I come in?”
“Uh, sure.” Ian stepped back and shut the door behind the other man. “Coffee?”
“I’d love some.”
Ian led the way, Caleb following. For such a large man, he had a very silent step.
He motioned to the table but Caleb leaned on the counter close by instead.
Ian studied him. “Does this have to do with Striker?”
Caleb shook his head. “Honestly, it’s personal.”
“How’s that?” Ian poured him a hot cup of coffee and handed it over. He blew on it then took a drink, straight and black.
“It breaks every rule, but I wanted to see how Terra was.”
Ian waited, but Caleb didn’t look up again.
“Why?” He palmed his coffee after topping it off, leaning on a hip against the same counter.
“We’re not supposed to do what I’m about to do,” he uttered. “Or what I know I’ve done.” Caleb grimaced, then finally met Ian’s searching, claiming his entire focus. “She’s the same age as my niece, Rebecca. I just wanted to know that she’s okay. I could see Becky in her, and it scared the shit out of me.”
“She’s healing, inside and out. Striker’s bruises are gone,” he explained quietly.
“I’m glad for that. Did she ever get checked out?”
“Yeah.” Ian swept a hand over his shortened hair. He’d finally dragged his ass down for a haircut. “I managed to convince her. God only knows what cesspool that fuck had been dipping in. She’s fine.” Not a virgin, but at least it hadn’t been taken from her. He’d be the last to berate her for being wild. Since her mother’s death, she’d been very subdued, actually focusing on her schoolwork. Ian knew she was avoiding her feelings, but he’d helped as much as he knew how. There were options available for her. Faith in her kept him from pushing too hard. She was a resilient young lady. He just hoped she didn’t lose herself completely while hiding from the pain.
Caleb grunted behind his cup, sipping his coffee with a single hand still in a pocket. He had broad hands, work rough with blunt nails, his fingers curled around the black ceramic. Standing that close to the other man, Ian discovered the scent of warmed skin, and the spiced bite of aftershave. Not strong, but it had been a long time since he’d been close enough to another to notice anything of the sort. Ian swallowed a drink of his coffee, surprised at the sudden rush of heat surging through his body. That hadn’t happened in a coon’s age.
Breathing through his nose to bury his senses in the aroma of black Arabica beans, he pushed it down.
* * * *
Caleb didn’t want to make a nuisance of himself by overstaying his welcome, but he couldn’t bring himself to just gulp and leave now that he’d done what he’d intended with the visit. He’d been telling the truth about his concern for Terra. Those big brown eyes were Becky through and through. The more he’d tried to forget, the more he’d worried, and worrying about her only brought her uncle to the forefront larger than life.