Tougher to Love

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