Temporary Home Read online

  A Total-E-Bound Publication

  www.total-e-bound.com

  Temporary Home

  ISBN # 978-1-78184-171-6

  ©Copyright Aliyah Burke 2012

  Cover Art by Posh Gosh ©Copyright November 2012

  Edited by Rebecca Douglas

  Total-E-Bound Publishing

  This is a work of fiction. All characters, places and events are from the author’s imagination and should not be confused with fact. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, events or places is purely coincidental.

  All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced in any material form, whether by printing, photocopying, scanning or otherwise without the written permission of the publisher, Total-E-Bound Publishing.

  Applications should be addressed in the first instance, in writing, to Total-E-Bound Publishing. Unauthorised or restricted acts in relation to this publication may result in civil proceedings and/or criminal prosecution.

  The author and illustrator have asserted their respective rights under the Copyright Designs and Patents Acts 1988 (as amended) to be identified as the author of this book and illustrator of the artwork.

  Published in 2012 by Total-E-Bound Publishing, Think Tank, Ruston Way, Lincoln, LN6 7FL, United Kingdom.

  Warning:

  This book contains sexually explicit content which is only suitable for mature readers. This story has a heat rating of Total-e-burning and a sexometer of 2.

  This story contains 195 pages, additionally there is also a free excerpt at the end of the book containing 9 pages.

  Interludes

  TEMPORARY HOME

  Aliyah Burke

  Book one in the Interludes Series

  Sometimes past demons need to be faced before one can embrace what the future offers, and who better to slay them than a Marine.

  Gunnery Sergeant Sam Hoch travels to the Pac Norwest upon receiving word his mentor and the closest thing to a father he’s had has taken a turn for the worse and is in hospital. Once there he meets a woman who is unlike any he’s ever met before. A former Marine herself, she opens up her home to him so he can be near his family.

  Roxi Mammon isn’t positive it was smart to allow Sam to stay with her, not with her immediate physical reaction to him. She’d heard tales of him from her best friend, his sister, and now having met him she is even more impressed by the man the Corps has turned him into. Silent strong type. Passion grows between them and soon she finds herself falling for the Recon Marine. And falling hard.

  As things escalate between them, Sam has to accept his past doesn’t control him if he plans on keeping Roxi in his future. Can he understand that this is the one woman who can give him something more? Will he silence the fear within him and tell Roxi she’s the one for him? Will he realise that he deserves more than just a temporary home?

  Dedication

  To the real life inspiration for Sam. I know you will persevere no matter the obstacles. My life is better for having met you. No matter what anyone says, you are incredible. Thank you for allowing me to be part of your life. I love you. Many thanks to Nancy who encouraged me to write this story, your friendship means the world to me. And to my husband who has always been supportive of my writing. Last and never least, my heartfelt thanks go out to the men and women who serve this country and protect us. God Bless you!

  Trademarks Acknowledgement

  The author acknowledges the trademarked status and trademark owners of the following wordmarks mentioned in this work of fiction:

  Toys for Tots: Marine Toys for Tots Foundation

  Taser: Taser International

  Superman: DC Comics

  Transformers: Hasbro, Inc.

  Wal-Mart: Wal-Mart Stores, Inc

  Tribeca: Subaru

  Best Thing That Ever Happened to Me: Jim Weatherly/ Gladys Knight & the Pips

  Seattle Sounders: Seattle Sounders FC

  Game Boy: Nintendo Co., Ltd.

  Dodge 2500: Chrysler Group LLC

  Sequence: Jax, Ltd.

  Calvin & Hobbes: Andrews McMeel Universal

  The Amber Room: Steve Berry, Ballantine Books/Hodder & Stoughton

  Charlie Brown: Charles M. Schulz

  180s: 180s, LLC

  Chapter One

  “Get the hell out of here, you mangy, good-for-nothing kid! Don’t let me catch you around here again.”

  Samuel Hoch went flying through the air only to land in a partially frozen puddle. Seconds later a splash sprayed his face with icy pellets.

  “You do and you’ll wish you were dead.”

  He already did. Sam scrambled towards his bag as the heavy door slammed behind him. The wintery wind swirled around, biting into his skin with vicious tenacity. Fighting back his tears, he tried to get up only to slip and fall again, this time wetting the rest of his thin and worn clothes.

  It isn’t fair. Why am I out here?

  “Easy there, son.”

  Sam stared up in shock to find a tall black man standing there looking down at him. He took in the white hat with the black brim, the blue pants with a blood-red stripe on them—visible from beneath the dark coat—and the shiny shoes. He knew what he’d found. Or rather who had found him. A Marine.

  The man extended his hand and it seemed that even the leather of his gloves was spotless.

  “I’m fine,” he snapped, embarrassed and a bit frustrated.

  “No harm in accepting some help.” The man’s tone never changed. His deep bass rumbled, reminding him of thunder.

  Sam reached out slowly, half expecting the hand to jerk away or hit him in the face. Neither happened, and the man lifted him clear of the freezing water with ease. Sam’s teeth began to chatter as more of Minnesota’s winter wind slammed into him.

  “You have anywhere to stay tonight, son?”

  Mute, he shook his head as the large man began shrugging out of his coat. Sam was in awe of the uniform and never even moved when the heavy coat was placed on his too-thin shoulders. Immediately he warmed as the wind was blocked. The sleeves were too long and they fell to drag on the snowy ground. All he could think about was how nice it was to no longer be freezing.

  “Come on, son. Let’s get you to some shelter for the night. Going to get right cold tonight.”

  He lifted his head and stared up at the imposing figure. If the wind or cold affected him, Sam couldn’t tell. The man seemed unbothered by it all. He still hesitated—he’d seen what happened when boys went off with adult men. Those images and screams gave him nightmares.

  “I have your things, come along.”

  He walked beside the now-silent Marine. His smaller steps were weighed down by the heaviness of the wool coat. He didn’t mind the heat but he was exhausted and so hungry. At the end of the alley, the man paused and glanced down.

  “Name’s Dean Richardson.”

  “Sa…Sam Hoch.” The words were painful sliding through cracked lips.

  Dean turned left and walked again. “Nice to meet you, Sam.”

  That was it, all the man called Dean Richardson said as they walked along the snowy streets. It didn’t take too long before they were walking up the steps to a large stone church. They didn’t go in the front but headed around to the back. There Dean knocked.

  Warmth and bright yellow light spilled out when the door was opened. An older man with silvered hair stood there.

  “Dean. Good to see you.”

  “Thank you, Father. I brought someone who needs some help”—a pause—“at least for the night.”

  Kind blue eyes found him and soon Sam was welcomed inside. There were about fifteen other boys running around. They all halted in what they were doing and stared at him. He stepped closer to the tall Marine.

  “We shoul
d have some dry clothes which will fit you. I’m Father Michaels, by the way.”

  “S…Sam.” His teeth still chattered but he was not as cold as he’d been before.

  Another gentle smile. “Come along, Sam. You’ll feel better dry and with some food in you.”

  He peered up at Dean who gave an encouraging nod. “Go on, son.”

  He went and when he returned, Dean was still waiting. His coat, with its muddy and snowy hem, rested beside him on a second chair. His hat sat next to him on the table. Sam couldn’t explain his relief at seeing him there. The man spoke to Father Michaels. The light gleamed off his shaved head, creating an even more imposing figure. Still, the brown eyes, which met his were soothing.

  Dean approached, gestured him into a chair at the table then sat across from him. “You’re going to be okay, son.” He reached out his hand, a card extended from his fingers.

  Sam took it and read the printed words. Staff Sergeant, Dean Richardson, United States Marine Corps. He didn’t know what it all meant but he was glad to have it in his grip. There were also phone numbers on it.

  “Work and home. You can call me any time, Sam.”

  He didn’t know what to say and so just blurted something out. “I’m sorry about your coat.”

  Father Michaels set a plate of food in front of him before disappearing again.

  A wide, brilliant grin. “Not to worry. A little dirt never hurt a coat.” He got to his feet. “You’re safe here, son. Father Michaels is a good man.”

  After stabbing some of the ham from his plate, he shoved it in his mouth. “Why did you—”

  “Don’t talk with your mouth full.” Dean’s reprimand was delivered in an authoritative yet calm voice.

  He swallowed and tried again. “Why did you help me?”

  “Everyone needs help at some point, Sam. Remember that.” Dean walked off, slipping on his coat and holding his hat.

  Sam watched the man speak with Father Michaels then open the door and step though, simultaneously placing his hat on his head. Then Dean Richardson was gone. And Sam again felt alone.

  For the first night in over a month, Sam crawled into a bed, which wasn’t made of collapsed cardboard boxes or on a heating grate. His bag of personal belongings was beside him as he snuggled beneath the warm blankets. In his hand he held Dean’s card. Too exhausted to remain awake, and confident he was safe, at least for the moment, he succumbed to the sandman’s irresistible lure.

  “Sam!” a voice called. “Sam!”

  Twenty-seven years later, Washington State

  “Sam!”

  He jerked and looked around. A dream, it had only been a daydream. Sam Hoch glanced down at the boy who’d fallen to the deck of the ferry. His mother—at least he assumed it was his mother—pregnant and with a harried expression on her chubby face, hastened to them as fast as she could.

  “You okay, son?” he asked, reaching out to help the child up.

  He nodded, accepting the assistance. “I was hiding from my mother. What’s your name?”

  His heart clenched at the innocence the boy had. What would a childhood like that have been like?

  “I told you not to run on this ferry, Sam.” The mother was out of breath and her expression was concerned.

  “I was bored,” the child whined.

  Sam stood so the woman could have his seat. She accepted and sank heavily beside her now-pouting child. “Thank you,” she said. “For helping him and for giving up your seat.”

  “Everyone needs help at some point.” Sam walked away as Dean’s words slid from his lips.

  Dean. His mentor. His friend. And the man he’d thought of as his father. The reason he was on the ferry from Seattle to Bremerton. Dean was in hospital. He’d been diagnosed with bone cancer and had been undergoing chemo. It hadn’t been going well lately and they’d had to stop the chemo and admit him, just to see if they could put some weight back on him and get him strong enough to endure the treatment again. It didn’t look promising, though. Nausea churned in his gut at the thought of losing him.

  Aside from the Corps, Dean Richardson and Dean’s niece had been his only family.

  “It is so like the commercial. This man is wearing the same thing.”

  Sam heard the not-so-hushed whispers behind him and continued to face forward. The boy he’d helped before. The one with the same name.

  “You talked to him once, ask him.” Another child spoke. “Or are you chicken?”

  He knew what was coming. Sure enough, the little boy and his friend popped around him, both bundled up against the winter air off the water. One boy white and one Asian.

  “Sir?”

  “Can I help you boys?”

  They shared a glance before a nudge was exchanged.

  “Do you do like the commercial?”

  He peered down, knowing that in his dress blues with blood stripes he looked the same as the Toys for Tots Marines on the television advertisement.

  “Christmas is almost here,” he said. “There’s not much time left.”

  “I know. It’s why we need to know.”

  Their expressions were so hopeful he was hard pressed not to smile. Beyond them he saw the pregnant woman again, her expression even more drawn and full of apology. He gave her a small nod before returning his attention to the boys.

  They spoke of the toys they wanted, games and clothes. When the ferry docked at Bremerton, he stared at the boys before going down on one knee. “I’ll see what I can do, but remember the most important thing is being with family and those who love you. Help your mom out.”

  He regained his feet and headed for his truck to disembark.

  * * * *

  It wasn’t long until he was striding through the Christmas-decorated halls of the hospital. On his desired floor, he strode briskly to the room, cover tucked between left arm and side.

  Sam gave a sharp knock before swinging the door open. Four faces turned to meet his entrance and his heart leapt. He recognised only Laila, Dean’s youngest niece. She was about his age.

  She immediately rose and came to him. There was a smile on her face despite the tears in her eyes. “Sam.”

  Laila was such a tiny thing, she barely reached his chest. Still, she smelt familiar, like her mother had, like fresh-baked goods. He wrapped his arms around her.

  “I’m so sorry, Laila,” he murmured just loud enough for her to hear.

  “Who are you?” a deep voice demanded.

  “Dean, be nice,” Laila admonished. “This is Sam.”

  Although in no rush to let Laila go, he looked until he found the scowling Dean. He appeared a great deal like his father, except for the expression. Dean Jr had anger all over his face.

  “The stray?”

  Laila’s arms tightened around him. Old memories of being unwanted flashed before his eyes and almost dragged him back to being that small scared child.

  “That’s the one.” His response fell casually, as if it didn’t bother him to be called a stray.

  “And why are you here?” Dean again.

  “Enough, Dean.” A faint, rasped voice drifted from the bed. “He’s here because I asked him to come. Come closer, Sam.”

  The frailty in the voice made him sad but he obeyed the command. Gently, he placed Laila away from him and approached the bed. He didn’t know the others’ names but it was something to deal with later. Their faces showed their displeasure, only Laila’s was welcoming.

  Gone was the large, strapping man who had befriended him that cold night all those years ago. In his place lay a thin man who appeared as if a sneeze would break him. Tears threatened to choke Sam and he furiously fought them off.

  Brown eyes, still sharp, met his and a smile filled the wizened face.

  “Come.”

  He walked around the bed until he could see the door, Laila and the other three.

  “Yes, sir?”

  Dean took his hand and Sam hated how weak the once-powerful grip had become.

&n
bsp; “Leave us.”

  Sam noticed the anger on the faces, aside from Laila’s, and with much grumbling to themselves they finally vacated the room as Dean had ordered.

  “Thank you for coming,” Dean began.

  “You know I will always come when you call.”

  “I…I left some things to you, Sam. Laila has them.”

  He didn’t want to hear talk of things that would happen once death arrived. “I don’t need anything. You’ve given me so much already.”

  This time Dean’s smile was tired. “I’m very proud of you and the man you’ve become, Sam. I’ve always thought of you as my son.”

  Tears burned his eyes but he refused to shed any. He knew Dean wasn’t too much into public emotional displays.

  “Thank you, sir.”

  “I need you to do something for me.”

  “Anything.” He would move mountains for this man if he asked him to do so. And if he couldn’t find a way to do that, he’d blow the shit out of them to get them out of the way.

  “It’s almost Christmas.” A series of coughs passed. “I have been volunteering at a local children’s home. Second Chances. I need you to fill in.”

  “Consider it done.”

  “I also want you to find someone and settle down. Be the parent I know you can be.”

  All Sam could do was stare as shock filled him. Dean knew he’d tried the fiancée thing before, and they both knew how poorly it had turned out. Why the hell would he do it again?

  “Bring them back in.” The order came around more coughing and he hurried to follow it.

  Soon, he stood alongside Laila and the others surrounding the bed. Dean stared at each of them. “Look around this bed. This is your family. Never forget that. This is our family. Go now, I need to rest.”