Read A Mended Man (The Men of Halfway House Book 4) Online
Authors: Jaime Reese
Tags: #Contemporary, #Gay, #Romance, #hurt, #comfort, #second chances, #suspense, #action
A Mended Man (The Men of Halfway House Book 4)
The Men of Halfway House Book 4: A Mended Man
A Mended Man
The Men of Halfway House 4
Detective Aidan Calloway is rock-solid strong. He's a man of justice—loyal to his friends, family, and job—even if it requires bending a law…or two. He shields himself behind an abrasive, fearless facade, until a phone call one night chips his armor and throws his perfectly planned, hollow life into a tailspin.
Jessie Vega is the epitome of optimism. His carefully crafted attitude of hope and positivity protects him from a past filled with too much pain. When a ghost from a dark time resurfaces and nearly breaks him, he must tap into his inner strength or risk losing everything he's worked so hard to build.
But Jessie can't do it alone. He must fight to break through Aidan's ironclad defenses to reveal the heart of the man hiding beneath the tough surface and mend his damaged spirit. Only then can they truly heal and become strong enough to battle the demons that haunt them and threaten their chance to finally be together.
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***This book contains scenes and subject matter some readers may find distressing.***
A Mended Man
Copyright © 2016 by Jaime Reese
jaimereese.com
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form or in any means—by electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise—without prior written permission, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other noncommercial uses permitted by copyright law. Please purchase only authorized electronic or print editions and do not participate in or encourage the electronic piracy of copyrighted material. Your support of the author's rights is appreciated.
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are products of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
Published by Romandeavor, Inc.
ISBN: 978-0-9907786-0-8 (Kindle)
ISBN: 978-0-9907786-1-5 (ePUB)
ISBN: 978-0-9907786-2-2 (Paperback)
First Edition, April 2016
Printed in the United States of America
Edited by Jae Ashley
Cover art and formatting by Reese Dante
Cover Photographer: wagnerLA Photography
Licensed material is being used for illustrative purposes only and any person depicted in the licensed material is a model.
This book is intended for adult audiences due to language, sexual content, and other subject matters some readers may find distressing.
Trademark Acknowledgements
The author acknowledges the trademarked status and owners of the following trademarks mentioned in this work of fiction:
Dr. Phil:
Peteski Productions, Inc.
Google
: Google, Inc.
iPod
: Apple, Inc.
Marines
: US Marine Corps, a component of the US Department of the Navy
Miss Universe
: IMG Universe, LLC
Olympics
: United States Olympic Committee
Skype
: Skype Corporation
Superman
: DC Comics General Partnership
Velcro
: Velcro Industries B.V.
Message to Readers
Although Aidan and Jessie are not residents of Halfway House, the house is the reason their paths crossed. Hopefully, in the end, you'll understand why these guys took so long to finally reach their happily ever after and why they'll fight like hell to keep it.
* * * *
Creative license was taken with this story and may slightly stray from factual medical or police procedure. It is a work of fiction.
For Aidan.
You win.
"Every man has his secret sorrows which the world knows not; and often times we call a man cold when he is only sad."
― Henry Wadsworth Longfellow (1807-1882)
He woke with a start and stilled, trying to focus on the faint sound on the other side of the door. He could have sworn he heard something. He tried to hold his breath to quiet the sound of each intake of air.
Someone was there.
He slowly climbed out of bed, his movements light and cautious. The cold tile floor against his bare feet sent a chill through his body. His small bedroom offered no escape except for the doorway between him and whoever was out there. There was also the single window behind the bed, two stories up. He cursed under his breath, realizing he had left his phone charging in the living room. He scanned the room for a weapon, something, anything that would provide protection. Times like these he wished he knew how to use a gun, a knife, or had the strength to swing a stick at anything other than a dog to play fetch.
He grabbed a cardboard shipping tube resting along the wall. It probably wouldn't offer much of a beating, but hopefully it would, at least, slow someone down and give way to an escape. He leaned against the wall, holding the tube like a baseball bat ready to swing. Who was he kidding? He didn't know how to handle a damn bat. He screwed his eyes shut and listened closely.
His arms and neck tingled as if a swarm of insects crawled under his skin. His heart raced faster; his breath came at a clipped pace. His eyes snapped open when a thought struck him. A shiver traveled his body and his hands began to shake.
Please no.
Somehow…he just knew.
Oh God.
A split second later, the bedroom door flew open and slammed against the wall. A dark shadow appeared, backlit by the faint streetlight coming from the living room window. He couldn't see the face but recognized the man and the familiar fear his large body commanded. No cardboard tube could fight off the man twice his size, and bigger and broader…and infinitely stronger.
The shadow's thick, meaty hand grabbed him and threw him on the bed, momentarily numbing him. The shadow pushed its large, muscular frame over his, suffocating him and pressing him into the mattress. He pushed back against the broad shoulders, trying to break free from the power holding him down.
"I missed those baby blue eyes of yours," the shadow said as he licked up the side of his neck. "Keep fighting me. You know I like it rough."
His stomach roiled and that night's dinner bitterly rose in his throat. He looked up at the small ceramic vase on the windowsill and his glass angel figurine. The T-shirt was yanked off and over his head harshly. The rush of cold air skated across his chest followed by a hot, wet mouth.
He tried to move higher on the bed, hoping to gain those precious inches of distance he needed. He reached up, his fingers barely grazing the vase's rough ceramic exterior. He pushed off the broad shoulders and grunted with the force to stretch. He reached up with one hand and finally wrapped his fingers around the ceramic vase, slamming it against the shadow's head.
The looming silhouette sat up and raised a hand to the side of his own face. "You son of a bitch!"
He took advantage of the momentary distraction and pulled his knees up to his chest and kicked outward with as much force as he could.
His father would be so proud.
The shadow reared back on the bed and he managed to get out from under him. He tried to run for the door, but a thick, strong hand grabbed him by the back of the neck and threw him against the dresser in the corner. The hard wooden edge rammed into his side, shooting bolts of pain through his limbs, weakening his legs and robbing him of the breath in his lungs. He gasped for air and tried to stand straight, holding the dresser to keep his balance. A powerful force grabbed him by the waist and slammed his back against the wall, off the ground. One large fist landed squarely on the side of his head with minimal effort, like someone shooing away a gnat on a typical hot Miami summer day. Pain instantly bloomed across his face, numbing everything above the neck, and his eyes watered.
He pushed against the shadow's face, clawing at his features, knowing exactly where the eyes were and the slight bend of the already broken nose he was all too familiar with.
Wetness covered his hand. He had drawn blood from the monster.
"You're going to regret that, Runt!"
Another punch followed and another. He fell to the floor, the squares and streaks of light in the darkness became blurry and his stomach churned from the pain. More kicks and punches landed in rapid succession. He lost count. He gasped, rolling his body into a fetal position, needing to protect himself as sharp ripples of pain shot throughout every inch of his body.
I don't want to die.
His eyes burned from the tears he tried to hold back.
I won't cry. I won't cry. Men don't cry.
He yelled, unable to control the pain any longer, when the monster pulled him by the leg. He heard a pop, a sound he prayed he'd never hear again, then another blinding pain in his hand, arm, he wasn't even sure anymore. Everything felt loose, broken…not connected at all. His vision blurred. He was roughly thrown on the bed again, no longer able to control the sob that escaped.
He hated being helpless.
He tried to pull away the fingers from around his neck. His head fell back as he gasped for air, feeling the life leaving his body. His blurred vision now inked with black spots, disguising the few specks of light that still lingered.