Temporary Home

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 should 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.”