Sands of time, p.1
Sands of Time, page 1
Sands of Time
The Heart Falls Heroes, Book 2
K.D. Friedrich
Published 2015
ISBN: 978-1-62210-279-2
Published by Liquid Silver Books, imprint of Atlantic Bridge Publishing, 10509 Sedgegrass Dr, Indianapolis, Indiana 46235. Copyright © Published 2015, K.D. Friedrich. All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, recording or otherwise, without the prior written permission of the author.
Manufactured in the United States of America
Liquid Silver Books
http://LSbooks.com
This is a work of fiction. The characters, incidents and dialogues in this book are of the author’s imagination and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to actual events or persons, living or dead, is completely coincidental.
Blurb
Once again, single mom Jade Santiago is trapped under her father’s firm hand. If her existence wasn’t complicated enough, her son’s father, John Sands, has popped back into her life. John doesn’t know JT is his son, and Jade plans to keep it that way. John’s ignorance ensures his protection from her abusive, vindictive father. Especially now that John works for him.
Bad-boy-turned-cop John Sands loves women, but hates relationships. At least, that was, until Jade Santiago came back to town. Now he wants things. Things like family and commitment. Not to mention hot sex. For her, he’s ready to change his priorities. If he can only get past her stubborn indifference and the chief of police, who happens to be her father and his boss, she’ll end up right where she belongs—in his arms and his bed.
Jade thought keeping JT’s dad a secret for all these years seemed like a good idea, but the more John proves himself a genuine friend and an honorable man, the more she struggles with her intense attraction and undeniable guilt. He deserves the truth. A truth that will ultimately destroy all she has worked to protect. A truth that will shatter the trust of the only man she has ever loved. A truth that will change their lives forever.
Acknowledgements
I’d like to thank my daughter. She always comes first. Otherwise, I’d never hear the end of it. Just kidding, baby girl, you come first, because without you, I wouldn’t be here. You are my strength, my inspiration, and my joy. I’d also like to thank my family for their continued support. Thank you to my editor for her great advice and her talent for making my story shine. Thanks to my publisher for believing in my story. Finally, I’d like to give a shout out to all those who have purchased my books. Thank you so much for your continued support.
Prologue
Summer’s end 2008
Jade Santiago kept her head low as she snuck in through the back door of her family’s sprawling ranch. She had learned at an early age to remain inconspicuous. Better to blend into the background than risk her father’s inquisition—an inquest that usually ended in pain.
Tears clung to her red, swollen eyes. Her heart was broken.
Exhaustion had set in days earlier, caused by a severe lack of sleep and intense anxiety. A shiver shook her when she turned to close the door without a sound. Outside, the summer air was hot and sticky, but inside…as cold as ice.
In a few moments, she’d be safe in her room. The best sound in the world was the lock on her bedroom door sliding into place. Not that it would keep her father out, but it gave her some time to prep herself for the next round of discipline.
Out of nowhere, rough fingers snagged her ponytail, yanking her head back with a sudden jolt. Pain shot along the nerves in her neck, across her scalp, and over her shoulders. She stumbled, falling to her knees on the hard tiles of the kitchen floor.
“I found it in your room.”
The stink of liquor surrounded her father like a toxic cloud, thick and suffocating. He must have had another bad day on patrol, because he hadn’t even bothered to change out of his policeman’s uniform before he hit the bottle.
Bad sign. Liquor made him worse. Much worse. He was no prince without it, but add a few shots of rum to his nasty personality and he became the devil’s sidekick.
When her gaze found the small white slip with the pharmacy emblem fisted in his free hand, her heart sank deep into her chest.
“I…I don’t know, Father,” she lied. I thought I got rid of all of that stuff. Stupid. Stupid. Stupid.
The slap came hard and fast. Stars swam in her vision, followed by an eerie ringing in her ears that echoed in her brain like a bad horror score. For a short man, her father had thick, bulky hands, and a fist large enough to shadow her entire face. Blood pooled in her mouth. She forced herself to swallow the putrid, coppery liquid, fearing he’d punish her more for spitting the mess out on the floor. She gagged but held back the need to vomit. He’d kill her if she threw up all over his perfect kitchen.
Out of the corner of her eye, she noticed her mother slinking into the room. She pulled out a chair at the table and took a seat. No expression decorated the woman’s features. Her mother’s face held bruises and a small cut by her lip, remnants of the last round of discipline she’d suffered. Her eyes were dead. Void of emotion or concern. Not even fear entered them anymore. Her father had destroyed her mother's spirit long ago.
“It’s proof that you’re nothing but a whore.”
Her father’s voice rattled her soul. Whore, slut, fat, ugly, stupid bitch…she’d heard them all. They shouldn’t hurt anymore. Yet they did.
He slapped her twice more, sharp, quick hits meant to instill fear and make her talk. She refused to show her dread, although her soul trembled.
Jade threw her mother a pleading glance. She received no acknowledgement. The petite woman kept her eyes glued to her hands. Her mom sat there in silence. Why Jade thought today would be any different, she didn’t know. Perhaps it was the foolish sliver of hope resting deep inside her, or the utter fear threatening to consume her.
She demanded answers from whatever God watched over the rest of the world. Why does my father hate me so much? Instead of the sharp sting of her father’s fist, just once, she wanted the warm comfort of his arms. She wanted his acceptance. She wanted his love.
He pulled her close. “Got nothing to say, girly?”
Not waiting for her answer, her father dragged her out of the kitchen by her hair, down the hall, and into her bedroom.
She started to struggle. The thought of what he might do terrified her. Her fate was now tied to another. What if he hit her in the stomach? What if he forced her to lose the baby?
He yanked the collar of her shirt, tearing the seam. He brought her face an inch from his own. His breath hit her, polluted from the rum he had drunk. “Now I know why you’ve been wearing all these damn clothes. You’ve been hiding your shame, hiding your whoring ways.”
“Father, please,” she begged, not for herself, but for the child growing in her womb. She didn’t know why she bothered. Pleading for his mercy was a comical notion, considering the man lacked a heart.
“Too late to beg, girly. The damage is done. Now you pay the price.”
He ripped the tattered shirt over her head, his blunt nails scratching over the scabs on her back. Scabs she'd received from the last time she had to pay the price for her existence. Pain shot up her spine, forcing an agonized roar to explode from her lips. Tears formed in her eyes, although she tried to hold them back. She hated for him to see her cry, but her skin burned. His last session of discipline hadn’t healed, and the skin over her spine remained raw. He glared at the small swell forming on her tummy. Standing there in her bra, she cradled her hands over her stomach.
“You’re getting rid of it. I should rip the bastard out myself.”
“No,” she screamed, shaking her head.
“You’re a disgrace. A filthy, fat whore.”
She had never stood up to him, but this wasn’t just about her. “This baby is mine. I won’t let you hurt it. I won’t.”
He caught her around the throat. His grip tightened enough to block her airway. “You don’t command me, girly. I command you.” He dragged her farther into her room, shoving her toward the bed. Part of the mattress slid off the box spring when she crashed into it.
Her entire body trembled. A weak, evil smile started to lift the left side of his lips the second he stared down at her. She swore the man thrived on her fear and pain.
Well, screw him. She wouldn’t give him the satisfaction. Without offering him the slightest whimper, she assumed the position, kneeling in front of her bed, placing her elbows on the mattress, and locked her hands together as if to pray.
“Tell me the bastard’s name,” he shouted.
She shook her head. She’d rather die than tell him. John Sands might have moved on to better things, but she still cared for him. She should have known he’d lose interest in her. He was two years older and set to graduate. Why in the world would he want to be stuck to a fat nobody like her? Regardless of the truth, he was the one boy to show her affection, the one person to bring joy to her sorry little life. It might have been just one night, but in those precious hours, she’d felt loved. She’d rather suffer the beating of a lifetime than betray their special moment.
If her father found out John had fathered her child, he’d do everything in his power to destroy him. Being a policeman with ties to town government made him a powerful enemy.
She cared about John too much to let that happen.
The faint rustle of her father’s fat belt buckle alerted her of what wa
Soon, the swooshing of thick leather sliding through the loops of his pants filled the stillness. Over the years, he had made enhancements to his weapon. He'd sanded the sides, making them sharper, and weaved a metal-linked chain into the center. Oh, the strap was unique and painful as all hell.
“Tell me his name and I’ll make it quick!”
“I don’t know,” she lied. “I met him at a party.” She wouldn’t throw John into the pit of her father’s wrath.
Swoosh. Crack.
The first strike burned like fire over her still-healing skin. She licked her lip. Blood coated her tongue.
“You’re nothing but a slut. You know that. You gave a stranger your innocence.”
What innocence? You beat it out of me years ago.
The hits came one after another. For what felt like hours, she took his punishment, withstood his verbal bashing, and did so in silence, refusing to give him the satisfaction of her cries. He growled one last time before stumbling toward the door. Breathless, he left the room without another insult.
She crawled onto her bed, blood dripping down her ribs, her skin ravaged and raw. With her last ounce of strength, she pulled herself up on the mattress, closed her red, swollen eyes, and prayed for mercy. If not for the child nestled in her womb, she’d beg for death.
The pain ravaging her body distorted her mind, while her spirit lay buried beneath a mountain of despair. She had no idea how much time passed or whether she’d survive the next round of discipline.
No one checked on her.
No one cared.
She succumbed to exhaustion and pain sometime later.
Early the next night, the door suddenly creaked open to her room. A ray of light crept over her mattress. She squinted from the unexpected illumination. Too sore to turn her head away from the brightness, she lay there, praying it wasn’t her father who entered.
The sudden scrape of wood over wood and then several bangs assured her someone was going through her dresser drawers. Maybe he’d decided to throw her out. The thought was both a blessing and a nightmare.
A shadow hurried around her room. The crumpling of canvas and the shuffling of feet over her wood floor echoed in her ears.
Out of nowhere, a cold, rough hand slid under her arm. “Can you stand?” her mother asked calmly.
“Yes,” she managed to croak, her throat dry and gritty like sandpaper.
With her mother’s help, she managed to pull herself out of her bed. Each shift made her wince, radiating pain across her back. Her mother helped her dress in a pair of sweatpants and a baggy T-shirt. Lifting her arms sent burning waves across her back.
Wincing, she glanced at her mother’s face. “What’s going on?”
Her mother didn’t answer. Instead, she stepped away to finish stuffing clothes in a big duffle. She zipped it shut and then flung the bag over her shoulder.
“Put your arm around my neck.” Her mother helped her to the hallway. “Hurry, there isn’t much time. Your father had an emergency at work, but I don’t think he’ll be gone long.” Her mother helped her put on a jacket and her shoes.
Reaching inside herself, Jade found the strength to keep up with her mother’s pace. “Where are we going?”
She received no answer. They rushed out the door into the humid night, and an eerie silence greeted them. Up above, a bright white moon hovered in the clear black sky, staring down at them with a knowing presence.
Her mother helped her into the passenger seat of their car. Jade cried out as a sharp pain shot along her spine.
“Easy does it, Jade.”
Her door shut. The back door opened and the sound of the bulky duffle bag hitting the seat echoed throughout the car. Jade was so tired. All she wanted to do was sleep for like a thousand years. Her head fell back against the head rest as her mom ran around to the driver’s side, hopped in, started the car, and pulled out of the driveway.
The silence was deafening.
“I’m not getting rid of my baby,” Jade said. Being sixteen and pregnant hadn’t been her original plan, but from the moment she found out about the child, she wanted her little miracle. She wanted this piece of John to live, to thrive.
Her mother kept her eyes on the road. “I’m taking you to the train. Aunt Ellen is expecting you at Grand Central Station tomorrow morning.” She shoved a wad of cash in Jade’s lap, along with a piece of loose-leaf paper. “There’s enough there for a ticket and some extra to help you get settled. Ellen’s number and address are on the paper. Take the train I wrote on that sheet. Ellen said it will get you there by morning.”
“Where did you get all this money, Mom?”
“Don’t you mind that…Ellen knows how your dad…well, let’s just say she knows his temper. She grew up with him. She’ll take good care of you and the baby.”
Stillness settled within the car once again.
“Mom,” Jade said. “You know what he’ll do if he finds out you helped me.” Jade winced when she looked at her mother.
She turned and offered Jade a dead stare before returning her eyes to the road. “As far as he’ll know, you ran away. The truth will leave with you.” She reached in her pocket and pulled out a bottle of pills. “Here, it’s acetaminophen. I looked it up. They say it’s safe for the baby if taken as the bottle says. You’re hurting.”
“When he finds out I’m with Aunt Ellen, he’ll come for me.”
Her mother shook her head. “Ellen will protect you. There’s a reason he never goes to see your Aunt Ellen. She has a gun, and she’s not afraid to use it.” There was no humor in her voice.
They pulled up to the station. Her mother helped her out of the car. A whimper escaped with each move. Jade's mother pulled out the duffle bag that held her clothes and walked with her until they reached the front doors.
“Come with me, Mom. Don’t go back there.”
“He’s my husband. I swore before God to honor him.” She sighed. “I’ve made my choices, dear. Now you got to make yours.” Her mother kissed her forehead. “Now go.”
“Thank you,” said Jade.
“Go on.” Her mother’s eyes flooded with tears. “Be safe.”
Her mother spun and hurried toward the car. She never offered Jade another word. She never glanced back. She jumped in the car, pulled away from the curb, and disappeared into traffic.
Chapter 1
Present
“You’re doing great, kids,” John Sands shouted.
He jogged along the sidelines of the basketball court, clapping and grinning. Sneakers thudded and screeched against the dull maple wood floor. Droplets of perspiration trickled down John’s temple, his shirt sticking to his back. He glanced up with a frown. Over his head, the hum of the fans vibrated through the air ducts running along the ceiling. Yet the aged unit on the community center’s roof did little to keep the gym at an even temperature. Either it was too hot or too cold.
“I’m open,” hollered a chubby kid with scruffy blond hair.
John dropped his gaze. The boys passed the ball left and then right, just like he'd taught them. He was so damn proud. Their moves were still clumsy and they held the ball more than dribbled it, but they tried. Plus, the game kept them out of trouble. Nothing else mattered.
A slight whiff of sweat and the fresh aroma of citrus floor cleaner filled John’s nostrils as a stampede of kids, ages six and up, blew past him again.
His eyes widened. “Take the shot, Billy! Take it!”
Billy jumped higher than any plump kid with short legs John had ever seen, but came up short. The ball hit the rim and bounced back toward the court. Billy scowled and stomped his foot.
“Good try, Billy.” John clapped for the boy’s effort. The praise seemed to offer the child assurance. He brushed off his grimace and rejoined his teammates.
His boss, the head of the Heart Falls Police Department, Chief Richard Santiago, or Dick, as they affectionately called him, had thought forcing John to babysit a bunch of ankle biters on his days off was cruel and unusual punishment. John had to admit he'd thought the same thing at first, but a few weeks of coaching the youth basketball team turned his opinion around one hundred percent.
