Spencer's Reluctant Rescuer [Rescue for Hire 9] (Siren Publishing Everlasting Classic ManLove) Read online

  Rescue for Hire 9

  Spencer’s Reluctant Rescuer

  Welcome to the world of Rescue for Hire. Meet the team members of a company that form a family of heroes. Ten years ago Ruger Black refused Spencer Ryland’s kiss. Now they’re adults and everything’s changed. Ruger’s gone from a punk, smoking cigarettes, to a man who’s as cold and hard as the gun his name represents.

  Spencer’s no longer a needy nerd with thick black glasses. A drug lord’s knife has taken his eye and a bullet has him clinging to a life he no longer wants. A nice man befriends him in the hospital and takes him away.

  Who in the world would turn down a job offer from Rescue for Hire? Ruger did, but changed his mind temporarily when Spencer disappears. Love heals all, but how can it heal the demons of a war ravaged solder or a fragile victim of multiple attacks? Together they will fight to heal their souls, with a little help from Rescue for Hire.

  Genre: Alternative (M/M, Gay), Contemporary

  Length: 35,088 words

  SPENCER’S RELUCTANT RESCUER

  Rescue for Hire 9

  Bellann Summer

  EVERLASTING CLASSIC

  MANLOVE

  Siren Publishing, Inc.

  www.SirenPublishing.com

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  A SIREN PUBLISHING BOOK

  IMPRINT: Everlasting Classic ManLove

  SPENCER’S RELUCTANT RESCUER

  Copyright © 2015 by Bellann Summer

  E-book ISBN: 978-1-63259-567-6

  First E-book Publication: July 2015

  Cover design by Harris Channing

  All art and logo copyright © 2015 by Siren Publishing, Inc.

  ALL RIGHTS RESERVED: This literary work may not be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, including electronic or photographic reproduction, in whole or in part, without express written permission.

  All characters and events in this book are fictitious. Any resemblance to actual persons living or dead is strictly coincidental.

  PUBLISHER

  Siren Publishing, Inc.

  www.SirenPublishing.com

  Letter to Readers

  Dear Readers,

  If you have purchased this copy of Spencer’s Reluctant Rescuer by Bellann Summer from BookStrand.com or its official distributors, thank you. Also, thank you for not sharing your copy of this book.

  Regarding E-book Piracy

  This book is copyrighted intellectual property. No other individual or group has resale rights, auction rights, membership rights, sharing rights, or any kind of rights to sell or to give away a copy of this book.

  The author and the publisher work very hard to bring our paying readers high-quality reading entertainment.

  This is Bellann Summer’s livelihood. It’s fair and simple. Please respect Bellann Summer’s right to earn a living from her work.

  Amanda Hilton, Publisher

  www.SirenPublishing.com

  www.BookStrand.com

  DEDICATION

  I dedicate this story to survivors.

  Table of Contents

  Title Page

  Copyright Page

  Dedication

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Epilogue

  About the Author

  SPENCER’S RELUCTANT RESCUER

  Rescue for Hire 9

  BELLANN SUMMER

  Copyright © 2015

  Chapter One

  The room was quiet. Sometimes Spencer Ryland turned on the television and endured the pain just to have some kind of noise breaking up the silence. Who knew that when a person listened to a show or music they automatically moved their eyes? Spencer wanted to break down and cry, but it was too gross. What Leonel Heartland had done to him was unforgivable. Kidnapping Spencer and a fellow police officer had been bad enough. When Heartland had viciously taken Spencer’s eye with his knife, he might as well have taken Spencer’s life.

  Heartland had also damaged Spencer’s other eye, but after two hours of surgery, the doctors managed to save it. Now Spencer was in agony. Every time he moved his supposedly good eye, the raw, exposed muscles and nerves where his other eye used to be also moved, causing pain, unlike anything Spencer had ever felt. The doctors thought covering both eyes would help keep the pain to a minimum, but it didn’t.

  During Heartland’s attempt to escape his arrest, a stray bullet plowed into Spencer’s abdomen. It had taken the surgeons five hours to put his insides back together. For two weeks, Spencer lay in a hospital bed and hoped, prayed, and wished he could die because the pain was so bad. When the doctors took the tube out of Spencer’s stomach, he thought things would be better.

  The next morning Spencer started bleeding internally and was rushed back to surgery. Infection set in, and it took another three weeks for him to heal enough for the doctors to remove tubes from each side of his abdomen.

  The phone next to Spencer’s bed rang every couple of days. After he fumbled around and answered it, he would hear Craig Collins’ voice. Craig was the other deputy kidnaped with Spencer. Because Spencer was alone in the world, those calls were all he had to look forward to. It was during one of their first conversations that Spencer learned he was at a university hospital hours away from Granite County. They had flown him down there to save his good eye, kidney, bladder, and intestines. Spencer wished they had let him die.

  Spencer’s thoughts stopped, and his body stilled. Carefully he listened and ignored the pain when his eyes automatically tried to scan the room. There it was again, the whisper of cloth on cloth. Now that he was focusing, he could hear someone breathing.

  “Who’s there?” he asked. For a moment, Spencer didn’t recognize the hoarse voice breaking the silence was his. Now that he thought about it, the last time he’d used it had been during Craig’s call a few days ago.

  “It’s about time you figured out I was here.”

  The voice wasn’t a deep bas
s or a higher tenor. It had more of an average tone to it, with no particular accent. To Spencer, it didn’t sound refined as though its owner came from money or anything. More like someone from a blue-collar background.

  “Do I know you?” Spencer asked.

  “My name is Terry. My mom was a patient at this hospital and I’ve spent a lot of time here. I read an article in the newspaper about what happened to you. It said you didn’t have any family, so I thought I would come and visit.”

  Spencer couldn’t help the smile that covered his face. Someone cared enough to visit him. “That’s very nice of you. Are you from around here?”

  That was how Spencer and Terry’s relationship started. Terry began visiting every day. He was there to help Spencer eat his meals, give him his medication, and read the newspaper to him. Most of all, Terry eased his loneliness.

  Was it the drugs that had Spencer letting his guard down? Was it the many years of being alone after his parents threw him to the curb for being gay? Spencer didn’t know these answers, and as he waited for Terry’s next visit, he didn’t care. Other than Terry’s visits, Spencer didn’t care about much in life.

  Early one morning Terry woke Spencer up and informed him they were going outside to enjoy the sunshine. Spencer’s first thought was to wonder how early it was in the morning, as the nurses hadn’t gone through their everyday ritual of opening his window shades while calling out good morning.

  Terry’s fingers were gentle as he helped Spencer dress and into the wheelchair. It was a painful process getting him out of bed. Spencer’s abdomen was still so tender and sore he couldn’t straighten his body.

  “Are you sure this is a good idea?” he asked. “I’ve only managed to sit in a chair yesterday. I haven’t been able to walk down the hall yet.”

  “You could use a little sun, Spencer. This hospital room is bringing you down.”

  “It’s not like I can see anything with these eye patches on,” Spencer replied.

  “You’re taking the one on your good eye off more and more. Soon you won’t need them,” Terry said.

  Something cold and hard pressed against his hand.

  “Here’s some water. The nurses gave me some pills so your guts don’t hurt from the wheelchair ride.”

  Spencer ran his fingers over the long cylinder and discovered Terry had handed him a water bottle. Automatically he held out his hand and felt two hard pills pressed into his palm. It only took a second to pop the pills and wash them down with the water.

  “Wait here a moment,” Terry said.

  Footsteps moved away, and Spencer heard the creak of the door opening. He didn’t hear it shut, and Terry’s footsteps had stopped. For a second he thought it odd and wondered what Terry was doing by the door. But in the end nothing mattered to Spencer except that Terry was here with him.

  While he waited, the tense throbbing muscles of his belly started relaxing, telling him the pills were working.

  Footsteps drew nearer. “Okay, let’s go.” The tone of Terry’s voice was as brisk as his footsteps.

  Later Spencer would recall a waft of air against his face and the rapid spin of the chair’s wheels as Terry whisked him down the hall. He remembered the rough ride over the lip of the elevator before the click of the doors shutting. In the elevator everything became eerily quiet,, except for Terry’s sigh of…relief? Spencer insides protested the elevator’s plunge downward, and oddly, he heard the jingling of keys.

  After leaving the elevator, Spencer recognized the whoosh of the heavy automatic doors leading outside. He endured the wheelchair bumping over metal before a breeze and sunshine warmed his face, telling Spencer they had made it outside.

  “I’ve changed my mind,” Terry said, his voice raised to compete against a nearby car’s engine.

  Spencer turned his head and spoke over his shoulder. “What did you change your mind about?”

  “I think we should go for a ride. It will do you good to get away from this place for a while.”

  Spencer thought about it and couldn’t find any reason why they shouldn’t. The medication had kicked in, so he was comfortable and floaty.

  “All right,” he answered. “Let’s go.”

  * * * *

  Ruger Black sat back in his chair and looked at the growing crowd gathered around the table. The members of his ex-unit had descended into Granite City to witness their teammate, Bishop, marry a tiny blond. After spending too many years, fighting battles for the government that no one could talk about, they’d all retired and scattered around the county. Now that they were united again, none of them were making much of an effort to leave town. Why should they? This place accepted them as they were, big, dangerous gay men who were haunted and flawed by their pasts.

  Across the large table sat Cade Miller. When Cade had walked into the hotel restaurant, his slight limp did nothing to deter the power in his aura. The man was a force to be reckoned with. Cade owned a company that rescued victims from natural disasters and other troubles.

  Ruger admired their work. But after spending the last ten years doing his best to keep his fellow teammates alive in some of the deepest hellholes on earth, he had no interest in rescuing people for a living. Some of the things he’d had to do left deep guilt festering in his soul.

  Ruger’s ex-commander, Synn Romeo, was in a deep conversation with Cade. Soul-searching blue eyes settled on Ruger as Cade nodded at something Synn said. The big man stood up and made his way around the table. Cade didn’t stop until he sat in the chair next to Ruger.

  “We haven’t been formally introduced. Cade Miller,” Cade said with a nod.

  Ruger nodded back. “Ruger Black.”

  “Ruger, I consider myself a good judge of character, and I was intrigued when I saw you lurking in the background while partying with your friends last week. I later found out it was a bachelor party for Bishop Clark. After I had my computer expert check you out, my first inclination was to offer you a job joining my rescue team. But I can see that isn’t where your head is right now.”

  Cade sat back in his chair. That was good. Any sign of aggression from Cade toward Ruger would have had his ever-present knife or the gun sitting in the holster at the small of his back out in a flash. Ruger’s nerves never settled down anymore.

  “How bad are the nightmares?” Cade asked.

  “Bad enough,” Ruger answered, before taking a drink of beer. He pushed the flashing images of broken, bloody bodies and sand into the back of his mind.

  “What are your plans? Do you have a job lined up?” Cade asked.

  Ruger shifted his gaze off of the bottle and looked at Cade. “I think you know I don’t have a job lined up. I also think Synn is meddling.”

  “All right, I’ll get to the point. My company and I own hundreds of acres of land. Ninety percent of it is thick forest. Last year a tornado went through and wiped out a half-mile-wide strip through much of the woods. I’ve had professionals come in and log off the big stuff that was damaged to use for lumber and wood products, but they left a mess behind.”

  A small man walked over and planted his cute ass on Cade’s lap. Cade smiled and pulled the guy closer before turning back to Ruger.

  “The other day I was at the cafe discussing my concerns for the woods with Synn’s boss, Steve Titan. Synn heard us talking and recommended I talk to you. According to Synn, you grew up learning the forest from an expert. I understand you’ve also spent the last few years with your nose in every book available to learn more on the subject. Synn told me straight out, that you were the man for the job and he thought you were ready to settle down and make a home.” Cade’s intense gaze held Ruger’s. “I need someone who doesn’t mind being alone deep in the woods and works hard. I need someone who knows trees and how to keep them strong. Between cleaning up the tornado’s mess and thinning out trees for the forest’s health, I have enough for you to do year-around for the rest of your working days.”

  Anyone looking at Ruger wouldn’t have a clue t
hat adrenaline was wildly pumping through his system. All they would have seen was a dark, brooding man with a scar bisecting his right eyebrow.

  In his mind Ruger was remembering how, when he’d been a child, his father sent him to visit his grandfather in Minnesota during summer vacations. Ruger learned to love the forest and trees under his grandfather’s expert guiding hand. These last few years, he’d spent his downtime between missions learning everything he could about trees and conservation, land and forest management. It was one of the few things that brought him peace.

  “What are you going to do with all the wood?” Ruger asked.

  Cade hugged and smiled at the blond snuggled against his chest. “Bret here likes a warm house and burns a lot of wood in the fireplace.”

  “I’m not the only one,” Bret replied. “Everyone who works for you burns wood. It’s the only way to combat minus-forty-degree temperatures in the winter and to keep warm when storms knock the electricity out.”

  Cade’s gaze settled back on Ruger. “I’d say keeping everyone stocked with firewood will keep you busy. On the east end of the property, there is an old sugar shack. I would be open to you collecting sap in the spring and boiling it up into syrup.”

  Ruger’s stoic personality kept a smile from forming on his face. Inside he was grinning from ear to ear. For Ruger, this was a perfect opportunity. A gleam of steel hardening Cade’s blue eyes caught Ruger’s attention. He stilled every muscle and studied his potential future boss. Finally he asked, “What else?”

  “The land is posted. To some that doesn’t mean anything. It hasn’t happened on my land yet, but drug dealers have started sneaking deep into the woods and setting up marijuana plots. People also see the abundance of wildlife on the land and set traps to cash in on the fur trade.” Cade’s laugh was bitter. “Illegal hunting is a problem. Deer, elk, and bear tempt some to trespass and try their hand at shooting an animal, whether it’s during the day or at night.”