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  “Tough Love”

  M/M Gay Romance

  David Horne

  © 2021

  David Horne

  All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other non-commercial uses permitted by copyright law.

  This book is intended for Adults (ages 18+) only. The contents may be offensive to some readers. It may contain graphic language, explicit sexual content, and adult situations. May contain scenes of unprotected sex. Please do not read this book if you are offended by content as mentioned above or if you are under the age of 18.

  Please educate yourself on safe sex practices before making potentially life-changing decisions about sex in real life. If you’re not sure where to start, see here: http://www.jerrycoleauthor.com/safe-sex-resources/ (courtesy of Jerry Cole).

  This story is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events and incidents are the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental. Products or brand names mentioned are trademarks of their respective holders or companies. The cover uses licensed images and are shown for illustrative purposes only. Any person(s) that may be depicted on the cover are simply models.

  Edition v1.00 (2021.01.25)

  http://www.DavidHorneauthor.com

  Special thanks to the following volunteer readers who helped with proofreading: Bob, RB, Blue Savannah, Big Kidd and those who assisted but wished to be anonymous. Thank you so much for your support.

  Table of Contents

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter One

  “Come on, Mark!” Stevie slumped in the passenger seat, arms folded with a scowl. “You can’t keep giving me the silent treatment. You’ve been doing it since we left the school.”

  Mark’s hands tightened on the wheel.

  “I’m not giving you the silent treatment, Stevie.” That was partly true. “I’m just trying not to get too angry. I don’t want to say something I’m going to regret.”

  “It’s not my fault! They threw the first punch! I was only defending myself.”

  “I get that, Stevie, but the fact is, you said you wouldn’t get into any more fights…”

  Stevie snorted rudely, brushing his blond hair out of his eyes.

  “Can I help it if they keep coming to me looking for problems? I was minding my own business at lunch when they jumped me!”

  Mark knew that, but he was still angry. Stevie had promised him the week before, after the fifth time that semester when Mark had been called in to take Stevie home because he had been suspended again. It was only after the second time that Mark managed to get the bullies themselves suspended, as it only seemed to be Stevie being targeted. It was like teachers and students didn’t care about him.

  Mark hated it when people lumped the kids of bad people in with the ones responsible. It was not fair to the children. They were just as innocent; Mark had seen it too many times. And it still made him sick to know it was still happening.

  Stevie was only thirteen, his sister ten. They had only been ten and seven when their father was arrested as a serial killer. Now everyone looked at Stevie and Christy thinking they were complicit in all of it. Mark didn’t think he would be able to get anyone to change their minds anytime soon.

  It was unfair and Stevie was getting the brunt of it right now. Teenagers were just the worst.

  “I hate school.” Stevie grumbled. “I get blamed for everything.”

  “I’m not blaming you.”

  “Sounds like you are.”

  Mark took a deep breath and let it out slowly. The news from the principal about one of the kids had spooked him.

  “I’m just scared, Stevie. One of the kids who jumped you, he was carrying a knife.”

  If the track coach hadn’t come upon them then, chances were that kid would have used the knife. That sent shivers down Mark’s spine. And the bastard principal didn’t want to call the cops until Mark threatened to report him to the school board and stood over him while he made the call. It was almost like the guy didn’t want the kids to be caught.

  Who would turn a blind eye to that? That school was more of a screw-up than Mark realized. He had only kept Stevie and Christy at places they were familiar with, not wanting to change schools. Now he was beginning to regret it.

  Mark knew he was taking on a lot when he agreed to foster the brother and sister pair. Christy had been incredibly withdrawn and didn’t speak for nearly six weeks, and Stevie had been sullen and combative. It had taken a lot of patience and time to get them to trust him. Now Christy all but followed him around and Stevie was far less sullen. He had stopped throwing his fists around when he got angry, which was something. But at thirteen, he was going to be a bit of a terror for a while anyway.

  They were good kids, and they didn’t deserve it. Why did kids think it was okay to go after a child because of what their parents did? Mark would never understand the mentality of some people.

  As far as he was concerned, that school could use one.

  Stevie was staring out the window. He was still scowling, but there was a flicker. He was acknowledging that something worse could have happened. For all of his bravado, he was still a kid. And he didn’t need to have such bravado.

  Mark sighed.

  “I know you hate school, but you do need to get an education. Look, there’s another middle school close by attached to the high school. I know the principal and a few of the teachers. They’re good people. I can see about getting you in there, if you like.”

  “I don’t know.” Stevie narrowed his eyes at Mark. “Why should I go there?”

  “It’s my old school. I like to think I turned out okay from there.”

  “No comment.”

  Mark turned the car into their street. “Seriously, I’ll let you think about it for the weekend. If you want to move schools, just let me know and I’ll get it sorted. You shouldn’t be targeted because of what your parents did.”

  Stevie snorted.

  “No shit.”

  “Language.”

  “Compared to what my parents said, that’s nothing.” Stevie shook his head. “Why are kids so cruel?”

  “I’ve never quite figured that out, and I work with them.”

  Mark had been in his job for several years, and he still had no idea why some children behaved the way they did. Some of them had bad parents and an awful upbringing, so it was barely a surprise that they had some issues, but then there were those who had a great upbringing but ended up being awful shits anyway. Mark struggled with why a kid who had almost everything going for them would screw it up by becoming a future Michael Myers.

  And he had come face to face with someone who said they were Michael Myers’ protege. A good kid, barely ten and did well at school with loving parents, who had been watching horror movies in secret when his parents were asleep. They filled his head until he threatened his older sister with a knife. Mark hadn’t been able to watch ‘Halloween’ after that.

  Mark pulled his car into the drive of his house. He hadn’t planned on leaving work early to deal with a suspension, but his boss understood. Being a foster parent was always going to be tough, but Mark liked to think his work helped h
im know what children wanted. He wanted to give back what he could. From the look of it, Stevie and Christy were doing well enough.

  At least, they hadn’t died yet.

  His cell phone started ringing in the handheld console. It was work. Sighing, Mark brought out his house keys and handed them to Stevie.

  “I’ve got to take this so you go on inside. And you’re not getting on the game system.”

  “Mark…” Stevie protested.

  “You were suspended, and that video game is not a punishment device.”

  “Depends on what I’m playing.” Stevie muttered as he climbed out.

  Mark rolled his eyes and answered his phone. He would deal with that later. Right now, his boss needed him.

  “Hey, Kat.”

  “Hey. How’s Stevie doing? Is he okay?”

  “He’ll live. Kids at that school are just horrible.” Mark didn’t mention the knife. He didn’t want to be left cold over that again. “Doesn’t help they all know what happened to his parents.”

  Knowing that his father was a serial killer and his mother had been complicit in getting the victims for him was bad enough. Having other kids reminding him and beating the crap out of him because they consider him a loser just made things worse.

  At least Kat understood. She was a foster parent herself, and she threw her heart and soul into protecting all those kids. She was a Mama Bear of the highest order.

  “You need anything, Mark, you let me know. I’m sure I can swing a few things.”

  “I’ve got it covered for now, but I’ll keep it in mind.” Mark fought back a yawn. God, he was worn out. “What’s up?”

  “The Swarbrick-Banfield case has just had its first hearing. Judge Harvey called me a short while ago with information about Ms. Banfield’s family.”

  For a moment, Mark couldn’t remember. Then it came to him. Joe Swarbrick was going for an initial custody hearing because his ex-wife Tracey Banfield suddenly decided she wanted her kids after abandoning them. Mark couldn’t count how many times he had been to Joe’s place and the claims of abuse and neglect were false. Tracey was out for blood. Her attitude had deteriorated over the last couple of years, and Mark was beginning to suspect drug abuse. It didn’t fit well.

  “I take it her brother Lucas came up in the hearing. Regarding his current status?”

  “Yeah, it did.” Kat sounded grim. “Judge Harvey was vaguely aware of Lucas Banfield’s status as a child molester on parole, but he was shocked when Swarbrick said his ex-wife had been bringing her children to see her brother. Did you know about that?”

  Mark blinked.

  “No. I didn’t. Joe told me about his suspicions, and I spoke to Ms. Banfield, but she said that she wouldn’t do that to her kids. She was actually doing it?”

  “Yep. You didn’t follow it up?”

  “I tried, but the family wouldn’t let me into the house to do an assessment, and I couldn’t get an appointment with any of them.” Mark felt like Kat was laying him down for twenty lashes. “I said that I could come back with a sheriff’s deputy in the next couple of days if they wouldn’t comply. This was actually admitted in court?”

  “Sure was. Judge Harvey is still stunned that it was readily admitted to him.” Kat’s tone hardened. “I want you to class this as a high priority, Mark.”

  Mark couldn’t believe what he was hearing. He knew about the conviction but in spite of the fact he hadn’t been able to get an appointment to sit down with Lucas Banfield or his mother Denise, he had been assured that Banfield wasn’t anywhere near Lily and James Swarbrick. He had been lied to, and now Mark felt sick. And angry. He always followed things up. Why not now?

  “How does she think admitting something like that in court is going to make things okay?”

  “She wasn’t about to lie to a judge, Mark. She can lie to us, but not them.”

  “Even so, Tracey Banfield has been behaving very erratically lately. I wouldn’t be surprised if she’s as crazy as her mother about the conviction.”

  Mark had seen the paperwork and it made him cold. Lucas Banfield had been married with his own children when he was arrested. Now his ex-wife and three daughters were in another state, having completely vanished. CPS had managed to get word that they were okay and safe, and his colleagues had made a promise not to pass anything on. So far, they had kept their word. Those daughters were all in high school now, and they hadn’t seen their dad since they were toddlers. In Mark’s opinion, he had been let out way too early. Even with parole, he was dangerous.

  “There was physical proof, testimony and witness statements about his actions.” Mark rubbed a hand over his face. He was starting to get a headache. “What’s there to ignore?”

  “You can’t get into minds like that, Mark.” Kat sighed. “But seeing as you’re the one on that shitload, I thought I’d let you know now instead of coming into the office. You’re going to need to head over to his parole officer. Chances are he has no idea.”

  “Why don’t you call him? The offices are right next door.”

  Mark was sure there was a grin on Kat’s face as she answered.

  “Because there’s a particular chocolate hunk who’s Banfield’s PO, and I thought you might like to...have a chance to interact with him again.”

  Mark groaned.

  “I should never be around you when I’m getting drunk.”

  Kat laughed.

  “Well, you might as well go and look at some eye-candy. And come out red in the face, as always.”

  “Why don’t you go? You drool over him as well.”

  “Because my husband wouldn’t be too impressed. And I don’t think Jack would prefer seeing me over you.”

  She hung up. Mark ended the call at his side and shifted in his seat. Damn, every mention of parole officer Jack McGuire made him as hard as a rock, and Kat knew it. Mark had thought his crush on the guy who worked out of the building next door to the CPS offices wasn’t well-known. Jack certainly didn’t know, and he was a very observant man. But Kat had seen it, and now Mark had to deal with his supervisor giving him a wink and waggled eyebrows whenever he and Jack were in the same place.

  He would be the one who was keeping an eye on Banfield. Just his luck. Mark had been aware that Banfield had a parole officer, but one of his colleagues had gone to speak to Jack. If Mark had known, he would have made the effort.

  ***

  “This is not fucking fair!” The fair-haired man shot to his feet and kicked his chair, knocking it over enough to spin before landing again. “Fuck!”

  Jack sighed. He was used to the tantrums when a convict was discovered to be breaking the rules, but it didn’t make things any easier. It always gave him a headache.

  “Richards, you need to stop shouting and swearing. It’s not going to help you.”

  “Screw you, McGuire.” Richards snarled. He began pacing, throwing his hands everywhere. “Why can’t I see my children? They’re my kids!”

  “There is a permanent restraining order against you for them and the rest of your family. Also, you know the conditions of your parole. No attempt to contact them at all.”

  That was something else that sadly came with parolees looking to enter society again if they could follow the rules. The majority of families, usually former spouses and children, would ask for restraining orders as they were in fear of their lives from someone they once loved. In Max Richards’ case, it was very justified; he had been a violent man and almost beat his wife to a pulp because she stayed out with the children longer than she said she would be out. They were better far away from Richards, and Jack wasn’t about to change that.

  “I’m not going to hurt my kids!” Richard was still shouting. “I love them!”

  Jack took a moment to gather himself. God, why did domestic abusers always get to him?

  “It’s on record that you physically abused all of your children, not to mention the fact they witnessed you almost kill your ex-wife. You were a threat to their safety.�
�

  “I never…”

  “When you were put on parole, far too early, in my opinion, you agreed to all of these conditions for your parole to happen. And you know what happens if you mess up.”

  How was it men and women on parole had no idea if they didn’t follow their conditions they would be back in jail? It was like they didn’t think it would actually happen. In Jack’s case, it definitely would.

  Richards growled and kicked the fallen chair, sending it across the room.

  “What’s to stop me seeing them after my parole’s up?” He demanded, turning to Jack with a slight smirk. “What’s to stop me from seeing my family? Nothing.”

  Jack rose to his feet. That was when Richards faltered. They were close to the same age and both pretty fit. However, Richards was just brushing six feet. Jack was six feet and easily towered over everyone else. Anyone was about to falter when they saw his long, broad body unfolding itself from his chair. It was why Jack barely stood when he was with a parolee unless he absolutely had to; he liked to intimidate if possible. No convict was going to get one over on him.

  “How about the permanent RO they have against you?” Jack folded his arms. “You’ll be back in jail so fast your head will be spinning. After your experience in jail previously, you don’t want to go back, do you?”

  “Fuck, no!”

  “Well, you will.”

  It took a moment for Richards to realize what he had said. His eyes widened.

  “But...I never got near them!”

  “But you attempted to contact them with a letter to your former in-law’s house. You can’t do that, and you said you understood.”

  “Not even a letter?”

  “Not even that, and I’ve read what was in the letter. It’s a good thing it didn’t get sent.” Jack was chilled that he had read the letter. It was not something a father would send to his kids. It was certainly not loving. “As far as they’re concerned, you don’t exist. You violated your parole, so you’re going back to jail.”