Rule Breaker

by Haven Rose

  Rule Breaker

  Taking the Leap, Book Nine

  Haven Rose

  Copyright © 2020 Rule Breaker by Haven Rose

  All rights reserved. Except as permitted by U.S. Copyright Act of 1976, no part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, or stored in a database or retrieval system, without prior permission of the author.

  The scanning, uploading, and distribution of this book via the Internet or via other means without the permission of the publisher is illegal and punishable by law. Please purchase only authorized electronic editions and do not participate in or encourage electronic piracy of copyrighted materials.

  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, establishments, or organizations, and incidents are either products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously to give a sense of authenticity. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental. This story is intended for mature audiences only.

  Cover by: Fanderclai Design

  Created with Vellum

  Contents

  Acknowledgments and Dedication

  Blurb

  Quote

  Prologue - Emerson

  1. Keller

  2. Emerson

  3. Keller

  4. Keller

  5. Keller

  6. Emerson

  7. Keller

  8. Keller

  9. Emerson

  10. Emerson

  11. Keller

  12. Emerson

  13. Emerson

  14. Emerson

  Epilogue One - Emerson

  Epilogue Two - Keller

  Stay Connected

  About the Author

  More by Haven Rose

  Acknowledgments and Dedication

  Brynn, thank you for not only creating this idea, but for letting me be a part of it.

  There are times when rules are meant to be broken, and this is one of them.

  As a veteran cop, Keller Charles is not only rough around the edges, but also jaded. He’s seen the bad in people, including his own father, and it taught him valuable lessons. In his opinion, work is synonymous with breathing, and his tactics don’t always translate well, nor do his morals. Which is why he’s training rookies, punishment for his reluctance to be a team player.

  Emerson Malone has a mind of her own and isn’t afraid to speak it…now. She refuses to be a trophy wife as her parents expect, preferring to forge her own path despite the repercussions. But she never counted on the obstacle that is Keller standing between her and a badge.

  The attraction is immediate, not to mention forbidden. She’s the untouchable princess, yet his caresses seem welcome, and he’s the grouch that won’t admit what she does to him.

  Together, they’ll break all the rules.

  Warning: This book features a grumpy man that will do anything for those he loves, and a woman with a heart of gold that no one has taken the time to cherish.

  “Sometimes you will never know the value of a moment until it becomes a memory.”

  Theodor Seuss Geisel

  Prologue - Emerson

  September 27th...

  “You’re going to be late if you don’t hurry,” my mother informs me, disappointment clear in her expression as I walk in the door. She doesn’t ask why or where I was, nor comment on the fact I’m dressed up, but instantly begins what she views as damage control. Sadly, I get this reaction from her a lot.

  It doesn’t matter that I graduated college today, and did so without any monetary help from them, though it’ll take me years to pay off the loans. Then again, neither my father or mother know this because they wouldn’t be proud, not that they ever are in regards to what I do as I’ve started to choose the opposite of what they want.

  Take my newly acquired associate’s degree in law enforcement for example. The day after I turned ten, I was enrolled in classes on how to be a lady. Yeah, you heard me. I was taught the proper way to sit, eat, drink, dress, talk, and so on. I hated every single freaking second of it, but I didn’t have a choice other than to obey.

  The thought process behind this schooling? To help me in my quest for a suitable husband when I became of age and to ensure I would be an asset to the man I selected. In reality, my mom had probably been preparing for that eventuality since learning they were having me and wondering how it would benefit them. They have not been subtle in introducing me to various eligible bachelors since I got older. First, I never pictured myself as the settling down type. Second, if I were to do so, it would be for someone that loves me, not because I could further their career. Third, their taste in men is not the same as mine.

  I’m not sure why they believe I’d be happy with anyone that not only defers to his parents or mine when decisions need to be made, but also appears scared of his own shadow. I’m not guessing on either of those. All the men they’ve paraded in front of me so far have those two things in common. As well as the fact they expect me to be a simpering nitwit who can’t speak for herself, is an idiot, and only cares about materialistic things.

  In essence, a carbon copy of Susan Malone, my mother. That may seem mean, but it’s a persona she has cultivated and she’s content living as the wife of Anthony Malone, local politician. There’s a part of me that’s always wondered if their marriage was arranged as I question sometimes if they even like each other. And they’ve not so casually mentioned how beneficial it can be, what the right person could do for my dad’s upcoming campaign, his career afterward, and blah blah blah.

  I’ve noticed they do the same with Edison, but not to the extent they do with me. From what I’ve overheard – hell yeah I eavesdropped – there’s nothing wrong with a man settling down when he’s older, it’s expected as it gives him time to play the field. But if a woman isn’t married by a certain age, it means there’s something wrong with her, and each birthday that passes without a husband lowers her value. Double standard much?

  That’s the thing, though. They’ve never seen my value, never acknowledged it. Never cared what I want to do with my own damn life. Then again, it’s not as if they’d approve of my decision nor understand my need to help others.

  Mom would simply suggest I donate to charities, that way I don’t get my hands “dirty,” and taking in interest in those less fortunate makes me, she means our family, look good. She’s a regular Mother Teresa, isn’t she?

  While there’s nothing wrong with giving money to make a difference, I prefer the hands-on approach by volunteering at numerous shelters – animals, the homeless, and battered women. I plan on continuing to do so, but I also want to do more, and helping at the latter led me to discovering the perfect way for me to do so.

  I want to be a cop, but I haven’t told anyone except Edison. Yes, he’s worried about my safety, that’s what siblings do, but he knows what it means to me and supports me.

  Hopefully that extends to more than just words because I have a feeling I’ll be sleeping in his guest room very soon.

  Chapter One

  Keller

  November 25th...

  “What’s wrong, son?” My dad asks when I stop by my parents’ house. Dexter is actually my stepdad, yet he’s so much more and has never viewed me as anything other than his since meeting us. My biological father is a piece of shit that abandoned my mom after manipulating her when she was young and vulnerable, thereby susceptible to believing the lies he told, the promises to help her escape her life. When she finally found him to tell him about me, he informed her that she’d been a bet, nothing more than a way to best his friends. The prize? Bragging rights. Whoever made their target fall in love the fastest accumulated a certain number of points, the level the “victim” than tried
to hold on to them gained them more. Carlton Howell had been tied for first place, and when my mom showed up, pregnant, he won. He had the nerve to thank her for helping him win by throwing a couple hundred at her and informing her it was to deal with her problem, then proceeded to threaten her if she even thought of putting his name on anything attached to “it.” Needless to say, she told him to go fuck himself and left, his money remaining behind as if it was tainted. And to her, it was.

  Understandably so, it took her a while to trust again, but Dexter Charles moved next door to us when I was five and set about not only capturing her heart, but mine, too. He showed me what it meant to truly be a man. Not only did he teach me how to ride a bike, mow a lawn, make repairs on the house, and to shave, but also how to treat a woman. And instead of using the circumstances of my birth and the impact my father’s behavior had on me as something to be ashamed of, he helped me see it as a learning experience. Basically, be the exact opposite of Carlton Howell.

  I listened to everything he said, made sure I didn’t take after the man that had a hand in creating me, but the one who raised me. He’s actually the reason I became a cop. My dad was a hero in my eyes from the moment he made my mom smile, and when I discovered he was one to people, complete strangers at that, because of his job, I knew what I wanted to do with my life.

  However, some don’t like my rigid stance on rules, nor that I refuse to look the other way when any are broken, and because of that, an infraction was created to make me appear less than trustworthy, earning me a permanent mark on my record and a “just punishment.”

  As if I’d do any fucking thing to mar my career, let alone my dad’s name. When he asked to adopt me, telling me he wanted me to be a Charles, too, I vowed then and there he’d never regret it. But the fucking mayor broke that promise, and it doesn’t matter that I’m not guilty of anything except for honoring the badge I wear. He can say whatever he wants and everyone will accept it because of who he is, and the fact he has many in his pocket who can make things difficult for my parents.

  I don’t give a fuck what he does to me, but when it impacts those I love? There will be hell to pay. Sure, I might be a little bitter where the rich are concerned considering my father comes from that crowd, and those who know what he did to my mom still, after thirty-five years, insist on treating her as if she’s trash despite her being the victim. However, those I’ve encountered personally and professionally have done nothing to change my opinion of them. They have a sense of entitlement, like the world merely exists because they allow it.

  This isn’t an issue exclusive to Clover Peak where I live, but it’s the city I care about because it’s mine. I took an oath to protect its citizens and I intend to do just that. I know they’re testing me, wanting to see how much I can take. Their option is pretty much one of the worst ways they can do it, and that’s why I’m currently pissed as I explain what happened to my dad.

  “So, to teach me a lesson, they’re forcing me to instruct the next round of students at the academy.” Dad lets out a low whistle, knowing how much I’ll loathe doing it. My dislike of having to be social is a well-known fact. It’s also quite ironic considering I chose a field that involves me dealing with the public. The difference is they require help in their time of need. That I can do. My parents are the only people I let my guard down around, the only two I can be myself with. Dad asks what courses I’m in charge of. “Firearms, self-defense, and first aid.” He nods, acknowledging that I do have the skills necessary for those, which is a plus as I wouldn’t put it past those assholes to intentionally set me up to fail.

  “Honestly,” my mom chimes in, having come home as I was explaining the situation, “I think it’ll be good for you.”

  I turn and stare at her in abject horror, whispering, “Traitor,” to which she laughs.

  “Sweetheart, I know the idea of doing this probably tempts you to run to the mountains in a self-imposed exile, but the world needs more people like you in order to make it a better place.” She stops, giving me a minute to digest that, then continues, “And you can do that by showing the next generation of officers the correct way to uphold the law, to protect those who trust them with their safety, not the little pissants like he who shall remain nameless and his cronies that get away with their bullshit.”

  Another thing my dad did? Gave Cora Nash Charles confidence to be who she was always meant to be, to speak her mind, and to stand up for herself. There are those who might feel she poisoned me against my father, but I disagree. He did that all by himself, she only told me the truth, and the rest I filled in on my own from observing and reading between the lines.

  If he even thinks about the two of us, perhaps it amuses him, recalling the meek girl he used, but there are no traces of her left in the woman my mom became. She is a force to be reckoned with. What he did might have caused a few cracks, but it did not break her. Truth be told, it made her stronger.

  I learned from her example, and later Dexter’s when he came into our lives. They both shaped me into the man that I am. The part that prefers to remain separate, ensuring I don’t make any connections, that doesn’t trust, that refuses to feel?

  The blame for that rests solely on Carlton Howell. And I’m not ashamed to admit anyone that associates with him, runs in the same circles, views their name and/or money as giving them the right to treat others as less than, gets lumped in with his crimes, literally and figuratively.

  And one of these days, I’ll have the proof I need to take those bastards down.

  Chapter Two

  Emerson

  November 29th…

  “We survived Thanksgiving,” I mutter to my brother as we put away the groceries. I’ve been living with him since telling our parents what I intend to do with my life. After bemoaning the fact I was ruining their plans and I need to stop being selfish and think about what they want, they kicked me out. That’s not to say I wasn’t still invited to dinner or for holidays, gotta keep up appearances and all. Of course, they once more attempted to set me up with a man of their choosing, and let it be known he was willing to forgive my indiscretions. I interpreted that as daring to have a brain and use it.

  Despite being ten years apart, Edison and I are very close and always have been. He went on to follow our parents’ dream for him by becoming a lawyer, and I often wonder if I’m the only one that can see, that cares, how miserable he is.

  He’s always been the golden boy in their eyes, whereas I was viewed as a commodity that could be bartered with. And while I could be upset he’s treated better by them than I am, I don’t. Edison is just as caught in the web of their making as I am. I’ve noticed a change in him lately, though, and I have a feeling our parents will be forced to see the real him very soon. He’s getting close to showing it and I can’t wait. I’ll be right next to him, cheering him on and offering my support. They made it us against them.

  “That’s because we left early to serve meals at the shelter,” he states, and I rub my arm at the reminder of mom’s reaction to that news when we’d told them before the guests arrived. Her nails dug in to my skin with enough force to leave bruises, a brutal show of the consequences of disrupting her wishes, not bowing to her command.

  “You have a point there,” I admit, knowing he’s more than likely right. Yet she found a way to make it all about her and dad by spinning it, announcing to the table that her children couldn’t stay as we’d agreed to help the misfortunate by giving of our valuable time. You get where this is going.

  It isn’t the first time I’ve suffered her wrath, though she always does so to where Edison can’t see, knowing I won’t tell him either. She’s a classic abuser, striking in private, making sure any visible repercussions could be covered. I know her treatment of me is wrong, but breaking the cycle, especially when you’ve been taught to honor and love the person doing it, is hard. There’s a piece of me that hopes there will come a time when she changes, and accepting the unlikelihood of that happening is a slow pr
ocess. Perhaps I worry once I do, I’ll know there is no going back. When you’re beaten down emotionally, physically, and verbally on a consistent basis, the ability to see your self-worth is blurred. My brother is the only one in my life I know truly loves me and I him.

  I used to seek it from others, hoping to find the man meant to be mine, that’d see Emerson the woman when they looked at me as opposed to what I could do for them or a means to an end to get close to my dad. But having to always second guess the motives of any that appeared interested in me was exhausting, and their true motives were always revealed. Eventually, I stopped trying, figuring it wasn’t in the cards for me.

  I’m fully aware of the ramifications of her actions and my behavior and how it can parallel that of the women I help at the shelter, though their situations are direr. Seeing what they’ve endured, how some have literally had to fight for their lives, and perhaps that of their children? What I deal with in no way compares. Any pain I’ve experienced is paltry, temporary. And while I may not take advantage of the options available to me, I do have them. More often than not, that isn’t the case for a lot of those who suffer. To complain about my issue would demean their struggles, and I refuse to do that.