Unbreakable: The Diamonds, #1

By Tee Smith

As an only child, raised by two loving parents, it wasn't difficult for Erin to make the decision to return to Rosewood Bay to care for her sick mother. Made easier when combined with leaving her loveless marriage. She hadn't intended to fall in love, but no one plans for these things. The fact he was tall, dark, handsome, mysterious and completely different to her ex, only served to sweeten the deal. Maybe a "bad boy" was just what she needed in her life.

 

Curtis "Ripper" Bandura has spent his life running from his demons. When he meets the sexy red-haired nurse, he knows she is too good to be true. He's not the kind to find a girl and settle down. Everything falls apart sooner or later. For now, he's prepared to bask in the sun for a while.

Unfortunately, trouble has a way of following him around and it's not long before that trouble threatens to destroy all his hopes and dreams. There is only so long he can hide his past from the woman he loves, and he knows it will be enough to destroy them both.

 

When their two worlds collide, Ripper's dark past threatens to tear both their worlds apart. Can the truth save them both or is it too late?

 

 

• Language: English
• Publisher: Tee Smith
• Release date: Jul 6, 2021
• ISBN: 9798201016234

Book preview

Chapter One

Sir, I need you to fill out this paperwork.

Fill your own paperwork; I need to see the nurse.

Have you been here before? I need to check your records.

For fucks sake, can’t you see I’m bleeding here? I need to see a nurse.

But, Sir . . .

Is everything okay in here? Erin asked, hearing the commotion in the reception area. Behind the counter was an obviously distressed man. The rag held to his left shoulder was red with blood. His eyes wide as he took her in.

Are you the nurse? he asked.

I am; what’s up?

I’m bleeding. I need stitching.

I can see that, she admitted moving around the counter to take a closer look. Come into the treatment room and let me see what we’re dealing with.

He needs to fill in the paperwork, Ashley rolled her eyes and held the clipboard out over the barrier.

Give it to me. I’ll sort it. Erin took the clipboard from the receptionist and ushered the man into the treatment room.

I’m Erin. What’s your name? she asked, taking a moment to assess him from head to toe. He was tall and handsome with warm coloured skin, short, shaggy dark hair, and brown eyes. He looked around her age, but she had never been great with guessing people’s ages.

Ripper, the man ground out.

Ripper? she raised a brow. Is that your first or last name?

Just Ripper.

Okay, Mr. Ripper. We will need your details before you leave, but right now, can I take a look at your wound? She slipped on a pair of gloves and carefully peeled the rag away from Ripper’s shoulder. Can you take this off? Or can I cut it? she asked, tugging on his shirt.

Wincing, he unbuttoned and slipped the shirt over his shoulder, revealing a five-inch gash extending from the tip of his shoulder toward his chest. It was immediately apparent to Erin that he indeed needed stitches and possibly more.

I think this might need looking at by the doctor, she advised, leaning in closer to gain a better look. You might need to pop over to the hospital and have it assessed by plastics. I can call ahead for you if you like, so you won’t have to wait for hours.

Just stitch it, Ripper snapped.

It will leave a scar.

Ripper laughed a dry, humourless laugh. What’s a few more scars, darlin’?

It’s pretty deep. You’re going to need some antibiotics and a tetanus shot. Who cut you?

Does it matter?

No, she sighed. It doesn’t matter, and it’s none of my business. I’m just concerned what you might have been exposed to is all, she tried to explain.

Can you fix me or not? Ripper’s eyes bore into hers.

Yeah. It’s going to hurt, though. I need to clean it up before I start, then I’m going to give you some local anaesthetic to numb the area so I can stitch it.

No drugs. He shook his head from side to side.

It’s just a local, she explained. It will go just under the skin and numb the area, so you won’t feel the stitches going in. It will give you a bit of pain relief to the area, but only for a little while until it wears off.

I said, no drugs.

She raised an eyebrow in surprise. He didn’t look like the sort to be scared of needles.

It won’t hurt as much with the drugs as it will without.

No drugs, he repeated.

Okay.

Squeezing the plastic bottle, Ripper let out a hiss as she poured saline directly into the open wound before wiping away the bloody mess with a wad of gauze. As she worked, she scanned the tattoos she could see trailing down his arm and chest, looking for gang insignia. Rosewood Bay was home to two well-known street gangs, the Rats and the Hawks. Each said they stayed out of the other’s way, but the time she had spent patching them up after their scuffles told her otherwise.

Friendly fire, her da called it. Just what boys do. It hadn’t always been that way; in the early days, the Hawks had run the streets, they’d had no competition. It had only been during her teenage years; she remembered the rise of the Rats—a much-younger group of boys, street kids, mostly involved in petty street crimes.

This is going to hurt, she said, catching Ripper’s eye. You can change your mind about the local if you want.

Just do it, he said stoically. If he was trying to impress her, it wasn’t working.

He sucked in a deep breath and stared at a spot just over her shoulder while stitch after stitch pulled the wound edges together. Within a few minutes, she was applying a clean dressing.

You need to keep this clean. Pop back in next week to have the stitches removed. Take it easy. Don’t do anything too strenuous. If it starts hurting more or becomes red or filled with pus, you will need to see a doctor. I’d recommend you see a doctor anyway.

It will be fine. Thank you, Nurse Erin. He offered her a crooked half-smile that she couldn’t help reciprocating. He had a magnetism about him that she couldn’t quite explain.

You’re very welcome. Now, if you could please fill in the paperwork before you go, otherwise I’ll get in trouble. I can help you with it if you like? She was always mindful that people who refused to complete paperwork might be illiterate, especially in the little Rosewood Bay Clinic. It operated as a drop-in clinic owned by the city council. It was run by nurses and frequented by visiting doctors, mostly young, altruistic types hell-bent on saving the world. After a brief time, they usually left jaded, on to greener pastures, looking for more of the clientele they were used to. The bay had an upper crust, like most places, but it also had a seedy side. Most locals knew the streets were not a place to be after dark.

We wouldn’t want you getting in trouble now, would we, darlin’? Ripper offered her a full smile this time, his brown eyes flickering a twinge of yellow as he took the clipboard from her hand.

She busied herself cleaning her mess while he attended to the requirements.

Do you need any pain relief to take home with you? she asked.

No. No drugs, he said again. Here. He handed her the clipboard, his hand brushing briefly against hers, causing her skin to tingle. A long moment passed between them before she shook herself out of his mesmerizing spell.

Okay. You take care then. She looked down at his paperwork. Mr. Bandura.

As he walked away, she caught herself staring. What was it about this guy? The sliding doors opened, and a Staffordshire bull-terrier dog ran to his side.

Erin. Her coordinator’s voice drew her attention back to the present. My office. Now!

Rolling her eyes, she dutifully followed the older woman into her office.

Sit, the woman said dryly, pointing to the seat on the opposite side of her desk. Erin did as she was told, looking around at the posters plastered over the old building walls. It could do with a paint, she thought. Ashley told me what happened just now. You know the procedures. You have been here long enough. Every patient needs to complete the paperwork before we see them.

The man was in pain. He needed patching up. He’s done the paperwork now.

She held her hand out in demand, and Erin passed the woman the clipboard, which included Ripper’s information and Erin’s notes. The woman scanned the pages while Erin picked at a loose thread on the edge of her top. She hated the cheap, mint-coloured scrubs the clinics made her wear. She’d already had to re-sew the hems on most of them.

You need to report this, she said eventually, looking up and catching Erin’s eye.

Pardon?

It’s a stabbing. If anyone presents with a stab wound, you need to report it to the police.

Well, technically, she squirmed, suddenly uncomfortable with where the conversation was heading, He . . . the patient didn’t say he was stabbed.

But he was?

It certainly looked like a knife wound, to me, yes. I told him he needed to go to the hospital. Suggested he might need plastics to look at it, but he refused.

Then you need to report it.

But . . .

Don’t argue with me. We want to keep our funding, and as such, you need to abide by the protocols and rules. Do you understand me?

We also have a duty to protect our patient’s privacy. We don’t know what happened. I asked, and he chose not to disclose.

Barbara rolled her eyes and shook her head. You need to start toeing the line, Erin. A program such as this only works if everyone works together and does the right thing.

I understand, but we have a duty not to go against our patient’s rights.

Hence everyone needs to provide their details on arrival. It says so, right there in the terms and conditions that we reserve the right to report incidents to the police if we have any concerns. Barbara pointed to the fine print on the back of the intake form.

No one reads that, you know?

Then it’s your job to make sure they do and that they understand it.

I thought it was my job to take care of patients in a timely manner and educate them about health matters. She regurgitated the spiel Barbara usually gave her nursing staff.

Barbara wagged a crooked finger in the air. You are walking a very thin line, Nurse Erin.

Are we done? Erin asked, rising to her feet. She was finished, even if her coordinator wasn’t. She understood alright. But she wasn’t happy about it.

For now, Barbara fumed.

Erin took her exit, ignoring Ashley on her way back to the treatment room. It was lucky she loved her job so much because sometimes the people she worked with did her head in.

Chapter Two

Reaching for the bottle beside his bed, Ripper took a deep swig. He should have accepted the painkillers the sexy nurse had offered him.

Ah, Nurse Erin, he sighed. Zeus snorted at his side, and his wet tongue reached out and licked his arm. He dropped his hand to the dog’s head and scuffed it. It’s alright, boy. You did good.

His mind wandered to his dog’s distress earlier in the day. The whole situation was stupid, and it shouldn’t have happened. He’d thought he’d been punched. It was quick. So quick. A flash of silver. A hit and the mongrel had taken off into the street before he realised he was bleeding. The kid he’d helped had taken one look and high-tailed it as well. So much for trying to help. Jeez, he should know better by now.

Ripper! The pounding on his door had him groaning as he rose from his bed.

Don, he acknowledged, opening the door and allowing his boss to enter.

Shit, what happened to you?

Maybe you should ask that little shit, Brodie, about that.

Well, that’s why I’m here. I’ve just had a call from Johnny. Apparently, Brodie turned up, panting like a dog. Your name on his lips. What the fuck, Ripper? What are you doing getting involved in shit that has nothing to do with you? Brodie got rolled. Johnny’s furious. We run a tight ship. We don’t need this . . . he waved his hands toward the dressing on Ripper’s bare chest.

Well, maybe you should be telling Johnny that, not me. He shouldn’t be sending a fuckin’ ten-year-old to do his dirty work.

Brodie’s sixteen, and Johnny’s nephew, Rip, Don corrected.

Whatever age he is, he’s a fuckin’ kid, Don. Too young to be on the streets, doing jobs for Johnny.

Do I need to remind you where you were at fifteen?

At least I wasn’t on the streets, he barked back.

Don laughed. No. That you weren’t. You were too busy being someone’s little bitch.

Fuck you, Ripper spat. Then, taking a swig of his bottle, he slammed it down hard on his small table. A splash of the clear liquid spouted from the neck and split on the table. The noise causing Zeus to snort in disgust.

Who is it then? Don asked. His demeanor calm and collected.

Who’s what? Ripper’s hand went to his wound that seemed to throb as a reminder of why Don was there.

Who did this? Who’s causing trouble?

Ripper flopped back on his bed. Do you think if I knew, they be walking around right now? The Hawks had run the streets of Rosewood Bay for several generations. Don had been involved with them when he was young. They had never had any competition until recently, and they were none too happy about it. The problem was; it was making the streets a dangerous place for everyone else. A lot of fighting over territory. Each thought they had more rights than the other. Typical macho shit. Shit that Ripper knew only too well and was happy to step away from. Only it seemed to keep following him around.

Are you alright? Don asked finally, nodding to his shoulder.

Just a little cut. Nothin’ a little Patron won’t fix. Nurse reckons I need to take it easy a few days, and I should be right.

Hope you didn’t squeal.

Ripper glared at the older man until he nodded in acceptance. He should have known better than to ask. Ripper would be the last person to squeal, and he was offended that Don would even suggest it.

Right, Don conceded. Get better then. He walked toward the door, turning back when he reached it. Just try to stay out of trouble. I need you.

Ripper knew he did. He had been working for Don for five years. He knew the business inside and out, and most importantly, he knew how to keep his mouth shut. If prison had taught him anything, it was that. When he’d been released, he’d headed straight to Rosewood. One of the boys knew someone who knew someone. That turned out to be Johnny, who had quickly put him in touch with Don. Don had given him room and board in his workshop in exchange for some motor work. Ripper had picked up a few skills in prison, ones that were now useful, many he had learned since.

What he hadn’t learned were street smarts. He’d had Jay for that. These days though, Jay was playing daddy to his little girl. Her mother had died a few months earlier from a drug overdose, and it had been time for Jay to step up. Since then, Ripper mainly had kept to himself. Tried to keep himself out of trouble, as Don would say. It wasn’t his fault trouble seemed to follow him around.

Chapter Three

Da, are you sure you don’t want me to organise someone for you to talk to? Erin asked. She had arrived home to find her dad glued to the television, a half-full bottle of scotch in his hand. Knowing him, it was probably his second for the evening.

I don’t need a shrink. I got you, he slurred.

She knew she couldn’t speak to him in that state. Every night, he arrived home from work around four and started drinking. She didn’t know how he had managed to keep his job down on the wharf. Clearly, they didn’t do any alcohol testing.

I know, Da, she soothed.

He turned back to the TV and laughed at a mediocre joke. It had been a long time since she had heard any real humour behind her dad’s laughter. Once upon a time, he had been the life of the party.

You should do something. Go out. Maybe we could go out together one night? I’m not working on Tuesday or Wednesday, what do you reckon?

Nah, he said without even taking a moment to consider it.

It’s been almost twelve months, Da.

The old man switched the television off and turned to face her. When do you think I should get over losing the love of my life then, huh? Should I wake up next Tuesday and think, ‘right, it’s time to get back on the horse?’ Or maybe you think I’ll go talk to a psychologist, and he will have the magic cure. Maybe I need a pill? Will it make me forget your mother, do you think?

His words hit her like a punch in the face. No, Da. None of those things. I just think . . .

Well, maybe you should keep your thoughts to yourself, he snapped.

I miss her too, she retorted, a lump forming in the back of her throat. She was my mum.

Robert Murphy took a deep breath and let it out slowly. I’m sorry, he finally admitted. I’m just not ready yet.

Erin reached out and rested a hand on her father’s knee. His much larger one dropped down over hers.

I understand. I’m sorry for pushing you. I just worry about you.

Her dad looked up, a fine mist of tears causing a sheen over his eyes. How did I get so lucky to have you as a daughter?

I’m the lucky one, Erin said, and she meant it.

Robert Murphy was a special man. Her dear mum, Renee, had been special too. Irreplaceable, smart, beautiful, and talented. The world was a sadder, emptier place without her. Not so long ago, her beautiful voice would fill the house. She was always singing; it was her passion. Erin had often thought she could make it as a professional singer, get a recording deal, but Renee had been happy enough crooning to her local audience in the bar she had met Robert all those years ago.

A simple life is a happy life, she’d say, besides, I have everything I could ever want, right here, a beautiful home in the bay, a kind, generous, loving man, and a beautiful daughter. My heart is full. I couldn’t wish for more.

She had never longed to return to her motherland, Ireland. Never expressed any desire to take Erin home to meet her extended family. Erin didn’t know if there was bad blood, or if her mother just simply fell in love with Australia, as