Fire and Rain

By Tiana Laveen

Revving engines and burning desires ignite when Aries' life is turned upside down by an unexpected windfall and chance at love.

Aries 'Flame' Creed is not the kind of man you want to cross. He's rough around the edges, shrewd and nobody's pushover. The rugged single father and motorcycle shop owner never expected his estranged father's inheritance to upend his life.

 

Enter Lauren McKinley, bookstore owner with a passion for vintage cars and dirty books. Widowed and definitely not looking, she's convinced herself that she's content, and doing her best to look on the bright side of life. That is, until her business is jeopardized by a devil with haunting amber eyes, more ink on his body than on a world map, and a seasoned professional in the art of intimidation.

 

Sparks fly when their worlds collide, but as enemies turn to lovers, they must confront their pasts to find a future together. Dive into this sizzling tale of redemption and romance set in Atlanta, GA.

 

From USA Today bestselling author Tiana Laveen comes a fated mates, opposites attract, romance packed with grit, mystery, and passion. "Fire and Rain" is a standalone novel with a HEA (Happily-ever-after). This book includes mature themes and content that may not be suitable for all audiences; reader discretion is advised. Please look inside under the 'Trigger Warnings' for possible topics that may be deemed personally objectionable.
 

• Language: English
• Publisher: Tiana Laveen
• Release date: Feb 9, 2024
• ISBN: 9798224579495

Book preview

Love Letter to my Readers

Image No. 57

The world is constantly changing. And so are we. This is unavoidable. When you are part of a machine, even if you remain perfectly still, you will be forever altered by the various moving parts, the sounds within and outside your immediate environment. As the saying goes, ‘No man is an island.’ We must evolve, even if it is at a snail’s pace. We must adapt, because adaptation is a key component of survival.

Evolution. What does it mean? Growth. Watching more what we say and do… Becoming wiser, learning from our mistakes. Perhaps thinking long and hard about why we behave in the manner that we do? Something we desperately desired ten years ago, oftentimes, isn’t what we wish for today. I wrote this story during a time when tomorrow was threatened, yesterday was soaked in hopefulness, and today was pleading to come. The entire planet was gasping for breath. I am writing this in past tense because I pray that evolution will continue to occur – that we will all have another day, and then another, to make choices, to laugh, to grow.

I have no idea when you are reading this novel. It could be in the year it was written or 100 years later, but I will say this: The current condition of mother nature and humanity has bred contempt, vileness, anxiety and depression. It has also birthed togetherness, appreciation, love, clemency, awakening, truth, creativity, resourcefulness and determination. I have pulled from this time in the world, and decided to focus on stories I desperately wish to tell and that I know many would like to hear. But I’m also doing it so my cherished readers, who I absolutely adore, get to exhale.

Books are medicine. They are prescriptions that help us feel a bit better, teach us a thing or two, make us smile, laugh, feel something in a whole new way. You take one or two as needed, perhaps ten or twelve, and it gets to work right away. We escape into written worlds filled with magical places, treacherous villains, sublime characters and troubled creatures we do not know until we delve into the chapters. More times than not, if it hooks our interest, we are rooting for someone who pulls at our heartstrings.

At the same time, we are oftentimes despising another character, usually someone who is causing chaos, and wishing on a star for a few of the side characters who are carrying their own loads. Our own experiences, minds, and the way we interpret the words on the page or our e-reader device colors how we see and feel from one page to the next.

Two readers can read the exact same book, have similar taste in literature, and have an entirely different view of the novel once they are through. That’s the beauty of reading – the capability to color the pages with our own thoughts and ideas, imprint our perceptions over the pictures the author paints with words. It’s amazing, really – and all we as authors hope for is that each and every one of you get what you need, what you came here for. Your prescription is filled, and one can simply wish that it doesn’t have adverse side effects.

Instead, we hope that you are re-charged, delighted, laughing so much your stomach hurts, crying tears of joy, or frightened beyond belief – in a good way, of course. Art doesn’t apologize. But it does sympathize.

Yes, it’s our art – it is our story and we, the authors, have the right to tell it how we see fit – but there is no doubt the goal is for readers to feel just that much happier after they’ve read the last sentence of the last chapter. You aren’t the only one with a new prescription right now.

Writing is my drug. Reading is my time on the ‘therapist couch’ and interacting with my beloved fans is fuel for my flying fingers. I work with my mind and my hands. People don’t often think of authors that way, but we do. Just ask our nemesis, carpal tunnel; it’s a near certainty that the most prolific of us will experience this ailment. Oh, and another casualty is often a broken nail, but I digress. This story, "Fire and Rain,’ is about a broken man, too. We are imperfect, and so are the people in my stories.

Aries ‘Flame’ Creed has had more than his share of challenges. Though he, too, is a bit of a perfectionist, he simply admires sincerity and hard work. Aries is a strong man. A man’s man. Big boys don’t cry. He is both level-headed and hot tempered, but keeps a sense of fairness and justice about him, drawing people to him like a moth to a flame.

Lauren McKinney is an entrepreneur. She is an educated woman with a passion for reading, hot beverages, beautiful places, and plenty of books. She is strong, determined, and has always gone after what she wanted with a vengeance. With some hard work, love, and support from her close family and friends and willpower, she reached her goals and quickly made new ones. The sky was the limit.

However, despite her best intentions, tragedy struck. She, like Aries, believes big girls don’t cry. Yet, inside, she is a volcano. Only thing is, she is in complete denial of her current condition. Her loving, outward nature covers pain so deep and wide, it rivals an ocean. Together, these two bring the fire and rain to one another. They forge a friendship after a tumultuous start, one that blossoms into a torrential storm and a raging blaze.

This is a tale of two headstrong souls who find one another, and become each other’s medicine.

Come along as I take you on a journey of two people who’d given up on love, but in each other, find a reason to embrace their fears, step into the unknown, and trust one another to shower each other with healing. Join me, and witness new passions ignite within…

Are you ready?

Perfect!

Grab a drink, get comfortable, and curl up with Aries and Lauren.

They can’t wait to meet you…

Image No. 58

CHAPTER ONE

Taken to Task

Chapter 1 Image

"Mr. Creed, I’d like to go over some preliminary information with you, specifically, and the rest of the Creed family."

All right. Aries ran his hand down the stiff material of his work shirt until he felt the reassuring rectangular bulge in his top, right pocket. He pulled out the box of cigarettes, removed one and lit it with a cheap black Bic lighter. All eyes were on him in that stodgy room decorated in shades of forest green, copper and rust. Twisted scowls and penetrating stares of animals out for his blood. Fifty percent of the blood that flowed through his veins he didn’t know anything about – hadn’t cared until now.

Smoke eddied from his cigarette as he slinked back into the grand chair with the lion claw wooden arms. Fancy shit.

Mr. Aries Creed, let’s see here… The distinguished looking fellow with the black and silver hair, black suit, and blue tie sat before him, flipping through a large folder. He was an attorney in the state of Georgia. He came from old money, old ideas, old lies. Behind him hung a large framed oil painting of a Civil War battle scene, and to the left of that, an American flag. Okay, here we go. Please confirm the information with a yes or no, Mr. Creed. If something is incorrect, we will update it. Aries nodded. Your birthdate is April 9th.

Yes.

Your home residence is in Kennesaw. The address is 5837 Wind Haven Court.

Yeah, that’s it.

The lawyer continued on, then handed him back his driver’s license.

Okay, Mr. Creed. You are the only living child of Mr. Benjamin William Creed. Your father has stated that due to such, he—

Mr. Smith, with all due respect, I am rightly confused. I and this man didn’t have an affiliation. If he’d walked past me on the street, I wouldn’t have even known it. I told you when that girl called me from your office, the one at the front desk, he waved at the closed office door, that I don’t know Benjamin. I never laid eyes on the man a day in my life.

But you know he is your father, correct?

Aries shrugged.

Not until I was older. I knew his name eventually, Mr. Smith. I know he lived here in Atlanta his entire life. I didn’t find out until recently that he was important around town, a bigshot businessman who’d done ‘okay’ for himself. He rolled his eyes and hooked his fingers to indicate quotation marks. But that’s it. That’s all I have. Now, if he left me some fishing poles, a car or two, that’s fine. I’ll take his gifts of guilt and be on my way.

The attorney slowly removed his glasses and placed them on the big wide desk he sat behind. He clasped his hands and his beady dark brown eyes zeroed in on Aries. A kink in his lips revealed a proud, somewhat regal smile.

Mr. Creed, he didn’t leave you a fishing pole… a car or two. You’ve been left with his entire estate. Every. Single. Penny. The room erupted in gasps and curses, a toppled chair, and some woman with hair so blond, it appeared white storming out of the room in a fit of tears. A small man sporting an old burnt orange suit jacket trailed behind her, calling out her name in a hushed tone, speaking sweet nothings and trying to calm her down. The commotion continued, with people talking over one another as if whoever talked the fastest would score a piece of the pie.

I don’t know these people around me, either. Aries turned and stared at everyone. It was about eight people bunched up in there, all of them looking anywhere from downright depressed to mad as a hornet in a knocked-down nest. We all share blood apparently, due to my dead father. You’re all here for the same reason I am. After what Mr. Smith said, I take it they feel some sorta way, but I have nothing to do with that and—

Ya damn straight I feel some sort of way! a man piped up, perched on a chair as if he were about to rocket right out of his seat. His face was red and his eyes blue and sleepy. Clad in a plaid shirt and dark brown pants that bunched real tight about the crotch, he looked ridiculous. Did you give this man a DNA test?! the man screamed, pointing at Aries. His eyes strained to go as big as they possibly could.

No. There was no DNA test given, Mr. Smith answered.

Well then, how in the hell do we even know this is his damn son?!

Yeah! many others chimed in.

Mr. Smith took a leisurely sip of his water, then pulled out another file.

My client, Mr. Benjamin Creed, made it perfectly clear that Aries Creed, the son of Sandra Dixon, is in fact his son.

Bull pucky! Ben never mentioned no damn kid to me, ’cept Paul, who is deceased! Never heard of no damn Aries!

Mr. Dunes, Benjamin did not question the paternity of Aries here. In fact, he brought in two photos, placed them side by side, and presented them to me when taking care of his Last Will and Testament that we’re now discussing.

The lawyer cleared his throat and pulled out a board that was on the side of his desk, face down. On the left side was an old worn baby photo, who he presumed was his father. On the right was his own baby picture. A lump formed in Aries’ throat. The room drew quiet.

As you can see, the man continued, Aries is practically a carbon copy of his father here. Seeing his son soon after birth, Benjamin had no questions regarding the child’s paternity. Additionally, Aries has three genetic dispositions that run in the Creed family. A sixth finger, which was removed right after delivery – and which Benjamin had as well. A cleft chin, which of course we can’t see since Aries has a beard, and also a widow’s peak. These are all inherited traits.

Well, that don’t mean anything! the same man piped up, his face now redder than ever. Widow’s peaks are a dime a dozen! Superman chins are nothing to write home about, hardly a rare thing, and six fingers could be from the mother’s side. Who the hell knows?

So you’re a medical expert now, huh? Newsflash. You’re not in charge here. Aries sneered.

We want answers!

You don’t care about answers and the truth. You only care about the money. Now you’ve got this attorney here pullin’ out science fair charts and shit on your behalf and you’re still not satisfied! Aries chuckled.

As he should!

Next thing ya know, he’ll have to pull out a book about the birds and the bees for you, explain how this basic shit works. Well, ya see, boys and girls, sometimes a man meets a woman and they do a little somethin’ somethin’… Do you need a picture book for that, too?

You can make all the jokes you want, but this is not funny. We’re Benjamin’s family. You just showed up outta the clear blue and we demand to know the truth! Nobody is going to sit here and not question this—

"Did you hear me? You mean nothing to me. I don’t even know you. Neither I nor Mr. Smith have to explain a gotdamn thing to you, buddy. Mr. Smith, I have things to do, so please, if you can, continue."

Silence returned for a bit.

Mr. Dunes, I do have to elaborate a bit more on what we were discussing previously. I’m not a scientist, but I did consult a genealogist just in case. The attorney flipped through a few papers. Widow’s peaks are not a maternal trait. They are from the father’s side. Hair color can be from either side, but that specific trait, the peak, is paternal. Now, I can see that, as Mr. Benjamin Creed’s cousin and friend, you are troubled by this information. However, please bear in mind that these are the deceased’s wishes. I am simply the messenger.

No… no. That’s not how this is going down. I don’t think these were his wishes at all! Somebody got in his ear… The man’s eyes flattened to inky slits. Something strange is going on.

Mr. Creed was in his right mind, Mr. Dunes. He wasn’t feeble, senile, or suffering from an illness that would’ve caused delusions, confusion, or forgetfulness.

"Well, let me tell you, Mr. Smith. I’m not going to just sit back and take this. Benjamin wouldn’t do me like that. He wouldn’t do any of us like this. Many heads nodded in agreement. I’m contesting this shit! Ya hear me?!" The man jumped out of his chair like he was a kangaroo on a pogo stick. Aries drew on his cigarette and began to laugh slow, then faster. What a shitshow!

Something funny? The man glared at him.

Aries gathered his wits. As a matter of fact, little man, there is. You. You are unequivocally hysterical, if I say so myself.

"Well, laugh at this! You must not mean much, because Benjamin never mentioned shit about you. So what does that say, huh?" He pointed at him, his voice echoing in the chamber.

And? Aries shrugged. You keep saying that as if it means something… as if he’s the first guy to have a kid and hide it, keep it to himself. I think you can safely assume that my father wasn’t a saint but more importantly, I wasn’t aware I needed your seal of approval, little grasshopper. And again, I say to you, I don’t even know who the hell you are, and I definitely don’t care enough about cha to find out.

The man’s complexion deepened and the frown lines in his face multiplied right before his eyes. You’re about to know who I am… I know you’re running some sort of scheme, a con game, a scam. You ain’t nothin’ but some bastard baby, some kid that that mama of yours pinned on my cousin, and ya sittin’ there all smug, rubbing it in our faces knowing it’s a lie!

Anything rubbed in your face, including battery acid or a pile of steaming dog shit, would be a great improvement.

The room erupted in chatter, blasphemies, and threats.

I should come over there and knock that silly ass grin off your fuckin’ face! How about that for an improvement?!

You’re nothin’ but a two bit, greedy cricket of a man who if ya hippity hop my way, partner, I will crush you like the bug that you are. And your pal, Pinocchio, too. I don’t do threats. I do the real thing. So, if you wanna play, let’s play, Tom Thumb.

Men! Mr. Smith stated, his voice stern, cutting. Enough.

DNA! We need a DNA test on this son of a bitch. The cricket stomped his foot. "Ain’t no way he is part of this family. Benjamin would never lie with the likes of his mother and produce such a piece of shit—he don’t have no respect! Benjamin is dead and this man sat down at that funeral, and didn’t even show any care or concern."

"How can I have care or concern about a person who never even picked up a damn phone to call me, a pencil to write me a letter, or even got in his car to come by my house and see me? That person in that cemetery is as much of a stranger to me as you are. That was his choice. Funny you want to talk about care, concern, and DNA, and all you care about is that my father didn’t leave you anything. Shame, huh? Now you gotta get up off your keister and work hard like the rest of us. Don’t worry. I heard The Fish and Bass Shop is hiring. They need a new bait mascot. The maggot quit."

Screw you! Mr. Dunes lunged towards him, only to have some man grab onto his arms to hold him back.

Naw, let him go. Aries smiled as he slowly got to his feet. You a soldier? Ready to go to war, huh? I’m ready, too.

Gentlemen… Mr. Smith stated, both warning and worry in his voice.

I tell ya what. I’ll fight you with one hand behind my back, cousin Dunce. Deal?

It’s Dunes!

Nah, it’s Dunce in my book. Aries snuffed out his cigarette in an ashtray. "Let’s see how big of a man you are. We can square up like geometry. You’ve got the wrong motherfucker. I’m not my father. There’s nothin’ prim and proper over this way, nothin’ lavish at all. Definitely not puttin’ on airs, but I promise to give you an ass beatin’ you’ll never forget if you threaten me one more gotdamn time."

Ain’t nobody afraid of you! Come on! the man screamed, spit spraying out of his twisted mouth as if his thin lips were a hose and Aries was the fire. Now two more people joined the fray, holding him back and pulling at his jacket as if he were a raging bull in ugly clothing.

"Dunce, if they let cha go, it’s going to be a sad state of affairs. In a Nano-second, your blood will be all over this office once they turn you loose, so it’ll be easy for us to take a DNA test on you versus me, see just how much bitch you got in ya. I bet it’s ninety-nine percent. The remaining one percent is yellow-belly cricket blood. When you wish upon a staaaar! Isn’t that how your song goes?"

You sack of shit! You fucker! he roared.

That is enough! Mr. Dunes and Mr. Creed, you’ve both crossed the line! the lawyer’s voice boomed, interrupting the ruckus. Aries took his seat and laughed. Gentlemen, I know emotions are high and tempers have flared, but there are women present in this room! That language will not be tolerated in this office. I suggest you both get yourself under control and Mr. Dunes, have a seat and settle down, or leave. I’m not giving another warning.

The man’s lips twitched as if he wished to say more. He flopped down in his chair and leaned forward, writhing about like he had to take a piss. Soon, the distraught blond and her husband returned. Her face was red and puffy as she pressed a tissue against her bloated eyes and took her seat. The melodrama in this place is unbelievable. These are the kinfolks, huh? Glad I missed the family reunion… I would like to continue now… Mr. Smith removed several papers from the folder and handed them to Aries.

Mr. Creed, that is a copy of the properties your father owns. They will be officially in your name by the end of the week. He has very specific directions on what he would like seen done with all of them. Terms for future sales and rental management, things of that nature. Of course, he leaves the final decision to you, but he has provided reasons if you care to read over them, and I encourage you to do so. Additionally, he was under the impression that you have a son. Is that true?

Yes. Aiden.

How old is your son?

Thirteen.

Very good. When your son turns eighteen, Mr. Creed, your father has set aside a trust fund for him that he, too, can claim. This money is in addition to the amount specified in the will.

How much is in the will? Can you at least tell us that? another man asked, clearly perturbed but at least trying to keep his composure.

How is that going to help you? Apparently you aren’t gettin’ none of it, either.

Unfortunately, Mr. Anderson, that is confidential.

The man snorted and shook his head in disbelief. The next twenty minutes were spent discussing some legal matters, a bunch of mumbo jumbo. His father had in fact left a few material possessions, smaller items, to those present in that room, some worth enough to soften the mood. But the bulk of the ponderosa went to Aries. Despite him trying to keep a calm exterior, he was hiding a frantic heartbeat. He’d been sitting there in pure shock. His father had owned a successful construction company there in Atlanta, Georgia. No one besides the attorney seemed to know his exact net worth. Google wasn’t much help, either, but from the looks of things, it was nothing to sneeze at.

Aries had been called three days prior and told that his father had kicked the bucket. Not even ten hours had passed before he was called again, invited to the funeral by a woman who didn’t bother to give her name. He’d probably been an afterthought. Later that same day, he’d been contacted by the paralegal about this meeting at the lawyer’s office. He’d barely had time to process what the hell was going on before more and more bizarre calls rolled in. Such as strangers asking questions he refused to answer and others asking how he was doing, as if he’d be distraught by such news. How can one mourn a ghost? A practical figment of one’s imagination.

As the meeting was drawing to a close, Mr. Smith had his assistant come in.

She sat next to him, back straight, her wavy red hair parted on one side and with enough papers in her thin, freckled arms to light a good blaze. Mr. Smith asked them all to leave then after reading out the smaller inheritances. Some jewelry here, a few cars or a small bunch of stocks there. Aries got to his feet along with everyone else, his own folder in hand with the attorney’s logo displayed across it, under the impression that it was all over. He’d get a check in the mail, and that would be that.

Uh, Mr. Creed. Aries, I need you to stay behind for a minute, if that’s okay. The man picked up his glasses and slid them on. The spectacles perched at the end of his nose, the cool eyes above them were trained on him as the disgruntled family members paraded past him. The door closed once again, and he retook his seat.

Mr. Creed, I want you to know that I knew your father for almost twenty years. He was a business associate of mine. He hired me to take care of many of his affairs over the years. Like many others, I wasn’t aware that he had a son until he informed me of such, a couple years ago. Aries ran his hand along his jaw, massaging it. We knew about another son of his, Paul, who had passed away about ten years ago, but as far as any other children, there were none to our knowledge. We were obviously incorrect.

Some time passed then, with neither man saying a word. All that could be heard was the faint cry of a car or two driving by, and a water cooler bubbling and churning.

What did he tell you exactly about me?

Well. The man leaned back in his seat and took hold of a silver pen, moving it about, then tapping it against his desk. "To be honest, Benjamin didn’t want to get into any details, you know, the particulars regarding you or your mother when I asked. But he was adamant that you were definitely his child, and that you should receive the bulk of his wealth. He only came back one time regarding this will, to make an amendment to include his grandchild. Your son. Now, I understand that you’re divorced, correct?"

Yeah…

Joint custody?

No. I raise my son by myself. Been divorced goin’ on four and a half years.

So, your ex-wife is not in the picture?

She sees him, but not on a consistent basis.

The man looked at him long and hard, as if waiting for more, but Aries didn’t feel like examining it further, nor did he understand the relevance. Mr. Smith sighed, but said nothing additional about it.

Mr. Creed, I’m going to give it to you straight. There’s really no way to say this to make it sound any better. You didn’t ask how much money you are to receive, which I felt was interesting, He offered a half smile. I know the amount you’ve been left, but at this time, I cannot give you the exact figure, per your father’s wishes.

Why? Is some of the money hung up in court or something? Outstanding bills?

No. You see, your father decided to not tell you the full amount you are to receive until certain tasks are completed.

By who?

By you.

What? I don’t understand what you’re saying… A strange wave of heat started at the tips of his toes and wormed its way through the veins and muscles of his legs, going higher and higher until his damn skull was throbbing. What kind of games was that old man who lay dead in that fancy cemetery playing?

Before you receive the money, he wants some things taken care of. He has a list.

"Huh? Like a grocery list? This isn’t some quest, is it? I’m not Indiana Jones. Hasn’t he done enough? Or not done enough, I should say?"

I know it’s rather unconventional, Aries, but—

I don’t like this. I ain’t doin’ it. Can’t ya just write the check and send me on my way? I don’t want this kind of aggravation. I’ll even take a few thousand less if it’ll make this all go away. I didn’t even know this man and here he is, givin’ me a Honey Do list. No, sir. What the hell kind of game are the two of you playing?

Mr. Creed, he—

I was mindin’ my own business, running my shop, taking care of my kid and then out of the blue, I get told this guy is dead. There’s a big ass funeral, and two ex-wives and a girlfriend with enough Botox and plastic surgery to make a Barbie Doll look realistic. These gals were half his damn age. None of ’em are my mother since they were never married, and now here I am, just sitting amongst a bunch of people who look at me like I’m the worst thing since the Devil tried to get bossy and got kicked outta Heaven. Who is he to leave me something with stipulations? He didn’t do shit for me at all, Mr. Smith, but donate some cum. Excuse me… He shot a glance at the lady assistant. "My apologies… let me rephrase. Didn’t do a thing for me at all, except have a fling with my mother, and then have the audacity to have rules and conditions like this a sweepstakes, telling me all about what I do with the land, the property, and the money? That’s a bunch of bullsh… bull crap." He shot the woman in the room another glance then glared at Mr. Smith.

I understand your frustration, Mr. Creed.

Aries. Just call me Aries. You’re much older than me… Seems disrespectful for you to feel the need to be so formal with me.

Okay. Aries it is. I don’t blame you for how you feel. It’s a lot to take in. I’m not judging you. I imagine if I were in your shoes, I may feel the same. However, this wasn’t my idea or plan. As I told everyone else, I’m just carrying out your father’s wishes. The man placed his hand against his chest.

Aries gritted his teeth, snatched his baseball cap from the desk, and got to his feet.

Is there anything else, Mr. Smith? I gotta pick up my boy from school and finish workin’ on a Yamaha. Told the guy I’d have it completed today.

ATV, dirt bike, or motorcycle? the older man smiled.

A motorcycle. You don’t get hands like these by workin’ on dirt bikes. Maybe the doctors made a mistake and should’ve left that extra appendage when I was a baby. That sixth finger may have come in handy after all.

The old man chuckled when Aries raised his palms in the air, showing years of wear and tear.

"That’s right. I did see that