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  Unbreak Him

  Sam E. Kraemer

  This book is an original work of fiction. Names, characters, places, incidents, and events are either the product of the author’s imagination or used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

  Copyright © 2020 by Sam E. Kraemer

  Cover photograph: Canva

  Editor: Ann Attwood, Editing and Proofreading Services

  Content Reader: Gen

  Published by Sam E. Kraemer 2020

  These characters are the author’s original creations, and the events herein are the author’s sole property. All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced, scanned, or distributed in any form, printed or electronic, without the express permission of the author. Please do not participate in or encourage piracy of copyrighted materials in violation of the author’s rights. Purchase only authorized editions.

  WARNING: This book contains material which may be offensive to some readers: Graphic language, violence, mentions of self-harm, and/or consenting adult sexual situations. For readers 18+.

  All products/brand names mentioned in this work of fiction are registered trademarks owned by their respective holders/corporations/owners. No trademark infringement intended.

  Summary

  Is there any way to unbreak someone?

  Kyle Rance would agree that he’d made some bad decisions in his life, walking paths he wasn’t proud he walked and suffering painful losses due to his actions. He paid the price for his mistakes, and he worked hard to try to redeem himself. When he got the opportunity for a fresh start, he decided to make the most of it because it might be his last one.

  Through a twist of fate, Kyle came into possession of damning material about one of the partners at the marketing firm where he was given a job in the mailroom, thanks to a state program for ex-cons like him. As Kyle learned, if the contents of the USB drive were to get out, one of the partners could be ruined.

  Kyle approached Grant Cummings with the damning evidence in an attempt to help save the man’s reputation, but what Kyle found upon meeting the aloof marketing wizard was a man who had given up on nearly everything.

  With the help of a fabulous friend who worked the drag stage as an emcee, Kyle began the strange journey into a world where he never imagined himself… Mistresses… Masters… slaves and submissives… Oh, my!

  Helping Grant Cummings return to the land of the living seemed like a worthy endeavor in the beginning, but eventually, Kyle had to ask himself if he was doing it for Grant, or was Kyle doing it for himself? As their futures became intertwined, Kyle had to wonder if he was up for the challenge of guiding someone back from the abyss, and if so, who would Grant be on the other side? For that matter, who would Kyle be as well?

  ***

  Please Note: This M/M romantic novel contains material which may be offensive to some readers. It includes graphic language, mentions of self-harm, adult situations involving BDSM relationships, and descriptions of sexual activity between two, consenting adult males. This fictional story is intended for adults over 18 and is approximately 60,000 words in length. Unbreak Him is a standalone H-E-A and doesn’t end in a cliffhanger. I hope you enjoy it.

  Table of Contents

  Prologue

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Epilogue

  A Note to My Readers

  About the Author

  Also by Sam E. Kraemer

  Prologue

  Kyle Rance walked out of Allenwood Low Correctional Institution where he'd been incarcerated for five years, not surprised to see no one waiting for him. Why did he fantasize that his parents would have mercy on him and show up to welcome him back into the fold? It was too ridiculous to even consider, as he remembered his last discussion with his father after he'd been found guilty.

  Kyle walked into the small room off the hallway in the courthouse at the guard's order. He was damn near trussed up like a turkey with handcuffs and ankle chains, but the guard was willing to allow him to say goodbye to his parents, and he was grateful. They'd been at the trial, and while his mother had wept when the verdict was read, his father remained stone-faced.

  "Dad, I'm so sorry…" he began.

  His father held up his hand to silence him. "You don't get to talk, Kyle. I'm not sure where your mother and I failed you, but that's for another day. I called in my last favor to get you sent to Allenwood, upstate. It's a minimum-security facility, and I hope you come out okay, but your mom and me? We're done. When you get out, you're on your own. Don't call and don't try to come home," his father told him before leaving the room without looking back. The feelings in Kyle’s chest nearly gutted him.

  As Kyle reconsidered the trial and the verdict, he couldn't really blame his parents for being ashamed of his actions and for putting distance between themselves and his mistakes. They were genuinely decent folks who had tried to teach him right from wrong. They owned and managed a small box factory outside Pittsburgh, which had been in the family for years. Kyle would have been the heir-apparent had he not completely fucked up his future with stupidity, but he did it, and he had to own his sins.

  Forging documents was a felony, and it would be nearly impossible for Kyle to get beyond the stigma of being a convicted felon, regardless of the fact he'd finished his degree in graphic arts/marketing and learned to sew while serving his sentence. Many in society believed that crooks were incapable of rehabilitation, and how would one go about proving them wrong? That was mountainous terrain that Kyle wasn’t sure he knew how to climb.

  "Kyle Rance?" a woman asked. She was tall and angular, likely a representative of the Department of Corrections, if Kyle was reading her right. The pre-release counselor he’d met with the previous day had mentioned someone meeting him once he was released to help him figure out the next steps.

  "Yes, ma'am," he responded as he put down the box he was carrying with his few personal possessions inside.

  "Elaine Myers. I'm your Parole Officer. I'll be taking you to the halfway house where you'll be re-acclimating to your new life. I realize you've only been incarcerated for five years, but you were a twenty-year-old college student when you were sentenced. It will take you time to adjust to living outside the institution as an adult," the woman explained. He wanted very much to tell her to go fuck herself, but it wasn't her fault he'd made such a colossal mistake. That was all on him and his lack of sound judgment.

  As he observed Elaine Myers, it struck him that she had kind eyes, which actually surprised him. He'd been led to believe, according to his fellow convicts who were repeat offenders, all POs were like vipers, but this one didn't fit the bill at all. "Sure, Ms. Myers. Thanks for picking me up. I don't suppose you've contacted my family?" he asked on the off-chance his parents had anything to do with the lady picking him up.

  "Um, no. I… I called Mr. and Mrs. Rance, Kyle, but they, uh... a man said their son died five years ago. I'm guessing it means they wrote you off?" she asked as she pointed a key at a small Ford, hitting the button which unlocked the car.

  Kyle wanted to cry at her admission, but he didn't dare. Fuck them. "Yeah, that sounds about right. So, shall we?" he asked as he opened the rear passenger door and stowed his box inside. He slammed the door and opened the front, passenger side, easing into the
seat in the slacks and shirt he'd actually been allowed to make for himself before his release. They weren't a fancy designer label, but they were comfortable.

  It had been five years since he'd ridden in a car. It would be the first of a lot of experiences for which he'd have to adjust. Life didn't wait for him to serve his sentence. It went on without him.

  "I know it's not glamorous, Kyle, but you need a place to start, and with your background in graphic design, well, it's the best use of your talent, which won't get you into trouble. I had to go to a judge to get permission for this, and my neck's on the line, so please don't screw up," Elaine told him as she opened a door.

  Kyle had lived at the halfway house for six months, and he'd done everything they'd asked of him. He'd worked at a copy shop three blocks from the place and done well during his time there.

  Kyle had sort of made a few friends, but they all knew he was a convicted felon, so they'd treated him as a sideshow freak. He didn't really intend to keep in contact with them after he left the job, but having people his age around had been a way to pass the time.

  The halfway house had been a real fucking picnic. The only thing different from prison was that he had a door to close when he went to take a shit. It was a co-mingling of convicts, none of whom had been incarcerated at a minimum-security prison.

  The males at the halfway house were fucking hardcore, and it scared the bejeezus out of him on any given day. Kyle knew showing any fear would make him the fucking pussy in the house and could possibly get his throat slit or his ass raped. It hadn't happened in prison because the other inmates weren't the type of people to force issues as they were all scared shitless as well.

  Kyle had learned to be a hard-ass while attending high school in the 'Burgh, so he didn't take any shit from anyone. He had earned a lot of respect from the crooked bankers and embezzlers with whom he'd served time, but a return trip wasn’t on his ticket, either.

  Everything changed when he showed up at the halfway house the day he got out of prison. If he had to say an experience toughened him up, it was that fucking place, not Allenwood Low Federal Correctional Institution.

  "Get your shit off my side of the room," Kyle heard the first night he was at the house. It had been an abandoned hotel at some point in time, and the city of Philadelphia didn't waste a lot of money making it inhabitable.

  Kyle’s personal items had been searched, and he'd been interrogated as if he'd just done his crime, but he knew it wouldn't be easy re-entering society with a record. He knew beyond a shadow of a doubt everyone was waiting for him to fuck up. He accepted the shoddy treatment at the halfway house because, after all, he was a convicted felon. Respect was earned, not freely given.

  "Excuse me?" Kyle asked. The house attendant, Gordy, had shown him to the room and told him he could have either bed. It was the last room at the facility, and Kyle had arrived first, so it seemed reasonable to take the bed by the window. He didn't plan to be there when winter hit because that bed would be cold, but summer was on its way, and he hoped it would be cooler there in the evenings. The building wasn't air-conditioned. The Department of Corrections didn’t see air-conditioning as a necessity.

  "I said, Get. Your. Shit…" the man began repeating. He was about an inch shorter than Kyle, but he had a lot more muscles and a terrible attitude.

  "Oh, no, I'm not deaf. I'm just curious about why you think this is your side of the room? I got here first, you stupid fuck," Kyle snapped back. He hoped to hell his voice held up the 'trash talk' vibe he was trying to put out. It remained to be seen.

  "I'll slit your…" the man began as he started for Kyle. Instead of backing down, Kyle stepped forward and kicked the stupid asshole in the knee, sending him to the floor where Kyle proceeded to add insult to injury with a sharp kick to the crotch. Watching the man writhing on the floor wasn't exactly unenjoyable. He'd never hurt another person intentionally, but self-preservation was the rule of the day. Somebody had to look out for him, and since nobody was signing up to do the job, Kyle had only himself to rely upon.

  After the guy puked and sat with his back against the wall, Kyle went to the bathroom and came back with a Dixie cup full of water for him. "Here," he told the man. He appeared to be in his middle thirties, and he had a scar on his neck, along with a lot of tattoos.

  "Thanks, I guess," the man responded as he finished the small shot of water.

  "I'm not cleaning that up," Kyle announced as he continued unpacking his meager possessions.

  "Yeah, I get it. What'd you do time for?" the man asked.

  It was then Kyle noticed they hadn't been formally introduced, and if they had to share a room, at least they should work out a peace treaty of some sort. "I'm Kyle Rance. You are?" he asked as he turned to the man who had grabbed a box of tissues off the dresser on his side of the room.

  "Randy Graves. I stole a car from a driveway, not realizing there was a baby in the backseat. I was convicted of GTA and kidnapping, even though I only drove the car to the end of the street before I noticed the kid. I worked for a syndicate looking for specific types of cars, and I was one short," the man told him.

  Kyle laughed. "What? Like ‘Gone in Sixty Seconds’ kinda shit?" He saw the movie when he was a kid, and he thought it was pretty cool. He'd learn how uncool breaking the law was later in life, for sure.

  "Ha-ha, fuck you," the older man told him.

  Kyle felt a little guilty. "Okay, I'm sorry. I just didn't really think things like that existed," he responded honestly.

  He saw Randy smile, which had him worried. "You'd be surprised what a person will do when pushed to the edge." That phrase haunted Kyle for the entirety of his stay at that rathole. He cautiously got to know Randy Graves for the sake of his own health, but when he left, he'd never think of the man again.

  "Hey Miss Myers, I understand beggars can't be choosers, so it’s cool. Don't worry about it. I've learned to survive on a lot less," he told her, hoping he was being honest with himself.

  Miss Myers had been able to secure two jobs for him. One was as the super of a small apartment building in Carroll Park, which allowed him to have a reduced rent rate. He was grateful for that stroke of luck, even if the place was a shithole.

  The other job was in the mail and copy center of an advertising firm. Kyle had no idea why they would hire an ex-con, but he wasn't about to look a gift horse in the mouth. He looked on the opportunity as a blessing from heaven, and he'd take everyone he could get. The ex-con had learned there was no room to discount anything in his life. It was his second chance, and he was going to make the most of it at all costs.

  Chapter 1

  Present day…

  "Hey, Kyle," he heard behind him. He was logging deliveries when the girl hurried into the Support Services Center… the copy/mailroom… that morning. Her name was Lindsey Blume, and she was seemed to be a friendly young woman. She worked for one of the junior partners at the agency, and she and Kyle had developed a friendship of sorts since she'd started working there three months earlier.

  "Hey, Lindsey. What can I do for ya?" he asked as he put down the clipboard and walked over to where she was holding a thumb drive and a work order, which was used to track the work done by the copy center to bill through to clients.

  He walked up to the desk and took the yellow paper, signing his name across the bottom and peeling off the pink copy underneath to acknowledge he'd received the request and would be the responsible party in the event there was a problem with the job.

  "How many copies?" Kyle asked.

  "Six. Grant and his team have a meeting at four with the client, so can you get them done by then?" she asked. He glanced at the clock to see it was just after eight in the morning. There should be plenty of time.

  "Sure. You want me to call you after I run the first set so you can check them?" he asked.

  "No need. Cooper did them, so I'm sure they're perfect. I'll be out of the office off-and-on all day, so can you just run them and deliver them to G
rant? I'll tell him to look for you," Lindsey told him. He nodded and turned to the large computer, which was connected to the color printer, inserting the drive and waiting while the thing booted up as she hurried away without a good-bye. He assumed she had a busy day, so he didn't take offense.

  Kyle had worked at the advertising agency for a year, and he knew Grant Cummings was a real dick, but the man was a wizard when it came to ad campaigns, or so Kyle believed. It was said he could sell ice to polar bears, and based on the man's work product, Kyle tended to agree.

  He always made sure the products from the copy center that Cummings' team required for client meetings were first-rate, which was why he'd been able to stay on after his probation ended.

  The firm received a payment from the government for providing him a job after he finished his probation, or so he’d been told, but they'd still invited him to stay on after he'd fulfilled his obligations to the State. The permanent job offer was definitely a boost to his self-confidence.

  While the contents of the drive loaded onto the computer, Kyle went to the pantry to get himself a cup of coffee. He poured the cream into the mug just as Jesse McCaffrey, a total pain in the ass, walked in.

  Jesse was a graphic artist who worked in the graphics pool. It wasn't a great position, but it was better than working in the copy/mailroom, and the prick never hesitated to remind Kyle how much better his job was than working in the mailroom.

  The one thing in Kyle's favor was no one, except the managing partner, Mr. Timmons, and the head of personnel, Mrs. Herrington, knew he was an ex-con. They'd promised him it wouldn't be disclosed, and he appreciated their discretion.

  "Well, hello, Rancid. How's the copy room treating you?" the preppy asshole asked.

  Kyle smiled. He had no idea why the man disliked him, but he wasn't going to play into his hand. "Jesse, how was your weekend?" he asked as he sipped his coffee.

  "Good, Rancid. I met a girl, and she was…" the asshole began.