What Belongs to Her (Harlequin Superromance)

by Rachel Brimble

  She pushed to her feet. “One, I am not blushing and two, I need to get out of here and think of a plan B.”

  He stood, a soft smile still playing at his lips. “There’s nothing wrong with a bit of play and a little less work every now and then, you know.”

  She hitched her backpack onto her shoulder and glared. “If I wanted to play, it wouldn’t be with John Jordon.” Yeah, right.

  He laughed. “Fair enough. I’ll believe you even if millions of others wouldn’t.”

  “I’m going. Now. Before I’m forced to hurt you.” She smiled and headed for the door.

  He followed her along the hallway, and after she opened the front door, Sasha turned and hugged him. She held him firmly and spoke into his shirt. “You’re too good for Tanya. Way too good. Get out there and find a woman who deserves you, okay?”

  “I’m trying.” He squeezed her before pulling back and holding her at arm’s length. “So, what’s plan B?”

  “I’ll figure something out because there’s no way I’m losing the fair to a Jordon.” She swallowed the abrupt threat of tears. “I don’t know anything but Funland. I don’t want to know anything else. The thought of leaving Templeton and doing a job sitting behind a desk or in a shop scares me half to death. It would chip away at my soul until I was nothing but a shell. The fair was meant to be mine and whatever has happened, or will happen, I’m not letting it go.”

  She eased from his grip and walked out of the cottage. Pulling her bike from the side of the house, she mounted it before she looked at Liam. “You take care.”

  “It might be a good thing to tell this John Jordon what you’ve just told me, you know.”

  Sasha frowned. “Tell him what?”

  “That without the fair you wouldn’t be you. Who knows, it might be that sort of honesty that tips the scales with this guy.”

  Nausea dipped and flowed through her stomach as Sasha secured her helmet in place. “John Jordon is in no state of mind to take anything I have to say into account.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “He’s determined to find out who his father is, despite the fact he can’t stand the man. They’re estranged and, from what I can tell, John is entirely pissed at Kyle.”

  Liam’s eyes darkened with concern. “Kyle Jordon is dangerous. His son has his father’s blood running through his veins. Be careful. Don’t go risking your life over something that once belonged to your grandfather. It’s not worth it.”

  Even kind, wonderful Liam couldn’t possibly understand the firm ground the fair gave her to build upon. “It belongs in my family, Liam. I need it. My kids will need it. I have to do this.”

  She pushed away on her bike with the weight of Liam’s gaze burning a hole in her back.

  * * *

  “WHY DON’T WE go to my office, Mr. Jordon?”

  John smiled inwardly despite the shock of his father’s illness still bouncing around his body at a hundred miles an hour. The inspector’s emphasis on his surname didn’t go unnoticed by him or the other three or four uniformed cops working at the station reception desk. The officers stared openly, eyebrows raised. He steadfastly kept his focus forward and followed the inspector through a side door into the main arena of the station. It was a whirl of activity as the inspector walked among her inferiors with silent and confident authority.

  Phones rang and voices carried above the noise of printers and humming computers, elevating his second headache of the day. She led him to an office at the far end of the room. Encased within two windowed walls, she had as much a view of her colleagues as they did of her. John wondered if her decision to keep the blinds open gave insight into the woman. Was she approachable and honest? Or was she forced to leave herself exposed to their judgment under duress?

  She pushed open the door and waved him inside. “Take a seat.”

  He did. When she made no move to close the blinds, but came around and sat behind the desk in full view of her staff, a spark of positivity caught inside him. Maybe today he’d get some answers about Kyle and the reputation he had in this seaside town. Inspector Garrett gave the undeniable impression that she was amenable and, secondly, that she listened.

  He cleared his throat. “Thanks for agreeing to see me.”

  She ran her cool green gaze over his face before picking up a pen and leaning back in her chair. Her demeanor appeared relaxed as she expertly laced the pen back and forth between her fingers. “I can’t say I wasn’t surprised or intrigued by your phone call. As you can imagine, once you and Sasha left the bakery yesterday, Marian was keen to fill in the blanks as to why you’re here.” She offered him a small smile. “Exactly how much of her musings are fiction remains to be seen.”

  Immediately warming to this undeniably beautiful, enigmatic head of the Templeton police, John laid his hands loosely on the chair’s armrests and forced his wandering mind to focus on the task at hand rather than the prospect of Kyle dying. “I’m not in Templeton to cause trouble, Inspector.”

  “So, why are you here?”

  “Because Kyle requested it.”

  She stared. “That instills caution rather than ease in me, I’m afraid.”

  “Why?”

  “Isn’t that obvious? Kyle was by no means Templeton Resident of the Year.”

  “I’m not my father.”

  “That remains to be seen. So, it was you who wanted to see me. Why don’t you get straight to the reason you’re here?”

  John inhaled a long breath and released it. “It’s simple. I want to garner more detail to the very little I know about Kyle and his life in Templeton.”

  She frowned. “You think a police inspector is likely to tell you anything about a convicted drug dealer? Your father was far from hospitable to his fellow man and I, for one, am glad he’s in prison.”

  John cursed inwardly. His decision to appeal to the inspector’s better nature had come from his need to keep things aboveboard for as long as humanly possible. He didn’t want to lose his sense of integrity during his mission to uncover who his father really was. He was really hoping to glean information from the people of Templeton in as open and straightforward a way as possible.

  He’d relied on the theory Inspector Garrett would tell him the kind of man Kyle was personally, as well as morally, in exchange for John being honest with her about his future intentions—once he’d figured them out. Maybe that theory was 100 percent off the mark.

  He leaned forward. “I’d hoped you tell me about the circumstances surrounding his arrest. What he was like prior to that. Who his friends were. His enemies.”

  She studied him as she bounced the pen gently against her jaw. Eventually, she tossed it onto the desk and stood. John forced himself to stay in his seat and not fidget as she rounded the desk and leaned against it, directly in front of him. She crossed her arms, her gaze unwavering. “Why don’t you be a bit more specific about what it is you want to know? Or even better, why you want to know. I’ve got zero intention of giving you any information without knowing why you’ve come to the Cove.”

  Frustration simmered deep in his stomach. “Until a month ago, I hadn’t heard from Kyle since I was boy. Then, out of the blue, I received a letter from him asking me to come here and oversee things.”

  “Oversee things?”

  “It’s up to me what I do with his businesses now.”

  “Businesses? Kyle wouldn’t know what legit business was if it up and slapped him in the face.”

  “I agree.”

  She studied him a moment longer before her gaze softened—a little—and seemed to pique with interest. “If you were estranged, why would he give you everything?”

  “He has no one else he can trust.”

  “Can he trust you?”

  “I don’t know yet. That depends on whether I understand why he chose to never contact me.”

  She raised her eyebrow. “He never contacted you at Saint Mark’s?”

  John stiffened. “You know where I went to s
chool?”

  “Of course. I care about this town, Mr. Jordon. When I found out you were here, I dug a little deeper into Kyle’s background. Added a lot more to what I already knew. Your mother was killed during an armed robbery. She was an innocent civilian caught up in a horrific event. Kyle avenged her murder and paid for his crime. However, during that time, his eleven-year-old son was shipped off to one of the most prestigious boarding schools in the country.” She stared. “What I didn’t know was Kyle didn’t stay connected to you during the ensuing years.”

  Nausea and anger twisted like barbed wire in his gut. “Clearly I don’t need to waste time explaining my family history.”

  “I’m a cop. What else did you expect?”

  She was right. He was Kyle’s offspring and the man was currently serving a sixteen-year sentence for drug offenses. The townspeople were hardly going to welcome him with open arms—nor was Templeton’s inspector going to roll out the red carpet. He swallowed and confidently held her gaze. “Kyle’s dying, Inspector.”

  Silence descended.

  The muted clang of activity and voices outside the inspector’s office suddenly sounded louder than before. John’s heart picked up speed. He’d said the words out loud; made it real. Two spots of color appeared high on her cheeks and she slowly closed her eyes. “I’m sorry to hear that.”

  That he hadn’t expected. “You are?”

  “Yes.” She opened her eyes and moved away from the desk to stare out into the working station. “It was me who arrested your father, Mr. Jordon. I made sure he went away for a long time.”

  Inexplicable annoyance prickled the hairs at the nape of John’s neck as he stared at her back. “You sound as though he didn’t deserve that. From what I know—”

  “I didn’t say that. Kyle deserved everything he got.” She pivoted and planted her hands on slender hips. “It doesn’t mean I relish the prospect of him dying alone in prison. From what little time I spent with your father, he didn’t strike me as entirely bad. He helped me to put a coldhearted killer away for the rest of his life.”

  Resistance rippled through John’s blood. He didn’t need to hear anything good about Kyle. He wanted his decision to do as he pleased, once he figured out what that would be, to be cut and dried. He owed the man nothing. Why should his father die with a clear conscience? He should die knowing the pain he’d inflicted on innocent people through the drugs he supplied. He should know his child never forgave him for leaving him alone after the violent death of his mother.

  John wanted him to know that by making the decision to go after the man who killed her, he had left his son with an inert fear of abandonment. A son who made a conscious decision to live his life alone, yet help as many people as he could along the way. He never walked away and left anyone to deal with their hardships alone. He wouldn’t do that to Sasha, either. His ability to support people and see things through without resorting to violence proved just how unlike Kyle he really was.

  With his heart beating steadily, John leaned back. “I went to Marchenton.”

  A flicker of surprise shot through her gaze before she blinked and cool interest showed once more. “And?”

  “And as per Kyle’s instructions, I went to see a former crack house of his...a crack house now owned by your husband. Why would he buy a place like that?”

  Her green eyes turned dark with suspicion. Once more the chatter and noise from outside the office filtered into the room. “My husband’s affairs have nothing to do with you. Now, if there’s nothing else...”

  He raised his hand in supplication. “You’re right. It’s none of my business, but will you at least tell me one thing?”

  She crossed her arms. “What?”

  “Did Kyle sell the house to your husband before his incarceration? Or did your husband buy it afterward?”

  “Why does it matter? The property is now my husband’s.” She narrowed her eyes. “What’s your interest in it, Mr. Jordon? Whatever went on in there when it was Kyle’s is something I don’t want resurrected...there, or anywhere else in Templeton.”

  “And it won’t be if I have anything to do with it. I need to know because Kyle wants me to believe the narcotics side of his business is over. I’m not going to let him paint himself as a changed man if it isn’t true. Was the closing down of the house enforced?”

  She pursed her lips, her brow furrowed. Eventually, she blew out a breath. “Yes. Once he was arrested, the house went into repossession. My husband bought it because...” She lifted her chin. “He wants to use it as a symbol to the people in Marchenton that they can turn things around if they really want to.”

  “In what way?”

  “He’s going to turn it into a drop-in center. Despite everything your father represented, we’re hoping to utilize the place Kyle once used as a private hell for people dependent on him as a place for those same people to get help.”

  John’s stomach churned. “I see.”

  She walked to the door. Recognizing his cue to leave, John stood and approached her.

  When they faced each other, she stared directly into his eyes. “I stand by what I said about Kyle. He wasn’t all bad. I think his reaction to your mother’s murder flicked a switch that couldn’t be turned off. Especially considering his time locked up with real killers...nasty killers. When he was released the first time around, I doubt any aspect of the man he was before he went in there remained.”

  John’s battle to see his father as anything but a liar and drug pusher roared to life once again. “I really can’t understand why you’d cheerlead him this way.”

  She glared. “Cheerlead him? I don’t think so.”

  “Then why defend him?”

  She pulled open the door. “Because I’m certain Kyle has some good in him. The question is, do you?”

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  IT WAS ONE o’clock the following afternoon before Sasha saw John again. The hairs at her nape prickled and she levered up from the stack of stuffed animals she was helping one of the stallholders store in the fairground warehouse. The fact she was in the only part of Funland she hated when she sensed him watching her, set her defenses screeching to high alert. He stood in the doorway, his face in silhouette due to the bright July sunshine streaming in behind him.

  Her stomach flip-flopped as she strolled toward him, casually slapping her hands against her legs to rid her jeans of dust. Mindful of her decision to keep her cool and bide her time over the next few days, she plastered on a cheery smile. “Hi.”

  He stiffened, and the quirk of his eyebrow proved her new tactic of being polite might just work better than she could’ve hoped. Maybe a little feminine compliance would be the secret to her success.

  He cleared his throat. “Hi, yourself. I wonder if you might be able to spare me a few minutes. In the office.”

  “Sure. I’m just about finished here.”

  Nodding curtly, he turned and headed outside. She cast a glance over the satisfying sight of his back and butt before stifling the need to emit a particularly girlish sigh. She seemed to be continually battling her lust for the man. She inhaled a steadying breath and followed him, purposely slowing her pace to his quickening one. As much as she tried to make peace with what Liam had said to her about letting John know how deeply she needed the fair, she refused to utter any confessions or tell him about her history.

  He knew enough already that any further words would only arm him in a potentially devastating way. From the moment they had met, her impassioned reaction to his arrival had set the tone and mood of their relationship. Did she really need to reiterate her desperation? From now on, she would play it cool and calm. No matter what he threw at her, she would react with grace and sanity.

  Her secrets would remain secrets to everyone but Leah. During a telephone conversation with her best friend the night before, Sasha agreed Leah could meet John when the time was right. She was more than aware her friend’s motivation for their meeting was more grounded in her need to p
rotect Sasha than anything else.

  John entered the office and stood at the door, waiting for her. His passive expression almost fooled Sasha into believing his detachment, until she had to squeeze past his broad chest to get inside. When her gaze briefly locked on his, she recognized the storm of angry emotion he clearly fought to keep under control. Her stomach knotted. Now what?

  She frowned. “Are you okay?”

  “Sure. You?”

  She lifted her shoulders even as her heart beat a little faster. “Sure.”

  His eyes blazed with irritation, and his jaw turned to stone as he tilted his head in the direction of the desk. “Why don’t you take a seat?”

  Steadfastly ignoring the tremble in her legs, she slid past him into the office. Her temper simmered just beneath the surface as she hesitated at the seat. The impulse to turn around and demand he tell her what was coming next was more than she could stand. She closed her eyes. She’d barely been in his company more than a few minutes and already the instinct to attack ricocheted through her system.

  “Are you going to sit down?” His voice came from close behind her, the masculine spice of his aftershave jolting her desire into overdrive.

  She swallowed. “Sure.”

  He didn’t move and his breath gently lifted the hairs at the back of her neck. She resisted the urge to shiver. Clearly her decision to knot her hair on top of her head that morning had been a mistake. At least with her hair down, it took a gust of wind to penetrate its thickness and reach her bare skin.

  Opening her eyes, she lowered into the seat with the regality of a queen. “So, what’s up?”

  He sat in Kyle’s huge leather chair and, with his eyes on hers, slid a file box from the far corner of the desk and set it in front of him. His chest rose as he inhaled and then pushed the box toward her. “Some homework for you.”

  She frowned as her burgeoning temper deflated and evolved into curiosity. “What’s this?”

  “I’ve been busy over the past twenty-four hours. I’ve spent some time reconsidering your offer, but I also think before either of us can work toward what we want, we need to face what we’re dealing with.”