by Naomi West
I loved that Riley actually thought that I was worth something. She was a great sister. But she was still wrong. I wanted Archer.
# # #
I lay in bed later that night, staring at the ceiling. Archer had said that the book with all his clients in it was going to put him away. That implied that, without the book, there was no evidence. And that book was in this house.
I started out of bed and made for the door. Dad's office was sure to be locked, but I knew where he kept the key in his bedroom, and Dad was a heavy sleeper.
I stopped.
Then he would know that it was me. If the door was unlocked and the book gone, then there were only two people in the world who could have taken it, and he was hardly going to suspect Riley.
Even if I was willing to let my dad think that of me, to hurt him still further, then he would only have to search my room to find the book, and nothing would be achieved.
What if I went in from the outside and made it look like a burglary? But even then, chances were that my room would be the first place Dad would search. The sad truth was that that was the point to which our relationship had sunk.
A fresh idea occurred. I dressed as quickly as I could, climbed out the window and slid down the tree. I was running the risk of Dad catching me, of course, but that couldn't be helped. This time the keys to Dad's truck were in their usual place, and I was soon on the road, driving as fast as I could for town. I had to be back before Dad woke, or all this was for nothing.
Fran's bar was still open when I arrived, and I entered cautiously. The bar was empty, and Fran herself was cleaning glasses. She looked up as I entered, and her face hardened.
"We're closed."
"I don't want a drink."
"Is there another of my friends you want to put in jail?"
"That wasn't my fault!" I begged.
Fran gave a humorless laugh. "No, you just happen to be fucking him in the closet when your Dad turns up. I know your type—thrill seekers. Maybe I used to be one myself when I was your ... actually, I was younger than you. By the time I was your age, I was already married and divorced. Some of us have to grow up fast while others," she looked pointedly at me, "never grow up at all. I don't mind you getting your rocks off by screwing Archer while your dad's in the next room, I mind him getting sent down just so you could have a cheap thrill!"
How much of that was fair? More than I would have liked. But there was no sense in feeling sorry for myself.
"I want to help Archer."
"Little late for that."
"I know where the book is."
Fran looked up sharply. Clearly she knew what I was talking about. "Archer's little black book?"
I nodded. "I can arrange for my house to be empty tomorrow night." I glanced at my watch. "Well, tonight, technically. Tell me who to speak to."
Fran stood staring at me for a while. There was something in her stare that reminded me of Archer, and I wondered how well the pair knew each other.
"Joe!" Fran called towards the back room and, a few moments later, a blond teenage head poked out.
"What?"
"Joe Henry, this is Cassidy Dupont. Yeah, that one. I think you two should talk."
I managed to keep it quick, and not long after, I was driving back home, wondering if I had done the right thing. I probably hadn't. How could helping a criminal escape be the right thing? How could helping a man break into my dad's house and steal vital evidence be the right thing? But I was saving the man I loved, and that was all that burned in my mind.
# # #
"I was thinking," I tentatively raised my voice at breakfast, "How about we go out for a meal tonight? All three of us."
Dad looked instantly suspicious. "All three of us?"
"It might help clear the air."
Not a word had been said about the events of last night, and I think all three of us were eager to keep things that way. The best way to move on was to move past it.
"I think it's a great idea," Riley enthused.
There was a faint flicker of a smile across my Dad's face. "Sure. Why not."
I felt a deep pang of guilt as I deceived my family for my own ends. But I couldn't see another way of setting Archer free.
# # #
Late that afternoon, we headed out to dinner, but I stopped as I reached the car. "I forgot my phone. I'll be back in a second." I ran back into the house. Moving quickly, I unlocked the back door. Joe Henry would make it look like a burglary, but I wanted to give him the maximum time possible to find the book. Next, I ran upstairs into my dad's room. In its usual hiding place under a lamp was the key to the office. I dashed back downstairs, unlocked the office door, and raced back up again to replace it. Now I really was a bad girl.
"Got everything?" asked my dad. He was trying to be upbeat, but I could still sense his hurt and anger about what I had done.
"Yeah." I patted my pocket. "Let's go."
It was a nice dinner, which actually made me feel worse. The conversation was inevitably a bit stilted, with Riley doing most of the heavy lifting in keeping things moving, but it was still nice. It had been a long time since the three of us were out together, something we used to do all the time when Riley and I were younger. Of course, there were still subjects to be skirted around, and dad was still looking at me with a slight air of suspicion, but it was still nice.
Once we got home, however, the shit hit the fan.
"We've been burgled!" Dad raced into his office, while Riley checked elsewhere.
"I don't see anything missing!" she called. "TV and DVD are still here. There's no sign anyone's been upstairs."
Dad emerged from his study with a dark look on his face. "They got what they came for."
He shot a very quick look at me, which made me feel a little better. I had been right; if I had not been with him all night then he would have accused me of this.
"What did they get?" asked Riley.
"Evidence against Battle Pride," Dad snarled through gritted teeth.
"If you know who took it," said Riley brightly, "Why don't you just go and arrest them?"
Dad's face creased in anger and irritation that was now directed as much at himself as at anyone else. "I didn't have a warrant when I raided the tattoo parlor."
"Dad?!" Riley sounded genuinely shocked. Ben Dupont had broken The Rules and he had paid the price.
"I knew they were guilty." Dad wrung his hands in exasperation. "I just didn't have the evidence."
"What'll you do now?" I tried to keep the smugness out of my voice. I knew that perhaps my behavior tonight had been less than perfect, and I had been feeling pretty guilty about it, but now that it turned out that Dad had locked Archer up under false pretenses, I was feeling a whole lot better.
Dad stared back at his ransacked office. "I don't know."
Chapter Eight
Archer
It will most likely come as no great surprise to you to learn that this was not my first time in jail. My first time was when I was sixteen, and I'd spent a few uncomfortable nights there since. Still, even with my line of employment, the longest I'd spent inside was six months, which wasn’t bad when you thought about it. Unfortunately, this time was looking quite a bit longer, and I couldn't see any obvious way out of it. If Dupont had my Black Book, then I'd be behind bars for years. It wasn’t a prospect I relished.
I was sitting on the floor of the cell in the local jail, wishing I had a baseball so I could work on my Steve McQueen impersonation, when I heard a door open down the corridor and the sound of footsteps coming my way.
Sheriff Ben Dupont stopped in front of my cell and turned to his deputy.
"Step outside for a minute, Carter."
Deputy Carter gave me a black look but did as he was told.
"Good evening, Sheriff." No harm in being polite.
"Mr. Cyprian." Dupont couldn't keep the hatred out of his voice, but I couldn't really blame him. We were on opposite sides of the law, natural enemies, and
that was that. I think we both understood that and maybe each grudgingly respected the other. I might not like Ben Dupont, but I knew he wasn't crooked. He might bend the rules, but he never broke them. You couldn't bribe Ben Dupont. By the same token, he might have despised everything I represented, but Dupont knew that I wouldn't hurt women, children, or the elderly. I didn't sell drugs to kids, and I didn't make demands on those who couldn’t afford it.
But two nights ago, the dynamic between us changed when he caught me and Cassidy coming out of that closet. I was genuinely sorry to see Carter go because, if he could get away with it, I had a feeling Ben Dupont wouldn't mind stringing me up and claiming I hung myself. I'd had run-ins with a few angry fathers in the past (also boyfriends and husbands), but I'd never had a father walk in just after I've deflowered a girl. I could claim ignorance, but I couldn't see Dupont believing me. My best hope was that he didn't know himself.
Dupont spoke. "My daughter seems to have a bit of a thing for you."
"It's not going to matter where I'm going, is it?" I pointed out.
Dupont pulled a wooden chair from by the wall and sat down. He looked tired. "There's men on death row who get married now. They get hundreds of proposals a week. Something to do with the glamor of the criminal. I can't see it myself, but there it is. And now, thanks to those bleeding-heart human rights lobbyists, they all have to have conjugal visits. You should see the queues of women. When I think that there are murderers and rapists who are having more sex in a week than I've had since my wife left, it makes me wonder why the hell I bother enforcing the law."
This was more of a heart to heart than I had expected, and I decided to just let him talk it out.
"I don't want my Cassidy spending her days hanging around prisons to see you."
"She won't." I said it, but I wasn't sure.
"She will," said Dupont. "She's a loyal girl. And she's got it bad for you. Plus, she knows how angry it'd make me. She'll be there every visiting day, every ... conjugal day, and she'll be there to meet you when you come out. Stupid kid loves to play with fire. A boyfriend in prison is what she's wanted her whole damn life."
"Not much I can do to stop her." I didn't say it as if I was forcing his hand. I just said it.
"No." Dupont spat the word. "In fact, it has become obvious to me that, when it comes to Cassidy, having you inside is worse for me than having you out. Because when you're inside, you can't run off and leave her."
He had been staring at the floor, but now he looked up. "We're both men here, so let's speak plainly. You know I've got you, right? You know you're going down."
I nodded slowly.
"I'm willing to drop it."
My eyes widened as he spoke.
"And I'll turn a blind eye to the hooch and to the protection racket, provided the only people you're menacing are other criminals."
"If?" I asked.
"You stay away from Cassidy," said Dupont, and I could hear the earnestness in his voice. "More than that—drive her away. Let her know that she means less than nothing to you. That she was just a ..." he swallowed as he used awkward words to describe his daughter, "just a fuck. Break her heart quick to save her having it broken slow, and ruining her life in the bargain."
Of course, unbeknownst to Ben Dupont, he and I were on the same side in this. What he was telling me to do, I had already done and would have continued to do. I didn't want ruin her life either, and that girl was definitely in way over her head with me. He was offering me a deal in which I gave up absolutely nothing. I felt a bit smug and managed not to grin as I nodded.
"We'll shake on it," said Dupont. "Like men."
We did so.
Dupont unlocked my cell. "You're free to go."
It was obviously killing him, and I couldn't help admiring the man. He had been after me for years, and now he was giving me up for the sake of his daughter. Everyone knew that Ben Dupont was incorruptible, and here he was, making a deal with a criminal to look the other way, all to keep Cassidy safe. The girl didn't know how lucky she was. If I'd had a dad like that then ... well, maybe things would have been different.
I walked for the door.
"Cyprian."
I turned back.
"If you touch her again," said Dupont, his face grave. "It won't be the law that comes for you. It'll be me. You understand?"
I nodded.
# # #
"You what?!" I nearly exploded, thumping the table with my fist.
Joe looked taken aback, frozen, with my Black Book still in his hand. "I stole your book back, Archer. I thought you'd be pleased."
Joe was a relatively new Battle Pride recruit, but he had risen swiftly. I guess that was largely down to me. I liked the kid, and I trusted him. He was a hothead, an idiot, really. He took too many chances, drove too fast, gambled too much, slept with anything in a skirt, and wanted to do all of that yesterday. In other words, he was just like me at his age. I wanted him to survive to my age, to appreciate what a dumb way to live it was.
I took the book and tucked it away in my jacket. "I am, Joe, I am. Thanks. You risked a lot for me, and I appreciate it."
Joe grinned. "Well, it got you out, didn't it? That makes it worthwhile to me."
I nodded my thanks. But inside I was seething. I thought I'd put one over on Ben Dupont, but it turned out that he'd put one over on me. He couldn't have held me since he had no evidence, but he pretended he had for long enough to extract a promise out of me not to go near Cassidy. Of course, I'd had no intention of going near Cassidy anyway, so, in a way, I was the winner. But it still grated.
And of course, there was a very easy way of getting my own back on that devious bastard.
But, no. I didn't care about breaking my word—Dupont had already made that promise null and void through his dishonesty anyway. But my resolve towards Cassidy remained the same. I didn't want to hurt her. I didn't want her to end up in a life like mine, with a guy like me.
"How'd you get hold of this book anyway?" I asked. "The Dupont house is pretty tightly locked up."
Joe shrugged. "Got a bit of help."
I stirred in my seat. She couldn't have. Could she?
"That little redhead you screwed the night of the fight."
"I never screwed her that night," I said defensively.
"Fran says you did."
"She's getting mixed up. It was the night after."
"It was both!" Fran called in from the back room.
"Doesn't matter." I drew a line under the matter. "Cassidy helped you get the book?"
"Wouldn't have got it without her."
Joe kept talking, but my mind was elsewhere as a mixture of uncalled for emotions poured into me. I divided women into three groups: want to do them, don't want to do them, done them. And once they were in the third category—xcept in rare cases like Fran—they ceased to be of interest. But Cassidy was firmly in the 'done' group, and yet, I was still thinking about her, and not just about having another go with her. The fact was that this new development indicated that her dad was right. She had a thing for me, and she was willing to break the law to help me. On the one hand, that strongly suggested that I should be doing exactly what Dupont had told me, and what I had planned to do. On the other, the knowledge that she had come through for me like that made me want her even more.
And I owed Ben Dupont payback for his little trick.
"I should really thank her."
Fran shot a suspicious look at me as she entered carrying a crate of hooch. "When you say thank her ..."
"Just say thank you."
Joe hopped up to help Fran with the crate. "Where do you want it?"
Fran grinned. "When have I heard that question before? Stick it in the back."
"When have I heard that answer before?"
I stared in some little surprise during this exchange. Fran and Joe? The kid really was like me.
"He's twenty years younger than you," I hissed as Joe carried the crate out.
"Twenty-two," corrected Fran. "He reminds me of you, actually."
"So, you're trading me in for a younger model?"
Fran shook her head. "You know me, Archer. I'm not looking for anything long-term or serious. You, on the other hand ..."
