“Sorry it’s cold,” I mutter.
Aidan shakes his head in disgust. “Don’t apologise. Cold coffee is the least of our worries.” He smiles wearily. “Gimme the knife,” he says, extending his open palm to me.
I hand it over, and he flicks it out and back in again. He slips it into his back jeans pocket.
“Don’t worry, babe. I know how to use it,” he assures me, and winks. He’s told me before he knows how to skin a rabbit; not that this is the same, but at least he has something to defend himself with if he needs to. I hope to God it stays buried in his pocket.
Aidan puts on the vest, and buttons up his black winter coat over the top. He’s as gorgeous as always, but I swear, even with the enormity of what’s ahead of him, he’s calm. Almost too calm.
After a soft knock at the door, Aidan looks through the peephole, and slowly opens the door. Ryan walks in, black bag in hand. I move the remnants of breakfast from the table, and he opens a small laptop. I hand him the USB from my pocket, and he inserts it into the drive. I can’t even watch. If this is blank, I’ll be completely gutted. And all this would be for nothing. How do we play it if there’s nothing on it? Do I ring him and tell him Aidan’s not coming?
The sound of my groaning comes from the laptop speaker, filling the room. Ryan shuts it down.
My heart tries to escape my chest as the terror of the first time I watched it returns tenfold. Aidan squeezes his arm around my waist.
“It’s nearly over,” he whispers in my ear, and then kisses my temple “They’ll have this fucker in custody in no time.”
“Skipper will be along shortly to have a chat to you,” Ryan interrupts. “Eevie will come with me. We won’t be far away. We’ll see you on the flip side, man.”
“Keep her safe, Ryan,” Aidan says, his face blanketed in seriousness.
“You have my word, man.” Ryan pats Aidan on the back.
“Stick with Ryan. I’ll see you real soon.” Aidan draws me into a hug, and kisses me hard on the lips.
“Yep. See you soon,” I say.
****
* AIDAN *
“Aidan, I’m Skipper,” says the middle-aged man in front of me as we shake hands. The collar of his white polo shirt pokes out the top of the black police vest which is snug over his ample frame. His gut overhangs his ill-fitting beige pants, and he smooths down his fine, blonde hair over his blinding bald spot. “I’m in charge of the taskforce and just wanted to have a quick chat before the meet.” Judging from his serious face and brows furrowed, this will be no casual chat.
I clear my throat. “Sure.”
“We appreciate what you’re willing to do here to facilitate this operation, but be under no delusions about this man. Regardless of the fact he’s your father, he is a fugitive. He is dangerous, and may be armed.”
“Got it.” Armed and dangerous. Fucking great.
“The most important thing is for you to be calm, but more importantly, to keep him calm. We don’t wanna spook him. Just keep him talking, try to forget we’re here, keeping the meet as natural as possible.”
How the fuck do I do that? Go to a happy place? Like I’d be able to forget the whole purpose of this shit.
I mumble and nod.
“We’ve had one of the local undercover guys take a drive near the oval. Make sure you sit on the left-hand side of the stands so we’ll have a better element of surprise. We don’t want to give him any opportunity to do something stupid. Try and keep him talking as long as possible. Distract him.”
“Okay. Is that it?”
“Yes, that’s about it. We’ll have our eyes on you as soon as you arrive. We’ve got you covered.”
“Thanks,” I say, secretly hoping there’s at least a dozen well-trained snipers at the ready.
He grips my shoulder with his pudgy fingers, and looks me right in the eye. “Let’s do this.”
“Let’s.”
****
* EEVIE *
I’m afraid for him. Afraid of what Aidan’s father really wants. Terrified of what a desperate man might do if cornered.
Ryan and I sit in silence, waiting in a black four-wheel drive with dark-tinted windows, a couple of blocks away from the oval. I won’t know how things have gone down until it’s over. I wish I were there to hold Aidan’s hand, as stupid as that sounds. Not that he needs it. Regardless of the actual situation, this is the first time he’s seen his father in what must feel like a lifetime, and I wanna be there with him. Right beside him. Even if all I can do is hold his hand. But this is no ordinary meeting. This is something that was thrust upon us. Aidan knew in his gut he didn’t want anything to do with his missing father. How right his instincts were.
I twirl my hair tight around my finger, wishing the caffeine buzz from my last coffee would disappear. It’s only feeding my anxiety more.
“You know, it’s weird. I feel like I already know you. Cassie’s always talking about you.” Ryan’s words pull me away from my thoughts of doom.
“All good, I hope.”
“Yeah, all good. You know, you’re pretty brave to have managed this on your own up until this point. I’m just glad you asked for help. I’d hate to see something happen to you.”
“I appreciate all you’ve done, Ryan. I just want this last part over with. Aidan needs it to be over with.”
Ryan flattens his palms at the top of his thighs, and smooths them over his blue jeans to his knees. He turns side on, his chocolate-brown eyes doing their best to penetrate my thoughts. What is with him?
“You really love him, don’t you?” he says as if it’s just dawned on him. Why would he think any different?
“Yes, Ryan. More than I can say.” I smile, and stare back.
“So, I’m definitely out of the running, then,” he says with a cocky smirk, that trademark dimple making an appearance. Regardless of how good-looking he is, and how I’m sure he knows how to do wicked things to a girl, he’s not Aidan. He can’t even compare.
“There isn’t even a competition,” I say softly and then realise how harsh that would’ve come across. But really, it’s the truth.
“Ouch. Ah well, you can’t blame a man for tryin’.” His gaze shifts to the two-way radio, and he checks the display. Then he checks his watch. Even though he’s engaging in casual conversation, he’s still business.
“Is this you trying to distract me from what’s happening?”
He opens his mouth to speak, but pauses. “For the most part,” he says, grinning cheekily through his almost-perfect teeth. “You don’t happen to have a sister, by chance?”
“Nope, you’re outta luck. Three brothers.”
“Go figure.”
The radio squelches. “Briar’s set. We’ve got eyes on our POI,” a deep male voice says.
My heart pounds violently in my chest, and the weight of my thoughts have my head falling back against the headrest. I close my eyes, dreading whatever comes through the speaker next. Please be safe, Aidan. Please.
I grip the doorhandle and dig my fingers into the edge of my seat. A warm hand covers mine, and I release my tight grip. Ryan squeezes my hand, reassuring me, and I open my bleary eyes and turn to him. “Eevie, this’ll be over in a matter of minutes. Like I said before, we’ve got the best in the country working on this take-down. Please … trust me.”
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
* AIDAN *
As directed, I sit down at the left-hand side of the stands by the edge of the oval, my knees fidgeting nervously. I rake my hands through my hair, and have to consciously unclench my teeth. What is probably only a few minutes drags on like the final laps of a big race. You know the end is coming, but everything seems to go in slow motion.
There’s only one thing that’s been a comfort while sitting here. Eevie is safe. It’s the one thing I don’t have to worry about. Thank fuck she got the tape off the prick. This shit is almost over. The cops wanted to take him down then, but I couldn’t have Eevie in the way. I couldn’t be respo
nsible for her getting hurt, not after coming this far. When she walked away from that café carrying two coffees and a paper bag, it was the biggest fucking relief of my life. Seeing her come out the other side, unscathed, my lungs finally let me take the air in deep. I no longer felt crushed.
Cops or not, any minute now will be the confrontation I need to have. Alone. This chapter of my life is about to be nailed shut for good. It’s been a fucking long time coming.
Mesmerised by the trees swaying in the chilling wind, my head is riddled with thoughts that have haunted me since some of my earliest memories. Things I had forgotten about, the nightmares, the grief of not having a father like the other kids. The questions in school about what my father did for a living, which soon stopped when I said I didn’t have one. And I don’t have one. I never did.
He never saw me take my first step, helped me tie my shoelace, or taught me to ride a motorbike.
He was never there.
But one person was. Every step of the way.
Mum.
Dear old Mum. If she knew what was happening today, she would kill me … even if I am her only son. I’ve gotten the cold shoulder before, but knowing what I’m walking into … hell, if she knew, she’d be here with a baseball bat ready to bash his skull in to protect me from him. As a teenager, when I’d first asked her about him, she froze up on me so bad that it took weeks before she got back to her usual self. She hid it from me for over a decade, protected me from experiencing the heartache of a man who didn’t care for me, or for her.
I had every right to ask questions. To know my blood, and what became of him. When I got my answers, I wished I could have taken all those incessant questions back. I must have put Mum through so much pain with the mere uttering of the word “Dad”, rehashing the years of her life which should have been her happiest. I wish I had no father at all, rather than the one I have.
Could I ever tell Mum about any of this? Would it just be reopening a lifetime of wounds, or could it close it for her for good?
From the corner of the football field, he approaches. Tall and slim-built, his longish dark-brown hair is taunted by the breeze, and a dark, rough beard masks his face. He stamps out a cigarette into the ground, walking through a veil of smoke in front of him. Blue jeans and boots, shirtsleeves rolled up, a maze of tattoos weaves up one arm like ivy.
This is him.
My father.
A complete stranger.
The thumping of my heart pounds loudly in my ears, blocking out the sound of everything around me. He walks straight towards me, his dark, intense gaze focused on me.
I stand up, balling my hands into tight fists beside me. Even though it goes against every zinging cell in my body, I will not hit him. I will resist the rising urge to pummel him into the ground for all those times I cried for him as a child. This might just be my biggest challenge yet. I won’t let him in. I won’t let him hurt me.
“Look at you,” he says, stopping a metre away. He extends his hand to me, his pale-blue eyes, carbon copies of mine, examine me closely. I blatantly put my hands in my pockets. There is no conceivable way I’m shaking his fucking hand. No way in hell. I look him up and down. Doesn’t look like he’s carrying a weapon, so I should be okay if shit gets heavy. The flick-knife in my back pocket comforts me simply by being there.
He looks behind me, and towards my car. “You didn’t bring your girlfriend?”
“No.” I resist the urge to point out they’ve already met, but he doesn’t know I know. And my game face is on. “She thought a bit of father-son time was more important. She said she’d catch up with us later.” But unfortunately for you, your arse will be locked up.
“Fair enough. Things serious with you two?” he says, raising an eyebrow.
I know you’ve seen the tape, you fucking arsehole. Should I confront him about the blackmail now? It might be my only chance. The acid in my gut gurgles, burning up into my throat. I swallow it down as I summon any remaining self-control not to give away that I know his game.
“What do you want from me?” I say slowly, trying to keep him calm, but beneath my skin, thumbtacks might as well be running through my blood.
“I wanna get to know my son.” He looks me up and down. “My little Maverick is all grown up.”
I cringe inwardly from his words. He did not just call me that. He did not just say “my”. I have not been his since he walked out that door. And like I said to myself, anyone who calls me Maverick doesn’t know me … and won’t.
“My name is Aidan,” I say, my jaw tight. I cross my arms under my chest. “And I haven’t been your little anything for a long time.”
“Yeah, I know. Still, good to see you’ve made somethin’ of yourself. I read about you in the paper. Looks like the sponsors are fightin’ over ya.” I ignore his comments. I just want this done, but I have to keep him talking. Fuck it.
“After all this time, why now do you wanna know me?”
“Is it a fucking crime that I wanna get to know my son?” No, but extortion is, and the long list of other things you’re wanted for. “I wanna get to know ya. Times are tough, and I thought you could help out ya Dad.”
“Is that what you want? Money?” Is he serious? What a fucking parasite! He couldn’t even stand there and pretend for more than a couple of fat fucking minutes that he wanted to see me for anything more. Fire rages through my veins, waiting for the next flow of bullshit from his mouth.
“I’m just tryin’ to get ahead, son. I’m your blood, Aidan. I’m a part of you. That should mean somethin’.”
“Yeah, it should, but don’t you dare try and give me a fuckin’ lesson on blood. You abandoned us without so much as a word. Blood means nothing to you … and you mean nothing to me.”
His dark eyebrows knit together, his mouth forming a hard line.
“Police! Don’t move …. Get on the ground … Get on the ground!”
They appear out of nowhere. Suddenly, he is surrounded by at least half a dozen guys in plain clothes wearing vests with shiny, black handguns pointed right at his head. Before he can move his hands they take him to the ground in a loud thud. His face slams into the gravel. That noise in itself sounds like victory. Grind that motherfucker into the dirt.
“Cover him!” someone yells out. Skipper jumps on top of him as he scuffles wildly while they secure handcuffs behind his back.
Skipper takes a handgun from the back of my father’s jeans. Well, fuck me running. He had a gun. They frisk up and down his arms and legs. He snarls as the guys nearly rip his arm out of the socket when they bring him to his feet in front of me.
“You did this?” he growls, shooting me an accusatory glare. The lines around his eyes and across his brow deepen. All the years of pent-up aggression, disappointment and hurt ignite the fire in my gut.
When my right fist slams into his face like a sledgehammer, blood sprays from his nose, taking that look clean off his face.
“You did this to yourself. No one messes with the people I love. NO ONE,” my voice thunders.
He opens his mouth, showing the blood staining his teeth. Then he smiles. Fire crawls up my throat. I wanna rip his head clean off, and remove that smile. Permanently.
“You’ve got fucking balls, son,” he says, and chuckles. Son. Son! How can I be related to such a desperate fuck?
Before I blink, my fist pounds him again, and he groans out loud as blood gushes from his nose down over his chin.
“And that … is for fuckin’ breaking my mother’s heart.”
One of the guys nods at me in understanding. They didn’t have to hold him there, but I’m grateful I got my chance. I’ll buy the whole damn taskforce a beer for the opportunity. Odds are he’ll be locked up for life, and I’ll never have to deal with him again. Now he really is dead to me. The final nail is in. Boom.
“Mitchell Stone, you are under arrest for extortion, importation and distribution of a prohibited drug, and recruiting a child to assist in illegal activity.
Anything you say may be used in evidence against you. You are not obliged to say anything but if you do it will be taken in evidence. Do you understand your rights as I have read them to you?” A smile almost breaks through on Skipper’s face as his words taunt my father.
I turn and walk away before I hit him again. If I don’t walk now, I might not be able to stop.
“Yeah … I fuckin’ understand, alright,” he says, and I hear him spit.
I walk over to the car park, flicking out my aching hand that’s splattered with his blood. The millions of times I thought about hitting him, and finally, I got my chance. I’ve got closure.
A black four-wheel drive pulls up quickly, and Eevie gets out and runs frantically towards me. She falls heavy into my arms, taking the air from my lungs on impact.
“Oh my God, are you bleeding? What happened?” she asks, her voice trembling just as much as her body. Eevie runs her fingers over my jaw. I must’ve wiped my hand on my face.
“It’s not my blood … I’m fine. It’s over, baby girl. Over.”
“Thank God,” she whimpers. She sniffs back her runny nose as tears create silvery trails down her pale face. They dissolve in a salty wash on my lips as I kiss her cheeks. I hold her tight, trying to comfort her, comfort myself. Of all the intense shit I’ve dealt with, we’ve dealt with, this takes the motherfucking prize-winning cake.
The goddamn fucker was armed. This could’ve been so much worse. Was he gonna shoot me? Did he have that gun on him when he met Eevie? Fuck! Sometimes that girl is too brave for her own damn good. If anything had of happened to her when I promised it would be fine, it would end me. Breathing would no longer be required.
Eevie’s blue-green eyes shine up at me, and like a pussy I wanna cry. But I hold that shit in. Now’s not the time to fall to pieces. The smile that meets her eyes has my heart pounding for another reason. Many reasons.
Her. Our love. Our friendship, and the strength we found to fight for all of it.
We kiss hard, and it’s as tingling and exciting as our first kiss. When we pull away, breathless, I hold her close, and bury my head in her neck. I take in her sweet smell as she clings to me, her mouth to my ear.
Spike (Spark Series #2) Page 16