Deadly Secrets

by Sarah Barrie

  Jordan thought about that. Shrugged. ‘He irritates me, that’s all.’

  He sent her a cheeky grin. ‘That’s what they all say.’ Closing up the truck, he opened the driver’s door. ‘I have to head off again. Go easy on him, eh? The poor guy’s just trying to do his job.’

  ‘Poor guy? You’ve got to spend some more time with him. You don’t know him at all.’

  ‘Yeah, but I know you. You still coming over Saturday?’

  ‘If you stop with the hassling.’

  He laughed. ‘See ya Friday night.’

  Jordan waved him off and turned back to her newest acquisition. ‘Now what the hell am I going to do with you?’ The colt snorted, trotted forwards, then shied away when she reached out to stroke him. ‘You might not know it, but I’m your only friend, mister. You were headed for a tin of dog food and don’t you forget it. I suppose you’re hungry?’

  ‘Trot, buddy, let’s go.’ Jordan cued the colt to move forward and he stepped out into an active stride. ‘You’re a good boy.’

  For a week she’d been working the brumby colt, and so far he’d been a breeze. At the rate this boy was learning, it wasn’t going to take long at all before he was going to be ready for a new home. She’d have to call Katrina, get him gelded. She knew the vet did a run out her way every Thursday, so she’d book it in. Then she could find him an owner.

  One less thing to do each day and a saved life. It made her feel good, but didn’t help with her schedule. The time was fast approaching for the cattle sales and not nearly enough work was getting done. She liked what she did, she reminded herself — farming was all she’d ever wanted to do. She liked the animals, enjoyed the satisfaction she got out of training them. The hours were sometimes hard but they were her own, she had no boss but herself and she got to do things her way. Still, at present her way was taking on the workload of at least three people and her deadlines were almost suicidal.

  When a car she didn’t recognise bumped down her driveway she could have groaned. She didn’t have time for visitors today. But a moment later Merv’s son Michael stepped out of the car, and with curiosity she pulled up the colt and climbed over the fence.

  ‘Hello there. Didn’t know they handed out licences to fifteen-year-olds these days.’

  Michael shrugged and scooped a case of beer out of the car. ‘Sixteen next month. Dad said I needed to get my arse out here and give you this. Reckons he owes ya for the other night at the club.’

  ‘And your dad’s not here himself because?’

  ‘Dad ain’t got time, he’s on a run. ’Sides, I have to go over apologise to Ms Calper or he’s gonna tan my butt.’

  ‘Heard about that. I’m curious…where’d you get the g-strings?’

  His grin was huge. ‘Mail order.’

  ‘Sounds like an expensive prank, Michael.’

  ‘Worth it.’ He giggled, his face a study in satisfaction. ‘It was so fucking funny. She stood in the street and dropped her shopping and stared like a UFO had just landed. Then one of the really ancient old dudes from the garden club wolf whistled. Fuck, I just about fell over.’

  Biting back her completely inappropriate amusement — because yeah, it would have been funny, but still — she shook her head. ‘It wasn’t funny for Daisy, Michael. You know how seriously she takes her reputation.’

  ‘Too seriously. But cool, I’ll apologise.’

  ‘And Mavis?’

  ‘Oh the sauce thing? Yeah, she just stuck her hand straight in, so…her too and…nevermind.’ His grin turned sheepish.

  ‘Right, well thank you for the beer.’ She took it and dumped it on the ground by a fencepost. ‘I’ll take it up when I’m finished working this one.’

  Michael approached the fence and reached out to stroke the gelding on the nose. It snorted, tossed its head, stepped forward for a sniff. ‘He’s shy.’

  ‘Yeah, he was wild a couple of weeks ago.’

  ‘He’s a brumby? Cool. What’s his name?’

  Jordan shrugged. ‘Doesn’t have one yet. You like horses?’

  He nodded as he continued to coax the colt up to the fence. ‘I worked at John Bailey’s riding school in the holidays last year and he gave me lessons. That was just before he sold up. Can I watch you work him?’

  Jordan thought about that, and decided she couldn’t really see why not. ‘Sure.’

  ‘Watching’ became a nonstop verbal assault. Michael wanted to know everything she was doing, how and why. Smart kid, Jordan thought more than once when he made some comment or other. And keen.

  ‘Want me to wash him down?’ Michael offered when she finished.

  ‘Ah…he’s a bit unpredictable.’

  ‘That’s okay.’

  Relenting, Jordan sat on the fence and watched the kid handle the horse. Not bad. Not great, but not bad. He was patient, calm, firm. ‘Pretty good. Stick him in that yard over there, would you?’

  Michael complied. She was fast rethinking her opinion of him. A good kid, she decided, with too much time on his hands and not enough attention from his father. He jogged across with a grin on his face. ‘You workin’ any more horses?’

  ‘Not today.’ When his face fell she decided to go with her gut. ‘Why don’t you come by again tomorrow?’

  ‘Are you serious?’

  ‘I can’t pay you anything, but if you’re interested…if you’re willing to give me a hand with the more mundane stuff, I’d be glad to teach you to do what I was doing in there with the brumby. Just for a few weeks. I’ve even got an old stock horse mare you could ride if you liked.’

  ‘Hell yes!’ He all but danced on the spot. ‘I mean, yes please! Really? That would be sick. I mean cool. I mean…I’ll work really hard, I promise.’

  ‘We’ll give it a try. You come out here whenever your dad can bring you round after school. I don’t want you driving yourself here. Clear?’

  ‘Yes Ms Windcroft.’

  Jordan pulled a pained expression. ‘Jordan or Jordy. Never Ms Windcroft.’

  His grin stretched impossibly wide. ‘Okay…Jordy. Wow, thanks. I’m gonna go home, call Dad. Thanks.’

  ‘Don’t thank me yet, there’s lots of work. And Michael? One prank, it’s all over, got it?’

  ‘No pranks, promise. See you tomorrow!’

  Jordan made it in to the police station for her meeting the following morning with five minutes to spare. She’d made damn sure she was there on time, because in spite of the weird vibe going on between her and Reid, she didn’t doubt for a second what would happen if she wasn’t. And she didn’t enjoy being handcuffed. She had to admit the guy made her wary, nervous, and she wasn’t at all happy about it.

  She found him in the reception area chatting easily with Martha. They laughed over something and an instant jolt of female appreciation slammed into her. He might make her wary and nervous, but he also made her hot. She wasn’t happy about that, either.

  ‘Morning, Jordy,’ Martha greeted warmly.

  ‘Hi Martha. Reid.’

  ‘You’re here,’ he observed with mock disbelief.

  She smiled sweetly. ‘Why didn’t you just put the “this time” in that statement and be done with it?’

  ‘Goes without saying. Let’s get started.’

  ‘Someone’s in a good mood today,’ she commented when he gestured politely for her to take a seat.

  ‘You’re here, you’re on time and you’re doing what you’re told. It’s a small personal victory. Let me have my moment.’

  She narrowed her gaze, but smiled. ‘Don’t push it, Tallon.’

  He just grinned. Taking his seat, he opened her file. ‘You have a lot of jobs listed. I should probably get up to date with what you’re currently doing.’

  ‘All of them.’

  ‘Excuse me?’

  ‘All of them. I run the farm — take horses in for training and breed and sell cattle, and do off-farm jobs like Mary’s aquarium, helping Joel at the shop…whatever I can get.’

  ‘Busy g
irl.’

  She shrugged. ‘Have to be.’

  He frowned thoughtfully. ‘How much financial trouble are you in?’

  She met his gaze steadily. ‘I’m not in trouble, Reid. I just have a lot of bills.’

  ‘I see.’

  As they went through the meeting, Jordan’s mind was on the man in front of her. Something was off…not quite right. She thought back to the way Harry had said he’d ‘agreed to work with him’… well, it just seemed strange. And Barney had never carried handcuffs and he’d never acted so ‘cop’-like. And what was with all the questions about the accident and the drugs?

  She looked at him covertly, appraising the muscular shoulders and perfect posture. She’d had a taste of his strength, of his control. Both were, she considered with a small smile, exceptional, almost…militaristic. Of course, there was a streak of recklessness there too — a sense that he was more accustomed to giving orders rather than taking them.

  Without looking up from his writing he somehow sensed her stare. ‘Something on your mind?’

  Startled, she fumbled for something to say. ‘I still don’t buy it. You, I mean.’

  ‘Yeah? Well for the record, ditto.’ He looked up to meet her gaze. ‘I can’t see you really being the hard-arse you pretend to be with this entire town falling all over themselves to look out for you.’

  Jordan’s gaze narrowed. ‘Just why would I be pretending to be anything?’

  ‘Now there’s the million dollar question.’ He closed her file and the photo that had been attached slipped to the floor. Picking it up, he waved it at her. ‘I’ve been meaning to say…some mug-shot.’

  ‘Yeah, well…something bad happened to the police one.’

  ‘I can just imagine.’

  Jordan grimaced. ‘Actually I’m pretty sure you can’t…’

  He stared at her for a full ten seconds and she’d be damned if she could guess what he was thinking. ‘What were you doing having access to this folder in the first place?’

  ‘Can’t say — don’t want to get anyone into trouble.’

  When his eyes narrowed on hers, little detonations of heat exploded all over her skin. ‘You’re a fascinating mix.’

  She forced breath into her lungs and raised her eyebrows. ‘A line like that might be okay if you were addressing a cocktail.’

  He sat back in his chair and smiled slowly. ‘I don’t use lines, Princess. I don’t need them.’

  Oh God, no, he wouldn’t.

  He got up, dropped her file back in its place and sat on the edge of the desk. Just too close, Jordan acknowledged, and could only assume he was doing it on purpose. She was forced to lift her head to see him, while the scent of whatever cologne he was wearing seeped into her consciousness like a drug. ‘I’m pretty good at figuring people out,’ he told her quietly, ‘and I’ve learnt enough over the years to see that something about you just doesn’t add up. And I’m going to tell you why.’

  ‘Okay…’

  ‘On one hand you’re friendly, engaging, admirably capable and independent to a fault. You’re smart enough to own and run that property of yours almost single-handedly. Add to that you’re compassionate – and on that I refer to bar brawl guy — and people around here seem to think you’re as soft as Mary made out. Everyone in town cares about you because you care about them. I’ve seen it and, whether you like it or not, I know it.

  ‘On the other hand, you’re uncooperative and abrasive with authority, have a mouth on you that could freeze a furnace and a history that suggests you’re irresponsible and likely have or have had a problem with alcohol and illicit drugs.’

  Jordan shrugged. ‘It needs a bit of work, but you make some valid points.’

  ‘I think — in fact I’m pretty damn sure — that you’re covering something up because you believe you’re doing the right thing and you’re worried I’m going to figure it out.’

  A cold chill ran straight down her spine but she made herself look him in the eye. ‘I don’t know what you’re talking about. I’m not doing drugs, I’m following the rules of my probation…more or less.’

  ‘You’re also…’ he lifted his fingers to her hair, casually toying with the ends of it while his eyes locked on hers with the heat of a detonated nuclear weapon, ‘…alternately provoking me and keeping me at a distance.’

  It was hard enough to concentrate on formulating a defence when his fingers were in her hair, but that look was something else. And, God, she felt her body go into overdrive. She leaned toward him just a little bit before pulling herself up with a start.

  ‘And what would you call what you’re doing right now?’ she miraculously found the brain cells to argue.

  He smiled a little, his fingers moving under her chin and tipping her face back up to his, while his thumb caressed the line of her jaw. ‘Figuring you out. I like puzzles. I like solving them. And let me tell you this.’ Tell her what? Her mind was so scattered from the feel of his fingers burning her skin, she was processing everything in slow motion. ‘I know there’s something you’re not saying. I know there is,’ he repeated when she opened her mouth to deny it. ‘And I promise you, before this is over, you will tell me.’

  He had the most unnerving way of saying things that made her believe them. She needed breathing room.

  ‘Stop touching me.’ It came out as little more than a whisper, but it came out.

  He studied her a minute longer, then got to his feet and a second later he was holding the door open. ‘Have a good day. You know where I am if you think of anything you want to tell me.’

  Have a good day? Was he serious? Jordan got to her feet, found they were unsteady and, frustrated with herself, she stalked out.

  Reid watched from the window as she walked down the road. What was she hiding? Assuming it wasn’t related to his case — and he was pretty sure it wasn’t — it shouldn’t matter, but it did. Because he wanted to know. Because just then — like just about every other damn time he’d been within touching distance of her — he’d wanted to act on the attraction that was driving him to distraction and to hell with all of it. And he knew that sooner or later, if she kept looking at him with those big blue eyes of hers that told him that attraction was mutual, he was going to.

  Jordan walked back to her ute feeling like the wind had been well and truly knocked out of her. What had happened to her in there? Her body was still vibrating, her heart pumping just a little harder than normal. Whatever he’d done to her common sense, it obviously hadn’t made a comeback.

  He was a very attractive man, she argued in her defence, and he knew how to push buttons; really, really powerful buttons. That sort of arrogant confidence should have annoyed her — did annoy her — but that wasn’t the overriding reaction she was feeling. Not by a long shot.

  She climbed into the ute and pulled out onto the street. It would have been so easy to lean all the way in. What would he have done? Would he have kissed her back? The thought made her shiver pleasantly. But she had no right to be thinking like that. Because although he’d made it pretty damn clear he was attracted to her, he was also determined to drill her over everything. It was like he had a personal vendetta going. Was this how probation officers were in the city?

  Whatever the reason, there were just a couple more meetings to get through with mister you-will-tell-me and, assuming she could survive another hour or so all up in his presence, that would be that. She had no intention of telling him anything that could get Joel into trouble, and he couldn’t — wouldn’t — make her change her mind.

  By the time she arrived home, she was feeling almost back to normal. The last thing she needed was to find yet another bunch of flowers on her front doorstep.

  ‘Shit, shit, shit!’ Angrily, she stomped on them, scooped them up, and slammed them on top of the bin. ‘Screw Hal, screw Reid, screw everyone!’

  With a vicious scowl, she stomped down to the stables to get the horses worked.

  CHAPTER

  7


  Jordan parked the ute in her drive and wearily climbed out. Why had she let Madi talk her into the club tonight? The hours she was doing were crazy enough without adding a 1 a.m. finish to the end of the week.

  She pulled on her jumper and picked up her purse. It was still cool at night, but mid-spring was getting a firm hold on the weather. The breeze carried the scent of the old jasmine vine climbing over the chicken coop and she breathed it in deeply, enjoying its perfume.

  Spring. The goose from hell had hatched her clutch of goslings early this morning. Now five fluffy babies followed their mother wherever she went. She’d have twenty new calves to add to the general baby count by the end of this week, too. Lots to do. And of course, there was the cattle sale. As she wandered through her front door, her hand automatically reached for the light switch and the overhead flicked to life.

  She gasped and stared in shock. The kitchen looked like a tornado had been through it. The pantry was open and its contents spewed onto the floor in a mess of broken packages and glass.

  Forcing back the fear that had leapt up and lodged firmly in her chest, she checked the other rooms: nothing else had been disturbed. Something had been after food.

  ‘Must have been an animal…’ she reassured herself.

  She’d had a couple of possums get in once. The extent of the damage hadn’t been quite so severe, but it had been close. She’d have to fix that hole in her screen and make sure she closed the pantry door properly.

  She picked up a broom and pushed the mess into a few large piles — she’d deal with it properly in the morning. And because she wasn’t entirely convinced by her own explanation, maybe she’d call Harry just in case.

  And just in case, for the first time in living memory, she went back through the house and locked everything up.

  He stood in the dark on the mountainside, cursing and scratching. Damn these bugs, these crawling, itching bugs. Always crawling, eating from the inside out. He ignored the burn from clawing fingers on flesh and fought to steady the binoculars that shook annoyingly in his unsteady hands.

  Jordan was home. He’d seen the headlights cut through the darkness and reach the house. A few moments later, the kitchen light had come on. His angel was back. What would she think of the kitchen? He hadn’t wanted to mess the place up so much, he’d really only gone in to get some more souvenirs, but he’d seen the flowers in the trash. They were destroyed.