Fiona Forever.
As far as he was aware, Kyle hadn’t remarried and, based on the bundle of papers John had received from him, his son was the only next of kin who could lay claim to Kyle’s fortune.
He turned from the window and pulled out some of his clothes from atop Kyle’s in the dresser. It irked him that everything his father touched John now touched, too, but the alternative was to stay in a bed-and-breakfast. A boardinghouse couldn’t give him any clues into unraveling the enigma otherwise known as “Dad.” There was a small chance his home would sooner or later.
Once dressed, John left the bedroom and headed downstairs. The kitchen matched everything else in the house, with its over-the-top opulence and blank, white walls. No aspect of Kyle marked the walls nor chrome fittings. Not as much as a splash of paint, print or photograph marred the blank canvas. Not a plant, vase or flower brightened the glass-topped dining table.
The house was as cold and impersonal as Kyle.
Flicking on the coffeemaker, John pulled his cell phone from the charger on the countertop and flicked through his emails. Nothing of any importance. Certainly no voice mail from Kyle, Sasha or anyone else. Was their silence a reflection on him or them? John couldn’t be sure.
He pulled open the patio doors and walked outside. The view was phenomenal, but he remained determinedly aloof as he sank into one of the three heavily cushioned settees. Keying in the web address of a search engine, he found the number for the local police station. In a town the size of Templeton Cove, he was pretty confident trouble was rare. No doubt Inspector Garrett would welcome some interest to break up the monotony of her day.
He took a deep breath and waited for the duty sergeant to answer.
“Good morning, Templeton Police Station. How may I help you?”
John leaned his aching head back on the cushions. “Is it possible I can speak to Inspector Garrett, please?”
“Good morning, sir. Can I ask what this would be regarding?”
“My name is John Jordon. I’m sure my name will be enough for her to understand it’s a good idea we meet whenever she deems convenient.”
There was a momentary silence before the duty sergeant cleared his throat. “One moment please, sir.”
If there was nothing else he’d gained from being Kyle’s son, it seemed the mention of their surname opened doors in Templeton...although that didn’t mean the people on the other side greeted him with open arms. Clicks were followed by a few bars of some classical music, then another click. “Mr. Jordon. Inspector Garrett. What can I do for you?”
Her no-nonsense, down-to-business tone made John open his eyes and sit upright. He cleared his throat. “Good morning, Inspector. I’m calling in the hopes I’ll be able to infringe on a few minutes of your time today.”
“May I ask why?”
Surprised she wasn’t biting his hand off to get him into the station to be interrogated and then put on the first ferry out of there, John contemplated his next words while watching the white-foamed trail of a Jet Ski out on the water. “I thought after yesterday, it would be best if we speak privately.”
“As opposed to Marian breathing fire down your neck, you mean?”
He smiled. “Exactly.”
Her exhalation rasped down the line. “Well, good. I think that’s the intelligent way to move forward, considering who your father is and the fact you’re going to be running the fair. Start as we mean to go on.”
John narrowed his eyes. “Absolutely. What time shall I come in?”
“How about after lunch? Say one-thirty?”
“Great. See you then.” He ended the call and tapped the phone against his bottom lip.
The only way forward was to create a picture. Piece together the puzzle of Kyle and why he’d chosen Templeton Cove as his home. The file box of names he’d given John meant nothing on their own. Kyle hadn’t provided much information to work from or histories to learn. John glowered unseeingly ahead. Instead, the man had asked his son to make his acquaintance with each in case he should need them in Kyle’s absence.
His father insisted his wealth had been accumulated with only his son in mind. Claimed John’s paid education would now be put to better use outside a classroom. The only problem was, John didn’t want the lifestyle Kyle had so carefully orchestrated for him, and he couldn’t help but wonder if the bastard would be disappointed his son hadn’t hardened in the same way as the man who’d sired him.
Thankfully, the years had hardened Kyle only. John loved his classroom full of kids; he loved his friends and associates. True, he’d yet to allow a woman into his life, but who knew what the future might hold?
Did Kyle really think the son he abandoned so many years before would stand by and allow him to ruin more people’s lives? Does he think I’ll carry on his filthy, illegal work and then just walk away when I’ve had enough?
He pushed to his feet as Sasha’s face filled his mind’s eye. Over my dead body.
John walked into the hallway with every intention of grabbing his keys and heading into town for breakfast, when a white envelope lying on the doormat caught his eye. He tightened his jaw. The printed crown in the upper center could only mean it was from Kyle.
John snatched it up and ripped it open. His eyes scanned the text...and the floor shifted. What was this? He dropped into the antique chair beside him and reread the letter. The words leaped and jumped in his vision....
Cancer...liver...bones...inoperable...
The paper slipped from his hands and fluttered to the stone floor. John stared at the staircase. Was Kyle telling the truth? What did he have to gain by lying that he was dying from terminal cancer? John waited for the grief, waited for the sense of loss to overpower him. It didn’t come—only a strange pain stabbed deep in his gut. A pain he couldn’t name as regret or revenge or anything else. Kyle had made himself a stranger—and soon John would be entirely alone.
CHAPTER TEN
SASHA PEDALED HER bike as fast as possible through the Templeton town center and out toward the cottages of Melonworth Drive. She zigzagged expertly between cars and other traffic, waving to the people who raised their hands in friendly greeting. She’d woken that morning more focused than ever to do something positive toward buying the fair before she had to face John the next day.
She scowled through her sunglasses. She needed more of a plan than her offer of money and relying on John’s occasional good nature. The alluring combination of hurt and confusion he frequently had going on in those blue eyes wasn’t even funny. He held far too much power in his gaze whenever he looked at her. She had to keep focused. Until he accepted her offer, or she came up with an alternative plan of action, he was the enemy.
Keep your friends close and your enemies closer. Just not as close as her nocturnal dreams had implied. She swallowed as her body tingled with desire.
The insecurity that erupted inside her during their final moments in his office last night had been nothing short of terrifying. He’d suddenly stopped his ranting, and instead, his demeanor and soft study of her had turned intense with concern. His gaze bored into her as though she were an enigma...one there was every possibility he would figure out far too quickly.
He seemed to look past the exterior and deep into her soul.
So much so, it scared her that her childhood abuse was painted on her skin, entirely visible to those who cared enough to see it. That couldn’t happen. She didn’t want people to know. Didn’t want her abuse to be who she was...only something that happened to her.
Memories assaulted Sasha as she fought to concentrate on the road ahead. Yet, she’d never deny the reality of those days. The thrill she’d felt having a man’s attention at almost thirteen. The shiver of excitement at his smile. The knot in her stomach when he told her she was beautiful. She couldn’t deny she’d felt any of those things, because she’d felt every one.
Then came the darkness.
The locked door of the warehouse and the lingering sten
ch of oil on his hand when he clamped it over her mouth. The moment when the touching went from tender to terrifying...
She released a slow breath to steady the roar of remembered horror. Faster and faster she pedaled, purposefully banishing the terror of her past. She wouldn’t go there. She wouldn’t let John’s arrival make her feel it all over again.
Today, she’d take action and set the preliminaries of her plan in motion. It was paramount she understood where she and John stood legally. So, for the first time, she’d arranged to consult a lawyer. Turning off a main road, Sasha entered the quieter part of town. When she passed the gates of the Good Time Holiday Park, her fortitude soared. After the effects of the devastating flash flood last year, the park was due to reopen this summer. The staff and people of Templeton had worked tirelessly to get the park back to its former glory and now it shone brighter than ever.
The clubhouse and restaurant had been refitted and renovated, and new caravans, donated from holiday home businesses across the country, dotted the park with their shiny newness. The people of Templeton Cove were rarely beaten. She wouldn’t be, either.
She had no legal claim to Funland and the clause was the biggest obstacle to overcome, but she needed to be absolutely sure of her options. In her backpack was the original sale agreement between Kyle and her grandfather. She hoped something in it might provide the tiniest loophole she could utilize to put a stop to John’s potentially destructive tour of her life.
Turning into a pretty avenue of cottages, she rolled to a stop outside the third cottage on the right and alighted her bike. Pushing open the gate, Sasha steered her bike along the short pathway to the door and stowed it against the side of the house. The brightly colored daffodils and pansies in the small front garden did nothing to elevate her dark mood. She inhaled a shaky breath and removed her helmet. Her hand trembled when she smoothed her low ponytail and adjusted her jacket.
I can do this. I can show John he’s messing with the wrong girl.
Lifting her chin, she approached the front door and lifted the iron knocker.
A cacophony of barking dogs ensued before a mumbled admonishment was uttered and the door swung open. Liam Browne, her older sister’s onetime boyfriend, was a kind and handsome man, three years her senior. His face broke into a wide smile. “Hey, you.”
Sasha relaxed her shoulders and smiled. She’d done the right thing in coming. Liam would help her...if he could. “Hey, yourself. Thanks for seeing me.”
“Anytime. You know that.” He stood back and, with a wave of his hand, gestured her inside.
She stepped into the cottage, and he closed the door. Sasha glanced around the dark wood hallway. Landscape prints and photographs dotted the walls and an antique bookcase filled with leather-bound books dominated one wall. Her gaze wandered toward the polished staircase, its banister gleaming under the sunlight streaming through the landing window. “This is beautiful, Liam.”
He smiled. “Thanks. Sometimes I think I have too much crammed into this little space, but it works for me.”
“It’s great.” She smiled. “Really welcoming.”
She imagined Liam’s home to be a complete antithesis of John’s. The man probably lived next door to HRH Prince Charles’s country estate.
Liam’s dogs—a black Labrador, a Border collie and a tiny Jack Russell—pushed and brushed against her, their mouths stretched into welcoming grins, their tongues lolling and their eyes bright.
“Well, good morning to you, too.” She petted each of their heads, laughing as they shoved each other out of the way, vying for her attention. She glanced at Liam. “Guess you’ve constantly got your hands full with this lot.”
“Sure do.” He grinned. “Do you want a coffee or something before we go through to my office?”
Sasha straightened and shook her head. “I’m fine. Just eager to get started.”
He nodded and tilted his head toward the far end of the hallway. “In that case, follow me.”
She followed him along the hallway to a room at the back of the house, the dogs panting at her legs. Once inside his office, Sasha wandered close to the window. “Wow, that’s one beautiful garden. Your handiwork, by any chance?”
“I’ll only say yes if you promise not to tell anyone. A man who spends most of his spare time gardening and planting coordinating flowers and bulbs isn’t often considered a sexual catch by the female population.”
She turned and smiled. “You, Liam Browne, are a catch and a half. Look at this place. As for you? You’re thirty years old, one of the top criminal lawyers in the southwest and possess looks that would give some Hollywood stars a run for their money.”
“Flatterer.” His smile faltered. “Shame your sister didn’t think so. How is Tanya, by the way?”
Silently cussing her too often snooty sister, Sasha stepped from the window and sat in one of the two chairs by his desk. She blew out a breath. “Living in Poole...alone with her high-flying banking career. Tanya’s not a lot different than Mum. She thinks our Romany background is an embarrassment, rather than something to be proud of.” She gave him a soft smile. “Her leaving wasn’t about you.”
He lifted his shoulders. “It doesn’t matter.”
Hating the uncomfortable silence that fractured the previously pleasant atmosphere, Sasha cleared her throat and glanced at the dogs as they each settled in one of three baskets by the window. “So, did you get a chance to read over the copy of Granddad’s contract I emailed you?”
Liam sat in the leather chair behind his desk and pulled some sheets of paper from his top tray. “I did.”
She leaned forward, her stomach knotting in anticipation. “And?”
“It’s not good news.” He slid on a pair of dark-framed glasses and met her gaze. “It’s all pretty much there in black and white. Unless I’d heard it from you, I wouldn’t have believed Kyle Jordon and his lawyer had drawn up the contract. It’s fair and it’s clean. There’s nothing untoward or out of the ordinary. Your grandfather wasn’t swindled or coerced into anything beyond the reasonable. I’m sorry.”
“Unless you consider the price Kyle paid for the place. That wasn’t reasonable.”
“Maybe not, but it was your grandfather’s choice.”
“And the clause? The one saying it can’t be sold back to my family?”
He leaned back in his chair and steepled his fingers. “I’m a criminal lawyer and that’s contractual. Do you want me to look into it? What are you thinking?”
She blew out a breath. “More hoping than thinking.”
He lifted an eyebrow in question.
Sasha frowned. “I never understood why Granddad sold it for so little. He loved Funland, yet all of a sudden he sold it at a rock-bottom price to the town’s criminal mastermind. Add that clause, and the whole thing stinks to high heaven. I’m hoping that now Funland is Kyle’s son’s in its entirety, the clause is invalid...and I just have to convince John it’s my right to buy it back into my family.”
“Hmm. It might not make sense, but everything in that contract is completely aboveboard.” He plucked a pen from a leather-bound pot on his desk. “I’ll make a note to look into it for you. I’m pretty sure you’re right and it’s up to Kyle’s son what he does with it.” He scribbled on a legal pad and met her eyes. “Just take into account, there will be some hefty tax payable at some point...whether by you or Kyle’s son.”
Her heart kicked. “I’ll deal with that when I have to. I’m running out of options other than biding my time and waiting to see what John does next.” She slapped her hand onto the armrest. “I can’t stand this.”
“I did a little research into the circumstances of Kyle’s arrest.”
Sasha stared at him as curiosity—and more than a little apprehension—shot through her. “He’s been inside for about a year now. What did you find out?”
“You’re not going to like it.”
“Tell me.”
He gave a sympathetic grimace. “His sole he
ir, and the current thorn in your side, is the named beneficiary and entitled to the entirety of Kyle’s immoral fortune. Everything.”
Sasha’s eyes grew wide. “Everything?”
“Yep. If Kyle has handed over his estate to his son, I estimate John Jordon is now worth in excess of four-point-two million pounds. Plus the properties Kyle owns here, in London and abroad are his son’s, as well.”
“Oh, my God.”
Liam stared, his gaze somber. “When Kyle was arrested, he was caught with a cache of class A drugs amounting to a street value of half a million. The rest, everything else that might or might not have gone on before then, was inadmissible in court and so Kyle couldn’t be charged. Taking into account what he’s worth, the criminal liability for the cache was soon recovered through his possessions....”
“And the rest was his to keep...or give to John.”
“Exactly.”
“When will Kyle be released? Do you know?”
“He was sentenced to sixteen years. If he behaves himself, he’ll more than likely be out in eight.”
“Eight years for that kind of offense?”
Liam lifted his shoulders and removed his glasses, a frown line spearing the space between his brows. “There’s only so much that can be done with regards to drug seizing and the following arrests. It’s frustrating, but the police and lawyers like me are doing the best we can. What’s his son like? Do I need to come to the fair and start throwing my weight around?” He winked.
Sasha smiled as John’s face—and huge, masculine stature—appeared in her mind’s eye. “He’s...all right, I suppose. That’s half the problem.”
“Oh?” He gave her a knowing look. “You don’t like the guy, do you?”
She huffed out a laugh. “Of course not. He’s a pompous pain in the ass.”
Liam grinned. “Sure he is.”
“Liam...”
He raised his hands in surrender. “Okay, okay. I’m just saying. It’s not very often I see you blush. It’s kind of nice.”
What Belongs to Her (Harlequin Superromance) Page 11