Dark Seduction: Millennium Mayhem MC

by Naomi West

  Or was I just being selfish? Certainly, I missed her hugely, and, now that there was nothing else in my life with which to fill my days, I felt it even more. She, on the other hand was on the outside, with the chance at a proper life. Was it fair to ask her to come here every week? I was assuming that she wanted to see me and that seeing me would make her happy, but could she really be happy with a man who was not going to know freedom for years? A man she couldn't be with for years? How could she be happy in that situation?

  She was a loyal girl, and I knew she would wait for me. But did I want to put her through that? Was breaking that link now the kind thing to do in the long run? Certainly, that was what Ben Dupont thought, and, once again, he had made his case eloquently, and I had agreed with him.

  Ben Dupont. I couldn't paint him as the bad guy, exactly, but I found my feelings of antipathy towards him increasing by the day. He had saved my life, and I was starting to regret that now, but what had he saved it for? For prison? For a love I would never be able to fulfill? That was no life at all. All my information about what was best for Cassidy had come through Ben Dupont, and, while I thought it was vitally important for Cassidy to reconnect with her father, I also thought it was important for her to make her own decisions. Part of being a person in the world is making bad decisions and living with the consequences. No one knows that better than me, and, while there were many bad decisions in my life, they all brought me to be the man I am, and, as long as that man was one whom Cassidy Dupont loved, then I would stand by those decisions.

  These were the thoughts that ran through my head at hourly intervals when I had nothing but time and a blank ceiling to stare at.

  At least Cassidy was safe at home. For all the questions, self-doubt, internal arguments about what was ‘best’ for her, she was safe at home, and that was something.

  # # #

  "Cassidy has moved out."

  "What?" After all I'd done to try to keep her safe, I couldn't help feeling a little pissed at Cassidy. Ungrateful woman.

  Ben Dupont snarled irritably. "It wasn't my idea."

  "I didn't think it was."

  Dupont did not make a point of coming to see me on visiting day. When he did, it was always to talk about Cassidy, and, usually, to ask me for some favor. The sort of favor that I would agree to and then start to doubt about ten minutes after he left.

  "She's moved into the spare room above Fran's bar."

  "It's a nice room." I had taken a few lady-friends up there, back in the day.

  "It's a hell hole!" Dupont snapped. "I mean, I'm sure it's fine for your people..."

  "My people?"

  "...but I don't want my little girl living above a bar. Apart from anything else," Dupont warmed to his subject, "it keeps her connected to you."

  There was some truth to that. My name was almost as associated with Fran's bar as Fran's was. If Cassidy moved there, kept associating with Fran and Joe Henry (who was an increasingly regular resident), then there was no hope of people forgetting that Cassidy and I had once been a brief 'item,' which had, after all, been the point of me not seeing her. Did this mean that I could see her again? Probably not, in Dupont's eyes.

  "This is putting her in danger," said Dupont, firmly.

  "From who?" I needed to question him on this. If there was a specific danger, then, of course, I would help, but I couldn't think of one. I could see how she might be safer at home, but living at Fran's was hardly dangerous.

  "Anyone!" Dupont said, the over-protective father.

  "I'm not seeing it," I admitted.

  Dupont sat forward in his chair. "I thought we agreed on this. What's best for Cassidy, is for her to be at home, where I can take care of her twenty-four-seven."

  "Twenty-four-seven?" That sounded like a pretty oppressive regime under which to live.

  Dupont waved this off. "It's just an expression. The point is, I can't protect her when she's not living at home."

  "What do you want me to do about it?"

  "Talk to her."

  "I thought we weren't supposed to have any contact!"

  "She asked for the three of us to sit down together," Dupont explained.

  "Oh, good." That sounded like the weirdest version of 'Meet the Parents' - everyone sat round a table on visiting day, till I got carted back to my cell.

  "If you tell her that she should be living back home, then she'll do it." Dupont sounded almost fevered. There was no doubt that almost losing Cassidy had turned a protective father into an obsessive one, and I wasn't sure that my playing along was going to be the best thing for anyone.

  "I'm just not sure that's what's best for her, Sheriff."

  Dupont leaned back. His expression had gone from desperate to sullen and suspicious. His ally had become his adversary, and he was plotting his next move.

  "What do you want?"

  I frowned. "I'm sorry?"

  Dupont waved a hand dismissively. "Don't let's play games. What do you want? A man like you always has his price, certainly when he's inside. I can speak to someone about getting you better meals, or a single cell. Tell me what you want. Let's deal."

  I met his gaze. "I think you know me better than that, Sheriff."

  Dupont sneered. "I thought I did too. I thought we both wanted what's best for Cassidy, but now that's obviously not the case, so I can only assume that you're after something. It was bound to happen at some point. The weeks go by, and you realize you're in here for a long while, and you start to miss some home comforts. So, tell me what you want, so I can get you to do the right thing for my daughter!"

  Perhaps there was a brief flicker of concern in me. Was I ignoring what was best for Cassidy? But it didn't last. I had faith in my motives and in my decision. I had faith in Dupont's motives too, but absolutely none in his judgment.

  "Look, I want to see Cassidy more than I want my next breath. But I won't tell her to do something that I think is going to make her miserable."

  Dupont seemed to relax. "I'm sorry. I get so stressed about this stuff that it makes me come across badly. I worry about her so much, you know?"

  "I know."

  "I've explained this badly," Dupont went on. "Let me start again."

  To someone who has been in police custody more than a few times, this felt like an old interview tactic, but I let it pass.

  "We agree that Cassidy is safest at home."

  "I suppose, but..."

  "Let's just stick to the facts, for now. We agree that living at Fran's will further associate her with you and with Battle Pride, yes?"

  "I guess that's true." I couldn't really deny that.

  "So, we've established that Cassidy is safer at home, and that she’s connected to a dangerous world at Fran's, and yet we still differ. Odd, that." He was trying to warp my words.

  "You're not changing my mind on this, Sheriff. I understand your point of view, but Cassidy can make her own decisions."

  Dupont held up his hands innocently. "Of course. Wouldn't dream of trying to force you to do something you're uncomfortable with. By the way, how's your friend Joe doing? Joe Henry, isn't it?"

  "He's good," I said tentatively. No matter how badly Dupont wanted Cassidy to stay at home, surely he wouldn't go after my friends, would he? Then again, Joe had been involved in some criminal activity, including breaking into the Dupont house. I waited to hear what the sheriff would say next.

  "You're seeing him regularly?"

  "He stops by."

  Dupont shook his head. "I'm not sure that's a good idea - contacting people from your criminal past. You could be masterminding anything from in here. For all I know, you're planning a jailbreak."

  "You damn-well know I'm not."

  "I know that me informing the officials here about your meetings with Joe Henry would be part of my job and would probably see those meetings stopped."

  I don't have any family. And those friends I have are all connected to Battle Pride in some way. Call me weak, but I couldn't go all those ye
ars without some sort of human contact. No one could. Dupont obviously saw that I was weakening.

  "I know this is going to feel like I'm forcing you to do something you don't want to..."

  "That's because you are."

  "...but this is what is best for Cassidy. I know you don't agree, but I think that, when you've had a chance to think it through, you're going to see that this is what is best for her - to have a normal life. That's what we both want. I'm sorry it had to go this way. This isn't what I wanted. But, if our positions were reversed, I think you'd do the same thing. We have that in common. We'd do anything to protect her."

  He was right about that. If I thought it would safeguard Cassidy, then there was no threat I wouldn't make. Maybe he was right about this. After all, he'd known Cassidy her whole life. I barely knew her really.

  "I'll tell her to move back in with you."

  "Thank you."

  Dupont left, and I went back to my cell to stare at the ceiling. She would be safer at home. And there was no denying that she might be at risk at Fran's. Maybe all this was for the best. And maybe if I kept telling myself that for long enough, I might actually believe it.

  # # #

  However much the circumstances were not ideal, seeing Cassidy enter the private visiting room made my heart leap and lifted every cloud that had settled on my mind. She looked great, just as I remembered her, and it was wonderful to see my smile mirrored in her own. She ran across the room and threw her arms around me. We hugged, and then she pulled away.

  "Why have you been refusing to see me?"

  "I just want you to be safe."

  "I can make my own decisions, Archer!"

  "Do we have to argue now?" There would be plenty enough arguing to come.

  Cassidy grinned. "No."

  She kissed me.

  And I realized that I couldn't go through with this. Maybe Dupont was right, maybe I was right, but the bottom line was that what we two men thought wasn't what mattered. What mattered was this vibrant, brilliant woman I now held in my arms, who didn't need us to tell her what was best for her, and didn't need our permission to live wherever the hell she wanted. Cassidy could make her own decisions, and I wasn't about to stop her. To hell with the consequences.

  I decided to go ahead and break the bad news to Dupont straight away.

  "I hear you've got yourself a new place," I said to Cassidy.

  "Yeah, right above Fran's bar. I'm thinking of picking up a couple of shifts there, as well, to get some cash coming in."

  "You're still painting though, right?" I didn't want her giving up on her dreams.

  "Oh, yeah."

  "Good. Well," I said, taking a deep breath, "Congratulations. I really hope it all works out for you in the new place."

  Cassidy beamed, but my eyes were drawn to Sheriff Dupont. His face barely moved, but I spotted the slight tightening of his features that spoke of a deep displeasure at what he had just heard. There would be consequences, which I would no doubt hear about when Cassidy wasn't around. For now, I was determined to make the most of yet another 'last meeting' in a relationship that had already been full of them.

  "Tell me everything that's been going on with you."

  "I'm not sure we really have time for that," Dupont spoke up. Now that this meeting had failed to fulfill the purpose he had envisaged, he was keen to keep it as short as possible.

  "Well, I could catch you up on what's been going on with me," I suggested, "But that wouldn't really take very long. Why bother coming at all, if we're not going to talk? Unless there was something specific you wanted to discuss?" I targeted that at Dupont. If he wanted to tell his daughter how he had tried to threaten me, then he could be my guest.

  "I think I should start visiting more regularly," Cassidy said. "I feel happier now than I have in weeks. I think it's actually good for me."

  "No, we discussed that, Cassidy..."Dupont began.

  "But Archer didn't get a say," Cassidy pointed out. "It's our relationship that's been broken up like this, and I think he deserves for his opinion to be heard."

  After her victory over where she got to live, Cassidy was clearly feeling confident. The thing was, I was with her father on this one. It wasn't so much that I thought visiting me and maintaining that very visible connection put Cassidy in danger, although that was a factor. It was more than that. Cassidy was a young woman, at the start of her life, and I was an older man, at the start of a long jail term. I didn't want her to waste her potential waiting for me. I wanted her to go back to the city and give art another try, which she could hardly do if she felt chained to my prison. I wanted her to get out and experience life, which, again, was somewhat precluded by forever having a partner who was 'unavailable.’ I didn't want her to go out and find herself another man, but that was probably what she should do. I had made my decisions, and now I had to pay for them, which I did gladly, because those decisions had led me to her. But I didn't want her to have to suffer because of the life I had led. I was lucky enough to know the love of a wonderful woman. If that proved only to be for a matter of weeks, then so be –it. It was worth it. But she had the option of so much more. She could be anything, and she could do anything. Or, she could drag herself along to a prison once a week and dream about a future that could only begin when I got out. I wouldn't do that to her.

  I wasn’t the most eloquent man in the world, but I tried to say all that to her and make her understand as best I could. When I had finished, Cassidy spoke.

  "You want me to have whatever I want. What if what I want is you?"

  "That's what you want now," I said. "But after six months, you might well feel differently. Only, then you might feel a loyalty to me that you can't break. I'm not taking the chance."

  "But..."

  "Look, when I get out, then feel free to look me up. Maybe then we can be friends. Maybe more. Maybe we can even pick up where we left off. But I don't know what's going to change for you between now and then. And I want things to change for you. I want you to have the exciting, fulfilling life you deserve. I don't want to do anything that might get in the way of that happening. Live your life as if I'm not in it. Because I won't be."

  "That is good advice," Ben Dupont said, happy that I seemed to be back on his side.

  "Is it?" Cassidy asked, in a voice that could have cut glass.

  "Better yet," I added. "Live your life as if I was never in it. Then you don't feel any ties. And, if we meet again, at a happier time in the future, then it can all be new again. Like we're starting from scratch."

  "Live my life as if you were never in it?" Something seemed to be amusing Cassidy now. I couldn't imagine what, but a little voice located somewhere toward the back of my mind was telling me that I ought to know, reminding me of something I had heard and forgotten.

  "Yes," I said.

  "Live my life, as if you were never in it," Cassidy repeated, shaking her head and now laughing to herself as she spoke. "That's going to be a bit of a challenge."

  "Initially, sure," Dupont said. He seemed as confused as I was by Cassidy's growing amusement. "But you'll get used to it, once there's nothing to remind you of him."

  Cassidy burst out laughing. "Sorry. I'm sure you're right. Nothing to remind me of Archer. Absolutely. Can I ask you two wise, old men one question?"

  "Sure," I said, wondering if she was losing it a little.

  "Anything," Dupont agreed.

  "If I can't visit Archer - not at all - then how is my son or daughter - though I kind of feel like it’s a daughter - going to get to know his or her daddy?"

  I hoped that I looked less stupidly dumbfounded than Ben Dupont did, but that might have been too much to hope for. I could feel my mouth hanging slackly open and my eyes goggling wildly at... the mother of my child.

  I was going to be a father.

  It was a shock, and, yet, I also felt strangely as if I had already known, or ought to have. I had never really thought about being a dad. My own father had been so a
wful that it was not something to which I had ever aspired. If I had ever entertained the idea, then I had imagined that I would be everything as a father that my own dad had so pointedly failed to be. I would be great at it. Now, it seemed that I was becoming a Dad under the worst possible circumstances. My child was going to get to know me as that man behind the glass that he saw once a week and who everyone talked about in hushed tones. That was not the sort of father that anyone wanted to be.