‘What if I told you your dad never left town?’
‘I’d say you’re a liar.’
He tightened his grip as she tried to pull away. ‘Your dad wanted shot of his sick wife and needy kid. I needed someone with a bit of wit and charm, someone who knew something about art and wasn’t bothered with legalities.’
Drummond had moved closer, pretending to chat with a couple of matrons, but his gaze was pinned on the blonde. Slab leaned in and sniffed her neck as if he couldn’t wait to get her alone. To anyone watching, it would look like he was so hot for her, he was having trouble keeping it in his pants. She murmured with disgust.
‘Thought you’d be a little more grateful. I’m the guy who can introduce you to your long lost daddy.’
‘You’re a lying creep.’ She smiled sweetly.
‘Maybe I am.’ Slab brushed her jaw with his hand and gave it just enough force to let her know she was playing too near the road. ‘And maybe I’m the one who can call off those two dogs you got sniffing your tail.’
Drummond scowled so hard a couple of women moved away. This was working out better than he could have expected.
‘Gibbo tells me you’re a good negotiator. So happens I’m in the market.’
‘For a negotiator. Is that right?’
Her eyes narrowed like she’d just put something together. Wouldn’t be right, but it showed this chick was a thinker.
‘Drummond’s on a mission,’ she said. ‘Do you think it’s going to take much to nudge him in your direction?’
He looked at the tall cop glaring at them from a table away. Why didn’t the stooge just man up and confront them?
‘I know you want to find your old man so bad it’s killing you. You want it even more than you want to mix with the tossers in this room. I’m gonna help you with both those things. You just have to agree to help me out.’
‘I don’t want—’
He put two fingers over her lips and pushed hard. ‘Shut your mouth.’
The blonde glared at him. He removed his fingers and ran his hand down her neck leaving smudges of red lipstick. Her pulse was just about throbbing through her skin. He felt her swallow. Funny how they all did that when they realised they had no choice.
‘So, we got an agreement, or what?’ he said.
‘I’m allowed to speak now? Lucky me.’
‘You’re fucking lucky I don’t slit your throat. One more crack and I’ll do it. Not here. It’ll be somewhere nice and quiet. Maybe when you’re in bed. Alone. With no one around to help you. Just the way you always are.’
‘How would you know that?’
‘I’ve got friends everywhere.’
Her eyes were moist. She’d clamped her jaw so tight the sinews in her neck stood out. Sweet.
‘So, you’re gonna do some negotiating for me,’ he said. ‘Maybe an appraisal here and there.’
‘Not now. Not ever. I don’t care what you threaten me with.’
He sat back, bit off the end of his cigar and spat it on the floor. ‘Keep tomorrow free. I’ll text the time and place. You do what I want, and you, me, and daddy will be in business.’
‘No matter what my dad did, he would never have anything to do with someone like you. And neither will I.’
‘You want to know why Drummond is here?’ A black-jacketed waiter headed his way. He flicked his lighter and enjoyed the look of disgust on the faces around him as he lit up. ‘He told Gibbo your dad is his best suspect and that you’re the key.’
‘That’s crap and you know it.’
She sounded confident, but her face gave her away.
‘Think about it, babe. You’re the messed up daughter of an embezzler, a chick who just happens to move in antiques circles. Pinning it on you and Jacko are his best chance of getting back to Sydney.’
Chapter 26
LINC STOOD IN THE SHADE cast by his hotel wishing he’d never come to Failie. It wasn’t like he’d had a choice, but once he’d bowed to the inevitable he’d tried to put it in a positive light. The plan had been simple: quit Sydney for a while, prove his fitness for duty in a fairly straightforward case in a quiet beachside town, and put the shooting behind him. He was a cop. Cops shot people. Even junkies who didn’t know what they were doing.
Mina Everton got in the way of all that.
Just being near her muddied his senses. When she let Slab Carlson put his hands all over her, it was all he could do to smile politely at the woman bending his ear about her doll collection. He’d wanted to launch across the room and strangle the bastard. How could she look like an angel and throw herself at a sadistic bastard like Carlson, who before he’d even left his teens was a full-fledged psychopath?
He’d spotted Mina as soon as she entered Gibson’s bash. It was hard to miss her in that red silk with the huge bow tied at her neck. She could have modelled for vogue. Thanks to the bejewelled matron who’d made it her afternoon mission to ensure he didn’t feel left out, he’d had no trouble getting in the door. After all his stepmother’s efforts to fix him up with an appropriate girl, he’d vowed never to come to such events, and watching Gibson manhandle Mina as he introduced her to the suitable few made him wish he’d stuck to that vow.
In the dozens of small globes lighting the ornate function room, her skin glowed. Dressed like that, smiling, chatting and shaking hands, she was unlike the girl repulsed by his presence and his touch. If he pretended to be one of those people, people he’d turned his back on years ago, if he’d chosen to be a lawyer like his father wanted, she might look at him that way.
It was when she turned back to a couple to hand on her business card that his longing turned to ice. The luxuriant bow brushed her shoulders. The back of her dress was cut so low that only two ribbons of fabric crossing her bare skin kept it decent. His stepmother had a longer version in white. When she’d finally admitted how much it cost, his father had raised the roof though he could well afford it.
Linc pictured Mina’s bank statement and all the outstanding bills trapped beneath that lamp base in her living room. Was that how she got her revenge? Forbes could screw around as long as she got something pretty when he came crawling back?
Across the road, kids frolicked in the playground beside the beach kiosk, making the most of the cloud bank which stifled the late afternoon sun. They called to one another and laughed, whooshed down slippery dips, swept high on swings. Parents sipped cappuccinos as they chatted and rolled strollers to and fro. Teenagers teased and chased and held hands in the dance of courtship, or cocooned themselves in the music of their iPod. He wished his own life was so simple. And he wished Mina was not involved in this case. Everything pointed to her being at the centre of the gang stealing antiques, and though he still wasn’t sure how Jacko Everton fit into all this, he’d bet his career the man was back in town and the cause of Mina’s involvement.
He breathed in the clear sea air and watched the early evening runners on the seaside path. He pictured himself there, breathless and exhilarated as the adrenalin carried him forward. He found freedom in exercise, pushing his exhaustion until his torment and the shame of his enforced transfer retreated to a murky gloom. He could use a bit of that escape now.
A young woman in black shorts and tank top left the path and ran his way, backlit by a ray of low-slung sunlight that pushed through a blue space in the silvered clouds. He let himself enjoy the easy grace of her movement and the swish of her bright ponytail beneath the baseball cap. She drew level with him and ripped out her earphones.
‘Just what kind of bullshit game are you playing, Drummond?’
He managed to stand his ground against the knockout punch of her anger. ‘Ms Everton. Care to tell me what that snarl was all about, or do you suffer from Tourette’s?’
‘Why are you trying to ruin me?’ She pulled off her sunglasses. Her chest rose and fell from exertion.
‘Thanks for thinking I have that much power.’
She stared up at him in disbelief. ‘Are you la
ughing at me?’
‘I wouldn’t dare.’
‘Why are you doing this to me? Do you think I didn’t see you at Gibson’s party? Everyone saw you watching me like I was some pickpocket. You’re pathetic!’
A couple slowed their walk and stared. He shot the gawkers a threatening glare and they scurried on, heads down. Their avid gaze told him news of this little scene would be running up and down Main Street before nightfall. Give him the anonymity of Sydney any day.
He turned his attention to the furious woman berating him. Perspiration ran down her neck as she went on and on about his lack of subtlety and intelligence. His thoughts filled with the memory of the other woman whose accusations of police brutality—his brutality—against her ‘innocent’ husband had stalled his career and killed his certainty in the righteousness of his actions. The volcano in his gut stirred. At the kiosk, kids laughed and played, parents pushed their strollers and teenagers acted awkwardly cool. He was the one out of step and out of place. After months spent rebuilding himself, he’d come to Failie ready to discharge his duties with detached serenity, certain he had everything reined in. He’d been wrong. He tilted his head back and closed his eyes, trying to smell the ocean and hear its whispering caress upon the glowing white sands. It was lost beneath the rush of passing cars, the carefree voices of the beach goers and the noise in his thoughts.
‘Hey!’ Her sharp finger jabbed at his chest. ‘Are you even listening to me?’
‘No.’
‘What? How dare you—’
‘Enough! If we’re going to do this, we’re not going to play it out in public.’
He walked to his room at the end of the long hotel veranda that annexed the heritage-listed hotel. The sandstone building boasted three floors, each embraced by wedding-cake arches suggestive of sumptuous furnishings and classic features. The rooms, at least those in the annex where he’d been placed, didn’t live up to the promise. He unlocked his door and dumped his jacket over the ladder back of his single chair. Mina hesitated at the threshold.
‘Too late to worry about gossip.’ He loosened his tie. ‘Half the street heard you.’
She stepped into the room and took in the shabby, functional furnishings. Now that she was here she’d lost her tongue.
‘A couple of hours ago you seemed happy enough.’ He tasted bitterness at the image of her with Carlson. ‘Trouble in paradise?’
She turned on him, offense written in her stance. ‘You’re a master at seeing what suits you, aren’t you? I can see your brain ticking over, “means, motive, opportunity, she’s got it all.” Were you always so quick to judge, or are you so desperate to fit in you have to shun the leper too?’
‘I don’t think you’re a leper, Mina.’
‘But you think I would work with Jacko after what he—’ Distress marred her forehead. ‘What he did to my mother.’
He’d never met anyone so desperate for someone to believe in her. If only he weren’t a cop. Then he could do what he’d wanted from the moment he saw her, hold her close and be the strength she needed. He turned away to stare out at the ocean before his control crumbled.
Mina paced like a caged animal. Her running shoes padded on the synthetic carpet. ‘It’s taken me years to get out of Jacko’s shadow. And then you come along with your questions, stirring things up.’
The day’s heat hung in the room, barely cut by the indolent fan, which clicked with every rotation. His shirt clung to his shoulder blades. Sweat dripped along his spine as she went on and on about the damage he’d done her, stirring the rumours about Jacko, dredging up her mother’s illness, destroying her business before it got started. He wondered how she’d react if he took a shower while she abused him.
‘Christ!’ she snapped. ‘What did I ever do to you?’
He turned to look at her. Her cheeks, already flushed from running, were crimson. ‘I haven’t said a word about Jacko Everton.’
‘Because of you, I might lose the little I have. I’ve been passing fantastic items on to Gibson for years for such a small profit it wasn’t worth my time, but I did it because he’s one of the best in the business. I worked hard to prove my loyalty, to prove I’m trustworthy.’
Her running shorts and tank top clung to every curve and hollow. Her tanned skin was the colour of honey, but he caught the hint of creamy skin beneath her clothes as she paced, and the flashes of soft flesh entranced him.
‘And after all that,’ she said, ‘he still refused to invite me to his party. I’m just lucky he doesn’t have the balls to make a scene. Your clumsy questions have undone years of work.’
She dragged the back of her hand across her glistening brow then wiped it on her tank top. The unconscious intimacy of the gesture hooked him. A sheer veil of sunscreen on her bare skin made her glow like some polished goddess.
‘Haven’t you got anything to say for yourself?’ Her hand trembled as she tucked a damp strand of hair behind her ear. ‘Or are you only capable of staring?’
In two strides he was as close to her as he could get without touching. She stiffened, keeping her wary gaze fixed on his face. He reached behind her, yanked open the bar fridge and cracked the lid on a cold bottle of water. He offered it to her. She shot a questioning look at the bottle, then at him.
‘Not afraid, are you?’ he asked.
She snatched the bottle, tore off the lid and drank.
Her exposed throat danced as she swallowed. A trickle of perspiration followed the delicate curve of her collarbone, dipping into the hollow then travelling along the swell of her breast to soak into the fabric of her top. As she drank, she closed her eyes. Her lashes lay thick and dark against the sculptured planes of her cheekbones, her face soft with pleasure. He imagined how the water cooled her, the satisfaction she derived from his simple gift. If he pressed his mouth to her neck he’d taste the salty perspiration, feel the pulse of her delicate strength. He wanted to see that pleasured contentment on her face because of him, for her neck to arch like that at the thrill of his caress, to make her breathless from his touch.
The hollow thud of the bottle hitting the plastic bin brought him back to earth. He shifted his gaze, afraid she’d see his lust.
‘Perhaps,’ he said, ‘you should tell me the real reason for your rant.’
‘My rant?’ She narrowed her eyes. ‘My rant, as you call it, is that in a single day—not even that—a single hour—you’ve undone five years of hard work. Do you know how hard it is for someone like me in this gossip-ridden place? Do you know how hard it is to be his daughter and try to build a legitimate business? Of course you don’t. You’ve never struggled for anything in your privileged bloody life. Not even when you shoot someone down in the street.’
White noise filled his head. His gut twisted.
‘You don’t know anything about me, Everton. You and Forbes in your self-contained bubble can believe what you want. I don’t give a shit. But don’t stand there and pretend you know me, or anything about being a cop and what a shooting does to you. Even a good shooting twists you up so you don’t know who you are, until you believe every little street punk who spits lies in your face, until you can’t even look at the people you work with because you’re afraid to see what they really think.’
His outburst seemed to ring off the walls. He’d lain awake too many nights replaying the scene, reassessing his options. What he did was lawful. It didn’t make it right. And it didn’t mean he could live with it. He turned away to stare out at the seaside vista, at the bright ingot dropping to the horizon beneath the gathering cloud. The window caught their ragged reflection. He saw her lift her hand and take a step towards him. If she touched him now he’d fall apart, and he wasn’t sure he had the strength to pick up the pieces again. If she touched him, his feelings might break free and he’d be lost.
He turned on her, clinging to the cold mask he’d perfected. ‘I’m here to do a job and I intend to do it. I don’t care who you sleep with, but listen to me. Forbes might s
crew around and break your heart, but you can’t imagine the pain a psychopath like Carlson will inflict once he’s done with you.’
The raw hurt in her amber-flecked eyes shocked him.
She moved toward him, slow and purposeful. ‘You’re so fucking blind you can’t see what’s right under your nose, too busy looking for criminals to see anything else. Why should you care about my pathetic little life if it means you can get back to Sydney and your high profile cases?’
She shoved him hard in the chest. He staggered and gripped her arm as a reflex. She stood rigid in his hold.
‘Don’t you think that I want to forget about doing the right thing for once in my life,’ he snapped, ‘to forget about responsibility and consequences? Don’t you think just once I want you to see me as a man, not a cop you so obviously despise?’
Beneath the mingled scent of sunscreen and perspiration he smelled her ripe femininity. It scrambled his thoughts. He could lose himself in her. If only she would look at him with the warm, open smile she showed Forbes instead of this fear-tinged anger. She was right about him putting everything into his job, but she could be playing him, playing all of them.
He thrust her away, terrified how close he was to losing control. She stumbled backwards. Her leg caught the corner of the bed and she tumbled to the floor.
She leapt to her feet. ‘You bastard!’
Her fingers curled as she raised her arms. He waited for her to slap his face, or punch him, or yank his arm up behind his back as she’d done with Wainright. He deserved it.
She grabbed the front of his shirt. Then her mouth was on his, hot and wet and angry.
His heart thundered. He grabbed her ribcage, enjoying the lean feel of her, letting himself believe her need was as great as his. She tore at his shirt. He was vaguely aware of a cufflink flying loose and pinging somewhere across the room, of the hiss of leather against fabric as she ripped his belt free. He should stop it. He couldn’t. He didn’t want to. All he knew was the feel of her lithe body beneath his hands, the silk of her hair sliding through his fingers and the caress of her tongue as they fell upon the bed.
Pieces of a Lie Page 17