by Jennie Jones
‘And now? You’re still not telling me the truth about why you’re here. Don’t lie.’
Was it lying, really? ‘What did I just tell you?’ he asked, fixing her in his gaze. ‘Think about it.’ It wouldn’t take her long. She already knew he wasn’t being truthful about the reasons for being back in uniform.
A multitude of thoughts crossed her features, then she inhaled. ‘You’re undercover again.’
He didn’t speak. He didn’t even blink; he just kept his gaze on her.
‘Oh, God, Jack.’ She stepped back. ‘Is it dangerous?’
‘I’m here because of you.’ That was the truth. ‘I wanted to see you and explain.’
‘You took a dangerous operation in order to do that?’
‘I’m not in any danger.’ That wasn’t a lie either, and he couldn’t refer to the op he was currently on in any way whatsoever. He didn’t believe he was in danger—apart from when he was in this woman’s presence. ‘I’m in love with you.’ There, he’d said it, and it felt right. It felt comfortable.
‘Jack,’ she said, blinking madly through her confusion. ‘You’re crazy.’
It wasn’t what a man might expect as a reaction to such a declaration, but she looked so fetching in her surprise, he didn’t care. ‘You make my heart knock around my chest, Isabelle Jaxine Brown. The only danger I’m in is how I’m going to cope if I lose you.’
She stared at him, mouth slightly open as her eyes searched his. ‘I would have slept with you that night, Jack.’
Did that do something for him.
‘On a first date,’ she said, as though she found the notion incredulous.
Jack smiled. ‘Yeah. After only knowing each other a few hours. How reckless.’
‘I still would have done it,’ she said, as though she felt she had to qualify her truthfulness for him.
‘I’d have let you,’ he said, unable to hold back a slight grin.
She acknowledged it with her own smile. Then her eyes turned dark and serious and Jack took a hit to the chest. He was about to get a red light.
Jax clasped her hands firmly in front of her, weaving her fingers together. ‘I need to tell you about Frances.’
‘Need to or want to?’
He hadn’t said it in a confrontational manner, but his eyes were trained on her and she felt like she was under investigation. ‘I had her when I was seventeen. I gave her to her father. Foolishly, I listened to both him and my mother and I just gave her up. I don’t deserve her.’
‘I don’t believe that.’
He might, when he knew everything. ‘I have custody of her now but they might take her away.’
‘Why would they do that?’
The need to tell someone—to tell Jack—about all her worries and fears, all the unsureness of what had happened that night with Michael, swelled inside her.
She wanted him to understand but no matter his reaction to what she was about to tell him, she’d always be there for Frances, more than for any man who might wander into her life. Not that Jack had exactly wandered through it; more like kicked it up and rolled it over.
‘I saw her. When she was little. I watched her, and if the authorities find out I followed the family, when she was just a baby, just a child …’ She remembered how she’d felt, sitting in that car, watching Frances go to school for the first time. ‘I stalked them, Jack. I knew where they lived. I saw her four times before she turned five then didn’t see her again until a week ago.’ It felt like she was owning up to a crime. ‘I took my mother’s car and parked in their street. I saw them put her into the baby seat of their car when she was seven months old. I saw them sitting on their front porch with her when she was two. I watched her have her third birthday party in a park.’ Her stomach tightened but she carried on, wanting to get to the verdict faster. ‘I watched her go to school for the first time.’ Tears were welling now. That day, it had been a beginning for Frances and an ending for Jax.
‘Jesus,’ he said softly.
She swiped the tears away. ‘Will they take her away from me? Do I need to own up?’
He stepped forwards. ‘You did nothing wrong, sweetheart. Did you really think wanting to see your child would be viewed as some heinous crime?’
‘Michael and my mother wouldn’t let me see her. They said it was best not to. I didn’t follow it through legally because I didn’t know how to do that. I just let her go.’
‘Jax,’ he said softly, ‘you didn’t do anything wrong.’
‘But I can’t tell anyone that I saw her. That I watched her.’
He smiled tenderly. ‘The only person who needs to know is Frances. But you can’t tell her yet. She’s not ready, but she will be. One day.’
One day soon? Or one day, maybe?
‘There’s more you ought to know.’ It was going to be difficult getting the words out. The real words. The words she’d never spoken aloud to anyone, not even herself. ‘I went to bed with Michael Fellows when I was sixteen.’
He paused for so long that fear of his reaction almost got the better of her.
‘You wanted to?’ he asked.
‘Yes.’ Had she? ‘Yes!’ she reiterated. ‘I did. I wanted to.’
‘Jax,’ he said in a warning tone. He’d stilled, his features darkened. ‘Did he force you?’
Heat rose from her chest to her throat. ‘I’m not sure.’ It came out in a ragged whisper.
Jack didn’t move. Not a muscle.
‘He was persuasive, and friendly. I worked in his office. It was my first job, and it was all so different to school. I was impressed. I’d never had attention like that. I agreed to sleep with him.’
‘Agreed?’
He looked like he had a thousand thoughts whipping through his mind.
She faltered. ‘I don’t think he … I mean, I consented, didn’t I? So he didn’t …’ She couldn’t say the words.
‘Oh,’ Jack said, so quietly she hardly heard him. ‘I think he did.’
Her mouth dried out. Could he see it clearly, whereas she’d pushed it all away and embedded a different, safer scenario in her head? ‘Jack,’ she said, and spread her hands, a little panicked. ‘I don’t know what to think. I don’t want anyone to take Frances away from me again.’
He moved until he was only a step in front of her and put his fingers beneath her chin, tilting her face so she was looking up at him.
‘I’ve never met a woman I like so much,’ he said. ‘I’ve never met a smarter woman than you. I trust you. I trust that you did the only thing you could at the time. You gave up your baby. I trust that you knew you didn’t want to but that you were under pressure. I trust that you now love that child more than ever before. I don’t yet know how that works but you’re teaching me, and I trust you with her care. Now trust yourself. And yes,’ he said softly. ‘I want to kill him.’
That almost broke her.
He brushed his thumbs gently beneath her eyes, wiping the tears, but she sensed the danger. It oozed from him, like a thick blanket of fury.
‘You’re angry.’
‘Not with you.’
‘Jack,’ she whispered.
‘I’ll say this once.’ He spoke quietly, but intently. ‘The moment he persuaded you is playing like a never-ending scene in my head. But that’s not for you to worry about. My anger is my problem and you won’t see it again. My job now is to make the hurt go away for you.’
But it was all too complicated. There were too many emotions and too many people getting hurt—Frances being the most important person. ‘This issue with Michael and the young girl,’ she said, trying to stay rational. ‘I don’t know what the police think, and the girl won’t say anything bad about him, but—’
‘Regardless of the fact that the police can’t officially take it any further, you and I both know what was happening. He was grooming her.’
She closed her eyes, astonished that Michael, her child’s father, could do these things. ‘I think Frances might want to see him, or
contact him.’ This worried her as much as possibly having to tell the police or the child protection people that she too might have been forced.
‘Are you scared about that?’
‘God, yes!’ What would that knowledge do to Frances? It would be nothing but harmful. ‘I never want her to know what happened to me, and I don’t want her to see him, but I understand she might need to.’
‘How much talking about seeing him have you done with her?’
‘Not much. Enough to open the subject again, if I’m careful. Linda knew Frances was mine,’ she explained when she remembered she hadn’t told him this, ‘although she thought it was an affair, not—’ She swallowed. There was no need to voice the word. ‘But now, she’s pushed Frances away—she threw her out.’
‘And you took her back.’
‘I don’t want to lose her again.’
‘You won’t.’
‘I’m so sorry, Jack. I’ve put all my burdens onto you. I didn’t mean this to happen.’
‘I’m dying to hold you,’ he said, and she nearly crumpled at the care in his tone. ‘But you won’t let me pierce that armour you wear.’
He didn’t know how much he had pierced that armour. She hadn’t realised she was even wearing so much armour that nobody could get through it.
She felt as though she were clinging to a lifebuoy as an ocean of emotion washed over her head. Jack was tough enough and strong enough to cling onto. She was tempted to lean forwards and put her forehead on his chest. It wasn’t very far—twenty centimetres, thirty at most.
‘Do you think I wear armour around Frances?’ she asked.
‘Frances puts on a front, although it’s for a different reason. I understand Frances better than I do you, to be honest. Because of my own childhood. But the way I see it, it’s mostly, like mother, like daughter.’
Like mother, like daughter. Her heart compressed hard. ‘You’re saying you can see similarities in us?’
‘You’re both very pretty. You’ve both got full hearts. You’re both scared.’ His voice was so full of tenderness that she was filled with a strange awareness—of what it would be like to always be able to lay her cheek against his chest if she wanted to.
He lifted his arms from his sides, inviting her in. ‘Come on, Jax. I’m here.’
Twenty centimetres. Hardly a move at all. Just step forwards.
‘To hell with this.’ He dragged her against him, pulling her in tight.
She was so relieved that her arms automatically wound around him. Her shoulders relaxed, her stomach muscles unclenched. The only thing she was holding firmly in place was the next flow of tears that threatened.
She pressed her face to him and closed her eyes.
‘I’ve got you now.’ He said it so quietly she hardly heard the words. ‘Trust me, Jax, but more importantly, trust yourself.’
She’d try. For Frances’s sake, and also for Jack. She’d brought him into all this, but she didn’t want her issues to take his focus off whatever undercover charade he was playing. Even though he hadn’t admitted he was undercover; he’d only given her nonverbal clues and she deduced what she thought was the truth.
‘Are you going to be here on watch tonight?’ she asked, sniffing away the tears and pushing from him, because no matter how much she loved being held, she had to stay real and remain focused.
His eyes softened with a smile. ‘I’d like to stay. With you.’
He was warm, and tough, and he looked so much like comfort, with his short brown hair a little messy and his eyes molten-brown.
‘Frances is inside,’ she said, wondering if he’d understand her meaning.
‘I just want to hold you while you sleep. I might kiss you, but we’d be quiet. Soft and quiet.’
The evocative sensory visions in her head almost overwhelmed her.
‘We can’t have a relationship,’ she told him.
‘Why not?’
‘I think Frances needs to know that I’m her rock. You know?’ she asked, begging him to understand.
‘Why can’t she have two rocks?’
‘You’ll leave. I have to get my relationship with her on solid ground, and I can’t have her thinking you’re going to be part of her life when you’re not going to be.’
‘You don’t know that.’
‘It wouldn’t be fair on her, and I’m not doing anything that’s going to hurt her again.’
‘We wouldn’t be hurting her. We’d be cherishing her.’
‘For a few weeks? Jack, it’s impossible. Please understand. It won’t work.’
‘Jax,’ he said patiently as he brushed a hand over her head. ‘It would work if you married me.’
Sixteen
Jax was having trouble focusing, something she was berating herself for, but a sleepless night did that. Jack’s fault.
He had stayed the night. On the sofa.
She glanced over at Frances, who was standing with the Agatha Girls in the small car park at the rear of the station. It gave her an unexpected opportunity to smile. The ladies were thrilled to have met her at last, and Frances had been polite to them. They were explaining how they’d caught the bull and, by the look of things, Frances was showing genuine interest, and maybe some shock. Things like this didn’t happen in Geelong. Neither did they usually happen in Mt Maria.
‘Back up another couple of inches, Jax,’ Solomon called.
She put the horse truck into reverse and made what must be the seventeenth or eighteenth minuscule move backwards.
‘That’s it!’
She shifted the stick into neutral and got out of the cab.
This morning, everyone had woken early, and before Jax went to feed the dogs she and Jack told Frances there might be a problem with someone trespassing on their land and because of this, the police were going to do their job and keep an eye on the house and on Jax and Frances.
They hadn’t wanted to scare her, but they had wanted her to understand that there was a possible scenario of danger—a word neither used.
Then Jack had suggested he cook breakfast while Jax fed the dogs. She’d had to put a lid on that one straight away. He hadn’t meant anything more than a genuinely friendly gesture, but it was a step towards being a happy family unit and she couldn’t let it happen.
She hadn’t given Jack the chance to talk further about his astonishing proposal last night either and thankfully he hadn’t pushed.
It wouldn’t work. It couldn’t work. He couldn’t stay here as a police officer and she couldn’t leave, not now she was getting Frances settled. Her whole life was here: her home, her business, her friends, her sister—her daughter. Jack’s world was a trip to the moon away. He loved his job as much as Jax loved her life in Mt Maria. Neither could leave what they’d created for themselves.
But her sleepless night hadn’t only been filled with memories of him saying he couldn’t lose her, and his suggestion that she marry him. Her mind had run away with prospects of how that might happen. But it was impossible and Frances was her priority. Yet still, just like she’d known she would have slept with him that night they had dinner, she knew now that if it were possible, she might accept his proposal.
Ridiculous! They hardly knew each other, and they didn’t live in the same state, let alone the same town.
‘What’s next?’ Jack asked Solomon as Jax came up to the barred exercise pen.
‘He’s okay,’ Solomon said, nodding at the bull. ‘He’s not too worried.’
‘Good.’
Jack was off duty again, as he had been last night, and wearing jeans and a light blue long-sleeved shirt. Rachel was right—he would look good in a suit. He’d look right in a shirt and tie. He’d look good in anything. Or nothing.
She took her eyes off him. ‘I’d best get Frances to Rosie at the café.’
‘Why?’ Jack asked.
‘I’ve got to go with Solomon and Tonto. I need to know she’s somewhere safe while I’m busy and can’t keep my eye on her.’
Jax hesitated.
‘Good idea,’ Solomon said, sealing the deal Jax didn’t want.
Either Jack or Solomon would be doing a night-time vigil outside the farmhouse from now on. Not that they’d told Frances this. As OIC, Luke usually worked a nine-to-five shift, with additional hours either side when needed. But now Jack was going to be on call twenty-four hours a day, every day, whether in uniform or not.
She was sure he was here undercover for some reason. He hadn’t admitted it or even answered her questions about it, but his silence spoke volumes. Drugs probably. There was so much more of it now than five or six years ago.
‘All right,’ she agreed, and looked at Jack. If he was undercover it meant he was still a detective, which meant he really belonged in Sydney where he’d done so much work in the past.
He met her gaze and smiled. She would prefer to have Frances at the house, but was worried that Jack was befriending Frances in order to push for a relationship with her mother. Or marriage. Damn, she had to stop thinking about that.
‘Just keep it under consideration,’ he said.
Jax’s face heated fast. How had he known what was in her head? ‘I’m thinking about how pushy you are,’ she said, and turned to tell Frances what was going to happen.
‘And then,’ Mary was telling Frances, ‘Amelia—Mrs Arnold—pulled a length of chain from her handbag and we managed to secure it around the weights on Hercule’s neck—’
‘Huge balls,’ Mrs Frith said, looking satisfied with her pronouncement.
‘The weights?’ Frances asked.
Jax interrupted quickly, unsure where Mrs Frith’s thoughts were heading. ‘Frances, it’s time to make a move.’