by Cindy Crane
Jake wasn’t being scared off at all. He rather liked what Debs was suggesting. And for an eleven-year-old, she was incredibly astute. She certainly had her mother’s brains. Pity life wasn’t quite as straight-forward as she was implying.
“I keep telling her it’s about time I had a father to share the workload,” she went on.
“To share the workload?” Jake teased. “You sound like you could be hard work. Even for a father.”
“Oh no, I’m not!” she shot back, almost in horror, worrying she’d overdone it a little. “I’m very polite and friendly.” She paused for a second and grinned. “A little precocious at times, so Mum says, but we can’t all be perfect.” She was now in full theatrics even though Jake couldn’t see her. There was nothing Debs liked better than selling herself. And she had a good feeling she’d found a buyer at last.
Jake’s grin was getting wider. He liked the sound of this girl. Frankie had done a good job. She was confident, self-assured. She’d make a formidable adult one day and never be short of friends—or boyfriends, for that matter. A father would have his work cut out with this one. Though perhaps not. She obviously had her head screwed on the right way.
“I’m sure you’re just like your mother,” he charmed her, “perfect in every way.”
“So why has it taken you nearly a week to ring?”
My, the girl was relentless.
“Like I said, I’ve been busy.”
And why did his excuse sound so pathetic?
Probably because it was—he’d already decided they were going to be an item again; he just needed the courage to get on with it, and to rid the demons still stalking him.
“Anyway, I thought I’d ring to see if Pete had been in touch.”
And now it sounded even more pathetic, as though he’d needed an excuse to call.
At least Debs didn’t pick up on that.
“Yes, he did, about half an hour ago. He wants her to do a talk-thing at his school. Are you doing one too?”
“Yes,” he replied, hoping she wouldn’t ask for details. His details would be definitely too much for an eleven-year-old—even an eleven-year-old going on thirty-five.
But he needn’t have worried. Debs’ mind was already off on another track.
“That’s great. We could stay at yours then.”
“We?” It was hard to keep the surprise out of his voice.
While deciding he’d love Debs to be part of his life, he hadn’t expected it to be quite so soon. Twelve years without Frankie had built up an appetite he wasn’t sure a child should bear witness to. He’d been a man starved of love, with a needy, greedy sexual desire that only being with Frankie could satisfy. There might have been others. But with them it had only been sex. This, this was different. It was all-consuming. She was a part of his very being. Without her he’d been lost. And for the first time in years he was finding himself again. And he needed to spend time with her alone, at least to begin with.
But thankfully rescue was at hand. Debs was already having a re-think.
“Hmm, well, I suppose Mum could stay. I expect I’ll have to stop at Nan ’s again. It’s a school day, isn’t it?”
“I’m afraid so,” he answered, hoping his sigh of relief wasn’t audible and changing the subject quickly before she changed her mind and invited herself after all. “How are your grandparents?”
“You know them?” That was a turn up for the book. Nan never said she knew him when she told her about him.
“I met them a couple of times. It was a long time ago.” He kicked himself. He didn’t want to go down that road either.
“Grandad’s a chief superintendent,” she said proudly. “ Nan says he could be chief constable one day.”
“He’s done well. He was a detective inspector last time I saw him.” It stuck in his throat to say it after all he’d gone through with the man, but hearing the child so openly adoring of her grandfather, he wasn’t about to shatter the image.
But Debs was already leading the conversation again. “ Nan says the longer he stays in the force the better. She says he’ll drive her mad when he retires.”
Maybe her Nan ’s remark about him becoming chief constable might have been a tad sarcastic, then? He certainly wasn’t an easy man to get along with.
“I’m sure he will,” Jake chose to agree with her.
Debs giggled, then said mischievously, “So where will Mum be sleeping?” That was enough about her grandparents. It was back to business.
“I don’t think she’s actually agreed to stay with me,” Jake pointed out. “But if she does, then she can have the bed. I’ll take the sofa.”
Thank goodness the girl couldn’t see his crossed fingers.
“Or the floor.” Debs giggled again.
“Or the floor,” he agreed. His heartbeat was already quickening. He could hear Frankie’s voice in the distance.
“Come on now, young lady. I think you’ve been on that phone long enough. There’s a pile of pots that still want drying. Put it down now.”
“I don’t think so, Mum,” she retorted cheekily, clutching the receiver hard to her ear.
Frankie’s eyes blinked hard, then widened in surprise. Debs? Answering back?
“I beg your pardon?” she chided.
“I don’t think so,” her daughter repeated, then grinned. “Don’t you want to talk to Jake?”
Frankie’s eyes widened further as she stepped forward.
“Why didn’t you call me?”
“We’ve been having a very interesting conversation. Bye, Jake,” she called down the phone as her mother did her best not to snatch the receiver out of her hand.
“Jake,” she greeted him a little breathlessly. “I’m so sorry. I hope Debs hasn’t been too much of a pain.” She gave her grinning daughter a hard look, trying hard to scold but failing miserably. Her lips were already stretching into a wide smile at the sound of his voice.
“On the contrary, she’s been very entertaining, as well as giving me the third degree. I think she’s already a police detective in the making.”
As if to confirm his statement, Debs called out, “He wants you to stay at his place when you go to do that talk-thing.”
Frankie’s eyebrows shot up into her forehead.
“He does, does he?” She wasn’t sure which of the scheming pair she was speaking to.
“You can have the bed,” Debs went on.
“I can?” she replied a tad stupidly.
Just what had they been discussing?
“He says he’ll have the sofa.”
“He will?” She sounded even more stupid. It didn’t help that Jake was chuckling away at the other end of the line.
“I don’t believe him, though.”
Frankie’s eyebrows nearly disappeared into her hairline. It looked like her frank and open sex talks with Debs may have been a little too frank. She wasn’t sure she was totally comfortable with her daughter planning her love life for her.
“Debs. Go away,” she said firmly—very firmly. “Pots.” She even pointed towards the kitchen to emphasise the order.
Debs scuttled away with a grin from ear to ear, disappearing out of sight. But Frankie knew full well she was still within earshot.
“I’m sorry about that,” she apologised. “Kids, eh?”
“Don’t be sorry. She sounds wonderful.”
Jake was still smiling, and Frankie could feel his warmth envelop her even from that distance. The earth shifted beneath her feet, sending her reeling; just the sound of his voice was enough to electrify her senses.
“So what about it, then—will you stay?”
She finally exhaled; suddenly realising she’d been holding her breath.
“In fact, stay a couple of nights,” he suggested softly, breaking the silence.
She wanted to scream yes, but the mother in her took control before she totally lost her head. Anyway, Debs was still listening, and she couldn’t have the girl thinking she was calling all
the shots.
Jake included. He’d certainly taken his time getting back to her, problems or no problems.
“I have to make arrangements for Debs first.”
Jake chuckled afresh. “I think she’s already made them.”
How could she resist? The man filled her with such fiery need and a love so huge, it threatened to engulf her totally. Twelve years ago she’d have walked through hot coals for him. Nothing had changed. If only he’d realised it then. She could have stayed and helped him through whatever it was that had finally wrenched them apart.
But she had to ask him. “And what about your little problem? Is it sorted?” Her voice was tentative, lowered. She didn’t want Debs poking her nose in any more than was necessary.
He hesitated a moment. “I’m still working on it,” he answered cryptically.
“But you will tell me about it? Promise?” There couldn’t be any secrets between them. She wouldn’t allow it, not this time. They were adults now. She wouldn’t let whatever had come between them before happen again.
“Soon,” he said, trying to be upbeat and positive, knowing she wouldn’t like it when she knew. “Soon.”
Chapter 14
Jake really did hope it would be soon. But despite his best efforts, it was like banging his head against a brick wall. And when he did, how was he going to find the words? How could he tell her that her father was a corrupt cop? And that he was responsible for their wasted years? Not just for dragging her away from him but by forcing Jake to make the hardest decisions of his life—never to see her again, not to make contact with her and not to reply to her calls or letters. Letters he still possessed; at least those from the beginning.
They’d nearly broken his heart.
In the end, he sent them back unopened, hoping she’d find someone else, become the lawyer her father had envisaged, eventually forgetting about him and moving on with her life. As for himself, what had he gotten out of it? Not a lot, except his freedom, instead of a prison.
He’d tried to call Richardson ’s bluff. After all, he’d witnessed firsthand how the man dealt with those who crossed him. And Jake had been dragged up in the gutter and was street-wise enough to know exactly how to use a tasty bit of information to his own advantage—even as blackmail.
But D.I. Richardson had been better.
So, cockily, Jake even said he’d do the time. He wouldn’t give Frankie up. And she’d wait for him. He tried using the arrogance of his youth to brazen it out. Let Richardson deal with that.
He did.
“Do you seriously think she’ll wait fifteen years, even with time off for good behaviour?” the bastard had sneered back. “Do you want her to wait fifteen years? Waste fifteen years for a no-good, no-hoper like you? Even you can see she’s intended for better things.”
And those steel-grey eyes, hard and unflinching, had pierced through to his soul, knowing that he’d stitched him up well and good—every angle covered, with enough evidence to prove he was as guilty as hell. Protesting his innocence would only look as if he were lying to save his own skin.
What was worse, Richardson was right. He loved Frankie too much to let her waste her life waiting for him. He was damned if he did and damned if he didn’t. Richardson had him well and truly by the balls, with no way out. So he agreed to his demands: to give her up and never contact her again.
And in return, all the evidence against him disappeared.
He wasn’t proud of what he’d done. But he was only nineteen, and desperate. He didn’t know where to go for help or how to prove his innocence. He just clung onto the hope that one day…
Except time rolled on by and it was easier to leave well alone. No one ever took Harry Richardson on and won.
But the man was still at it.
He was a monster.
He was still controlling his daughter’s life, and his; determined that the boy with a drunk for a father and a whore for a mother wouldn’t drag his daughter down into the same gutter. He didn’t care how much Jake had achieved in his life; how it had turned out; or what sort of person he really was. Richardson was still adamant to come out on top.
Why, even that fat shit of a detective sergeant, Turner, was still in his pocket, looking out for him, staking an obbo on his flat last time Frankie was here. He’d grabbed him by the shirt front and slammed him against the wall as he’d left Frankie snuggled beneath the duvet to fetch a take-away from the local Chinese—and more condoms; they hadn’t been able to get enough of each other.
His piggy eyes mere inches from Jake’s, his fetid breath threatening to choke him, Turner had snarled yet another warning: that his old friend and inspector wouldn’t be very happy to know he’d got his only daughter ensconced in his flat.
Had he forgotten they’d still got the drugs, and there was nothing to stop them re-opening an old case?
Had he forgotten about the girl? The street girl who’d died of a heroin overdose and that it had been someone else, not her, who had injected the poison into her?
Had he forgotten that the needle was originally missing at the scene; and they still hadn’t caught the one responsible?
Had he forgotten that when the needle did turn up, it had Jake’s fingerprints all over it?
And had he forgotten that Jake knew all about street girls and their heroin habits? After all, he’d grown up with one: his mother.
But Turner wasn’t dealing with a nineteen-year-old boy this time, scared shitless by the power the two men had over him; bewildered by the intensity of their hatred that they’d go that far to frame him. He was a grown man now, more worldly wise, more experienced. So he’d laughed in his face—a harsh, cold laugh with no hint of amusement lacing it. His lips curled in disgust.
He’d go down kicking and screaming if he had to. And he’d go knocking on all the right doors this time to get the help he needed. Richardson and Turner had secrets too. And he wouldn’t be scared to reveal them this time round.
“Try it and I’ll take you both with me,” he snarled back. “Or have you forgotten what I saw too?”
Such was his arrogance, Turner never even flinched, just searched Jake’s eyes for any sign of weakness. There wasn’t any—not this time. Seeing Frankie again had washed it all away. He felt cleansed, reborn. This time he was going to fight them all the way.
So Turner released Jake’s shirt, straightened his own jacket, and sneered, “You might just regret that threat.” He’d lived with enough throughout his career. One more wouldn’t make much difference. And straight-backed, he strode back to his car.
Fortunately, by the time he got back to Frankie, Jake had walked off the superfluous adrenaline surging through his veins. But he knew he had to be careful and tread warily, to prove his innocence before they raked everything up again. He’d experienced their viciousness before. And they still had evidence against him hidden away.
So the first thing he did when Frankie went back home was to try to appeal to Richardson ’s better nature—except he didn’t have a better nature.
It hadn’t been hard to track him down—by ringing him at the station where he worked. He left several messages before he finally caught up with him.
Jake could almost see him at the other end of the line. He’d be sitting, ramrod straight, at his desk. With his cold, staring eyes and hard, thin lips, he wasn’t a man to love easily, if at all. His wife had to be a saint. His daughter…..He couldn’t believe the man could have produced such a sweet, lovely girl as Frankie.
He shuddered. He didn’t know who’d had it worse—Jake with a father who hadn’t given a fuck about him, or Frankie, whose father ruled her life with a rod of iron. No wonder she went off the rails. He must have gone ape-shit when she told him she was pregnant, ruining all his wonderful plans.
Jake swallowed hard, forcing back the lump swelling in his throat. She must have been so hurt to have given something so precious to anyone who’d take it. And to so many men, she didn’t even know who Debs’ father w
as.
His heart ached. It felt like his fault.
If only he’d fought harder.
If only he’d told her.
But what would have been the point? She’d have only ended up hating him, and hating her father even more than she already did.
And where would he be?
In prison.
Probably still in prison.
At least now he’d been given a second chance.
Chapter 15
In all her twenty-eight years, Frankie had only ever heard her mother shout, really shout, in anger once. Good job, really. Frankie had more than made up for it during her teen years. Her mother was always the mediator, the calm one, the one to smooth things over. Last time was when she’d finally plucked up the courage to tell them she was pregnant. But even then, it hadn’t been at her.
Nearly six months gone, she could no longer hide her swelling belly under baggy sweaters. And truth was: she didn’t want to. She’d had more than her share of unhappiness to deal with. Suddenly the new life growing inside her gave her hope that at last she might have something in her life to love once more. She’d finally resigned herself to accepting Jake wasn’t going to be there for her. And now she had a new problem to face. But she couldn’t do it alone. She needed help. And she’d always been able to rely on her mother.
It wasn’t that she didn’t love her father. It was just that they were so alike: so stubborn, both headstrong and unbending when their minds were made up. As a child it had always been a love-hate relationship. But they’d always managed to make up. It was only when she started knocking around with Carly and the gang that the real trouble started. But when she started seeing Jake…
Of course her father instantly demanded she have an abortion. Just as she knew he would.
She refused.