Rating: NC: 17 - This story contains violence, consensual sex between a man and a woman and rough language. If this offends you, is illegal where you live or you are under 18, go somewhere else.
Disclaimer: The characters of John Lawless, Alan Snow and Susan Ellis belong to South Pacific Pictures. The use of those characters in this story is not intended as copyright infringement. The rest of the characters in this story are from my previous Lawless stories or my imagination and are copyrighted by me.
Author's Note: While this story is not a direct sequel to Lawless, the NZ Tele-film, it is somewhat of a sequel to the series of stories I've written and it does contain characters from and references to those previous stories. While it is not necessary to have read them to follow this, it will probably add to the reader's enjoyment if they are read first.
The room was cold. The examining table was thick brown plastic protected by a flimsy layer of tissue paper. The walls were whitewashed and bare of decoration. The room felt sterile, dismal. The small man wondered if this spartan surrounding was meant to be daunting. As if patients needed to be reminded of the nature of their visits. Of the seriousness of the situation. He shivered as he waited. His gaunt body was barely covered by the scanty gown and his blood had thinned over time. He felt the chill keenly, as if ghosts were already dancing on his grave.
The patient knew the doctor would return with his diagnosis at any moment. He knew it was a foregone conclusion. The illness ate at him like his bitterness and anger did. He had been warned that his emotional state could affect his health, but he hadn't believed it. He always thought he knew best. Now it was too late.
The door opened and the doctor appeared. He was fresh-faced and young, obviously uncomfortable with the information he was about to relay. His round face was solemn and sad. "Not good news, I'm afraid," he mumbled.
"I expected as much," the man remarked dryly. He was almost amused by how disturbed the doctor was. There was no one else left to care. His wife had divorced him and his former friends and colleagues would hardly be touched by anything that happened to him now.
"It's spread. I'm afraid . . . " the doctor somberly shook his head.
"How much time do I have left?" he asked.
The doctor swallowed hard. He hated giving this kind of news. He studied his patient. The bloke was unlike most of his other patients. He took everything calmly even news of his impending death. "Six months, give or take," he explained. "Very difficult to say."
The small man nodded. His brown eyes grew calculating and cold. It wasn't very long, but maybe it would be long enough.
She was at the beauty salon, her once-a-month treat, her one nod to a vanity that no longer had a place in her life. She had been living from hand to mouth for years now. The big money had long since run out, leaving her to find other ways to make ends meet. Still, no matter how tight the money was she always managed to find a way to pamper herself with the works once a month.
As she moved to sit under the dryer her eyes caught the cover of an old weekly magazine. The bloke in the photo had eyes that looked vaguely familiar as if she might have known him once. She picked it up and studied the photo briefly. He was quite good-looking with long hair and a muscled body that was apparent even through his clothes. The headline was intriguing; "Good cop? Bad cop?" But it wasn't until she read the article about a police scandal that her eyes nearly popped out of her head. It surely couldn't be . . . but it was. He looked so different. Well, it had been . . . how many years? She picked up the illustrated paper, folded it in half and stuck it in her tote bag. She'd always wondered what had happened to the bloke who had ruined her life. At the time it had happened she had been too busy trying to stay afloat to worry about taking revenge. Then she had lost track of him. Well, now she knew where he was, didn't she?
The flat was cheap. A weekly rental in the worst part of town but it was all he could afford. He took a sip from his flask and felt the raw whiskey slide warmly down his throat. He had been fired from yet another job. Forced out, called irresponsible and incompetent. All because he'd been late two or three times and missed a few meetings.
He sat at a small table staring at some five by seven pictures. He spread the photos out before him like a religious tableau. The pictorial history of his life. The pictures were old, the corners crinkled, the surfaces shiny as if they had been handled too many times. He picked them up and shuffled them as if they were cards and then laid them out again.
He and a beautiful dark-haired woman posing uncomfortably in finery, their wedding picture. If you looked closely, you could see the woman's belly was slightly swelled as if she was preggers. The woman, now his wife holding a small baby with dark hair. Next picture showed his wife holding a little boy by his hand, the boy was young only two and the woman looked tired and irritable.
Looking at the photos reinforced his self-perceived failures and inadequacies. He took another sip from his flask, and burdened by his defects, weighed down by his impotence, he began deliberately ripping the pictures to shreds.
It was a small room and she liked that. She was alone and she liked that even better. She reached into the pillowcase and pulled out the gloves and scissors. She picked up the pile of newspapers and spread them over the little table.
She put on the gloves, took her scissors and slowly began cutting the papers apart. The newsprint was slick and she had to be careful. The plastic gloves made everything difficult, but best NOT to leave prints. Carefully and rigidly, she followed the intricate pattern of each individual letter as she cut it out. Soon she had a large pile in front of her. Another few papers and she would have enough letters to create the message she wanted to send.
She heard a noise down the hall and quickly slipped off the gloves. She shoved the gloves and scissors back in the pillowcase and then she piled the virgin newspapers on top of the cutout letters.
The suit was silk, charcoal gray and very expensive. Though he hadn't given much thought to clothes in recent times, the sales clerk had insisted this suit was choice. He had to agree that it fit as if it had been made for him. The trousers had flap pockets and a sharp crease. The jacket was double-breasted and sported pale gray buttons. He wore a teal silk shirt and a blue tie in a slightly darker shade. He had on black socks and black shoes. He looked in the mirror and shook his head. He couldn't believe he'd bought the bloody thing. It cost more than his first car! Still, he had to grudgingly admit he looked good.
His long hair was pulled back in a ponytail and he wore a gold hoop earring. He'd thought about getting a haircut, whipping it all off, but something stopped him. Maybe he'd ask Kelly's opinion. With a shrug for the vagaries of life, John Lawless picked up his keys and wallet and left his house.
As he drove to pick Kelly up for their date, he was nervous and anticipatory, scared and joyful. These feelings were unprecedented, almost foreign to him. He guessed this was what most blokes went through in their teens, but he never had. He had loved two women in his life, Marla and Caro, and in neither case had he ever felt like this. He'd felt intense sexual lust before, a pure animal attraction, and while that was definitely a component of what was happening to him now, there was more to it than that. He had no idea why he felt as he did, but he was going to go for it. He wasn't going to over think. He wasn't going to think at all. He would simply feel and see where it led.
Kelly tapped her foot impatiently. John wasn't late, it was only ten minutes to five, but still . . . she couldn't believe she had agreed to keep their date. Especially knowing that he had lied to her. Well, she thought, she couldn't actually be sure he'd directly lied to her and there was the way he kissed her too. Still, how could he have asked her out, kissed her like that, when all the time he was investigating her? He swore that one thing had nothing to do with the other, but . . .
She sighed, rose from her desk and left her office. A quick peek in the mirror was in order so she went to the ladies loo. She stood in front of the full-length mirror and tried to see herself the way she thought he might see her.
She was five feet eight inches, five eleven in the three-inch heels. Her legs were encased in sheer stockings. She wore a green linen suit with a white tailored blouse open at the throat. The jacket was double-breasted and buttoned up. It was an outfit designed to put John in his place and keep him at a distance. Her red hair was carefully styled and framed her face. She wore emerald studs in her ears and a matching emerald solitaire on a gold chain at her neck. Her makeup was light and delicate. The lipstick was mauve. Her color was high and her freckles were very pronounced. She hated the way she looked sometimes, so damn Irish and common. Still, he seemed to find her attractive. She shrugged and left the loo returning to her office. Five minutes to five. Where was he?
He was parking the car. John locked up and knowing the time was tight raced into the building. As the clock struck five, he was asking for Kelly at the receptionist's desk.
She strode out of her office, took three steps, saw him and her heart began to race. 'Oh my,' she thought. 'OH MY.' John was wearing a beautiful gray silk suit; she thought it might be Armani. He had on a blue shirt and tie, his hair was pulled off his face and he looked . . . spectacular. She took a deep breath and advanced toward him. She watched as he spotted her and his face lit with pleasure. He smiled. Two of the most perfect dimples she had ever seen appeared, his eyes crinkled and she thought she had never seen a more beautiful smile in her life.
"You look," they both exclaimed almost in unison. Then they both laughed.
"You first," he prompted.
She shook her head. "You."
"You look gorgeous," he complimented softly.
She laughed. "You too. Nice suit."
"Couldn't do less. You might have sent me packing," he griped, obviously teasing her.
She smiled. "So, Mr. Lawless, are you ready?"
"That depends," he muttered. "Where are we going?"
"Where indeed?" she echoed. She had made reservations at the most expensive restaurant in Auckland, wanting to literally make him pay for the pleasure of her company. But now . . . "I dunno," she reflected finally. "Truth is . . . I . . ."
It was almost as if he read her mind. "Decided maybe I don't need to be taught that particular lesson?" he observed. She nodded too astonished at how well he just read her to speak. "We can go anywhere," he claimed. "Well, we might be a tad overdressed for some places, but . . ."
She studied him. "How do you feel about Thai takeaway?"
"What did you have in mind?"
She grinned and dared him, "Wait and see." She led John out of the office and to her car. She gestured for him to get in and then drove them to Sawadee. She asked him to wait in the car; she went in and then returned twenty minutes later with a huge bag of food. Then she drove to Mission Bay Park.
She parked the car, opened the boot and pulled out a blanket. She asked John to grab the bag of takeaway and then they found a shady tree near the fountain to picnic. The park was crowded. It seemed like everyone in Auckland wanted to enjoy the summer in this particular location. There were rollerbladers on the Promenade, families tramping to the beach, anklebiters playing near the splashing fountain and other couples on gaily colored blankets all around them.
Mission Bay was one of Kelly's favorite places. It always seemed full of happy cheerful humanity. The soft sound of chattering voices, laughing children and dogs barking filled the air with it's own kind of special music. The water in the fountain tinkled merrily.
After they were settled on the blanket Kelly asked, "So?"
John grinned. "The food smells good." He paused and then gestured around them. "But don't you think we're a bit . . . well . . . dressed up for a picnic?"
She shrugged. She glanced around at the people in casual summer attire and then back to him. "You saying clothes should determine what we do, where we go or who we are?"
He pondered that. "You know," he mused thoughtfully, "I guess I've always been one to think that clothes do determine those things. I've never been comfortable in a suit or the kind of things you usually do in one. Too confining."
"And you don't like confining, do you? Or rules or being bossed about, eh?" she teased with a laugh.
He laughed with her. "I'm not much good at following the rules, never really have been. As to being bossed about, well there's bossing and then there's bossing."
She nodded, studying his suit. She suspected he HAD bought it, just because she'd told him too. It had a shiny newness to it. "You buying that, it WAS a big thing, wasn't it?" she asked gesturing at the outfit.
"Worth it if it made you realize I was serious," he answered solemnly.
"Serious?" she repeated the word as if she wasn't quite sure she knew what it meant.
"Kelly," he admitted, "I don't take anything lightly. I'm generally serious about everything and I'm bloody serious about you. All my life I've been mostly alone. I was married for six years and I could tell you about it, but it wouldn't really tell you anything. Six months ago, the woman I was in love with, the woman I was going to marry, was murdered in my bed, by someone who . . ." the words trailed off. It was still painful to discuss Caro. Still hard not to be overwhelmed with guilt about his failure to protect her.
He paused and swallowed hard, then confessed, "My point is, I've only been in love twice, except, well I'm not sure I was ever in love with them, not like this." There, he'd said it. Well sorta said it. He watched her eyes to see if she understood.
"Murdered in your bed?" she reiterated. She barely heard the rest of what he said. Something about loving two women, but she lost the thread as she tried to process this new fact. He'd said the last woman he was involved with was dead. But murdered?
He nodded and tried to explain. "Caro was killed by a woman who fell in love with her. It was an accident, but it was . . . devastating all the same. I'd left her alone, gone out, I was actually lured away by the killer, anyway . . ."
"I'm so sorry, John," Kelly condoled. "That must have been awful for you." Than a new thought struck her, "You don't still . . ." she began then stopped abruptly, completely mortified by the words that had just escaped her lips.
"I moved and bought a new bed," he replied dryly.
"I'm sorry, when I can't process something, I take refuge in sarcasm or banalities," she apologized.
He studied her. Her eyes were wide, full of concern and confusion. She looked as if part of her wanted to run as far away as she could. He took a deep breath and added, "Kelly, I told you I have a very complicated life and I wasn't kidding. There's a bunch more including one lie I DID tell you, only that had nothing to do with you and everything to do with protecting someone else."
Now she scrutinized him. His body appeared tense, like a fighter prepared to fend off expected blows. His upper body was leaning forward, almost in supplication. His face held the oddest expression of vulnerability, full of fear and concern. All of his body language suggested he was oddly afraid and yet wildly hopeful. His expression was at once overwhelming and touching. He was such a big strong bloke and yet in that moment he resembled, at least to her, an insecure teenager. She wanted to tell him to relax, that it would all be okay, but she wasn't sure she could or that it would be. Instead, she suggested softly, "Tell you what; let's eat something while it's hot. Then after you can pretend I'm a priest and confess all your sins to me."
A wave of relief rushed through him. He felt his muscles begin to relax. He had admitted lying and she hadn't sent him away. "Sounds good," he agreed.
Kelly opened the bag and began putting containers on the blanket. She had gotten an assortment of things, Chicken Satay, Poh Pia Pug, Thai Chicken Wings, Gai Pad Mai Falang, Pad Thai and Jasmine Rice. She opened the containers and handed John some chopsticks.
Kelly laughed as he tried, with little success, to use the chopsticks. After a moment, she dug in the bag again and then offered him a plastic fork. He accepted it gratefully, grinning sheepishly.
John watched as Kelly picked up a skewer of satay and slid her mouth along it to get to the food. He stared at her and felt his groin tighten from the unconscious eroticism of it. He stopped eating then and just watched her. His eyes and heart were hungry for the sight of her, drinking her in as if he was in the desert and she was an oasis.
At first, Kelly was disconcerted by his stare. Then she got used to it and decided she liked it. It was very flattering and in some odd way exciting. It was hard for her to believe that a bloke who looked like he did could be as attracted to her as he seemed to be. Her encounters with good-looking men had usually ended unpleasantly. Especially when sex was involved. But there was no hiding in his eyes, he clearly fancied her. Heaps. And clearly, from the things he was telling her, not just for a one-nighter either. Finally she put down the last of the Pad Thai, licked her fingers delicately and asked tentatively, "Want to confess your lie now?"
John pulled his mind back from his erotic fantasies. Between the way she'd eaten the satay and his own unremitting lust, his mind had wandered into an incredibly vivid scenario of Kelly's mouth making a lascivious journey over his body. Reluctantly he shook himself back to the present and confessed, "You have to understand. What I'm about to tell you, it's . . ." He paused and swallowed. "It's about the boy, Eric Katawny."
"The one you said you were training. The one who looks like you." He nodded. "He IS yours, isn't he?"
Again, John nodded. "Yes, but Kelly, he doesn't know. That's why I lied. I had too. His Mum, she never told me when she got pregnant. We were young, we'd broken up and . . . Anyway, I just found out a few weeks ago, by accident and . . ."
"You weren't kidding about your life being complicated, were you?" she mused. "John, how old is he?"
"Thirteen and a half. Kelly, I swear, if I had known I'd have done right by her and him back then. I'm trying to do right by them now, but it's hard."
She stared at him. He was clearly trying to be honest and his eyes had an open and pained look to them. She pursed her lips as she asked, "Why doesn't he know?"
His expression turned almost embarrassed as he answered. "His Mum married another bloke before she had him. He thinks Phil is his dad. The marriage didn't take and, well, Eric's never been told that Phil isn't his father."
"How did you find out?" she asked curiously.
"Well, I ran into his Mum and . . . I had already started working with him, but the long and short of it is, I asked Shay and she confirmed it. I swear I had no idea."
"I believe you, John," Kelly remarked. "Only if you were already working with him, didn't you see the resemblance?"
He shook his head. "Do you look at someone and think he looks like me so we must be related? Truth is I never saw it because it never occurred to me too. He doesn't know and for the time being we're not telling him."
"Why not?"
"It's so complicated," he grumbled. "Eric is insecure, angry and very emotionally bruised and battered. He doesn't trust easily and it's taken me months to get this far with him. His Mum and I are afraid that when he finds out the truth, he'll . . . well, feeling hurt, angry and betrayed is probably the least of it. I want to tell him, but . . ."
She reached over and patted his hand. "I can see that you do and that you love him. It takes a very strong person to put someone else's needs ahead of their own. That's a very selfless thing to do."
He heaved a sigh, relieved that she understood. "I DO love him. It's killing me not to tell him, but you should have seen him, when he misunderstood about us; he was so angry and hurt. I almost told him then, but . . . I'm so afraid I'll lose him."
Kelly caught her breath at the depth of John's emotions as he spoke of his son. It made her want to take him into her arms and hold him, to comfort and reassure him. She could see how much he wanted his son, how much he wanted to acknowledge the relationship and it touched her heart. Still, a thirteen-year-old son brought a ton of responsibilities with it. "You seem a good bloke. Give it time."
"That's what EVERYONE says. I'm sure you're all right, but that doesn't make it any easier on me."
"Probably not, but we've already agreed you're strong enough to be selfless, so . . ."
He took her hand. "Kelly, does that . . . between knowing about Caro and Eric does it . . . make a difference?"
"It's a lot to absorb, John," she answered soberly. "You do have a very complicated life and a lot of responsibilities. Is there any more?"
"Well, not really. You already know about my Mum, she lives down in Lower Hutt. My Dad died when I was five. There's his family and that's complicated too, but . . ."
She sighed and requested, "Tell me."
John explained about his Maori relatives and that he still hadn't resolved the situation. He wondered what she would make of it.
She whistled. "You do like things to be messy, dontcha? Tell me truly, why did your marriage end?"
"The divorce papers cited adultery, but . . ."
"I knew it," she interrupted. "I knew you were too good to be true." She started to rise from the blanket.
"Now hang on a tick," John protested. "I said they cited it, I didn't say it was true, although I suppose in a way it is."
Something in his voice stopped her. She sat back down. "Explain."
John did, or at least he tried to. He told her about Marla, about their marriage, about the way they each changed. About being a cop and going undercover, about the way it changed him. Then he explained about the final breakup of the marriage, about Sonya, her death and how he'd finally managed with Caro's help to get over it. "And that," he admitted finally, "kinda brings me to now. To you."
She nodded. "John, I . . . it's a lot to take in. You haven't had an easy time of it, that's for sure. And you have a LOT of baggage. You're honest, at least," she added sarcastically, "you are now and I appreciate that. But . . ."
His face lost its hope and his expression saddened. "I see. Well, I did say if you never wanted to see me again, I'd leave you alone, so . . ." he got up to leave.
"John," she chided him softly, "I DIDN'T say that. Besides, I drove. Sit down."
He sat back on the blanket. "Then you'll see me again?"
She nodded. "Yes, but, all things considered, can we take this slow?"
"Kelly, I . . ."
She touched his hand. "I like you, I do, it's just that you come with a hell of a lot attached. I'm not sure I'm ready to . . . anyway, lets just see what happens, eh?"
He took her hand again and held it. "I can live with that." Then he began to kiss her hand, his lips and tongue lightly rubbing against her knuckles.
Kelly shut her eyes and reveled in the beguiling sensations. She was not a virgin, but other men had never evoked the kind of response in her that John did. It seemed his slightest touch awoke in her feelings that were at once wonderful and terrifying. She didn't understand it and wasn't sure if she liked it, but . . . it was certainly worth exploring. She felt his soft lips caressing her fingers, then her wrist and her palm and finally his tongue tickled her lifeline. Then he took a finger in his mouth and began to suck it gently. She felt that ALL over her body. She tingled and ached. She opened her eyes and asked breathlessly, "If I did that to you, what would happen?"
He grinned and hinted, "Not sure. I might lose what little self-control I have left."
She pulled her hand away and snorted, "You don't make it easy on a girl."
He laughed and retorted, "Seems only fair. You make it hard for me."
Her eyes widened then she laughed with him. She slid over and put her arms around his neck. She bent her head and kissed him lightly.
He put his arms around her and held her close. Her hair smelled like jasmine today. Her lips tasted of ginger and garlic. He stroked her neck as his lips pressed softly against hers.
Kelly nestled against him, he smelled so good, of soap and bloke, male and yummy. She ran her hands over the silky suit, feeling the hard muscles in his arms. The kiss was gentle and sweet yet again, that enormous passion seemed to crackle between them. Every fiber of her body tingled.
John kissed her gently, relishing the sweetness of the kiss, the anticipation of the future. He opened his mouth and teased her lips with the tip of his tongue. She moaned as her lips opened for him, her arms tightening around him. He traced her lips, then slipped his tongue inside her mouth to dance with hers. They touched tip to tip and suddenly the kiss changed.
Kelly gripped his head and pulled his face even closer, her tongue pushed into his mouth. She pressed against him, all fire and passion, the heat of her body finding an answer in his.
He kissed her harder, pulling her tighter against him and his hands began to run over the curves of her body. He explored her through the nubby linen of the suit. He slipped one arm around and under the jacket, touching her back running his fingers down her spine, feeling the smooth touch of the white blouse.
She moaned and pulled back panting. "Kissing you should be illegal," she murmured huskily.
He touched her face. His large hands gently traced the curves and planes. He rubbed his thumb along her jaw and murmured, "Actually, I think it is. One of the new laws they just passed. Only very special women are allowed to do it." Her eyes seemed to widen in surprise. "Only you, eh?" he added.
She smiled and buried her head against his shoulder once again inhaling the scent of him.
He kissed the top of her head and then tilted her face just to look at her. Her emerald eyes were glowing like a cat's. He traced her lips with his index finger.
Suddenly Kelly took his hand and began to tickle his fingers with her tongue. Then with a wicked glint in her eye she began to suck one of them.
He groaned and felt his erection throb. "Kelly," he whispered, "if you want to take it slow, fine. But then take IT slow."
She laughed and released his hand. She touched his face, rubbing the back of her hand on his cheek. "So what's good for the gander isn't good for the goose?" she teased.
He sighed. "I'm not going to lie and tell you I don't fancy you, cause you know I do. But I'm only human. I can and will respect your wishes, but . . ."
She laughed again, feeling the power she had over him. It was intoxicating. "Such a nice bloke," she murmured. "Maybe I don't want such a nice bloke."
"No?" he echoed. "You want the kind to tell you to be barefoot and pregnant?" he asked with a laugh. "I don't think so."
"You know I don't. But . . ." she sighed. "You're right. Maybe we should do something else?"
"Take a steam?" he teased.
She laughed. "Take a walk."
He sighed. "A steam would be more fun."
She laughed. "Probably, but . . . if you do what you did the first time I saw you in the steam room, all my good intentions really will be paving the road to hell."
He felt his face flush at the memory. "Um . . . just how much did you see?"
She grinned like the Cheshire cat and her eyes sparkled with mirth. "All of you. Quite nice really. You're a healthy bloke, you are."
His flush deepened, but in a way, he was glad. It seemed to have intrigued rather then offended her. "Well, then," he mumbled. "Let's clean this up and go for a tramp."
Kelly grinned and began closing containers and putting them in the bag. She rose from the blanket and offered John a hand up.
He grasped her hand, rose and then pulled her tight against him. He wrapped his arms around her waist and pressed against her. "Least you have ANY doubts on that score, I AM healthy."
She touched his face, running her fingers over his lips and murmured, "Didn't think you were gay." She paused and then asked, "Or did you mean something else?"
He smiled. "All of that, plus. Despite what you might think, I don't sleep around. Never really have, at least not for ten years or so."
"You're getting way ahead of yourself here," she cautioned him. "I'll admit to fancying you, but I'm a long way from taking that step. I meant it about going slow."
"Can't blame a bloke for trying, can you?" he suggested with a shrug. "It would help a lot if you weren't so bloody gorgeous."
"You think I'm gorgeous?" she repeated, surprised.
He laughed. "Yeah and so does my unconscious. The dreams I've had . . ."
"Dreams?" she echoed uncertainly. "You dream about me?"
He nodded. "All the time. Bloody hot dreams too!"
"Really?" She studied his eyes and confessed, "I dream about you too."
His eyes lit with pleasure. "Really? Are they . . ."
She smiled. "They are quite . . . well I've had to confess almost every single one of them to my priest."
He released her then and took a step back. "You can tell me this is none of my business, but you've mentioned your priest, your Catholicism, and I guess . . . are you still a . . ." somehow he couldn't quite get the word out.
She laughed. "A virgin?" He nodded. She shook her head. "Course not. But John, I haven't had a lot . . . of lovers. Although I might be cheeky and flirt with you, I take sex very seriously. Anyway, I think we definitely need to go for that walk."
Two weeks later the letter arrived. John studied the official communication with dismay. It was the last thing he expected to see. He read the contents one more time and then shrugged. There was nothing he could do about it. Snow was out, apparently between his "good" behavior and a sudden "discovery" of a life-threatening illness, the former Detective Senior Sergeant, had been given early release. Still, there was no reason to assume it had to mean anything to him. All the same, John guessed he'd better watch his back.
The woman still had long hair; thick, glossy hair that waved around her heart shaped face. Her eyes were blue and slanted. Her skin was no longer like cream but tarnished with age. Her breasts sagged. All the same, the woman nodded with satisfaction. Thanks to a bottle of dye, her hair was now black and thanks to contacts, her eyes were now brown. The last ten years of her life had been hard. She knew it showed on her. Her once svelte figure had moved past voluptuous and full-figured, but she could still occasionally turn a head.
Johnny had once found her irresistible, although she doubted he still would. It was all his fault anyway. If it hadn't been for him there would still be money and life would still be sweet. Well, revenge was always sweet, no matter when you got it. She'd lost track of Johnny when he'd left the Wellington area. She knew where he was now. She was going to make him pay.
He was tall, dark and good-looking. Or he had been. In his youth, he'd been called a looker, a bit of a lad, even a hunk on occasion. Now, though, he was lucky if anyone glanced his way. He didn't understand it. Each year he seemed to shrink. Seemed to get smaller and smaller, until one day he was sure, he would simply fade away and vanish. He took a sip from his flask feeling the raw whiskey warm him. Right now, he wished he could vanish. He didn't know how they did it. How they kept finding him. He sighed with frustration. Yet another letter from a solicitor asking for something he couldn't give. Wouldn't give. He had thought by now they would have given up. But no, they were still hounding him, still harassing him. Well, he wouldn't give them the satisfaction. He ripped the letter into shreds.
She was a tall woman, but you would never have known that seeing her scrunched over the little table. Her brown hair fell straight to her shoulders. She wore no makeup but her brown eyes were alive with intelligence. Her features were a little too plain and pronounced for beauty, and yet, there was something about her, a kind of frenetic energy that drew your attention. Right now, all her attention was focused on the task at hand.
She carefully glued the letters to the plain white piece of paper. She took her time making sure each letter was centered properly. Making sure that the glue covered the complete back of the letter. After she pressed each letter to the paper, she rubbed her gloved hand over it, smoothing it down. Making sure it was firmly attached. Wouldn't do for the letter to peel up, part of the message might be missed.
"So you still going out with . . . Kelly?" Eric asked tentatively.
John studied his son. Eric's brown hair was damp from his after workout shower and it curled on the ends. He wore a T-shirt and jeans and John could see the workouts had started to have a serious impact. The T-shirt was now almost too tight and cut into his arms. His hazel eyes were focused on John's face and John guessed that for maybe the first time Eric could actually see him clearly. For the past week, Eric had been more comfortable with him, more relaxed and easy. Their friendship had moved forward and a real bond seemed to be developing. Part of it, he was sure, stemmed from the fact that he'd gotten Shay's permission to get Eric contacts. John had suggested to Shay that since Eric refused to wear his glasses, but couldn't really see without them that contacts might be the way to go. When Shay had agreed, John had broached the subject with Eric who had been thrilled with the suggestion. It had seemed to help assure Eric that John meant what he said about being a friend.
Contacts however paled against the complication of his son’s inquiry about his love life. John wished there were some kind of rulebook to help him with his answer. Although his relationship with Eric was blossoming, his relationship with Shay was strained by his new romance. When they had discussed the contacts, he had told Shay about Kelly. He knew it hurt her that he was seeing someone else, but he couldn't help that. He tried not to throw it in her face, but . . . He nodded. "Yeah."
Eric looked at him intently and muttered, "Girls are funny, eh?"
John stared at him. Eric's face was a bit flushed. What was the boy after now? "That they are," John agreed. As he continued to study Eric's face he guessed, "You like someone at school?"
Eric's flush deepened. He dropped his eyes and began to shove food around on his plate. Finally with an embarrassed grin he admitted, "I dunno. Maybe. How can you tell if . . ."
John grinned with complete understanding. "You can't always tell. Girls ARE funny. What's her name?"
"Linda. She's in my class. She's . . . smart. I was thinking about asking her to the dance, but . . ."
"You could always ask her," John suggested. "Worst that happens is she says no."
"What if she says yes?"
"Well, that'd be good, wouldn't it? It would mean she likes you."
"I suppose," Eric acknowledged hesitantly.
John smiled and prompted, "You mean you don't know which is scarier? Her liking you or her NOT liking you?"
Eric's flush deepened even more as he nodded. "John," he requested softly, "my Mum is great, but there are things . . . We have sex ed at school and all, but . . ."
"Eric, you can talk to me about anything. I'll be honest and I won't judge you. I do know what it's like. I was thirteen once." 'And,' John thought, 'if he's going where I think, I still am thirteen.'
"I dream about her," Eric confessed. "I'm afraid . . . if she says yes . . . what if . . ."
"You're afraid something might happen? Something physical?" Eric nodded hesitantly. "Well," John explained slowly, "girls are different. Most of them are just as scared and nervous, just as confused about stuff like this as blokes are. Best not to try anything on the first date. When she's ready, she'll let you know."
"Are you sure about that?" Eric asked. "Cause, I wouldn't wanna . . ." The boy sighed. "It's really confusing, eh?"
John laughed. "Yes, it is," he agreed. "And you know something? It doesn't get any easier when you get older. Women are just as mysterious as girls are. Maybe even more so. About these dreams you're having, do you wanna talk about them?"
Eric shook his head looking even more embarrassed if that were possible. "No. They . . . um . . . covered it in sex ed. I know it's normal." He dropped his eyes and then added, "But they sure are . . . vivid."
"They can be, yes," John agreed dryly. Something in his tone made Eric raise his eyes quickly, the question in them was clear. John admitted, "Even at my age, even at my age."
"Really?" Eric echoed with surprise. "You know," he mused tentatively, "it's weird, cause I never really thought about Linda like that, not until I started having the dreams. Now I can't seem to get her out of my mind."
'Like father, like son,' John thought. "Well, I think you should ask her then. When's the dance?"
"Next Friday. I don't suppose . . . If I ask her and she says yes . . . they need chaperones."
John smiled. "You think I'd be a good chaperone?"
Eric grinned. "Well, better than my Mum would be. She'd just fuss. And you know most of the blokes. They play on the rugby squad."
"Tell you what," John confirmed, "if you ask her and she says yes, you can put me down. Otherwise . . ."
"You probably have a date, anyway, eh?"
John shook his head. "No, I don't, so I'd be free."
"That's be cool, if you could do it."
John smiled and agreed, "Definitely cool."
"What do you mean you're going to chaperone a dance?" Kelly complained bitterly.
John shook his head. "You always go out with Jenny and Kathy on Fridays. So when Eric asked me, I said I'd do it. How was I supposed to know you'd have a change of plans?"
Kelly tossed her head in disgust. She'd hoped to surprise John with tickets to Theatersports. To her chagrin, she discovered he'd made other plans. They'd been going out for three weeks now and they were still in the getting to know one another phase. Except she kept forgetting, he knew ALL about her. "You ass," she snorted. "You assumed again!"
"What do you mean I assumed again? Do you or do you not meet Kathy and Jenny every Monday, Wednesday and Friday night?" he asked with amusement rather than ire.
"Bloody hell!" she exclaimed. "Yes, I usually do, but I don't have to. I HATE it that you think you know everything about my life."
"I can't help what I know," he explained. "I'm sorry if it makes you uncomfortable."
Kelly rose from the sofa. She had offered to make John dinner and had thought that maybe tonight they might explore a little more of the passion that ran between them. Now she was just pissed off, pissed off enough to kick him out. "You followed me around for a week. What else do you know about me that you haven't told me?"
He watched her pace with more than a little amusement. She looked gorgeous when she was angry. And he could tell, she was angry. The question was, what was really bothering her. "Kelly, I'm sorry. You're right, I'm an ass. Does that make you feel better?"
She stopped pacing and glared at him. He had NO right to sit there looking so damn gorgeous. His hair was loose and curled around his face. It was a warm summer night and he'd worn a black muscle T-shirt with his jeans. The T-shirt was tight enough to outline his pecs and abs and his beautifully muscled arms were bare. "You are such a . . ." the words trailed off as if she couldn't think of just what to call him.
"I'm such a what?" he asked. "What's really bothering you?"
"I don't know," she admitted finally. "I just know that I don't like it that you assumed I wouldn't be available because of what you learned when you were investigating me. It bothers me to think I don't have any secrets from you or that you might know things about me I don't want you to know."
"Kelly, there isn't anything I've learned about you that makes me think less of you. I think you're . . . bloody hell, girl, don't you know how I feel by now?"
She shook her head in mute silence. She was afraid to trust it, any of it. She wanted to believe he was sincere, but . . . As she stood there looking at him, she watched as in slow motion, he rose and came to her.
He tilted her face toward his. "Kelly," he whispered, "I'm in love with you. I've tried to tell you that twice before and both times, I quit before I got there. Not this time. I know we don't know each other well and that I have a big advantage because I did investigate you. I don't expect you to feel the same yet, but if you're worried that something I learned would make me not care, than don't."
His words took her breath away. "John, I . . ."
"You don't have to say anything. I know it's soon for something like this. Believe me, the feeling surprises me as much as it scares me. But it's what I feel. And Kelly, I'm not going to pretend I don't feel it."
"Damn you," she whispered. "You really know how to kill a good argument, don't you?"
He laughed and kissed her forehead. "I don't mind a good argument as long as we get to make up, too."
She just shook her head.
"Kelly," he asked, "that's not what's bothering you, is it? Not really."
"John, I . . ." She paused and took a deep breath. "I think maybe I'm a bit jealous. Of Eric. It's clear there isn't anything you wouldn't do for him. It's a lovely side to you, but it scares me. Cause no matter how you may feel about me, he's always going to come first. Which is as it should be, but . . ."
"Baggage," he muttered. "My baggage. Kelly, I can't say you're wrong, because you aren't. He will always have to come first. BUT you can't believe I'd really rather chaperone a dance than be with you. If I hadn't promised him . . ."
"But you did promise him and you did it because you assumed I'd be busy. I wondered why you never asked me for Friday nights, now I know. That bothers me too. Is that why you ask me for Tuesday, Thursday, Saturday and Sunday?" He nodded. "Don't do that. If there's something you want to do, ask me. Don't assume. And DON'T assume that whatever you might have learned when you investigated me is true, eh? Maybe you caught me on a odd week."
"Are you getting angry again? Cause you know, we didn't make up from the last one and I don't want to be cheated of the best part of the fight," he teased.
"I'm serious," she reiterated. "I don't like feeling like you know all about me. It makes me feel more naked than if I had no clothes on. I don't know how to explain it, it just . . ."
"Okay," he agreed. "From now on, I'll pretend I know NOTHING about you except what you told me. I'll never assume ANYTHING again. Now can we make up?"
She looked at him, his mouth was twitching to hold back a smile and she couldn't resist. She put her arms around his neck and leaned in to kiss him. She felt his arms go round her and she melted against him as their lips met.
John pulled her close feeling her body nestle against his. He kissed her lightly, his body matching the warmth of hers. Kissing Kelly was like doing the world's most dangerous tango. It always started sweet and slow but eventually the passion ignited, crackled and then got so strong he had to stop before he exploded. She wasn't a tease, it wasn't that, but somehow they, SHE wasn't ready to take this beyond teenage making out and he wouldn't force the issue. He ached for her constantly. He felt like he was in a continual state of arousal. It was driving him round the bend on one level, but on another level, it proved to him that he really did care.
Kelly basked in the heat of John's arms, in the utter sensuousness of his kiss. His lips were so soft, so velvety, his touch, his arms, so welcoming and gentle. She knew how much he wanted her, she could feel his body respond to her and it was matched by her own need for him. But the passion was so intense; the lust so overwhelming that she was afraid to give way. She knew that once she did give in, that if they made love, that it would change everything. She was terrified that once his sexual lust was sated, he would become bored. She was convinced that no matter what he said, really, it was just sex and that once that mystery was solved, there would be nothing left.
Even so, the desire between them grew as the kiss deepened. Their bodies pressed together. Kelly could feel him hard against her and her body responded, aroused. His hands were on her back, holding her, his fingers running up and down her spine. She arched against him. She wanted him so badly, but she was still too afraid to trust him.
John moaned and sucked first her upper than her lower lip. Then he released her. He took two steps back and shook his head. "I don't know which is worse," he muttered uncomfortably, "kissing you or NOT kissing you."
She laughed softly. "If it makes you feel any better, I feel the same."
He studied her. Her eyes were misty with desire, her fair skin was flushed, her chest was heaving, and the swell of her breasts was evident through the loose T-shirt she wore. He could tell she WAS aroused and yet . . . Usually he was the one who wanted to go slow, frustrating the women in his life. So leave it to him to fall in love with a woman who wanted slow when he was ready for fast. The irony of the situation was not lost on him. He grinned sheepishly and confessed, "You know, Kelly, I'm not sure how much more of this I can take."
She looked at him. His eyes were soft with emotion and warm with desire. His erection was clearly visible and his breathing was labored. She wanted him so much, but she was just so damn scared. "John," she apologized, "I'm sorry. But I don't . . . I'm not . . . I'm sorry."
"I should probably go, eh?"
She nodded mutely. She walked to the door to open it for him. As he stood there he touched her face lightly and then abruptly pulled her tightly against him. "I want to make love to you so bad," he whispered, "you can't imagine."
"Yes I CAN," she refuted. "John, I'm just . . ."
"Just what?" he whispered. He stared deeply into her eyes. "What is it? Tell me."
She shook her head. "John, please . . ."
"No worries," he muttered. "I'll wait. As long as it takes. Just know you're driving me crazy, eh? You're becoming all I think about."
"And what happens after?" she muttered.
He thought he understood then. "You think after, I won't care anymore? That once we've been together, that will be it?"
"Goodnight, John," she murmured.
"Don't do that," he insisted. "Don't hide your feelings from me. I've been honest with you, please be honest with me."
He sounded so damn sincere. "Fine." She pulled back and away from him. "You want the truth? The truth is, I'm terrified that once we make love, it will end. You've . . . you're . . . I like you, but there's so much to deal with. And John, I've always been selfish. What happens if . . . you say you're in love with me, but you don't know me, not really. Maybe it's all just lust."
"It's not," he insisted. "Yes, I do want you, Christ, more than I've ever wanted anyone. But, Kelly, there's so much more to it than that. I don't even know how to explain it." He paused and studied her eyes, trying to find the words to reassure her. "I've always been a bloody serious bloke. Everything has always been life and death. Partly that's because of how I was raised and partly I guess that's my nature. But when I'm with you, I feel like smiling all the time. You bring out a side of me, well I've never been the kind to chat up girls, but with you, . . . I'm like a whole different person. Instead of always thinking, second guessing, wondering if I'm doing the right thing, agonizing over every single decision, with you, it's relaxed and easy."
"You seem so bloody sure about everything," she muttered. "How can you be?"
"I dunno," he admitted. "Usually when it comes to women I'm a mess, but with you . . . I dunno. I just KNOW somehow that this is right. That whatever it is between us, it's right."
"How can you know?" she repeated. "How can you be so sure?"
He shook his head and smiled. "Honestly, Kelly, I don't know how I know, I just do. For the first time in my life, falling in love happened without me fighting it, without me worrying it, without me being an ass about it. It just happened and there it is."
"And you aren't scared at all?"
"Terrified," he retorted with a laugh. "But not so terrified that I'll let it stop me. All my life, without even realizing it, I've been keeping a part of me closed off. Protecting myself, I guess, from getting too close, from getting hurt. I think that's part of what went wrong with me and Marla. Part of why, maybe, there hasn't been more, I dunno, love in my life. But when I found out about Eric, all of a sudden, I felt as if it was okay to open myself up. That closed up part of me opened and embraced him. Then I found you, quite by accident. And the first thing you did was knock me on my ass both literally and figuratively. And it was wonderful. Do I worry that you aren't ever going to love me back? You bet, but I'm going to hang in here and see if I can't make that happen. And I'll hang in here as long as you'll let me. I don't want to go anywhere else."
His words stunned her. His dark eyes were staring so deeply into hers. The sincerity was so clear in his voice. He meant it, every single word of it. He really was in love with her; well, he thought he was anyway. But why? "John, I . . . what is it about me?"
"I have no idea," he answered honestly. "It's not one specific thing, but all of it. Your smile, your laugh, the way you have freckles everywhere. Your cheekiness, the quirky way your mind works. I dunno, Kelly, but all of me wants all of you, all of the time. I want to hold your hand and watch the telly. I want to kiss the tip of your nose for hours. I want to find a rocking chair somewhere and sit there with you for eternity. I want all of it."
"Oh my," she breathed. It was suddenly too much and she immediately gave way. "John, that's . . . you're something, you are."
"I mean it. Kelly, I don't say things like that . . . I'm not that kind of bloke."
She knew that, deep down; she really did know that. "Don't go," she whispered.
He tilted her face, her eyes were wide her pupils dilated. She was looking at him with wonder, shock and anticipation. "Are you sure?" he asked hesitantly.
"No," she replied, "I'm not, but you seem sure enough for both of us."
He shook his head. "No. I don't want . . . you have to be sure. As sure as I am or else . . ."
"John, are you turning me down?" she asked incredulously.
He laughed softly. "I'm being a gentlemen. I'm sure the second the door closes behind me, I'll regret the impulse. But all the same, I'm gonna do it."
She touched his face. "You're something," she reflected in wonder. "I must be the world's biggest fool to let you go."
"Well, how about tomorrow you let me cook for you and we'll see how you feel then."
"You want to cook for me?" He nodded. "Can you cook?" Again, he nodded. "Not tomorrow, how about Thursday?"
He grinned. "Sure. Give me an extra day to get the house cleaned."
"John, I . . . " she didn't know what to say.
"Night, Kelly Margaret Mary Callahan. I'll be glad when I don't have to say that anymore." He kissed the tip of her nose, released her, turned, opened the door and left.
The small man in the shadows, former Detective Senior Sergeant Alan Snow watched John Lawless leave the house. He took a picture of him leaving and of the woman in the doorway. He shot several more pictures of the woman, and then he turned and left, unnoticed by anyone, including the other watcher.
The next afternoon the woman with the dyed black hair stood in a doorway watching the entrance to an office building. She had followed Johnny for two days now, seen the girlfriend, seen him leave her house, clearly unsatisfied. How unlike him. When he came strolling out of the exit of his office building in jeans and a red Henley, she decided his walk hadn't changed much and his body was still magnificent.
He got in his car and she got in hers. She followed him to a school. What was he up to now? He parked and then went to the rugby field. Johnny was coaching rugby? She stayed in her car and watched. Finally, practice was finished and Johnny and a boy got into his car and drove off.
She followed as Johnny took the boy out to eat and then drove him home. She'd gotten a decent look at the boy; he looked enough like Johnny to be his son. Hmmm, that was interesting too.
The man took another sip from his flask. His day's hunt for work had not gone well and he was in a foul mood. When he'd arrived at the flea-ridden bedsitter he called home, his day worsened further with the arrival of the post. There was another letter. From another solicitor. Same set of problems, different person causing them.
He ran his fingers through his hair and lit a cigarette. He couldn't believe that dickhead had the gall to come after him. Who the bugger did he think he was anyway? Especially considering what a mess he'd made of HIS life! How he'd laughed at all the trouble Lawless had gotten into. Served him right! Well, no way was he going to let Lawless get away with this. He knew where the dickhead lived. He still read the crime news with relish and six months ago Lawless had been in Auckland AND in trouble again. He'd bet Lawless was still there, especially since SHE was there. He lit the solicitor's letter with the end of his cigarette and when it started to burn, dropped it in the ashtray. Then he began to pack a bag.
She was hunched over the little table. Her fingers felt thick like sausages today. The plastic gloves made her feel clumsy. Even so, she HAD to cut more letters. Somehow, no matter how many she cut, she didn't seem to have enough. She wasn't quite sure why. Snip, snip, snip. She followed the outlines carefully. It was important to be neat. Neatness counted. The letters had to be perfectly clear. They had to be right. The message was VERY important. Everything had to be spelled out just so. If she didn't have the right letters, her message might be cloudy. Might be misunderstood. And she couldn't have that. It was vitally important that her message be clear.
Kelly arrived for dinner at John's with a bouquet of roses.
"What's this, then?" John asked when he saw the flowers.
She laughed softly. "I . . . call it a peace offering. It occurred to me that I should bring something, so . . ."
"Roses?" he shook his head. "I don't think I have anything to put them in."
"No vase?" she echoed.
He shook his head. "No vase."
"Well, why not let me have a look in your kitchen? I can probably find a jar or something that would work."
He laughed. "You just want to get in there to see if I'm really cooking."
Her eyes widened and then a flush spread over her skin. "Think you're smart, dontcha?"
He laughed even harder. "I am cooking. Sit down and I'll find something to put your . . . peace offering in."
She nodded and looked around the lounge. It was sparsely furnished as if John couldn't quite decide if he lived there. A brown sofa looked cozy and smelled almost new. There was a coffee table with a glass ashtray, some Steinlager coasters and a few magazines on it. There was a large recliner in front of a TV and a small wood table with a lamp next to that. The walls were mostly bare, only a poster of Bob Marley adorned them.
Kelly settled herself on the sofa as she waited for him. The post was sitting on the coffee table as if he'd rushed in and dropped it. Being curious, she looked at it. The first few envelopes she took to be bills, but one of the others was a long plain white envelope addressed in block letters, like a child might write. She picked it up. The envelope was open and though she knew she shouldn't she slipped the piece of paper out. She unfolded it, and as she read it, she gave a gasp and felt the blood drain from her face.
"Kelly?" he exclaimed as he entered the room and saw her. She was sitting on the couch; her face was pale and stricken. She looked as if she would faint any moment. He rushed to her side. Then he saw what she held in her hand. "You shouldn't have done that," he remarked slowly. "Opening someone's post is an actionable offense."
She looked at him guiltily. "It was already open," she explained. "And I . . . well you may not have opened my mail, but you sure as bloody hell poked through the rest of my life."
"And now you want the same opportunity?" he snapped. "You want to know something, ask me. I'm not hiding anything."
"I didn't mean to pry, not really. The envelope was open. But, John, have you read it?"
He took the letter from her. "Yes." He dropped it on the table and then sat next to her on the sofa.
"How can you say that so calmly? Whomever sent that . . . they hate you . . . They want to . . . to . . . "
"Kill me?" he prompted dryly. "It's an anonymous letter, Kelly."
She shook her head. The message pasted out of newsprint had said, 'YOU WILL PAY. YOU WILL SUFFER. YOU WILL LOSE ALL YOU LOVE AND THEN YOU WILL DIE.'
She swallowed and asked, "How can you be so calm?"
"That's the fourth letter I've gotten. If whomever is writing them actually meant me harm, don't you think they'd have done it by now?"
"Are they all like that?"
"Pretty much. Why?"
"John," she suggested slowly, "I don't mean to tell you your business or to butt in, but it seems to me the writer intends to hurt you first. To take away what you love. So, maybe, the danger here is to someone else? Like maybe Eric?"
"Or you?" He shook his head. "I took the first three letters to one of my mates on the force. They're looking into it. I'll take this one as well. But anonymous letter writers don't usually make good on their threats."
"Are you sure?" she asked.
"Well," he mused, "you can't ever be sure of anything, but mostly I am. And I do take precautions. As to Eric, someone would be hard pressed to use him against me. Only a few people know he's my son, and Phil's name is on the birth certificate, not mine. So . . . as to you, . . . do you want to call it quits? You did put yourself at risk coming here and you didn't bargain on it."
"Call it quits?" she echoed. "John, I came here tonight to . . . Are you saying I could be in danger?"
He thought for a long moment before he answered. "I don't believe so, but like I said, I can't be sure either. I'm sorry. I didn't think. It's hard to take threats like that seriously. I've had people come after me before, but they never sent me a letter warning me first."
"Do you have any idea who it could be?"
"No. Dave, my mate on the force, he's looking into old cases and such. Could be someone I busted when I was cop. He's also checking on some of the crims that I've busted since I went private. But, Kelly, the world is a crazy place. It doesn't even HAVE to be someone I know. It can be a total stranger who blames me for something I never even did."
Kelly sucked in her breath. She'd never even considered that there might be any physical danger to being involved with John. She'd been worried about the emotional risk, the emotional baggage of getting involved with a man who had a teenage son. Her fears were centered on her heart being broken not her body. Now this . . . women around him did seem to die, didn't they? She swallowed hard and then admitted, "John, I'm frightened. I never thought . . . "
"Neither did I," he muttered uncomfortably. "But I should have. I had no right to put you at risk. Only, Kelly, it's done now. I mean, you're here. If someone . . . shit," he swore. "I'm sorry."
"You reckon it's probably too late?" she asked.
He nodded. "We were going out before I got the first letter, so if the person has been watching me, they already know about you. And . . . I'm sorry," he apologized.
"So basically," she considered, "even if I were to walk out that door now, I'd still be potentially at risk?" He nodded. She sighed. "Well, then, guess I'll just have to stay. If someone is going to hurt me for being with you, then I might as well be with you, don't you think?"
"Kelly?" he asked her name as the question he wanted answered most in the world.
She touched his face and protested playfully, "Dinner, first, please? I'm wondering what all those delicious smells are."
He took her hand and kissed it. He released her fingers then rose and said, "Be right back."
She nodded. She'd assured him with more bravado than she felt. Truth was, she WAS frightened. She hated physical pain more than anything. But she knew somehow he was right, even if she walked away now, they'd been out together, been seen together by lots of people. So she was at risk either way. Might as well enjoy his company. All of his company. What was that old saying? Damned if you do and damned if you don't?
John bustled about the kitchen. He was furious with himself for leaving the post where she could find it. Especially that letter. He was sure it was an empty threat, sure that no matter what, the writer would never harm anyone, and yet . . . how could he really be sure of that? What a stupid selfish bloke he was, he berated himself. He'd never really considered that the letter writer would come after anyone but him. Still, now he would have to find a way to protect Kelly and Eric too. He was so irritated with himself that he didn't even hear her enter the kitchen.
"Need some help?"
He whipped his head around and saw Kelly standing in the doorframe. Her blouse was unbuttoned low enough for John to see the freckles on the tops of her breasts. She was licking her lips as she stood there. He swallowed hard and wished she didn't arouse him so easily. "I'm fine," he mumbled.
She took a step further into the kitchen. She looked him up and down and again licked her lips. John was wearing tight black jeans and a sleeveless T-shirt. His face and neck had a soft sheen as if he'd been sweating a little. His arms were a lovely golden color as were his shoulders. When her eyes dropped below his waist, she noticed that he was a tad excited. He looked scrumptious. "There is something so incredibly sexy about a bloke in a kitchen," she hinted.
"Christ, Kelly," he muttered with annoyance, "now is NOT the time."
"Actually," she murmured as she sashayed over to him. "Now is the perfect time." She put her arms around his waist and pulled him against her. She could feel him definitely hard. "See," she whispered seductively into his ear, "now IS the right time."
He sighed and put his arms around her. He'd turned the oven off and been about to remove the casserole from it and he had thick gloves on. It was mildly reminiscent of one of his dreams, though he'd never dreamed of her in the kitchen.
She began to kiss his neck; her hands ran up and down his back, then moved down to stroke his ass.
He groaned with frustration and whispered intensely, "You better be serious. Cause if you keep this up . . ."
"I think the better question is, can YOU keep this up," she teased mischievously as she pressed against his erection.
He laughed then asked seriously, "Kelly, you aren't just chatting me up, are you? Cause . . ."
She touched his face gently; traced his lips and whispered, "No, John, I wouldn't do that."
He nodded then said, "Dinner'll get ruined."
She grinned and insisted, "I'm not really hungry."
"No?" he retorted. "Well, I am!" He quickly stripped off the gloves and captured her face in his hands. He kissed her hard and hungrily, his mouth demanding. She answered him passionately. Her hands tangled in his hair. Her mouth opened her tongue dancing with his. The kiss was lusty and full of desire, wet, hot and passionate. Their bodies rubbed together urgently. After all the weeks of foreplay, the anticipation and expectation, their hunger for each other was exploding.
John slid his hands down from her face and ran them over her back, down to her waist, than up the sides of her body, brushing the outside of the full mounds of her breasts.
She moaned and pulled back panting. She looked around the kitchen and then pushed him toward a chair. She pressed him down into the chair and then straddled him.
He looked shocked and pleased. He was even more pleased when she grabbed his head and pulled it against her chest. She moaned his name as he began to kiss the soft skin of her cleavage. She stroked his hair, wrapping it in her fingers, pulling him tighter against her.
He kissed and licked her lovely satin skin, tickling her with his tongue, rubbing his goatee in the hollow between her breasts. She smelled of vanilla and tasted like honey. Her body was warm. He could feel the heat of her sex pressing against him.
Kelly could feel all her walls cracking apart as he kissed and touched her. It wasn't just the heat of his embrace, the firecracker passion that sparked between them. It was as if, through the acting of making love to her, John was opening every single door to her, all of her doors AND all of his. She felt as if she had never done this before and as if she had done it a thousand times. It was new and it was old, it was like no other experience she had ever had before.
His mouth was like a satin nightgown slicking over her skin, lightly touching arousing every part of her. His fingers were unbuttoning her blouse, moving under the fabric, teasing her flesh. His hands were huge and yet so gentle. His touch was like a feather, velvet, silk, heat. She drowned in the passion and wanted more.
John reached behind her back and undid the hooks on her bra. He raised his head from her chest to look at her. Her eyes were wide, glittering with desire, her lips parted. She smiled and touched his face, running her fingers over his lips.
He slowly removed her blouse and bra and studied her upper body. He stared with pleasure at her firm breasts. They were just the right size, creamy white with lovely pink nipples and lightly freckled. He touched them with reverence then he bent his head and began to explore. He started with those enticing freckles, kissing and licking each one, as he'd wanted to do for what seemed like forever.
She moaned his name and pressed down against him. She felt like she was melting. His mouth was SO hot on her skin. The touch of his lips and tongue felt like a licking of flame. She could feel the dampness spreading between her legs, feel her nipples hardening, her entire body ached with need.
He continued to explore her freckles as he kneaded her breasts and teased her nipples with his thumb. He heard her moan his name again and then she pressed even harder against him.
Suddenly, he raised his head, gripped her about the waist with one hand and then, using his free hand shoved the dishes on the table aside. He lay her down on the table and began to suckle at her breasts, the rosy nipples tasted like fresh fruit; ripe and sugary, succulent and sweet.
Kelly moaned and arched up, her body yearning for more. She was wet, so wet and she ached for him. The sensations were every bit as overwhelming as she'd suspected they would be. "John," she whispered urgently.
He released her nipple and smiled at her. "What?" he asked softly.
She shook her head and tried to breathe. Finally, she asked, "Am I dinner?"
He laughed as he bent to suckle again and murmured, "I told you I was hungry."
She giggled and then began to moan as he sucked her nipple harder. His hands ran up and down the sides of her body, then they were at her waist, unsnapping her jeans, unzipping them and sliding them and her panties down.
He kissed his way down from her breasts over her belly toward her sex. He sat down in the chair as he pulled her body to him. He looked at the beautiful red curls of hair, already damp with arousal. He could hear her panting. He spread her legs apart and kissed the sweet soft skin of her thighs. She moaned his name again and her pelvis arched up off the table.
He pulled her mound to him as he inhaled the scent of her. She was spicy and sweet and he couldn't wait to taste her. As he began to delve into her sweetness she wrapped her legs around his neck and pushed her sex into his face.
He dived into her wet warmth ignoring the urgency in his groin. His need was meaningless; loving her was the most important thing in the world. He darted his tongue inside her, tasting the sweet juices of arousal, enjoying the sounds of her moans, the pleasure of the intimacy. He touched her clit with the tip of his tongue and felt it throb. He licked that little bud until he felt it harden and her breathing became loud and erratic, louder than the ticking of the clock, louder even than the beat of his heart. Then he sucked her clit and she came in a heart stopping gush of liquid, her sex pushed at him, her hands were in his hair and she was saying his name over and over again.
He pulled back and wiped his mouth on her thigh; his aching cock forgotten for the moment in the pleasure he had given her. Her body was still experiencing spasms, her groin was moving, her eyes were closed and her chest was heaving.
Suddenly her eyes popped open and she looked down at him. "Do you eat like that all the time?" she panted finally.
He roared with laughter. "My favorite meal," he answered when he finally stopped laughing.
"Bewdy," she whispered. "Now what's for dessert?"
"Who said I was finished?" he teased. He bent his head and again dived into her warmth. He darted his tongue inside her, lapping at her juices, tickling her with his lips and teasing her with his goatee. She began moaning and panting as he once more sucked her clit. She came again harder; more sweet liquid flooded his face. He pulled back and laughed with joy.
He undid his belt buckle and then realized he would have to stand to unzip his jeans. He moved her legs off his neck and stood up. She still lay on the table trying to catch her breath. He unzipped his jeans and slipped them and his briefs down.
"Oh my," she exclaimed. "You are healthy!"
"Thought you said you already saw it."
"Well, it didn't look quite like that! Much nicer now."
He laughed and then realized he'd forgotten something. "Kelly, I don't think I have a condom."
"No worries. That's handled."
"You sure? I'm not fixed."
She laughed. "No worries, John." Then she sat up. "But I don’t fancy the table for this either."
"No? Where then?"
"The chair?"
He laughed and sat down. Kelly unsteadily climbed off the table and again straddled his lap. She rubbed her wet mound against him as he groaned. This too was reminiscent of a dream and it made him ache almost uncontrollably. He lifted her up and helped her position him at her opening. Then as she slid down, he thrust up.
He groaned her name as he pushed deeply inside her. It felt like the dreams and yet nothing like the dreams. As he buried himself as far inside her as he could, he gripped her hips and held her steady. Being inside her was like being encased in the warmest, safest most wonderful place imaginable. He felt as if all of him was now within her, not just his cock, but all of him. As if this was somehow the one moment in time he had been waiting for all his life. It felt incredible and he was suddenly afraid that after all the dreams, all the lusting, all the wanting that now that this was actually happening he would come in a minute.
She wrapped her legs around the chair and began to rock in his lap, her movements causing him to move within her. The friction and pressure of her hot wetness was intense. "Kelly," he whispered, "slow down."
"No more slow," she murmured huskily. "Now I want it all."
Her words were too much for him. He gripped her hips and thrust up hard, driving himself even more deeply inside her. He felt her orgasm begin and with only one more thrust he too came, shuddering and trembling. His eyes were open and staring into hers and he bit his lip. She gripped his neck and leaned against him.
"Shit," he swore with embarrassment.
"That's a fine thing to say," she mumbled into his neck.
"That's not what I . . . I can't believe . . ."
"Oh," she teased, "you mean you usually last a bit longer?" Her eyes were sparkling with amusement.
He touched her face. "Yeah, I usually do. It's your fault anyways, for making me wait."
"Well, I guess we'll just have to do it again then, so you can prove that!" she insisted. She wriggled on his lap, feeling him slip out of her.
"Kelly," he muttered, "I wanted it to be special."
"It was special," she laughed. "You're something." She touched his mouth tenderly. "That's some mouth you've got on ya."
"Liked that, did ya?" he asked with pleasure.
She nodded then she remarked, "You know, I have quite the mouth on me."
"I heard that about you," he admitted. At her shocked look he added quickly, "That you're cheeky not that you . . . um . . . you know."
She laughed softly and whispered, "I think I'm hungry now."
He pulled her tight against him and began to kiss her neck. She sighed and stroked his hair. Then she pulled his face up to look at him.
Her expression made his mouth go dry. Her eyes were full of emotion.
She touched his face with something approaching awe and whispered, "John, you've done it now."
"What have I done?" he mumbled.
"You've hooked me good and proper."
He laughed. "Seems only fair. I think I fell in love with you the second you decked me or maybe it was when you called me a wanker. Anyways, I'm glad." He hugged her to him tightly for a moment. Then he mumbled, "If you're really hungry, I can probably save dinner. Mum said the casserole will stay warm forever."
"Mum?" She pulled back to look at his face. "What's your Mum got to do with dinner?"
He grinned ruefully. "Well, I was exaggerating a little when I said I could cook. I can use a barbie okay, but . . . Anyway I got a recipe from her."
"You asked your Mum for a recipe on my behalf?" she echoed with astonishment. He nodded. "You really do have it bad."
He laughed. "Told you. Now if you'll get off my lap for a moment, I'll get something to feed you."
"I have all I want to eat right here," she murmured as she pulled off his shirt.
He laughed and challenged, "Oh no, you don't. This time, I'm going to take charge."
"Oh, you are, are you? And who ran that little dance we just did?"
"You did and you know it. Come on, hop off. I promise I'll let you get back on later."
She sighed and with adorable pout got off his lap. As soon she stood up, she felt liquid running down her legs. "Damn," she muttered.
John laughed. His grin was brilliant. "Sex is messy, isn't it?"
She flushed. "Yeah, it can be. But it can also be so much fun, eh?"
"Don't worry, I'll clean up." Then he knelt down and began to lick the dripping fluid off her legs.
Her mouth opened in shock as she felt his mouth and tongue begin the journey up her legs. "Thought you were going to do something about dinner," she mumbled.
"I am. I'm eating again," he confirmed.
She laughed, pulled his head back and slid down on her knees to join him. "My turn," she insisted. She pulled his head to hers and kissed him hard. She could taste herself on his lips.
John returned her kiss, wrapped his arms around her and felt her firm breasts press against his bare chest. They rubbed against him, beginning to arouse him all over again.
Kelly pulled back and began to kiss his neck, and then she ran her hands over his chest feeling the hot skin, the soft coarse hair and the firm muscles. "You are so hard," she murmured.
"Not yet, but I'm getting there," he muttered.
She laughed. "Can I tell you something?"
"Anything, except that you want to quit."
"Idiot," she retorted affectionately. "I read a book once that said the only sin sex can commit would be for it to be joyless. Now I know my priest would disagree, but John, that book was right. Sex should be joyful and full of laughter. Like it just was. It's such a powerful thing, ya know?"
He smiled. "Kelly, you're amazing. I can't remember the last time I laughed so much and for me, sex has usually been . . . laughter never seemed a part of it."
"Well, from now on, guess I'll just have to keep finding ways to amuse you, eh?" she retorted. "Now where was I?"
"You were going to let me see to dinner."
"No, that's not right. I was gonna EAT you for dinner."
He laughed. "Can we do it in the bedroom? It's a lot easier on the back and knees."
"Spoilsport," she pouted. "Bedrooms are so . . . middle-class. I like being different."
"No worries there. You are different."
She laughed and got up from the floor. She offered him a hand up.
He looked at her for a long moment and then asked, "Is it always going to be like this? Me on my ass or knees and you helping me?"
She studied him thoughtfully and answered seriously, "I dunno, maybe. Seems to me you never had anyone to help you before. So maybe this is a good thing?"
His smile lit the room as he took her hand and accepted her offer. He pulled her into his arms, held her tight and whispered, "It's a very good thing."
Her silken red hair lay like a curtain across his thighs. Her lush mouth teased and tickled the tip of his shaft; her fingers gently caressed him. Her green eyes glowed like emeralds with the fire of desire.
He shut his eyes and reveled in the touch of her hands and mouth. Then he quickly opened them again. Kelly was still there, still touching him. He reached down and stroked her hair, then her face. Her skin felt warm to the touch. "Kelly," he whispered her name in wonder.
She grinned at him. "Right here," she answered. She licked her lips once and was about to go back to teasing him when he suddenly pulled her up and into his arms.
He held her tightly, almost desperately as if he was suddenly afraid she would vanish into thin air. As if he had to reassure himself that she was tangible and substantial. "It's real?" he asked softly.
She lifted her head from his chest and said, "As real as can be."
"Not a dream?"
"Not a dream," she assured him. She kissed his lips lightly then snuggled even closer to him. "How could anything as wonderful as what we just did be a dream?"
"Well," he muttered uncomfortably, "you'd be amazed. Before . . . I had the most vivid dreams."
She laughed softly. "Me too. But John," she murmured as she caressed the hard muscles in his chest, "this is way too good to be a dream."
He held her soft naked body tightly. "Kelly," he whispered her name.
"I'm right here and I'm not planning on going anywhere else, okay?" She paused and added, "Well, at least not until tomorrow morning, then I have to go to work."
He laughed and kissed her forehead. "I can live with that."
'Tonight's the night,' Snow thought as he studied the pictures. John Lawless, the name was like a burr under his saddle. Sticking into him like thorns prickling his skin. Tonight he would set events in motion, maybe settle things once and for all.
The woman studied her hands. She used to have such beautiful hands with lovely long nails. Now her skin was rough and callused, the nails filed short and unvarnished. This was all HIS fault. He had taken everything away from her. Deprived her of everything she held precious. Kept her from living her life out in ease and luxury. Well, Johnny Lawless was a private cop now. He didn't seem to have much money, so she couldn't take that away from him. But he did seem to have people he cared about. She could do something about that. Could make him lose his precious girlfriend for one.
Claire Johns checked her makeup one last time. She looked like an innocent old lady in her getup. Tonight she would start to make him pay.
The man checked into the cheap hotel. He had the address and he was going to fix things once and for all. Tonight was the night. Phil Katawny checked the gun he'd brought with him. It was loaded. No more crap from Shay or her solicitors. No more crap from John Lawless either. That dickhead had a lot of nerve coming after him on Shay's behalf. Eric was not his responsibility.
The brunette was so intent on what she doing, hunched over her little table, that for once, she didn't hear the approach of another person.
"What are you doing, Laurel?" the guard asked.
Laurel Bowers stopped snipping the newsprint letters and looked up. "Arts and crafts," she mumbled.
"Arts and crafts?" the guard repeated. "Let me see."
Laurel shook her head. "I don't have to. It's therapy."
"Therapy?"
Laurel nodded. "Doctor says if I make things, I'll feel less stressed."
"What kind of things do you make?"
"Nothing," Laurel mumbled. Usually the guards left her alone, no one checked on her. She was a model prisoner.
The guard was adamant however and discovered the plastic gloves, the small plastic scissors, the cutout letters, the glue, and the start of another anonymous letter to John Lawless. The guard confiscated all the items and reported it to the warden.
John was sitting in his office, reliving the past night with Kelly, when he got the call. The warden from the women's prison rang him with an apology and an explanation. Laurel Bowers had somehow managed to steal a plastic scissors and some plastic gloves from the art room. With this stolen paraphernalia she had composed several letters and had managed to talk a guard into mailing the anonymous letters for her. John thanked the warden, assured her that no real harm had been done and was glad for the excuse to ring Kelly and tell her so.
When he got her on the phone at work to give her the good news, her response was completely unexpected.
"You mean I gave in and there was no danger after all?" she snorted.
"What were you saving it for anyway?" he retorted.
"I dunno. Now, well, shit, John, now what do we have left to do?"
He laughed. "Kelly, I think there's lots of things we haven't tried yet."
"Oh yeah? Well, I guess tomorrow night you'll just have to show me," she said pertly.
"Be my pleasure," he agreed. Then he hung up the telephone.
John had worn black dress slacks and a blue shirt for his turn as chaperone. He pulled his hair back and wore his earring. Eric had told him Frances as well as his Mum were going to be chaperones too. He was looking forward to seeing Frances. He hadn’t seen her much since he'd started going out with Kelly. When he entered the gymnasium where the dance was being held he spotted Frances right away. She was wearing that lovely green dress and she had a man with her. He recognized the man with Frances as Tim Makepeace. He strolled nonchalantly over to them grinning like a proud parent and said, "Gidday."
They looked at him and smiled. Frances had a glow about her and Tim looked much better than the last time John had seen him. Tim offered a hand and John shook it. "Nice to see you both," John commented.
Frances eyed him speculatively. "How did Eric talk you into this?" she asked.
John shrugged. "He asked and I agreed. It's not gonna be too bad, is it?"
Frances laughed. "Well, the music . . . Then there is keeping the boys from spiking the punch and of course there's outside patrol. Stopping smoking and breaking up courting couples."
"I'll watch the boys and the punch," John suggested quickly.
Frances laughed. "You'll do fine. I expect the boys will listen to you. They're used to taking orders from you. Although, where's your whistle?"
"Left it home with my gun," he retorted. "Didn't think I'd need either one of them. But now, you're scaring me, Frances."
"They're just a bunch of teenagers," he heard Shay say from behind him. "Nothing to be scared of."
He turned to say hello. She was wearing a soft white dress with pink ribbons at her throat. Her hair was loose and curled and a huge wave of nostalgia rolled over him. She looked much like she had on their first date so long ago. He swallowed hard and muttered, "You look nice."
Her eyes sparkled at him and then he knew she had done it on purpose. He shook the memories off because they were, after all, only memories. "Eric come with you?" he asked.
She watched with sadness as the light went out of his eyes. "No, he was going to pick up Linda and then walk with her. He said you encouraged him to ask her. Is that true?"
He nodded. "Yeah, we had a good talk about girls."
She moved closer to him. "And I'm sure you told him all about how to handle them," she snapped sarcastically.
John could hear the bitterness and he didn't like it. He also knew this wasn't the place to confront it. "Actually, I told him women were as much a mystery as girls and not to try anything on the first date. Okay?"
"Sorry," she mumbled. "Did you . . . are you . . ."
"I came alone," he answered the question she had been unable to spit out. "Shay, I told you before I was sorry about all this. I don't know what more I can do."
She sighed. She'd been foolish to hope. She knew that now. And if she wasn't careful, she realized her bitterness would make him hate her and that wouldn't be good for Eric. She took a deep breath and apologized. "Sorry, I'm just . . ." she paused and tried again. "How have you been otherwise?"
"I'm good. You get the check okay?"
She nodded. "Yes. I also had a letter from a solicitor. He said he found Phil and that he'd dunned him for the back alimony. But John, I didn't hire this one. Did you?"
John nodded. "A few weeks ago. I was thinking about Phil walking away from you and Eric like that and well, I got mad and decided to do something about it."
"That was nice of you," she acknowledged. "Only you didn't have to do it. We're doing fine. Even better now."
"I know I didn't have to, I wanted to, eh?" She nodded. "Shay, I want the best for him. I wish you'd let me talk to Phil. Let me see if I can shake some sense into him."
"Talking to Phil won't get you anywhere. Oh, look," she exclaimed as she gestured towards the entrance. "There’s Eric. So that's Linda."
Eric dressed in jeans and a dress shirt was escorting a tiny blond girl into the gym. He looked happy and proud and John felt like his heart would burst. Linda was looking adoringly at Eric as if she had never seen anyone she'd ever liked better. John recognized her. She was one of the girls who came and cheered for the boys at practice and at the games. Suddenly he heard Frances behind him, "You look like your vest buttons would pop if you were wearing a vest."
He turned away from the kids and toward her. "That noticeable?"
"I wouldn't worry about it. Only John, when he smiles that resemblance is very pronounced. I don't think you're going to be able to keep it from him much longer. He looks more and more like you every day."
He nodded. He turned to see Shay looking at their son her eyes misty with tears. "What's wrong?" he asked.
"He's growing up so fast," she explained. "It's his first real date. I . . ." She paused and added, "I'm glad he has you. He'd never have gotten up the courage to ask her out without your help. Thank you, John."
"No, thank you, Shay. Don't you know what a gift he is to me? I don't know how I got along before he came into my life. I'm grateful."
She sighed. "I'm so sorry I kept you two apart. I was wrong. But . . . at least now . . . thank you," she said again.
He put his arms around her and hugged her tight. "He's a gift for both of us," he whispered in her ear. "And maybe we should put everything else aside and just remember that, eh?"
She hugged him back and acknowledged, "I'll try. I really will. I'm sorry that I've been such a bitch. Forgive me?"
He nodded and released her as he heard his son say, "Whatcha doing with my Mum?"
John grinned ruefully. "Just giving her a hug for old times sake. You wanna be next?"
Eric grinned and snorted, "Not on your life. Mum, you look pretty. This is Linda. Linda, this is my Mum and John."
"Gidday," the girl greeted them politely. "You coach the rugby," she added as she looked at John.
He nodded. "That I do."
"The blokes think you're cool," she observed with surprise. "And Eric says you've been teaching him how to box." Her expression was one of astonishment that a chaperone could apparently do interesting things.
John nodded, suddenly feeling ancient. Next thing you know, she'd be asking him if he could still walk and talk at the same time.
"Want to get some punch?" Eric asked.
"Sure. It was nice to meet you," Linda added as the two teenagers went off toward the refreshment table.
"Well, that was fun," John commented dryly.
"Get used to it," Shay remarked. "Kids always think adults are old. Don't you remember?"
"It was so long ago, how could I?" he retorted. "I'm obviously completely decrepit now. I think perhaps I should just slink away and lick my wounds in peace."
She laughed. "I have a better idea. You used to be a decent dancer. Want to have a go?"
John looked at her. Her eyes were only amused, not hopeful. Where was the harm? "Sure, if you think I won't step all over you."
"I'll take my chances," Shay teased. She took his hand and led him on to the crowded dance floor.
"Are you sure chaperones are supposed to be doing this?" he asked.
"I think it's okay. Besides, maybe it will encourage Eric."
"Or embarrass him so much that he'll never speak to either of us again." As luck would have it, the song that started was slow and romantic and he pulled her into his arms. She was so tiny; it had always been a trick to dance slow with her. He was surprised that he still remembered how.
She melted against him and murmured, "I think he'll be chuffed."
"Just don't let him misunderstand, eh? I've already been through that with him once."
"I know. I won't. Two old friends who used to date. Nothing more."
"Okay, then." As he held her, memories of the past flew by like photographs. It was nice and comforting, but nothing more. When the song ended, he released her. They stood looking at each other for a moment and then John suggested, "I should probably make the rounds, eh? Try and catch the boys before they do something they'll regret."
She nodded and followed him off the dance floor.
Snow waited in a parked car watching the woman John Lawless was dating. He'd noticed the night before when he'd followed John that there was another watcher. A woman. It intrigued him, so he decided to keep an eye out. Sure enough, that night, as he followed the redhead to a pub, so too did the other watcher.
Claire waited until Kelly entered the pub and then she parked. She decided to meet Johnny's new girl. She'd bet he hadn't told the redhead everything.
Phil waited in the shadows across from Shay's flat. He hugged the doorway, drinking from a flask in his pocket and smoking cigarette after cigarette. He'd tried the bell, but they weren't home. He'd knocked up the neighbors, but either Shay wasn't too friendly or the neighbors weren't very nosy. In any case, no one knew where they'd gone or when they'd be back. So he waited and drank. Every so often, he caressed the cold hard steel in his pocket.
The kids were slowly beginning to leave the gym. John stood near the punch bowl watching. He'd confiscated two pints, some smokes, one pipe, and stopped two couples from going too far in the car park. He'd also gotten to see his son dance with Linda. As he stood there, he realized that he'd missed a lot growing up. He'd gone to a few dances as a lad, but . . . he'd never had that lovely innocence that Eric, even for all his youthful pains, seemed to have. There was a glow about his son as he looked at Linda, a hopeful expectation for the future, as if the world was blossoming and blooming just for him suddenly ripe with unlimited possibilities. John thought of his own youth, knowing that somehow he'd missed that joyous first love. He didn't perceive that what he recognized in his son was what he himself had finally found with Kelly.
As he continued to stand there, Shay strolled over to join him. "So, how'd you like it?" she asked.
"Not as bad as a visit to the dentist," he remarked dryly.
She laughed. "It was nice to see him have fun, wasn't it?"
He nodded. As he was about to respond, Eric joined them. Eric said, "Mum, some of the blokes they, um . . . well there's a place up the street we can all go for supper."
She smiled. "Go ahead. Make sure you get Linda home on time though. Cause if you don't, her folks won't let you take her out again."
Eric blushed and muttered, "Mum," in a tone that was both proud and offended. "I . . . um . . ."
John knew what Eric was trying to say and he made it easy. "I was gonna offer to take both of you out for a snack, but seeing as has how Eric has other plans . . ." He pulled his wallet out and a twenty dollar note. He offered it to Eric as he proposed, "I'll see your Mum home. Could you help me out by spending this, though? It's burning a hole."
Eric grinned at him and then looked to his Mum for approval. Shay nodded and Eric gratefully accepted the cash. "Thanks, John. And thanks for doing this."
John nodded, too overcome with emotion to speak. The look in his son's eyes as he thanked him held affection. Not just gratitude, not just friendship, but definite fondness. He had to clench his hands to keep from hugging Eric. Eric turned and walked away to rejoin Linda and two other couples.
"You don't have to see me home," Shay noted. "I drove."
John turned to her. He could see by her eyes that she was as touched by the moment as he was and he wanted to talk to her about what he'd overheard. "I'll follow you. We need to talk about Eric."
She nodded and confirmed, "We have to decide how to tell him."
"Yes. Frances pointed out just how much like me he looks and at least two kids noticed as well. We aren't going to be able to . . . anyway, I think we need to suss this out."
She nodded again. "Let's have off, then. We're done here."
Jenny and Kathy were laughing as Kelly detailed how she'd finally given way to John. "You did what?" Jenny echoed.
Kelly felt her face flush. "Silly, wasn't it? I don't know why I even bothered to hold out. He's amazing, he is."
"He's a spunk, that's for sure," Kathy pointed out. "So guess this means the end of these get-togethers, eh? You're going to be way too busy for us!"
Kelly shook her head. "No. He's really great about that. He's . . . he likes that I have a life and he doesn't seem to want to . . . he's not possessive at all."
"Sounds too good to be true," Jenny suggested. "He's gorgeous, a great lover, has a job, is considerate of your feelings. So . . . what's wrong with him?" They all laughed at that one.
Kelly mused thoughtfully, "He's not perfect. And he does have some serious baggage, but . . ."
"When's the wedding?" Kathy teased.
Kelly's eyes widened. "We're nowhere near that one. Not even close, although," she considered, "he does seem to be the marrying kind. Still, I'm not sure that I even want to go there. Like I said, lots of baggage."
"Well," Jenny hinted, "just have tons of great sex, then tell us all about it!"
Kelly laughed. "No worries on THAT score. The sex is . . . He IS a great lover."
"Lucky girl," Kathy muttered. "Does he have a brother?"
Kelly shook her head. "Only child."
"Too bad. Sounds like you have a keeper there. Think I'm jealous," Kathy added.
Kelly smiled. "You'll find someone. Not all blokes are wankers."
"Just most," Jenny commented. All three burst into giggles at that.
Claire sitting at the bar watching smiled like a cat. So the redhead was talking about Johnny. Telling her friends all about him. She could tell from the expression on the redhead's face that she was hooked. She'd spent the night at Johnny's home. She imagined Johnny was still very talented at sex. She'd taught him well, after all. She couldn't wait until she could share that fact with the redhead.
John followed Shay's little Volkswagen back to her flat. He parked next her and then joined her in front of the building entrance.
Phil saw Shay and then the bloke join her. At first, he didn't recognize him and then he realized who the tall bloke with all the hair was. Though it had been years, he felt his jealousy flare. So they were having it on again? No wonder Lawless sent a solicitor after him. He was still getting into Shay's knickers even after all these years. He watched as the two climbed the stairs to Shay's flat. Only thing missing was the brat. Well, he'd let them start to get cozy and then he'd surprise them. He took another sip from his flask, feeling the alcohol flow through him like courage. He caressed the gun in his pocket as if it was a talisman.
Shay let them in and then offered beer. John accepted gratefully. He sat on the sofa and waited for her to return. When she did, she sat as far from him as she could and he was appreciative for that as well. "Shay, I know it's going to upset him, but better we do it than someone else."
She nodded. "You're right. He's going to see it. Funny how all of a sudden he looks so like you."
"I know. Guess heredity will tell."
"Actually," she mused thoughtfully, "I think it's more the working out. His body’s developing. Before . . . well you could sorta see it, if you looked for it, but now . . . and of course, there's the smile. He didn't used to smile so much."
"So . . . how?"
"Well," she muttered, "there's no time like the present. Why not wait and when he gets home, we'll just do it."
"Now?"
"Might as well. There's never going to be a perfect moment. The longer we wait . . . besides I saw the way he looked at you. He cares a lot now and I think, maybe, he might like the idea."
John nodded. He took a deep swallow of beer to wet his throat, which had suddenly gone dry. Now that it was finally going to happen, he was apprehensive. What if Eric hated the idea? Hated him? He couldn't bear the thought of losing him. "Shay, what if he doesn't like it?"
"Well, we're going to have to take the chance that he hates both of us for awhile. He'll be angry and feel betrayed. There's no getting around it. He's not going to like that we lied to him. Well, that I lied. He really can't blame you for that; it's my fault. Hopefully once he gets over the hurt, he'll be chuffed. If nothing else, he'll know he does have a father who cares."
"I hope you're right. I can't lose him. I need him too much."
She reached over and patted his hand. "He needs you too. And I think, tonight, he realized that. Honestly, John, I think it will be all right. He'll be upset and all the rest, probably for awhile. But eventually, I do believe, he'll be happy."
He sighed. "I hope so. Frances said he's been doing better in class. He's made so much progress. I don't want . . . "
"I know. Anyways," she went on with a sigh of her own, "worrying it now isn't going to help. Let's talk about something else, eh?"
"Sure. How's Farmers?"
She laughed. "It's a job. Can I ask . . . you can tell me it's none of my business, but . . . are things with you and her, are they serious?"
"Shay, I don't want to hurt you. I'm sorry that things didn't work for us, but I can't see how talking about her is going to be pleasant for you."
"That's not why I'm asking," she protested softly. "John, I know there's no chance for us. I accept that. But I'm thinking about Eric. How he's going to feel if you . . . you said he's met her, well sort of. You also said he's tried to match us up. Given that he's ours, well . . . "
"Oh, I see," John considered the implications. "You think cause he'll know we were once, well, lovers, that he'd want us to be again?" She nodded. "He'd like the idea of the three of us being a family?" Again, she nodded. "Well, as far as Kelly goes, it is serious and it isn't. She and I are still learning each other, but I'm . . . anyway, it's too new to know if it's going to last, but I hope that it will. As to Eric and us, well we could try to show that it's possible for us to be a family of sorts without being together."
"I don't want to come between you," she mumbled. "You and her or you and him. But I expect Eric, once he decides he likes it, will try to push for that. Does she know about him?"
"Yes. I had to tell her. At the gym, she saw and asked and I lied to her. So I had to straighten it out."
"How did she take it?"
He laughed. "She took it okay. She hates lies as much as Eric does. Anyway, that's not a problem. She knows Eric comes first and she's cool with it."
"Really?" Shay echoed. "Must be an extraordinary woman."
"That she is," he agreed. "And as far as our being a family for him, Shay, I really don't mind the idea of the three of us doing things together. I just don't want to . . . you need to find someone else to . . ."
"I know, John. No more misunderstandings. I just want to try to give back to Eric what I took from him. If I had told you, things might have been different. I'm not saying that you would have loved me or anything. Just that maybe Eric would have had more in his life than me. So, if we can find a way to give him that, I'll be content."
Her words astounded him. This was the Shay he remembered, kind, considerate, thoughtful and caring, putting someone else's needs ahead of her own. "Shay . . ."
She looked at him. His eyes were full of emotion, pleasure and shock, concern and gratitude. It would have to be enough. She patted his hand again. "We were friends once and I think maybe now we're friends again."
He nodded gratefully. "You really are special," he commented. "And I'm sure, somewhere out there, is a bloke who will see it."
Eric whistled as he strolled up the street toward the flat. He'd had the choicest time. The dance had been cool, supper had been great and then he'd walked Linda home. He'd held her hand. At the door, he'd even gotten a kiss goodnight. A real kiss, not a peck on the cheek, but a full liplock. He felt like he'd gone over the moon.
Phil saw the boy and decided to make his move. He walked out of the shadows, crossed the street and waited.
Eric saw the tall man and for a moment didn't know who he was. Then as he got closer, he recognized him. He quickened his steps as he shouted, "Dad? Dad?" Eric ran to him, then skittered to a stop as if he wasn't sure he should.
"Hello, Eric," Phil greeted softly. Christ, the boy looked just like his real father.
"Dad?" Eric repeated. "What are you doing here?" he asked suddenly suspicious.
"I came to see you and your Mum," Phil explained with disarming quickness.
"Then whatcha doing down here? Why aren't you in the flat?"
"I was waiting for you," Phil insisted. "I was hoping to see you both at once."
"Oh. Well, I'm sure she's home. I'll take you up."
"I was hoping you'd say that," Phil agreed with a smile. As he stood there looking at another man's son, he fingered the gun, which lay heavy in his jacket pocket.
Kelly had just laid her purse down on the hall table when the doorbell rang. "Just a tick," she shouted. 'Who the bloody hell could that be?' she wondered as she kicked off her shoes. It was late, almost eleven. They'd been having so much fun at the pub that they'd stayed later than usual.
She strolled to the door and looked out the peephole. A woman with a lined worried face and black hair fidgeted on the doorstep. She looked harmless enough. Kelly pulled the door open a crack. "May I help you?" she asked.
The woman raised her brown eyes and mumbled, "My car broke down." She pointed up the street. "I don't have a mobile. Could I use your phone to ring for a tow truck?"
Kelly studied her. The woman, despite the dark hair, appeared to be in her late fifties. Her figure was a little thick around the middle. Her face showed signs of a hard life. Kelly could tell she had once been pretty but now she looked worn out. She nodded and stepped back so the woman could enter.
Claire stepped into Kelly's house and looked around. The front hallway was small and empty. Claire could see the lounge beyond; elegantly fitted out with good furniture and chock-a-block with things. It looked like the kind of place where someone spent money wisely and bought quality.
As Kelly turned to shut the door, Claire brought her tote bag down hard on Kelly's head.
Kelly sank to her knees. Claire finished shutting the door and then pulled Kelly to a chair in the lounge. She set the unconscious woman in the chair and then dug in her bag.
Claire tied Kelly's legs and arms to the chair, checked her pulse and then sat down to wait.
Snow had waited at the pub and watched the black haired woman follow John's girlfriend. He'd stayed in his car for a time and then entered the pub as well. He'd watched the woman watch the girl. Then he'd followed them both back to the redhead's home.
He saw the watcher knock on the door and thought he'd seen the older woman hit the girl before the door shut. Well, that was very interesting, wasn't it? He stayed in his car for a few more moments, tapping his fingers on the wheel. Could he use this? Was there a way? With a sigh, he got out of the car and stealthily made his way to the house to check it out.
Eric opened the door with his key; Phil was right behind him. He saw his Mum and John sitting on the sofa. He was about say hello when he heard his Dad mutter, "Well now, isn't THIS cozy?"
Eric watched his Mum's face go white. Then he saw John's eyes narrow and a muscle in his jaw begin to twitch. Eric turned to look at his Dad, but suddenly the man standing there looked completely foreign to him.
Phil almost pushed Eric further into the lounge and then shut and locked the door. "Aren't we just one big happy family," he sneered.
"Dad," Eric questioned, "whatcha talking about?"
Phil shook his head. "Go over there," he gestured at the teen. "Go sit with them."
"Dad?" Eric repeated. "I thought you came to see Mum and me."
"Just do it," Phil ordered. His eyes were dark and angry, his mouth a tight thin line.
Eric looked at him with confusion. Now that they were in an enclosed space he could smell the alcohol on his Dad's breath. "I don't understand."
Phil laughed bitterly. "I know. But you will. Sit down with your Mum and HIM."
Shay was so shocked by Phil's appearance she hadn't yet recovered. He looked terrible; the last eleven years had obviously been hard and unpleasant. Her once handsome ex-husband looked old and beaten. She could tell he was drunk, tell that he'd been drunk a lot. His skin had that pasty look his veins prominent. She swallowed hard and requested, "Eric, come here. Do as he asks."
"That's right, Shay," Phil snorted. "The boy always came first, didn't he? You don't even say hello to your ex-husband?"
John's first impulse was to jump off the couch and beat the shit out of Phil. He felt the anger rush through his body. A white-hot rage that Phil would show up now and then more rage at the way that Phil was behaving. What stopped John from acting was his recognition that Phil was drunk. Eric was in the way and might get hurt if he attacked Phil. He also noticed a suspicious looking bulge in Phil's jacket pocket. So John said nothing, just watched, hoping that Eric would move.
"Phil," Shay asked calmly, "what are you doing here?"
Eric was still standing there, his face full of hurt and confusion. "I thought you came to see me," Eric asserted in a very small voice.
"Go sit down," Phil ordered again, his voice was now as tight and angry as his face.
"Eric," John suggested, "I think you should do as he asks. Then maybe he'll explain."
"Another country heard from," Phil snapped. "About time you got into the act, dontcha think?"
"Phil, you got a problem with me," John replied, "we should take it outside. No call to bother them with it."
Phil laughed bitterly. "I like it right here."
Something in his tone spooked Eric enough for him to begin to back away from Phil. The teen finally began to move toward the couch.
"That's right, Eric," Shay concurred. "Come sit here, between John and I."
"Perfect place for him, dontcha think?" Phil snorted. "Between the two of you. Just like he was always between the two of us."
Eric slowly went to his Mum. He stared at her, his face was pained and it nearly broke her heart. Finally, he sat down between her and John.
John's eyes were glued to Phil. He was not only afraid of what Phil in his drunken state might spill, but also in what he planned to do. That bulge John realized WAS a gun. If he'd had any doubts they were dispelled when Phil pulled it out to show it to them.
"Nice, isn't it? But you," he gestured toward John, "know all about 'em. Having been a cop and all."
"Phil, why are you here? Whatcha need a gun for?" John asked.
"I came to see my wife and HER kid. Seems they think I owe them something. You seem to think so too. Why'd you sick the law on me anyways? Can't get into her knickers unless you pay for it? Reckon you never had a problem before."
"Phil, I don't think you need to stand here and insult them. You wanna take issue with me, then let's you and me go somewheres and talk."
"Mum, what's Dad talking about? I don't understand. Dad, whatcha have a gun for?"
"Don't call me Dad," Phil exploded. "Can't believe you still think that."
"Phil," John's voice was dangerous and low as he spoke. "Don't go there. I know you're pissed off, but it's not his fault. You got a problem with me, let's take it outside."
"You'd like that, wouldn't you?" Phil sneered. "You walked away once and dumped your mistake on me. Now you're trying to walk away again. Make me the bad guy again."
"You're not a bad guy," Shay refuted. "Not at all. And Eric loves you."
"Dad?" Eric mumbled in a very small voice, "I don't understand. What did I do?"
"Is that true?" Phil asked curiously. "Eric, do you love me?"
As frightened as Eric was, as confused as he was, the boy nodded. He managed to squeak, "Yeah, Dad, I do. Even though you never come to see me, I do."
"Why?"
"What do you mean, why? You're my father."
"Would you love me if I wasn't your father?" Phil asked, his attention focused on Eric.
John watched him. Phil's grip on control and the gun was tenuous at best. It was leveled at Shay and John was worried about what would happen if he tried to rush Phil. He couldn't tell if the safety was on or off.
Eric looked at the man whom he thought was his father, unable to answer the question because he'd never considered it. "You are my father, so why . . ."
"But if I wasn't?" Phil persisted. "If say HE," he muttered as he gestured at John, "was your father instead, would you still love me or be like your Mum and love him?"
"Dad, I don't . . . "
"Phil, please don't . . . " Shay begged. "Please, put the gun away and go home. We'll make the solicitor stop bothering you. I promise. Please, Phil, if you ever cared about me at all, please don't do this."
Now Phil rounded on her, his anger fierce and he cocked the gun. John could hear the safety being released.
"Still trying to protect him?" Phil yelled. "Why? What's so special about him? You told me yourself that he lied to you, he dumped you and yet all these years you never stopped loving him. Never stopped loving HIS son. Never once gave me a real chance. You always compared me to him and I always lost."
"That's not true," she argued calmly. "Not true at all. It was you who never give us a chance. You who always put him between us. Not me. I did love you, Phil, maybe not the same as I once cared for him, but in my own way, I loved you."
Phil was totally focused on Shay. His body was shifting toward her and John considered going for him, but Phil's finger was still on the trigger and if the gun went off . . .
"His son?" Eric repeated in the now silent room.
'Oh Christ, Eric,' John thought. 'That would be the one thing he'd hear.' "Phil," John reiterated, "she never cared for me. She only cared for you."
Phil was focused on Shay. His eyes were glued to hers, He ignored John's words and Eric's muffled ones as well. Phil watched Shay; his eyes searched her face, looking for answers. Hoping against hope that he could find what he'd lost so long ago.
In slow motion Shay rose from couch and began to walk toward him. "Phil," she apologized softly, "I'm so sorry. I've made such a mess of things. I was a fool to let you go. Can you ever forgive me?"
As soon as John saw Phil completely shift, facing Shay, he sprang from couch and went for Phil. He grabbed him from behind and tried to pull his arms back, tried to get the gun.
Philip with the recklessness of the inebriated fought him. He turned in John's grip, holding tight to the gun. The two men struggled and soon the loud report of a gunshot rang through the room.
Kelly came awake slowly. Her head hurt and her body felt confined. She opened her eyes. There was a strange woman sitting on her sofa drinking beer from a tall glass. She didn't think she had ever seen the woman before. And was she tied to a chair? She tried to clear her brain; it MUST be some kind of a nightmare.
"Oh, you're awake," the woman exclaimed.
Things were starting to come into focus now. That woman had knocked on her door, hadn't she? Something about a car? "Who the fuck are you?" Kelly asked angrily.
"You are in no position to be rude," the woman replied dryly. "No position at all."
Something in her tone gave Kelly pause and she knew it wasn't a nightmare, at least not the sleeping kind. "Who are you and what do you want?" she asked slowly.
The woman laughed. "My youth and ten million dollars, but I'll settle for a little sweet revenge."
"Your youth . . . are you Laurel Bowers?" Kelly asked.
"Who? Laurel who?"
Kelly shook her head to try to clear it, which was a mistake because it made her stomach turn over. She probably had a concuss. Shit. This woman couldn't be the Bowers woman anyway, she was too old and John had assured her that Laurel was still in jail. "Who are you and what do you want?" Kelly repeated.
The woman laughed again. "You, my dear," she snorted, "are simply a means to an end. Have some patience and you'll find out all."
"Why are you here? Why did you hit me? Why have you tied me up?" Kelly asked quickly.
"You ask far too many questions," the woman pointed out. "Perhaps I should gag you too?"
"Please don't. I don't feel very well. I think I'm going to be sick."
"Try not to wet yourself," the woman sneered as she rose from the couch. "I need another beer."
Kelly bit back the retort that rose to her lips. Attitude and cheekiness weren't going to help her now. The woman, whomever she might be, was crackers. Best to let her play out whatever scenario was going through her mind. Kelly thought of John's words, the world is a crazy place. You don't have to know them for someone to come after you. She wondered if the woman was going to kill her, then realized that she would probably already be dead if that were the case. But what was going on? Who was she?
The woman returned with a full glass of beer and resettled herself on the sofa. She drank deep and then began thumbing through her tote bag, clearly looking for something.
Kelly was glad she'd bought beer for John. Normally she didn't even keep alcohol in the house, but she guessed that if she hadn't the woman would have gone even crazier. She waited afraid to speak or move. Her head throbbed with pain and her legs and arms were going numb. The woman had tied her up with what felt like electrical cord. It was very tight and uncomfortable.
The woman appeared to find what she was looking for in the bag and she pulled it out. It was a large envelope. She opened the envelope and began removing photos. "Ah, yes, this should interest you," the woman claimed.
Kelly kept her mouth shut though it was killing her too. Still, best to play along, she didn't like the wild look in the woman's eyes.
The woman rose from the sofa and came to stand in front of Kelly. She looked down at her and observed, "Bet you didn't know this about your precious Johnny!"
Kelly looked at the photo the woman was shoving under her nose. Johnny? The photo was grainy and of a young man, well muscled, well built and naked. He was lying alone on a bed touching himself. His eyes were open and he had a lost glazed look in them as if he was off on another plane of existence. It took her a moment to realize that this woman's Johnny, was HER John, sans longhair, goatee and earring. He looked very young in the photo.
She felt her mouth go dry. When had John posed for this? Who was this woman? How did she get this picture? Kelly said nothing she just licked her lips.
"Like that one? No? Maybe you'll like this one better."
The next picture showed John; least she guessed it was John. She couldn't see his face. It was buried between a woman's legs. She could see the back of his head, the strong shoulders, the long back, the nice tight ass. He had his hands wrapped around a woman's thighs and his face was buried in her sex. "He used to love to eat me," the woman sighed with nostalgia. "He'd do it for hours. Used to make me come and come. Said it really turned him on."
Kelly felt her stomach turn over with revulsion. This woman was John's lover? The thought of him anywhere near her made Kelly's skin crawl.
"Does he do that to you? He's quite good at it. He should be. I taught him how to please a woman in every way."
Oh god, this had to be . . . What was her name? John had told Kelly about the woman that he'd dumped Shay for. About the sexual obsession, he'd had for almost four years. "You're . . . Claire," Kelly deduced.
"You know who I am?" Claire snorted with surprise.
"I do now," Kelly admitted. "But John said you were blond with blue eyes."
"Amazing what a bottle of dye and colored contacts can do," Claire retorted. "So he told you about me. What did he say?"
Kelly swallowed hard and tried to think what the woman would want to hear. "He said you taught him how to please a woman," Kelly tried.
"I just told you that!" Claire snapped. "Let's see if another picture will jog your memory?"
Kelly shut her eyes. She didn't want look at any more photos.
"None of that now," Claire demanded. "Open your eyes or I'll open them for you."
Kelly obeyed. Claire's tone was dangerous. She opened her eyes to see John again naked. This time the picture seemed to be from a side angle and she could see his organ in the mouth of a woman. The woman, she assumed a younger Claire, was on her knees, her arms wrapped around his thighs and he was half in and half out of her mouth. John's hands were in her hair, his eyes were closed and Kelly could see the killer eyelashes that had first attracted her to him. His mouth was open and his tongue lay against his bottom lip. It was an expression so familiar, so reminiscent of the other night when she had done this for him, that she could feel the contents of her stomach about to come up. "Please," she mumbled. "I'm gonna spew. I need to go to the loo. Now."
Claire stepped away from her. "Careful not to get it on your feet. I'm NOT untying you."
Kelly began to retch, feeling the bile rise in her throat. She tried to keep it down, but some of it came up and out. It landed on her bare feet as Claire had guessed it would. Kelly coughed. "Please," she now begged. "Please let me use the bathroom."
Claire shook her head. "A few more pictures and then we'll see."
"No more, please. I don't know why you're doing this to me, but please stop."
"Upsetting, isn't it," Claire taunted her with glee. "Seeing where he's been. Who he's been with. Your Johnny was not a nice boy when he was young. He was wicked and naughty. Randy as anything. Couldn't keep his hands to himself. Not then, probably not now either. You'd be crackers to think you're the only one he's fucking."
"Please, Claire, I don't know why you came here, but you don't need to do this. Just tell me what you want and I'll give it to you if I can."
"But this IS what I want," Claire confessed. "I want to see that hurt pained look in your eyes. To know that you'll never look at Johnny the same. To know that by the time I leave here, you'll be through with him and then some."
'So that's it!' Kelly thought as she closed her eyes. 'She wants to destroy my relationship with John.' Kelly swallowed again. "You win," she mumbled. "I'll break up with him."
Claire laughed. "You think you're smart, dontcha? You think I'm that thick? Oh no, I'm not done yet. Look at these pictures. See if you can ever feel the same again."
Kelly opened her eyes. John was again lying on a bed. He was naked and he was not alone. His eyes were wide open and glassy, drugged almost maybe with passion, maybe something more. There were two women, also naked, in the bed with him, one on either side and one of them was Claire.
Now it became a slide show. The next photo showed the woman she didn't recognize straddling John's groin and inserting him into her. Next shot Claire had straddled his face while the first woman rode him. Next photo John on his knees moving into Claire from behind while he had a breast in his mouth. Next photo Claire was at John's groin while he was between the other woman's thighs. Last picture, John had his fingers inside each woman and both women their mouths open and their tongues licking were at his groin. The expression on his face was of complete and utter lust and bliss. A sexual satisfaction, a sexual high unlike anything she had ever seen in her life. Her revulsion vanished now to be replaced with anger. The pictures had finally lost their power to hurt. It had stopped being about a man she cared for and had become as emotionally involving as a porno flick. It had only ever been about sex. John HAD been a kid. He lived every man's fantasy and sure he'd enjoyed it. Why not? She tried to keep her anger in check, sure that what Claire wanted was the revulsion. "How did you get these?"
All the photos were black and white, poor quality, grainy. They didn't look posed at all.
Claire laughed. "Johnny posed of course."
Kelly shook her head. "No, he never did."
"Are you calling me a lair?" Claire demanded.
'Oops, that wasn't smart,' Kelly thought. She tried to sound scared as she moaned, "I can't believe . . . John would never . . ."
"Don't know him nearly as well as you thought, do you?" Claire spit with a bitter laugh. "Johnny always liked to show off. He posed and he made some movies too."
"Movies?" Kelly echoed. Then she knew. The photos must be lifts off film. But John would never have, would he? How well did she really know him? He said he didn't sleep around now, not for ten years anyway. That would have been . . .
Claire laughed. "Oh my yes. Lovely movies we made. For our private use of course. To watch sometimes to add to the pleasure."
'Christ, this woman is REALLY twisted,' Kelly thought. She said nothing, not sure what to say.
"Well, now, Johnny's not who you thought he was, is he?"
Kelly shook her head. She guessed HER John was exactly who she thought he was. It had been approximately ten years since he'd been with Claire. That was a very long time. In light of Claire's obvious kinks, any doubts Kelly had about John vanished.
Claire picked up the cordless phone and instructed, "Ring him."
"Ring him?" Kelly repeated.
"Yes, Ring him. I want you to invite him over here."
"Why?"
"I want him to KNOW why you're dumping him. To know who's responsible."
"I can't ring him with my hands tied."
"Good point," Claire conceded. "Tell me the number and I'll do it for you."
Kelly sighed. "What happens if I say no?"
"I might have to hurt you," Claire murmured softly and menacingly.
"Would defeat your purpose, wouldn’t it?"
"Oh, I dunno," Claire pondered. "Maybe hurting you might bother him even more. Come to think of it, maybe that's a better idea. I always did wonder what he'd do with an ugly woman. Maybe I'll cut you up a little."
Kelly gave an involuntary shudder. She could tell Claire was serious. It was in her eyes and her body posture. "555-3212," Kelly answered quickly.
Claire laughed and dialed. She waited for the phone to be picked up and heard the soft, "Can't answer now. Leave a message." Claire hung up and muttered, "Not there. He got a mobile?"
Kelly nodded. "555-2121."
Claire dialed the mobile but received a message that it was off-line. She thought for a moment. "We're going to call that first number again and leave a message. This is what I want you to say . . ."
Kelly nodded, repeated John's phone number and said, when she got the machine, "John, please come to my house as quickly as you can when you get this. I'm in trouble and I need you. Don't call, just come." After Claire disconnected, Kelly asked, "Now what?"
Claire sat back down on the sofa, picked up her beer and announced, "We wait."
"John?"
"Dad?"
The two men were locked in combat. The gunshot had hit neither; instead, the bullet had lodged in the ceiling. John had Phil's wrist held tight, keeping the gun pointed up and away. Finally using all his strength, John broke Phil's wrist and the gun dropped from Phil's grasp, as he sank groaning to his knees.
John grabbed the gun, put the safety back on and pulled out the clip. Then he looked at Shay and his son. She was white with fear. Eric sat on the couch in confusion. John put the gun in his waistband and went for the phone.
"What are you doing?" Shay asked.
"Calling the cops," John explained.
"No."
"What do you mean, no?"
She shook her head. Eric had risen from the couch and gone to Phil. "Dad?" Eric queried. "Dad, are you okay?"
Phil was cradling his wrist and crying, he was moaning and rocking with pain. Eric knelt on the floor next to him and tried to touch him. "Dad," he whispered, "why do you hate me?"
"Stop calling me that!" Phil shrieked. "I'm not your father."
"Not my father?" Eric echoed.
"Shut up, Phil," John yelled. "Haven't you done enough damage already?"
"Stuff it! Eric, I'm not your father. He is!"
They waited. It was very late and the longer Kelly sat tied to that chair the more she worried. Now Claire alternated between pacing and looking at the pictures. She'd had at least four beers since she'd been in Kelly's house though she didn't seem pissed. But her eyes were wild and she kept mumbling, where is he?
Kelly wondered where he was too. The dance should have been over hours ago. It was close on midnight. Where was John? What was he doing? Why hadn't he come to help her? She knew, instinctively, that he hadn't gotten the message yet. Whatever else he was or had been, John wouldn't have ignored the plea in her voice. She knew she'd sounded scared and if there was one thing she knew for certain about John, it was that he responded to that. Need got to him.
"Where is he?" Claire mumbled.
"I dunno," Kelly mumbled back.
Claire got a nasty look on her face. "Told you he's a naughty boy. Probably spending the night with another woman."
Kelly shook her head and stayed mute. She didn't believe that. She thought he was probably with Eric, but she'd never say. She wouldn't give Claire another target. Still it was very late for him to be with his son. She hoped nothing was wrong. She could see that Claire was becoming more and more out of control and if she didn't get what she wanted and soon what would Claire do?
"What?" Eric exclaimed. "What do you mean you're not my father?"
"Eric," Shay directed, "go to your room."
Phil began to laugh. "Bunch of sanctimonious arseholes you are. Lying to the boy. Tell him the truth for Christ's sakes. Put all of us out of our misery."
Eric rose from the floor. His face was white, his eyes wide, frightened and confused. His whole body began to tremble. "Mum? What's he talking about?"
"Shay," John insisted, "I need to call the cops. Someone is bound to have reported this already."
"Mum?" Eric repeated. He came to stand before her. "What does he mean?"
Phil continued to lie on the floor cradling his wrist. His eyes were wild. He was laughing and crying.
Shay looked at John and shrugged with helplessness. Finally she asked, "Can't we let him go?"
John shook his head. "No. The gun . . . Shay . . . that's . . . no."
She shrugged and turned to Eric. She put her arms around him and explained, "Eric, Phil is very confused and upset right now. He's not in his right mind. I'm afraid . . ."
Eric shook her arms off. He put his hands on his hips and challenged, "I want to know what he meant."
"John?" Shay muttered.
John nodded. He picked up the phone, dialed the cops, said a few things and then came to them. "Eric," he observed slowly, "we've got a lot to tell you. We were going to tell you when you got home, only . . ."
"Dad's right? He's not . . . what did he mean that you're . . . that he's not my father?"
Phil began laughing again, even louder this time. "That's right," he muttered. "Tell the brat the truth. It's time."
"Shut up, Phil," John shouted angrily. "You've done enough."
"Not as much you. Dropping your seed everywhere."
"God damn it," John shouted. "How much more do you need to hurt him? It's not enough that you walked away and never came back? Not enough that you made him feel like it was all his fault? What kind of bloke are you anyway? You get your jollies hurting kids?"
"Stuff you. Why should I give bugger all about him? He's not my kid!"
"Mum," Eric asked softly, "is John my . . . Dad's not my Dad? John is?"
As John was turning to answer him, he heard a knock on the door. He went to it, unlocked it and pulled it open. There were two cops in uniform; he didn't know either of them. He let them in and began to explain what had happened. Shay led an ashen and trembling Eric back to the sofa. It took some time before John could get it all sorted out, but finally the cops took Phil and the gun and left. John promised that all three of them would come in the next day and file a formal complaint.
As soon as the cops left, John went to join them on the sofa. Eric was still ashen and now so was Shay. Eric was as far from his Mum as he could get. When he saw John come toward him, he nearly jumped out of his skin.
John stopped immediately. "Eric, I'm sorry that . . . we never meant . . . we were going to explain. Tonight."
"You are my father?" his son asked.
"Eric," Shay explained, "long ago, when we were young, John and I, as you know, dated. Things progressed and well, I got pregnant with you. I never told John, cause, well, it's very complicated, but at the time it seemed like it was the wrong thing to do. Phil was . . . well . . . he was different then. He loved me, offered to marry me and to be a father to you. I accepted and we tried to make a go of it. As you know, it didn't work and then . . . " she paused, swallowed and finally continued. "I never told John. Not until a few weeks ago. Please don't blame him for keeping this from you. It's not his fault. The moment he found out, he wanted to tell you, but I wouldn't let him. I was afraid you'd be hurt and angry. Especially with me. I love you so much and I was afraid you'd hate me for this."
Shay's words took John's breath away. They were generous, kind and brave. Her face was terrified, her eyes wide as she studied their son trying to guess out how he would respond.
Eric sat there frozen. His eyes were wide and his color still hadn't returned. The room was very quiet for a long time and then Eric reproached her. "You lied to me."
"Yes, I did," she answered quietly. "No more lies now. No more justifications. I let you think Phil was your father, even after he proved to be bad at the job. I never told John until I was forced to. So yes, I lied."
"You lied to me too!" Eric accused John.
John could see the anger, the hurt and the betrayal in his son's eyes. "Not exactly," John temporized. "Except, do you remember at the gym when I told you I might lie to protect you? Or lie by omission?" Eric nodded. "It's true I knew you were my son and I didn't tell you. Eric," he added, "I'm glad you're my son. I'm proud to be your father. I want to be your father if you'll let me."
"Want to be . . . " Eric echoed. He looked briefly at Shay and then again at John. He reached under his shirt and pulled out the Manaia. He glanced at it and claimed, "That's why you gave me this."
"Yes, it was my father's and I wanted my son to have it."
"Your son . . ." Eric repeated, this time his voice was stronger and had some surprise in it instead of only pain. "Why did you lie?" he asked his Mum. "Why not just tell me? Tell him?"
"Oh, Eric," she moaned softly. "I don't know how to explain it. Not really. In the beginning, I thought we, you, I and Phil could be a family. I thought . . . John didn't want . . . he was . . . " she looked toward John helplessly.
"I was too young and immature," John explained. "Eric, the night your Mum discovered she was carrying you I broke up with her. She didn't want to use you to hang on to me, so . . . She did what she thought was best for you. By the time Phil left you and your Mum . . . I told you before adults aren't always very smart. I made some bad decisions in my life, starting with dumping your Mum all those years ago, the way I did. But it doesn't mean . . . Eric," he confessed, "I love you."
"How can you say that!" the boy exploded. "How can either of you say that?" Eric jumped up from the couch his body trembling. "You," he exploded accusingly to his Mum, "you let me think Phil was my Dad. Let me think I didn't have a Dad, not really, when all the time you knew . . ." He turned and rounded on John, "And you . . . pretending to be my friend, pretending I was just a kid to help when you knew . . ."
"Eric, please," Shay implored him. "If you want to be angry, be angry at me. Not at John. It's not his fault. He didn't know and when I did finally tell him, he begged me to let him tell you. I wouldn't let him. It's NOT his fault."
"I hate you both!" Eric yelled, then he ran to his room and slammed the door shut behind him.
Shay began to tremble and shake. John stood there helplessly not knowing what do. He wanted to go after Eric; wanted to try to comfort him, but instead he went to Shay. He took her into his arms and held her. He was grateful that she had tried to protect him, to protect his relationship with Eric. He stroked her hair as she cried in his arms. "Now what?" he asked her when her sobbing finally ceased.
"I dunno. He's so . . ."
"Thank you," John acknowledged quietly. "You didn't have to make it all your fault, you know. I SHOULD have been less of a dickhead. Then maybe this never would have happened. Anyway, thank you."
She looked at him. John looked worried and apologetic. His dark eyes were full of emotion, his mouth pursed. She gave him weak smile. "I thought maybe if he'd blame just me, he wouldn't hate you too. John, it really is all my fault anyways. And I want him to have at least one of us. I love him so."
He hugged her tight as he felt her tremble. "It's going to be okay," he insisted with more conviction than he felt. "I know it will. It's going to take some time, but I'm sure he'll forgive us."
"Well," she muttered, "I expect he'll forgive you a lot sooner than he will me. I saw the way he looked at you tonight. After he gets over being mad, he'll be happy. He likes you and I'm sure he'll love you too."
"Shay . . . " he stroked her hair again and then with gentle fingers began to brush the last of her tears away. "I'm sorry about this. It's all my fault."
"Your fault?"
"If I hadn't sent the lawyer and courts after Phil, he wouldn't have shown up here. We'd of told Eric in a better way."
"Well, it's done now and I'm glad. It hurts but eventually . . ."
"You think maybe one of us should try to talk to him?"
She wanted desperately to see her son, but she guessed that of the two of them she would be much less welcome. "You go. He'd probably be more willing to talk to you."
"Shay, I'm sorry."
Shay shook her head. "Don't be. It's not your fault. Not any of it. Go on. See if you can get him to talk to you."
John nodded, released her and knocked on the door to Eric's room.
"Go away."
"Come on, Eric, gimme a chance, eh? Let me in."
"Go away!"
"I want to talk. Try and sort this out."
"Bugger off."
"Eric, please, don't shut me out. I love you."
Suddenly the door flew open and Eric stood there. His eyes were angry and his body was trembling. "Stop saying that!"
"Why? It's true."
"Liar! You don't love me."
John looked at his son. Eric was shaking, his skin was still pale and his eyes were full of emotion. John finally did what he'd wanted to do for so long. He wrapped his arms around his son and pulled him into them. "I do love you, Eric," he insisted as he did it. "So much so that I want to tell the world about you."
Eric fought him, he tried to kick him, tried to hit him, but John held on suddenly sure that this was exactly what Eric needed. The boy might be nearly six feet tall, might be thirteen and a half, might be nearly as strong as John, but inside him, there was still a little child that needed reassurance. "I'm so glad you're my son," John murmured as he hugged Eric. "I'm so happy I have you to love."
"Let me go," Eric insisted as he tried to get away.
"Never," John pledged. "I'm never letting go. You're my son and I'm your father and from now on, we're going to deal with that and everything else together."
"I hate you," Eric contended.
"No, you don't," John disputed. "But it wouldn't make any difference if you did, cause I'd still love you. I'd still be your father and still worry about you. You aren't getting rid of me, Eric, I'm here to stay."
Kelly was beginning to panic. As the time lengthened her arms and legs were becoming more numb and her head throbbed worse. Claire was sitting on the sofa keening softly to herself touching one of the photos. Suddenly Claire began mumbling about someone named Clive. About how Johnny had taken Clive and all the money away. About how Johnny was responsible for her life being ruined. She repeated that over and over again, as if it was a mantra she said every night before she went to bed. She sounded crazy, angry and wild. Kelly became even more frightened.
Suddenly Claire's head shot around and then she seemed come out of her trance. "Well, well, guess Johnny's running true to form. Fuck 'em and leave 'em. Doesn't seem like he cares about you at all. Such a shame, but I can't say I'm all that surprised. He never was a very nice bloke."
Kelly bit her lip and forbore from retorting.
"What? Don't have anything to say for yourself? You were so cheeky earlier."
"Obviously, John's a wanker who uses women. You've proven your point. So why not just untie me and go. He's not coming and clearly I don't mean shit to him."
Claire looked at the girl. Despite her original intent, despite her insistence on what Johnny was like, Claire did know better. She knew that Johnny wasn't really a wanker and she guessed he did care for the girl. But if she couldn't hurt Johnny, she could hurt the girl and then Johnny would still be hurt.
Claire opened her bag and pulled out a knife. She sashayed over Kelly and said, "I don't think so." She fingered the edge of the knife and asked, "So where should I scar you first?"
Eric stopped fighting at John's words and his eyes got even wider. Suddenly, they filled with tears and he began to tremble and then sob in John's arms. John held him tight stroking his hair. "It's going to be okay, Eric," he promised. "We'll get through this. I know it's a lot for you to deal with, a lot to absorb. And I know I have a lot to make up for. But I swear, son, I'm here for you. I'm not going to abandon you. I DO love you."
"John," Eric whispered, "you're really my father?"
"Well," John acknowledged, "biologically speaking, yes. I guess I'll have to show you the rest of it, eh? Prove to you I can be your Dad. Probably be a big learning experience for me. But, Eric, I want that so much. I want so much to be your Dad."
Eric pulled away and this time John let him go. The boy wiped his eyes on his sleeve and searched John's eyes. "You really didn't know?"
John nodded. "Don't be too hard on your Mum. She did what she thought best. It was wrong of her, but she did it because she loved you and wanted to keep you from harm. I was completely unprepared to be a parent. I couldn't have handled it at all and your Mum was smart enough to know that."
"When did you find out?" Eric asked.
"Remember the night we went to that flick? That day you weren't in school?" Eric nodded. "That night. And I wanted to tell you, I did, but well, we were afraid you'd be upset. So we've been trying to suss out how to tell you since then."
"You went to the States right after . . . "
"Yes, to work. So there'd be some money for you for University."
"Mum should have told you. She should have told me."
"Eric, it does no good to worry the past like that. No matter what should have been, we have to deal with what is. We can't go backward only forward."
The boy nodded. "Are you and my Mum gonna . . . get back together?"
John shook his head. "No. That's long over. I'm sure you have a thousand questions and I'll be happy to try to answer them all, but right now, I think maybe you should talk to your Mum."
"I don't want to. I'm still too . . . mad."
"She loves you so much. One of the reasons she was afraid to tell you was because she was afraid she'd lose you. You mean everything to her. She's hurting real bad now. She's afraid you'll hate her forever."
"She is?"
John nodded. "Yes. I think, even if you can't really talk about this with her, if maybe you could just . . . I dunno . . . let her know you're thinking on things."
Eric stood there for a long moment and then agreed, "Okay."
"Can I have a hug?" John asked hesitantly.
"A hug?" Eric repeated.
"Yeah, I know, it's silly, but I wasn't around when you were little . . . Now, well, you're big and I just . . . anyway . . . I'd totally understand if you don't want to do it. I mean it's soon and all and well . . ."
Suddenly Eric grinned at him. He went to John, opened his arms, wrapped them around him and hugged him. John hugged his son back his heart overflowing. The two stood together for moment and then Eric pulled back first. He looked embarrassed but pleased. "Thank you," John said gravely. "I've wanted . . . well . . . let's see your Mum, eh?"
Eric nodded and followed John into the lounge.
Shay was sitting where John had left her. She looked as if she hadn't moved maybe hadn't even breathed. She looked up and saw them and her eyes filled with tears again. "Eric?" she whispered.
The boy glanced at John quickly and then went to his Mum. She opened her arms and after a brief hesitation, Eric went into them. She held him tight and whispered, "I'm so sorry."
Eric pulled away. "Mum it's . . . " then he gazed at John.
John studied them both and suggested, "I think you two probably have a lot to talk about. Tell you what, I'll come by around eleven to take you to the station and after that the three of us can talk some more."
Shay nodded gratefully.
John left them feeling emotionally and physically drained. What a night! He had so many emotions to process but chief among them was relief. Eric knew the truth now. It was going to be a difficult situation for a while despite the calm he had left and he knew he had a lot to work on. Still things were promising.
By the time he got home, he was completely exhausted. He saw the light blinking on his answering machine and thought about ignoring it, but then he realized he had left his mobile off and it could be important. It was. "John, please . . ."
"Shit," he swore. It was almost one o'clock. That message was hours old. Despite his exhaustion he ran out of his house, got in his car and drove straight to Kelly's. When he arrived there, it was all over.
He saw police cars; a Coroner's Van and an ambulance. "Shit," he swore again as he parked.
He ran to the door as he saw a body bag being wheeled out of the house. "Oh Christ, not again, not again, please God, not again. Kelly," he shouted. "Kelly?"
John tried to get at the body bag, but a cop stopped him. Then he tried to enter the house, but the cop at the door stopped him with the words, "This is a crime scene."
"Kelly?" he shouted. "Kelly?"
"John?" Kelly shouted back. "Thank god you're here."
"Kelly?" he exclaimed his knees almost buckling with relief. She was alive! Then he shouted with annoyance, "Tell this dickhead to let me in."
He heard her laugh and then, "Officer, please let the . . . gentleman in. He's welcome."
The cop moved aside and John shoved his way in. His eyes nearly popped out of his head at the sight that greeted him. He was so astonished it took him more than a few minutes to be able to focus on the entire scene. The first thing he saw was former Detective Senior Sergeant Alan Snow sitting on a chair being tended to by an EMT. He was being bandaged up and was giving some kind of statement to of all people, Susan Ellis.
Then he saw the signs of a struggle in the room, overturned furniture, broken glass, broken china and then the broken window. Kelly was on another chair also being tended to by an EMT, although when she saw him, she struggled up and ran to him. "John," she whispered. "John?"
He pulled his eyes away from Snow to look at her. She had a bandage on the back of her head, her eyes were red-rimmed and her skin was very pale. She had marks on her wrists as if she had been bound. Her body seemed to vibrate with tension. She looked awful, but she was alive. Gratefully he pulled her into his arms and held her tight. "Christ, what happened? Who's dead? What's HE doing here?"
She began to tremble in his arms, her body started to shake and she murmured, "Claire Johns is dead. She tried to kill me. He saved my life."
"He what?" John yelped.
"It's true, John. I know you and he have a history. A bad one. While we were waiting for . . . he told me some of it. His side anyway."
"It's a trick," John muttered. "Has to be a trick."
"No, it's not. John, please, you're hurting me. Let go."
John hadn't realized how tightly he now held her. He loosened his grip and looked at her. She was standing there looking at him quizzically. "John, please, listen to me."
He shifted his glance from her to Snow. The EMT was finished, but Snow was still talking to Ellis. John turned back to Kelly. He took a deep breath and requested, "Tell me."
She pulled him over to the furthest corner of the room and forced him to stand with his back to Snow. "Listen to me," she reiterated. "Claire fooled me into believing that her car had broken down and I let her in. She knocked me out, tied me up and tried to destroy you in my eyes."
"She what?"
"I'm fine, John. A little concuss and some bruises. Anyway, she made me call you, but it got later and later and when you didn't show she began to lose it. She was going to cut me with a knife when we heard the sound of glass breaking. It was him. He busted the window to keep her from hurting me. He burst in and went after her. It was bloody awful. Claire was screaming like a banshee, kicking and fighting, but he hung in there and kept at it. Finally he got the knife from her and knocked her out. He cut the cords she tied me with and then, she came at him again, only this time . . . " Kelly paused and swallowed. "He didn't have a choice; it was more like an accident. She went right into the knife and then . . . " Kelly began to shake.
John took her into his arms and held her tenderly. "Kelly, I'm so sorry. Christ, my past will never let me go. You don't deserve this."
"Not your fault," she mumbled into his neck. "You couldn't have known."
"Kelly, Christ, this is just . . . he really saved you?"
She pulled her head up and looked at him. "Yes. I swear, John, if he hadn't of been here, I'd be dead now."
"Why was he here though? He can't have meant you well."
"John, he . . . maybe you should let him tell you himself."
"I want to kill him. You know what he tried to do to me. What he DID do to Sonya. Caused Sonya to do. He's a . . . "
"John, he's dying. He . . . please . . . speak to him."
John released her and turned around. Snow was still talking to Susan Ellis. His skin was paper thin and pasty. He'd always been a small prissy man; he looked even smaller now, his resemblance to a ferret even more pronounced. He turned suddenly to stare at John. John could see scratch marks all over his face as if Claire had raked him with her nails. Snow's eyes were no longer cold and calculating. They looked sad, defeated and empty. He simply stared at John apparently expecting nothing.
Susan Ellis looked at Snow with pity not scorn and then nodded to John. She gestured at Snow to stay where he was and then came over to join them. She said, "Hello, John."
"Susan. Kelly said . . . " his mouth went dry at the thought of trying to get the words out.
"As unbelievable as it seems, it does appear that Alan did you a good turn," she explained dryly. "He saved her life or so she says and I can see no reason for it to be otherwise."
"Why was he here? Why did he do it?"
"He said he was waiting for you. He wanted to talk. He wasn't armed with weapons of any kind."
"I don't understand."
Susan shrugged. "To tell you the truth, neither do I, but all the same . . ."
"John, just talk to him, please?" Kelly begged.
John shrugged and looked to Susan. "May I?"
"I'm done with him for now. Ms. Callahan, I'm sorry for all this mess. You'll still need to come down to the station to make a formal statement."
"That can wait until tomorrow, can't it?" John asked.
"Yes, if you promise to bring her in."
He nodded with the thought that he'd be spending the day with the cops. First Phil and now this. Christ, what a night.
John took a deep breath and walked over to Snow. "What are you doing here?" John asked.
Snow smiled and it was the smile John remembered. The one that never reached his eyes. But as John studied Snow's face, he could see the truth. Snow was dying; his faced showed that as clear as if it was written there. "What," Snow remarked, his diction crisp as ever, his demeanor just as officious, "no thank you for saving your girlfriend's life?"
"I'm not convinced you did save her," John retorted. "How do I know you didn't set this thing up yourself?"
Snow laughed bitterly. "You have a nasty mind, John. But then you always did understand criminals far better than you should. Tell me, if I had set this up, why did I stop it? What benefit was there to me in killing a woman I'd never met before?"
"I dunno. Maybe you were going to frame me again or maybe you wanted to frame Kelly but something went wrong."
"Still paranoid?" Snow laughed again. "Sorry to disappoint you, John. Nothing as devious as all that. I had nothing to do with the events here until I broke in the window to save the young lady's life."
"Why?"
Snow studied John. He saw the past, the present and the future. John clearly still harbored an enormous amount of anger over their past, despite how it had turned out. He still exhibited the classic manner of a bloke hurt and betrayed. Snow knew now the price they both paid in the present for their past. The future would only contain more of the same unless one of them blinked. He knew John well enough to know, that all things considered, it would NOT be John.
And up until the moment when he had broken in to save Kelly's life, he hadn't thought it would be him either. Hadn't intended it to be him. He had been full of revenge. Full of anger and bitterness. He was just as determined to make John pay now as John had been to make HIM pay in the past.
But hearing Claire rant and rave about John had changed all that. Hearing her blame John for all the things that had gone wrong in her life had been an epiphany. She had taken no responsibility for what she had done. She blamed John for everything. Just as he had. But . . . he knew then he was wrong. As wrong as could be. Seeing Claire about to kill an innocent woman whose only crime was being in John's life made him realize that he didn't want to spend what little time he had left on revenge. Still, looking at John's face and his body language, he was loath to explain. Instead he said, "I'm dying. Cancer. Pancreatic cancer, I believe your grandmother died of it. Maybe there are things I don't want on my conscience. Maybe I wanted to make amends. Who knows? But the fact remains, I was here and I did save her."
"Why were you here? Did you stop Claire so you could do it yourself? Take revenge on your own?"
Snow laughed bitterly. "Does it matter? Whatever I might have had in mind is irrelevant. What I did was save the young lady's life. A very nice girl she is too. Much too good for you."
"I'm not gonna get a straight answer out of you, am I?" John asked rhetorically. "Just leave me alone, you hear? Don't come near me again. Don't come near her. I don't give a rat's ass what you did here tonight. I will never believe you didn't somehow have a hand in it to begin with."
Snow laughed and rose from the chair. "Very well, John. You believe what you want. You might just think about this though. You've always claimed I took Sonya's life by telling her you were a nark. Well, if I did, then perhaps I just made up for it by saving Kelly's. A life for a life, John. It doesn't get more biblical than that." Snow turned on his heel and walked to the door. He waited for Ellis and the two left together.
Finally, John was alone with Kelly. He was still standing in the spot where Snow had been. Kelly came to him. "John?" she prompted. "What did he say?"
John shook his head. "Nothing. Nothing that made sense anyways." He paused, "Kelly, I'm sorry. I seem to cause you nothing but trouble. I put your life in danger just by being a part of it. I should get out of it now, before you get killed."
"Don't be a dickhead," she snorted. She put her arms around him and whispered, "Everyone's got a past. Everyone has people in it that hate them. In your case, I will admit, they do seem rather violent. But John, it doesn't matter."
"Kelly," he pulled her close. He had so much he needed to tell her and he had no idea how she was going to take any of it. Still, she felt warm and alive in his arms and in the minute and a half before he learned it wasn't her in the body bag, he had realized how much he loved her. "I love you," he whispered.
"Oh, John," she whispered back. She had so much to tell him. She was sure he had no idea about the pictures. She also wanted to tell him about Snow, it was clear that whatever had passed between the two men, the truth hadn't been a part of that. But right now, she needed to tell him her truth. The truth she had learned in the moment when she thought she was going to die. "I love you too," she confessed.
The End