What Belongs to Her. Rachel Brimble

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      Freddy was Kyle’s trusted second-in-command, and John was aware the fairground was a legitimate cover for the crux of his father’s criminal activities. Sasha Todd had a family history with the place. He remembered his father’s words—“The chick works like a Trojan for shit pay. She should be out there living her life, not stuck in a small English seaside town like Templeton Cove. She needs to let the fair go, son. She needs to meet a decent bloke who puts a different kind of fire in her belly. Brings a damn smile to her face....”

      “Who was that on the phone?”

      John blinked and pulled his expression into a scowl as Freddy wandered into the converted barn that served as the fairground’s office.

      Freddy glared. “More to the point, why are you answering my phone and sitting at my desk?”

      Irritation pulsed at John’s temple and he tossed the phone at Freddy, who caught it deftly in one hand. “Sasha Todd just called.” John stood. “I took care of it, so there’s no need to call her back.”

      He walked to what was once Kyle’s desk but was now his. The weight of Freddy’s glare on John’s back followed his progress. He whipped his jacket from the huge leather swivel chair. Even the size of Kyle’s chair reflected the size of his damn ego.

      The erratic shuffling of papers and the opening and closing of drawers made John turn and face Freddy. The man was checking over his desk in the manner of a dog hunting for blood. John shook his head as he shrugged into his jacket. “I haven’t touched anything so there’s no need to have a coronary on me.”

      Freddy grunted. “I don’t like you sitting at my desk. Kyle never had any need—”

      “Kyle’s not here. I am.” They locked gazes. “I’m leaving for the night. I assume I don’t need to ask you if you’re okay to close up.”

      Silence.

      John tensed. He was more than ready for a showdown with the man who had only too clearly shown John his arrival at Templeton was as equally unwelcome as it was to a certain dark-haired, dark-eyed beauty.

      Guilt over his harsh responses to Sasha Todd crept up his body, fuelling John’s frustration. “Well?” He snatched his keys from the desk and stared directly at Freddy.

      Freddy stared right back, his eyes bulging. “What’s the game here?”

      “Game? I’m not playing any game.”

      “I ain’t going to lie to you. When Kyle was sentenced, I assumed the baton would pass to me.”

      “Why would you think that?” John raised his eyebrows. “Have you ever known Kyle to do the decent thing? Did he regularly reward his loyal followers for their hard work?”

      Freddy straightened. “Hey, Kyle’s been good to me.”

      “Really? So when did he suggest in any way, shape or form that the fairground was coming to you?” The seconds ticked by as Freddy glowered. John shrugged. “As I thought. My father doesn’t give a crap about anyone. I would’ve thought you’d know that...being his right-hand man and all.”

      “I don’t understand why Kyle’s drafted you in to oversee things when he hasn’t seen you for years.”

      “How much do you know about my relationship with him?”

      Freddy leaned his considerable weight onto his fists on the desktop. “Not much, but—”

      “Well, then, from now on, I wouldn’t think too much if I were you. Until I know what’s what at Funland and who the people are Kyle’s got working here, I’ve no idea what will be happening in the future.”

      “What future? The fairground ain’t going nowhere. Kyle wouldn’t want anyone taking over who doesn’t know the business like he does.” Color seeped into Freddy’s cheeks, and a vein zigzagged across his temple. “I saw Kyle only last week and he never mentioned your coming. He mentioned you in passing, nothing else. I don’t buy that he’d want you turning up and changing things.”

      “You knew he had a son, though?”

      Freddy’s gray eyes turned colder than steel. “I’ve known Kyle for fifteen years and the first time he said a word about you was when I last saw him. You two estranged or something? Does he even know you’re here?”

      Resentment tipped like paraffin through John’s blood, fuelling his constantly simmering rage against Kyle. “He knows I’m here. Did you meet my father in prison when he was there the first time?”

      A muscle worked in Freddy’s jaw. “Yeah. So?”

      “And you met up again upon his release nine years ago?”

      Freddy nodded, his gaze steady.

      John stared. “And he never mentioned me in prison or after?”

      “No.”

      “Then I guess I’m a big surprise to you in more ways than one.” John smiled, even as his heart beat like a bloody hammer against his rib cage.

      Freddy crossed his arms. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

      “Well, first, you didn’t know about me, and then you find out Kyle has a son. I’m betting a bloody fortune you didn’t expect his sole heir to speak and act like me, either, did you?”

      “Your accent don’t mean shit. I’ve met some pretty evil posh bastards inside prison. As for the rest of you?” Freddy’s smile was slow and suggestive. “You scream of being Kyle’s offspring. You’ve got a mean look in your eyes, no matter how much you might smile and want to make friends. People ’round here ain’t going to take too kindly to Kyle’s son turning up, regardless of what plans you’ve got for this place.”

      John slid a stack of files off his desk and pushed them under his arm. He grinned. “Worse than that, Freddy, my man, I’m not even sure what I’ve got planned yet, so people are going to wonder—or worry—more than ever what I’m up to, aren’t they? See you tomorrow.”

      He strolled to the door and left it wide open behind him. It was nearing eleven and the fair was drawing to a close. The beat of a nineties dance track matched the stomp of John’s boots as he made his way to his car. He unlocked it and slid into the leather seat of Kyle’s Mercedes convertible. Placing the files on the passenger seat, his gaze lingered on the top file emblazoned with Sasha Todd’s name.

      “I’ve got my bedtime reading, Kyle. Let’s see what other nightmares you have in store for me.”

      Drawing in a long breath, he yanked on his seat belt and gunned the engine. Time to get himself comfortable in his father’s well-made bed.

      CHAPTER THREE

      SASHA LEFT MARIAN’S Bonniest Bakery with a vanilla latte in hand and gripped the handlebar of her bicycle. She waited for the road to clear and then steered it across to the other side. After parking her bike against the railings overlooking Cowden Beach, she lifted the lid off her coffee, and a plume of gray steam split the runners and dog walkers dotting the sand.

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