What Belongs to Her. Rachel Brimble

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      She sipped her coffee and contemplated the last time she’d jogged across the beach. Who needed to run when she cycled everywhere she could? All day and half the night, she scrambled on and off rides, climbed ladders to fix broken overhangs or change lightbulbs. She smiled.

      Not to mention the innumerable amount of times she’d jumped on the carousel horses under the guise of accompanying a kid riding solo, while their mother rode with their toddler sibling.

      Loving the local kids and wanting to make the park a happy, safe place for them was once again out of reach for the foreseeable future. How would the fear of history repeating itself ever go away if she wasn’t in charge? How could she ascertain suspicious behavior from innocent if Funland was overrun with Kyle’s criminal contacts? If only her family would join in the fight for their ancestral piece of history. How could they stand by and let something that had been in their hands for more than a hundred years slip into such undeserving ones?

      Didn’t they want the place made good again? To help her wash away the evil?

      “That fairground won’t run itself, you know.”

      Sasha quickly swiped at her face and pulled on a smile. “Hey, Marian. What are you doing out here?”

      Templeton Cove’s favorite—and scariest—baker stood beside her, holding Sasha’s phone between her thumb and forefinger. “You left this behind. Thought you might need it...and a big ol’ shoulder to cry on.”

      “Thanks.” Sasha took the phone. “For the phone. The shoulder will have to wait. No tears today.” She nodded toward the bakery. “You’ll be overrun with angry customers wanting coffee and your famous honeycomb muffins in two seconds flat at this time of the morning.”

      Marian waved her hand dismissively. “You’re more important. The girls can cope without me for a while.”

      “I was just about to head off.” Sasha pulled her bike from the railing, but Marian pushed it back.

      “Sasha Todd, talk to me. Now.” Marian lifted an eyebrow and leaned her ample backside against the railing, pinning Sasha with her unrelenting stare. “I’ve never known you to be so distracted when my George was chatting with you. You know how that husband of mine relies on you young girls to brighten up his aging ego. The man’s heartbroken over there.”

      Sasha laughed. “I’ve got things on my mind. Tell him I’m sorry and I’ll make it up to him tomorrow.”

      “You think he’s going to listen to me? He’ll want to know what’s going on with you...as do I. Spill. Now.”

      Sasha hesitated. If she said out loud what had happened between her and John Jordon last night, that would make the situation real, and part of her was still holding on to the hope that when she got to Funland, John would turn out to be nothing more than a figment of her imagination.

      “Well?” Marian crossed her arms. “I’m waiting.”

      Sliding her coffee into the bottle holder on her bike, Sasha gripped the railing and stared ahead. “Kyle Jordon’s son turned up last night to take over the running of the fair.”

      “What?”

      Inhaling a deep breath, Sasha turned. Marian’s face had darkened to a worrying shade of scarlet and her eyes bulged wide open.

      “His name’s John.” Sasha sighed. “And he speaks with some stupid posh accent as though he’s a member of the Royal family.”

      “What?”

      Sasha laughed at the pure disbelief on Marian’s face. “Can’t you say anything else?”

      Marian blinked. “Kyle Jordon’s son? Here? In Templeton? I don’t believe it.”

      “Well, you’d better believe it. He’s here and, from the little time I’ve spent with him, I’ve worked out he’s dangerous. I’m not sure if he’s ‘Kyle Jordon’ dangerous yet, but he’s dangerous all the same.”

      She narrowed her eyes. “Did he hurt you? Threaten you? What did he do to make you think he’s dangerous?”

      Sasha glanced toward the beach. “I don’t know.”

      “You don’t know?”

      She turned and pushed the hair back from her eyes, considering John Jordon and the unsettling effect he’d had on her mentally, emotionally...physically. She swallowed. “The man has more anger in the tip of his little finger than I’ve got in my entire body, so there’s trouble on the horizon whichever way we look at it.”

      “I see.” Marian looked toward the bakery across the road. “Does DI Garrett know he’s here? We should call her. We’ve just gotten rid of one Jordon and another turns up.” She faced Sasha again. “Did you know he had a son?”

      She shook her head. “Nope. And he says Freddy didn’t, either. I’ve got no idea what this is going to mean for the fair or Templeton.”

      Marian pushed away from the railing. “Well, whatever it means, DI Garrett should know he’s here. I’m going to call her right now.”

      When she spun away, Sasha clasped Marian’s arm. “Wait. I want to get an idea of what he intends to do first.”

      “But you said—”

      “I know what I said.” Sasha straightened and pulled her bike upright. “There’s something about him that intrigues me. Something’s just not right. He doesn’t exactly look ecstatic to be here, any more than I am to see him.”

      Marian gave an inelegant snort. “How can anyone be right in the head if they’re the product of Kyle Jordon’s bodily fluid? Answer me that.”

      Sasha wrinkled her nose. “Seriously? Bodily fluid?”

      Marian gave a hoot of laughter and patted Sasha’s cheek. “Be careful and call me as soon as you know anything. DI Garrett should be told what’s going on and she trusts my judgment, as I trust yours. The minute you tell me this man is up to no good, I’m on it.” She brushed her thumb over Sasha’s cheek. “I know what that fairground means to you and what it meant to your granddad. Watch your back, okay?”

      Fighting to keep her composure, Sasha covered Marian’s hand with hers and lifted it from her face. She squeezed the older woman’s fingers. “I will. Now get back to the bakery before the inspector turns up because of a riot over honeycomb muffins, let alone anything else.”

      Marian smiled despite the lingering concern in her gaze. “I’m going. Just remember where I am.”

      Sasha saluted, and Marian hurried across the street. Once she’d disappeared inside the shop, Sasha inhaled a deep breath and drew a folded piece of paper from the back pocket of her jeans. She opened it and stared at her carefully typed letter to Kyle, offering him every penny she had for the fair. The amount included the money her grandfather bequeathed her from Funland’s sale to Kyle seven years before, plus some savings.

      Of course, there was still the glaring problem of the contract clause that gripped and twisted at Sasha’s heart...confused and irritated her mind. СКАЧАТЬ