Page 105 of Connor's Claim
The moment we’d returned, I’d hidden myself away in here, blocking the door with the chest of drawers I’d used to hold Piers off after our awful date. The fact my room hadn’t been tidied made me hope to God that Laura had finally quit.
Though the drop from the balcony was great, I’d intended to use that as my route out. But a security team patrolled the patio below. They were outside the front, too.
I was trapped.
My father hammered on the door. “Piers will be home any minute. He knows you’re waiting for him, so do yourself a favour and put on a fucking dress.”
In the walk-in wardrobe, I huddled in on myself, unable to summon an answer.
He meant to give me to that man after all.
My anger turned to fear. For a minute, I allowed the emotion to take hold of me. Pictures of what would happen this evening filled my mind, spurred by the knowledge I couldn’t run from this. My father’s new favourite would break down the door, picking up where he’d left off during our last encounter. He would attack me. Tear off my clothes and assault me.
I could already feel his vile touch erasing all of Connor’s.
My father’s voice returned again, echoing up the hallway, though his words weren’t for me this time. He was on the phone, his blithe conversation showing me exactly how calculated he could be.
I trembled. If Connor showed up here, my father would call the cops. He’d carry out his threat and reveal how Connor had been cleaning up the worst of Deadwater’s criminals. He’d put him away for life.
The man I loved was a killer. I couldn’t protect him from the danger he was in. I couldn’t even tell him because my phone and bag were still on my desk in Town Hall. Every piece of long-held anger I had for my father surfaced, and tears of pure frustration fell.
A sound played through the house, the ring tone for the public landline which lived in the hall. A click followed of theanswerphone picking up, then the caller spoke, loud in the echoing space.
“Mayor Makepeace. I have a proposition for you.”
The voice was familiar, but I couldn’t tell from where. Silencing my music, I crept to the door and listened as the caller continued.
“Arran Daniels’ skeleton crew is making a mockery of you and will bring down your campaign for re-election.”
In May, my father’s position was up for the vote. He was so far ahead in the polls, it was considered a shoo-in, just like in his previous term.
“Your daughter was paraded naked through their brothel, her tits on display for any dirty bastard to get an eyeful of. How can you tolerate that? A man like yourself. I can help you manage the threat.”
At last, I recognised the voice. It was Red from the Four Milers. I’d heard him speak when Arran called him. Shame chased the memory.
The clatter came of the phone’s handset being lifted from its cradle, the message intercepted.
“What did you just say?” my father snapped.
After a pause where he listened and I could no longer hear the rival gang leader, he spoke again. “What’s in it for you?” Another pause. “What kind of licence?”
A deal, underway.
Another nail in my coffin.
Misery sank me to the floor, and I braced myself for the loss that was to come. History was repeating itself. In this very house, I’d fallen hard for Connor, then my hopes and dreams had been shot down by the realisation I couldn’t keep him. It had happened again. I loved him beyond reason, and I had to let him go.
My father knew about his crimes. He didn’t make empty threats. If he said he had evidence, then he did. If I didn’t obey him, Connor would go to prison.
I couldn’t allow that.
No matter what he thought of me, I only wanted his life to continue unchained.
The burden of pent-up emotion rocked me, and I wiped my eyes then struggled to my feet. I loathed my father with everything in me, but all he’d ever wanted was my obedience. If I gave him that, he mostly let me exist untroubled.
Perhaps one more time I could trade it in for Connor’s safety.
With a sickened stomach, I shakily searched through my dresses. A gold evening gown with a low-cut neckline. A floaty chiffon day dress that softened my curves. An emerald-green cocktail dress that was a nice fit but didn’t suit my colouring.