A Chance Encounter by Rae Shaw (best ereader for academics .TXT) 📕

and sighed; they hurt, but not as much as other things. Why hadn’t she said something before she left for work, just a word or two in his ear to soothe his troubled mind?

Her heart and soul had been kidnapped more successfully than Ellen’s abortive abduction, and the culprit even managed to creep up on her.

‘Julianna, could I have a word in my office. Thanks,’ he said briskly, fiddling with the sleeves of his jacket.

She shut her laptop lid. ‘Okay.’

The whites of his eyes were tainted by a little redness, the rest of his face was drained of colour though – the migraine lingered in some form. He shut his office door behind him, his hands still restless.

‘What did Jackson want?’ she asked.

They had anticipated separate debriefings. She had dealt with Chris’s enquiries first thing. His concrete face had broken into a perfunctory smile and he’d issued a congratulations on her success, followed by a firmer rebuke for her excessive force. Face to face with Chris, she had been more honest than in her report. However, nobody with a pulverised face had been admitted to hospitals around Dublin. Perhaps he’d walked out unaided, she had told Chris, who had shared her optimism with a pessimistic frown. He wasn’t happy about the fallout either, but it wasn’t their job to hunt down traffickers, only the women. As for Opportunitas, he accepted her changing role without a fight, which meant Jackson had already told him.

Mark flopped into his chair. ‘He wasn’t gentle with me. He pushed me to see things. I'm allowed to hate my mother, it seems. And I can declare my father decent, at least as far as motives, if not the crime itself. Of course, it doesn't actually mean anything to have Jackson Haynes sanction these things, but it helps to know he'll watch my back, and Ellen's. She's going to Scotland. He offered some reassurances about my future. It’s good. My work here must be my priority from now on.’

She rested her hands on his shoulders, gently massaging the rigid muscles. He moaned, and cricked his head from side to side.

‘And?’

‘He’s told me to go home for a few days and rest. I think I might need some nursing care.’

‘Do you now?’ she said, dryly. ‘From whom?’

‘Oh, a certain Nurse Julianna. I’m sure she could do with a break. He pretty much implied that. So here I am, in desperate need of some love and attention.’

‘Love and attention?’ she said quietly, her heartbeat noisy.

‘I love you,’ he said, twisting his head over his shoulder. ‘I’m sorry, sorry that I made you wait for me to say this. I couldn't in the car. I couldn't last night. I'm not great at saying these things—’

‘Most men aren't.’ She moved around him and perched on the edge of the desk. Perhaps she had been hasty, too. Mark’s safety remained crucial. Zustfaller was unlikely to stop what he had started. ‘Move in with me.’

He raised his eyebrows. ‘I'm not suggesting we should marry—’

‘Pufft. Nor am I. I'm asking you to come live with me because it’s safer.’

‘Safer?’ He folded his arms across his chest.

‘I'm a highly trained bodyguard.’

‘I know. And, anything else?’

‘A smooth lover?’

He laughed. ‘I think we could try harder at that, don't you?’

She slid onto his lap. ‘Fine. Dandy. Whatever it takes. I just want us to be okay again, like we were—’

‘Before I bottled my emotions and let things slide.’ He stroked her thigh.

She stilled his hand. ‘Give yourself time, Mark. Go see your father.’

He puckered his lips and knotted his eyebrows. ‘Dad, but not yet. Certainly not Mum.’

‘No, not Deidre. She can wait. But Bill needs to know he’s not lost to you. He wrote you letters; kind of sweet and old-fashioned of him. I would call him an old-style crook. Bad, but not psychopathic.’

‘Nice of you.’ He inhaled and rubbed his temple. ‘Okay. I'll write to him, start things there, but nothing about Freddy, not until we’re sure the threat is gone.’

‘And your mum?’ She collected her leaden handbag.

‘She can wait. If I’m going to start mending bridges, then Ellen deserves it more than her.’

She concurred – an admirable idea. However, the only thing lurking unresolved was the Deliverer. What was he planning to do now that Ellen was safe and Mark was fully aware of the connection between Bill and Haydocks? Probably let loose all kinds of hell.

Part Two

* RETRIBUTION *

  35

Mark

SPRING

From the frisking down at the gate to the monotonous voices of the guards, the rituals re-enforced the strangeness of the place. Mark followed the signs and listened to the instructions. He had heard them all before. However, it had been a long time since his last visit and the appearance of his father shocked him: prison killed a man in slow motion, sapping his humanity and leaving only the bones of life.

The use of a communal visiting area forced Bill and Mark to speak in hushed tones. Mark didn't bother with pleasantries and hoped his face looked like thunderclouds.

‘You're guilty. I traced the witness, and he confirmed it. But don’t worry, he’s staying silent. Don't waste any more of my life pretending otherwise. Come clean, Dad.’ Mark leaned across the table, knuckles white and clenched. ‘If you don’t, I’m not coming to see you ever again.’

Dressed in an unflattering monochrome uniform, pale in his sunless skin and ragged around the eyes, Bill crumbled with sagging shoulders into a heap on his plastic chair until his chin nearly rested on the table. The room buzzed with voices, some loud, others like them, hushed and confrontational. He spoke so softly Mark had to cup his ear to hear him.

‘I didn’t want you growing up with a murderer