Hidden Kiss (Love Is The Law 2) (14 page)

Oh, for fuck's sake.
She tipped her head back and
looked Joel in the eye, determined not to let him get to her. "Andy
Riggers? You're right, he's an arsehole."

"You know him well."

"No, I don't."

"You never did explain how he knew you."

"It's not really your business, Joel. Look, I've got a
ton of work to do and I need to get on with it." It was difficult to be
harsh with him. She carried so much guilt from how she had let him down, years
before, but he was different now. Less… vulnerable.

He didn't need her.

He'd needed her before, and she'd made things worse.

Emily swallowed, her mouth drying as she began to sense that
the tables were turning. Now, she felt like the vulnerable one.

"It is my business." He still stood frozen as a
statue. "It is my business after all that abuse I suffered from him. I'd
like to know who he is, and what he's got to do with you. I'm concerned that
someone who works for this charity - although just a temp worker - associates
with someone like that. Isn't that a conflict of interest?"

"I do not associate with him. He knows my name. That's
all."

"He knows more than that. He spoke about… Turner? Your
boyfriend?"

Heart pounding, she said, thickly, "ex-boyfriend."
Anyone with a shred of decency would pick up on the tone in her voice, and drop
the subject.

But not Joel. He had the knife now and he was determined to
twist it. "Oh, really? What a shame. But don't worry. I'm sure you'll move
on quite quickly. People like you bounce back so well."

"Thanks."

At last, he moved, but it didn't break the tension. Instead,
he walked over to her desk, and brought his hands out of his pockets. "Is
that Riggers an ex-boyfriend as well?"

"No."

Emily glanced at her computer screen, and then back at Joel.
"Okay. So I'll tell you the truth, shall I? Last year I met Turner when
he'd just got out of prison. My brother set me up a meeting so I could write an
article about opportunities for ex-offenders. As it happens, that article never
worked out. Riggers is Turner's sister's boyfriend. And Riggers was Turner's
partner in crime. Turner wanted to go straight, Riggers didn't. It ended up
with a big robbery and Turner turned evidence against Riggers and they both went
back to jail. Now they're both out. That's how I know them, and that's how he
knows me, and that's why he's an arsehole."

Joel laughed, unexpectedly. Emily folded her arms and rocked
back in her office chair. "It's the truth, Joel."

"Yeah, whatever. Another sap duped into spilling his
guts for you journalist scum? I believe that bit, at any rate. As for the rest…
you probably shagged him and left him, or something. Or he left you.
Whatever."

Emily couldn't grasp it and she took a deep breath while she
tried to think of a way to convince him. But Joel wasn't interested. He turned
around smartly and strode away, an unfamiliarly confident swing to his stride.

Emily felt the sick frustration of being misunderstood. Her
palms were sweaty. She wanted to run after him, shout at him, persuade him that
this time, she was being totally honest. But what evidence did she have except
Riggers' own testimonial?

It shouldn't bother her as much as it did and she rubbed at
her eyes, sighing. So much for moving on and leaving it all behind. Unfinished
business from her past was still coiling its tendrils around her ankles,
tripping her up.

She hammered out a terse reply to an email enquiry, and
deleted it before she pressed send. This was no use - she could hardly take it
all out on the unsuspecting public.

I want to go around to Riggers' house and give him a
piece of my mind. Just get it off my chest. Joel is turning into a nasty piece
of work but that's no reason for Riggers to be able to hassle him. I know I
should just leave it alone, but it rankles.

A wave of sadness came over her as she pictured Riggers'
house. Not for Riggers, or even for Joel, but for the twins. Kyle and Liam, and
Pearl, and even Elaine. She'd been a part of their lives for a year, now.

A tear prickled in the corner of her eye, startling her. Her
gut wrenched as she realised how much she was going to miss them all. She
hadn't just split up with Turner. She'd lose touch with the whole family.
Damn
it all! How did it fall apart so badly?

She'd been wrong. She had a lot of explaining and
apologising to do. But maybe it was worth one more chance.

* * * *

Turner sprawled over the sofa in Riggers' house. He'd set up
his laptop on the coffee table and had a large cup of tea next to it. Riggers
and Elaine had left him well supplied with snacks and treats, in lieu of actual
babysitting payment, and he was happy enough to help out, anyway. Upstairs,
Kyle and Liam were whispering to one another but he knew it wouldn't be long
before they were asleep.

He hadn't had that showdown with Riggers. He'd let the
alcohol leave his system and take his frustration with it. So when Elaine asked
him to babysit again, he was willing. Though he was partly glad that Riggers
had already gone out when he turned up, prepped with his laptop, ready to work.

He'd worked hard all day on a new commission though, and now
his brain felt like it was melting. His laptop showed the results of the day's
work but he wasn't happy with the colour scheme. He stared at it from a
distance, trying to force his brain to come up with a startling insight into
colour theory.

Nothing.

He finally let himself think the thought he'd been avoiding
all day:
I miss Emily.

He was still angry that she'd lied to him. He mostly felt
let down that she hadn't trusted him. He wanted to help her, not judge her. Why
couldn't she see that?

But then, of course, he'd never exactly been squeaky clean
himself. Before his last prison sentence, hadn't he lied? Misled? Tried to
protect her, and in doing so, excluded her?

He understood the impulse, that was for sure.

And she'd given him a chance. Hell, he'd been sent down for
eight months, and she still gave him a chance.

And regardless of this and that and the other… he missed
her.

Almost without being fully aware of what his hands were up
to, he drew out his smartphone and stared idly at the dark screen, his thumb
hovering over the power button. As if by mental force alone, it sprang into
life, lighting up and buzzing, the sudden text message making him jump in
childish alarm.

Fuck!
He shook his head at himself and sighed.

His pulse quickened when he saw it was Emily. Did he really
want to read it?

Man up.

It was short and to the point.
Can we talk?

He tossed the phone from one hand to the other, thinking.
No, he didn't want to speak with her over the phone. It wasn't enough. He
wanted to see her, even if it was for the last time. And he didn't want to
wait.

Impulsively, he texted her back, explaining he was
babysitting, and inviting her over to Riggers' house. He sent her the address
and the nearest bus stop name.

Her reply came back instantly.
Okay.

The speed of her answer lifted his spirits. He would, at least,
have the chance to be honest and to clear the air. Even if they still split up
for good, he didn't want anything to fester and to linger.

Plus,
he thought wryly as he looked again at the
laptop,
I can get her second opinion on this website design before she goes.

* * * *

Emily alighted the bus a few stops early. She knew where she
was going, and she wanted to be able to walk a little to gather her thoughts.
She wanted to see Turner again, but she also wanted to put off the moment. If
they were going to split up, properly and definitely and for ever, she wanted
to delay it.

So she walked slowly, savouring the gathering dusk, looking
for signs of spring in the dust and the puddles and the dirt and the chill air.
Maybe she needed another trip out to the countryside, where the seasons were
easier to spot.

As she got nearer to Riggers' house, a peaceful clarity
began to take hold, and she hadn't expected that. She let it wrap around her,
warm and comforting. She was going to be honest. Brutally honest. And then let
it all go.

The house was boxy and new, and she knocked hesitantly at
the door. Flimsy modern houses always looked as if they wouldn't stand up to
much force. It was clean and well-presented; that must be Elaine's influence,
she thought.
I imagine that left to his own devices, Riggers would live in
utter filth.

Turner answered and she clung desperately to her dissipating
sense of earlier confidence. He was looking tired, but he smiled thinly and
invited her into the tiny living room. She noticed the enormous television
first of all, and shook her head.

"Can I get you a brew?" Turner asked, slightly
awkward at playing the host in someone else's home.

"No, thanks, it's all right."

"Okay then. You sure?"

"Sure. Can I, uh…"

"Yeah, yes, please do. Sit anywhere." He waved her
down to the only option aside from the sofa, the armchair. She perched on the
edge, still dressed in her outdoor coat, and clutched her bag on her knees. She
realised she was looking defensive so she dropped her bag to the floor, but
kept her coat on.

"Not stopping?" he remarked.

"No. Yes. Um," she said, and shrugged out of her
coat, leaving it pushed and crumpled behind her. "So."

He seemed as ill at ease as she was. She had been surprised
he had agreed to talk, and even more surprised that he'd invited her over. She
looked around, seeking to make idle chit chat first. "Nice house they've
got."

"Yeah. I guess."

Emily looked at him and wanted to hug him, tell him it was
okay, and take him home with her.

But she had some things to set right first. And setting
things right would mean it was all over.

"Turner. I've been an idiot. About a lot of things and
to be honest, it's mostly me, not you."

"Classic line," he noted drily. "It's not
you, it's me."

"In this case… it is. I've been confused. You came out
of prison so sorted and full of energy and all focused. But me… I've been
floundering. I thought I wanted to continue with journalism, but you know what?
The fire for it has just left me."

"I know, that's been obvious since I first met you. I
can't understand why you carry on trying to do something you hate so much."

"I - what? No, when we met, I was still keen on it. And
I don't hate it, but…"

"I thought you came here to be honest."

Emily looked down at her fingers and twined them together,
skin stretched whitely over her knuckles. "I am trying to be honest. Okay,
when I met you, my freelance career was stuttering but I didn't realise it.
It's been difficult to admit to myself that something I'd always dreamed off
has gone sour."

"You're not a failure."

"I never said I was!" she blurted out, a sudden
rush of anger making her feel sick. He didn't reply. He just looked at her,
calmly, and she began to see that her reaction was masking the fact that
underneath, she really did feel like she'd failed.

"Oh god," she said, quietly as self-awareness
dawned. "I just wanted to show I could be determined and have some staying
power."

"Stubborn and bull-headed more like," he said, but
his words lacked any sting. "Just career change. I supported you with the
journalism because you said it was what you wanted to do, although in hindsight
all the signs were there. But why not change? Fuck, Emily, I have. Criminal to
web designer! If I can do that, why can't you move sideways in journalism?"

"Because I don't think I want to be any kind of
journalist." She waited for the sky to fall with that admission.

Turner just shrugged. "So, do something different. You
like your job at the charity. So stay doing that."

"But it's not a graduate career…"

"So what? Who is gonna come around and take your degree
away from you?"

"No one, but…"

"So who cares?"

"It feels like a waste…"

"Earning money in a way that makes you feel happy and
fulfilled? How is that a waste, exactly?"

"Well, no. Okay. I know it sounds stupid."

"It is."

Emily felt her heart sinking at his bluffness. "I'm
sorry. I suppose it's something I've got to deal with. Anyway. So it's been
bothering me. And I know I was stupid for getting into debt. I just thought
that I'd be able to sort it. I didn't want to bother you. And I know I excluded
you, and I'm sorry. I didn't mean to hurt you."

"I know. You just didn't think."

She searched his face for some clue or hint that he
understood but he was blank and impassive.

"Do you think we can make a go of this, Turner?"
she asked at last.

"I don't know," he replied wearily. "I hoped
so. I was sitting here earlier, before you texted, and I was thinking how much
I missed you. But now you're here, my head's all snarled up with emotions and I
can't think straight again. I don't like the feeling of being all
confused."

"No, me neither."

"You mean a lot to me, Emily. But as you've said
yourself, you've got things to work through."

"I know."

"I don't know if I can do it…" he said sadly. "But
we can be friends. I know that's a shitty cliché but we can, can't we?"

She looked at him and was surprised to find that no tears
were gathering in her eyes. She was dry, dry as a barren desert. "Yes, we
can be friends," she said, "But I can't lie to you. I don't really
want to see you for a while. I think we can be friends in the future but… right
now… it's all a bit… raw."

"Yeah. Look, let's have a brew. And while you're here,
there's a website I want you to look at."