Tumble Creek (23 page)

‘Let go of me!' She wrenched her arm away, and leaning into his face she hissed, ‘Don't you dare touch me!'

‘Look, Sofie, I just want to return a few things that I inadvertently took when I left,' Jett stated calmly, but she wasn't fooled, the superior edge to his tone was more than enough to piss her off.

‘Took—took!' she hissed. ‘Stole more like. And what makes you think that
I
believe you still have them—huh?'

‘Well, I do.' He pulled an envelope out of his shirt pocket. ‘Here,' he mumbled and handed it over.

Sofie snatched it out of his hand, opened it and peered inside. ‘My gold filigree earrings.' Glaring at him, she snapped, ‘These were a gift from Uncle Bob. You stole them out of my jewellery box. Where's my gold heart and chain, my grandmother's engagement ring? I have a list of precious pieces that went missing. I searched everywhere for them. I never would've believed you would stoop so low and steal what essentially will go to Claudia,
your daughter
! What else did you take, huh?'

‘I didn't steal them, I—'

Sofie cut him off. ‘What would you call it, you moron!'

‘I don't know, I was keeping part of you close to me, I guess and—'

‘What a load of bullshit. Oh wait—' she jabbed a finger into his chest several times, ‘—I know, they weren't Miss Universe's style, or as Claudia so aptly called her, Miss Vinegar Tits—huh? Is that it? Or, she liked them well enough, I mean what's not to like, they're gorgeous, but I bet you took them back when she kicked you out. In fact you probably took all her expensive shit.'

‘No!' There was just a flicker of his eyes shifting to the side before coming back to hers; he was such a bad liar. ‘I wouldn't do that to you. I'm a lot of things, Sofie, but I'd never openly steal from you.'

It hurt all over again that Jett treated her like a gullible fool. Well maybe she had been for a while during their time together. Maybe she had hoped he'd revert back to the guy she became friends with and married. But that was decades ago. She was way past that energy-sapping kind of thinking—wasn't she?

‘You don't understand,' he went on, ‘I was taken in, it was like I was hypnotised, she can do that you know, she's had training and—'

‘Not another word! You are a lying, cheating, whingeing bastard!' Mouth tight, muscles tense, she hissed, ‘You know, a normal bloke, who loved his wife, would
not
have had an affair. And if he had any balls at all, he'd have owned the fuck up and done his utmost to keep his family together and
not
take off with someone else.' Enjoying her rant, she continued, ‘Then again, if he had some sort of weird thing happening like he was in love with two women at the same time, you'd think he'd take some weird sick shit like a pair of undies or a bra!' She shuddered, but went on, needing to get her point across, snarling, ‘You know, something intimate, but not something of
monetary
value that you could hock!'

He smiled and said, ‘You always did wear nice underwear.'

‘God you're such an idiot, do you think I care?'

‘Well yeah! We've known each other since we were teenagers, that's got to count for something.'

Jett folded his arms over his chest, his smug expression underlining the fact that he was a conceited, cocky, overbearing braggart. ‘Yes I tried it with someone else, and it didn't work. You want to know why?'

‘No, I don't.
I—don't—care
!'

‘I missed you.' He gave her his version of sad, lost puppy face, which only made her cringe.

‘I don't want to hear any more or I might vomit all over your Italian shoes. You'd better give back everything you took by tomorrow or I'll pass on what I know to the police. Those pieces don't have any real value, not like you expected, do they?' Guilt flushed Jett's face. ‘Well, you actually
do
have a conscience, of sorts; not that you ever listen to it.'

He took a big breath and clawed back his self-importance. ‘You're missing the whole point, again, Sofie. I'm in this—' arms out he quickly scanned the street, ‘—this backward town to give you back what I borrowed and help you get your life sorted.'

‘Borrowed?! You tried to hock, sell at the pub, or whatever,
my
jewellery; each one has a beautiful, sentimental story behind it. They should be handed down to Claudia, but you took
that
from her, as well as her self-esteem, her confidence, and her peace of mind; and
that
is unforgiveable!'

Sofie was done listening to his bullshit and turned to walk away.

Jett caught her arm again.

‘You'd better let me go,' she warned, glaring at him.

He quickly dropped her arm. ‘Sofie, please, I just want to talk, explain to you I've changed. Let me buy you a coffee or a drink at the pub, somewhere public, please, Sofie. Honestly, I've seen the mistakes I've made. I want to try and fix things, please let me do it for Claudia. She needs to know her father lo-loves her.'

Sofie had little time to wonder why he stumbled over the word ‘love' as Jett, getting louder, continued blathering on.

‘I need to make her see how sorry I am.' Head inclined, Jett leaned forward. ‘I'm not asking for forgiveness. You need to help me help Claudia. She was so angry with me like the other day, it's not healthy. Can we at least try and fix it so she's not in a rage every time she sees me?'

Now Jett was poking at her motherhood capabilities, sowing the seed of doubt that she'd been wrong. Was she partly to blame for this awful mess? There had been times when she'd been so busy with studies and looking after Claudia, she'd sometimes fallen asleep over her books. Had she married him in the first place just to thumb her nose at her parents? Had she driven him away to look for someone else to get what he needed? It was wrong to make comparisons, but deep inside her soul she was damn sure Brock would never behave like that. If she'd fallen asleep at the table, he would've picked her up and carried her to bed,
and
snuggled. She wanted nothing to do with Jett, but she did want Claudia to have a better relationship with her dad, even if it got her to a place where she was just less angry. She sighed heavily: it was a damned-if-you-do and damned-if-you-don't decision.

‘It's a trifle early for a drink at the pub, and the only decent coffee in town is at Veronica's, and I know if Jennifer saw you, she'd come out wielding her best carving knife to cut out your heart. Or at the very least hit you with a mallet while you're not looking.'

‘You're not serious?' Jett asked, appalled. ‘What did I ever do to her?'

Sofie rolled her eyes and didn't answer—but she did glare at him.

‘Okay, well, I'm staying at Tudor House B&B.' Then he muttered, ‘It's the only halfway decent place in this burg. Come on, Sofie, we'll take my car. I'll give you what's yours, they're in a safe in my room. Please, for Claudia. She'll have her precious family heirlooms.'

Sofie made a guilt-riddled decision. ‘Okay, where's your car?' Shit, was she doing the right thing? She bloody hoped so.

She followed him to a small car park just off the main street. He pointed his keys, and lights flickered on a top-of-the-range gleaming black Audi. Her mind scrambled for an explanation as to why the hell he had an expensive car like that when he never gave her a cent for Claudia's expenses—not that she'd have taken it.

Jett opened the passenger door for her, and
that
would have to be a first.

A wave of suspicion caught hold of her and she stepped back, reflexively.

He inclined his head, and drawled, ‘For no other reason than for old time's sake and to return what is yours … and Claudia's of course.'

She slid into the luxurious leather bucket seat. Jett hurried around the bonnet, climbed in behind the wheel and started the car, which purred beautifully. He pulled out of the car park and headed to the B&B on the outskirts of town.

Sofie rummaged in her bag for her phone and started to ring Brock.

‘What're you doing?' Jett cried out, took his eyes off the road, then his hand shot out and tried to grab her phone, and in the process backhanded her cheek bone. The car swerved and an oncoming driver hit his horn. ‘Shit!'

‘Owe! Bloody hell, Jett.' The crack to her cheek made her see stars and her eyes water.

‘Sorry, didn't mean it! Will you stop trying to ring that cop!'

‘Shut up! Shit that hurt,' Sofie muttered, rubbing her cheek and wiping away the tears. Brock didn't answer, so she left a message, ‘I agreed to go with Jett to Tudor Manor for a chat about arranging some sort of compromise with Claudia, hope it works. Talk later.'

‘Why are you telling him anything?' Jett yelled, going red in the face.

‘Because Brock is in my life. We're seeing each other. I'm in his bed! He witnessed the
domestic
at Veronica's. Someone in town would've seen us talking, people here watch out for each other so, he needs to know that I agreed to this and won't be after you with his fists.'

‘What?!' He sounded worried. ‘After me with his fists?' In Jett's world, he always came first. Eyes on him she waited for him to realise his mistake. And he didn't disappoint. Jett quickly changed the subject adding, ‘You're in his bed!?'

His face hardened, but it was all an act, really he couldn't give a shit. She didn't care what he thought, the important thing was she felt good about herself and her relationship with Brock.

Teeth clenched, Jett made a grumbling sound. Sofie braced herself; years ago when he made that noise it was an unconscious warning, he was about to make a derogatory comment.

‘That cop doesn't think anything of you. He told me Claudia's a pain in the arse, and that I was right, you are still my family. He said you've been through a lot lately, and you know how it is, women are strange creatures. He said he couldn't understand why you were making a fuss. And that I was just visiting.' He took a deep breath, and went on, sounding annoyed, ‘All I wanted was to talk, but after investing all my valuable time trying to make you see reason, and to make sure you don't waste your money on this backward town, for my thanks, I now have the local cop's attention.'

Jett's badmouthing Brock hurt. He didn't deserve it, and deep within her soul, Sofie trusted him completely. Everything Brock had done for her and Claudia had made their lives easier, happier. Jett was the lying cheating bastard who didn't care, in his eyes he came first and hang the rest. Even to the detriment of his daughter, and that hurt Sofie more than anything.

‘You invited Brock's attention by the way you behaved at Veronica's.'

‘Rubbish!' Jett complained. ‘He's an overbearing Neanderthal.'

‘You arsehole! You always make these idiotic comments when you feel small and inadequate. Let me enlighten you—you are what you feel—inadequate.' Sofie wanted to kick him in the nuts. ‘Obviously this is not going to work. You're full of yourself as always. Turn around and take me back!'

But he ignored her and drove up a long dirt driveway lined with tall blue spruce pines interspersed with shrubs laden with ornamental bright red berries. He turned in to a connecting drive and parked outside an attractive cottage in the manicured gardens of the B&B.

‘Take me back, Jett. Now!'

‘We're here. I'm not doing anything of the sort.'

Sofie groaned her irritation, swung open her door, flung herself out, but catapulted forward when something caught her foot. It happened so fast, her hands flew out too late to stop the impact. She fell face down in the dirt and gravel, her chin smacking hard against a large rock. Air whooshed out of her lungs; she couldn't make a sound, couldn't scream her pain. The metallic taste of blood made her want to vomit. She lay dazed on the driveway while a voice, somewhere in the distance, yelled at her.

‘Sofie! What the hell are you doing? For fuck's sake!' Jett cursed.

The thumping crunch of his feet came closer as he rounded the car. ‘Will you bloody well get up!'

She had no thoughts other than to get the hell up off the gravel digging painfully into her chin and jaw. She pressed her hands into the dirt and tried to push herself up, but was unable to move.

Jett grabbed the back of her parka, and yanked it up hard, nearly choking her. It didn't help that something was locked around her ankle. She wriggled her foot, trying to free herself. Jett's fingers slipped and she hit the drive again, scraping her knees this time, straight through her jeans, and grazing her palms.

Sofie tried to clear her blurred vision and focus on Jett's expensive Italian shoes near her face, which made her nervous. She had enough sense to edge back. Thankfully the idiot didn't follow.

He bent right down and yelled, ‘Stop fucking around and get the fuck up, Sofie!'

He tugged at her clothes, but Sofie was too groggy to do anything about his commands.

Unlike Brock who could lift her with ease, Jett struggled, and had to shove his hands under her arms and drag her up, complaining the whole time that she should lose weight, and tried to push her back into the car. Muttering obscenities, he moved behind her and lifted her foot, untangling it from the shoulder strap of her handbag.

‘Jett, stop pushing me around, I don't feel good,' Sofie mumbled with difficulty.

‘Shut up.' He hauled her back out of the car and dragged her, with her shoes scraping along the ground all the way, back to his rented cottage and up the four steps leading to the veranda. No fight left in her, Sofie leaned against the wall while Jett opened the door. He shoved her inside, and she stumbled across the threshold. The door slammed shut behind her; the finality of it rang through the little cottage. Jett pushed her towards a couch. Hands on her shoulders, he pressed down and Sofie sank into the cushions, not difficult since she was ready to drop anywhere. She let her head tip forward to her knees and blood dripped out of her mouth.