Too Charming (28 page)

‘As I told you on the phone, I’m fine. Quit worrying.’

‘My daughter gets a knife waved at her and you tell me not to worry?’

‘I tell you not to worry because I’m good at defending myself. If anyone was going down, it was him.’

‘I heard it was actually Scott who went down,’ her father interrupted, his eyes gently probing.

‘Yeah, well, the dumb fool decided to play hero.’

‘What happened?’

She shrugged off her coat, walked into the living room and sat down, gratefully accepting the glass of wine her mother handed to her. After the day she’d had, she figured she deserved it.

‘Despite me telling him otherwise, he insisted on coming into the warehouse with me. When I moved in on them, Foster started coming towards me. Scott took one look at the knife and dived between us. Nearly got himself killed, the idiot. And there was no need for it because I was a heartbeat away from disarming Foster by kneeing him in the groin. I damn near caught Scott’s groin instead.’

Her father nodded, a small smile playing round his lips.

‘What’s so funny?’ she huffed. ‘The thought of me crushing Scott’s testicles?’

He shook his head. ‘No, sorry, that wouldn’t have been funny at all.’

‘What then?’ The wine was slipping down nicely, but as fast as it was doing its job of relaxing her weary muscles, her father’s
humour was undoing it.

‘Well, I admit to finding it slightly amusing to see you so riled at the thought of Scott diving to protect you. He’s a man, Megan. The decent ones are programmed to protect the people they love.’

‘He doesn’t love me.’

‘No?’

Megan drank back the rest of the wine. She’d have swigged back another one, if she could have been bothered to get it.

‘Well?’

She looked back at him. ‘To be honest, I don’t know how he feels. He does still want us to be together.’

‘And you?’

‘I want what I can’t have,’ she replied tiredly, getting to her feet.

‘What’s that, Megan?’

This time it was her mother asking the question. Megan shook her head. She was too tired for this conversation. ‘It doesn’t matter. I’m going to bed.’

It was only when she’d showered and lay in bed, staring up at the
ceiling, that Megan admitted to herself what she really wanted. She wanted Scott Armstrong back in her life. Not for a few weeks, or a few months, as he was no doubt planning – but forever.

Chapter Thirty

Scott pulled into a space in the hospital car park and turned off the engine. With a sigh of relief he eased back his shoulders and made a mental note to himself: driving with a knife wound, not a particularly clever idea. It wasn’t that he hadn’t been in control of the vehicle; it was an automatic, so he hadn’t needed his left arm much. That hadn’t stopped it hurting like a bugger every time he’d moved it, though. No doubt that was why they’d given him a sling and a strict warning not to do anything that required use of his arm. Like driving, probably. But he was damned if he was going to start hailing taxis when he had over fifty thousand pounds of powerful motor vehicle sitting on his drive. That being said, the way his shoulder was throbbing now as he got out of the car might actually put him off doing this again. At least until it was time to drive home. Threading his arm back through the sling he acknowledged that yes, it did actually feel a heck of a lot better when it was supported, and went in search of his mother.

It was with a great deal of trepidation that he turned the corner into her ward. Last time he’d seen her … well, he wasn’t going to dwell on that. Not when the woman sitting up in the bed before him looked so much more like his mother than she had done in years.

‘Hey.’ He bent down and kissed her on the cheek. ‘You look …’ He struggled for words.

‘Better?’ she asked, smiling.

He shook his head. ‘No, better than better, if you get my meaning.’ Pulling up a chair, he sat down next to her and searched her eyes. For the first time in recent memory, they were clear and bright. ‘Frankly, you look like my mother again.’

Her eyes welled up. ‘I think I’m starting to feel like her again, too.’ She squeezed his hand.

As she was looking so much stronger, Scott took a deep breath and came straight out with it. ‘They’ve arrested Reg for the murder of the girl, Mum.’

He watched as a string of emotions flooded across her face.
Shock, confusion, disgust. The final one was anger. ‘My God.’ She shut her eyes for a moment. ‘To think I was living with that man.’

Scott wasn’t going to let her slip down that road. ‘You weren’t in your right mind,’ he told her sharply. ‘You haven’t been for years. That’s why you’ve been behaving as you did. You have an illness, Mum. Now you’re getting treatment for it. Things will change. You’ll start to feel like you want to live again.’

‘Yes,’ she acknowledged softly. ‘I know you’re right. I already feel better. Whatever they’ve given me, it’s starting to work. This time I want to get better. I want to stop drinking. Before—’

‘You did it for me.’ He looked down at their clasped hands and then
back up at her face. ‘They’ve recommended another stint in a clinic. One you haven’t been to. I think it would be a good idea.’

To his relief, she nodded. ‘Yes, they mentioned it. I think it would be good, too.’

‘Then you come home.’ He studied her face, the beauty that was still there beneath the tired and worn features. ‘It’s your home too, Mum. Bought with Dad’s compensation money. He’d want you to live there.’

‘I want to live there. It’s just that these last few years …’ She sighed and sank back against the bed. ‘I haven’t wanted to stay for long because I was too ashamed of the woman I saw in the mirror. I didn’t want to be an embarrassment to you.’

‘God.’ He put both hands round hers and held them – and squeezed his eyes shut in an effort to stop them filling up. ‘You weren’t,’ he told her, only just managing to croak out the words. ‘You aren’t. I just wanted to find a way to help. It hurt that I couldn’t.’

‘I know and I’m so sorry.’ She wiped a tear away from her eyes and smiled.
‘My darling boy. One day a pretty young woman is going to see you for the good catch you are. Once she does, she’ll never let you go.’ Her eyes narrowed and she fixed him with a long look. ‘Perhaps that young lady police officer. She looks smart enough.’

The mischievous look in her eyes set him off and he found himself laughing. Something he hadn’t done with his mother for longer than he cared to remember. ‘You must be feeling better if you’re starting to meddle.’

She chuckled. ‘Yes. I think I’m going to enjoy watching my son finally fall in love.’

Scott thought of the way Megan had practically run away from him last night. ‘I only hope I enjoy it, too.’

Megan spent the day putting together the case details on
Reg Blake, ready to hand over to the crown prosecution team. She also found out some very interesting information on Scott’s father, from John Foster. She’d noticed earlier that he’d worked in homicide at the time of Donald Armstrong’s arrest. Not only that, he’d worked out of the same station where Armstrong senior had been charged. Now that Foster had been caught red-handed, he seemed prepared to grass on anything and everything. Including what had happened on the day that Scott’s uncle had been killed. Megan had listened with a strange mixture of delight and horror. Delight because she would finally be able to tell Scott exactly what had happened that night. Horror that men, who should have been on the right side of the law, had conspired to sentence an innocent man to a lifetime in prison rather than risk their own careers. It was beyond shameful. It reminded her of what her father had told her only a few days ago. Not everything was black and white. And the shades of grey weren’t always obvious at first glance.

On the drive home, Megan
realised that if she’d met Scott now, she would have been far less antagonistic over what he did for a living. Not that it would have made much difference in the long run.

Her phone rang as she let herself into the house. ‘Scott?’

‘Missed me?’

Her heart leapt at his voice and as she looked at the clock on the wall, she couldn’t resist a wry smile. ‘It’s been less than twenty-four hours since I last saw you.’

‘That is a fact, but it doesn’t answer my question.’

‘How are you?’ she asked, deliberately changing the subject.

‘I’ll take your lack of an answer as a yes.’

‘Believe whatever you want.’ She almost laughed. He’d always put his own spin on her replies anyway, twisting them to suit his own needs.
I don’t want to go out for a drink with you. Great, then we’ll have dinner
. ‘Now tell me how your shoulder is.’

‘I thought I’d pop round this evening. Give you a chance to see for yourself.’

Her heart stilled, though she should have expected he’d want to see her. In fact he was probably so grateful for her help in clearing his mum that he’d be bombarding her with affection. For a while. Something her fragile heart really wasn’t up to receiving. Safer not to see him, then. But she had information about his father. Information she knew Scott needed to hear. ‘Okay. If you can wait until Sally’s in bed. Come around eight?’

‘I was hoping to see Sally.’

‘No.’ Her reply was sharper than she’d intended. ‘Look, I think it’s best that you don’t see her.’

There was a brief silence on the other end. ‘Because of the picture she drew.’

It was said in a flat, heavy voice that clearly telegraphed his hurt feelings. ‘I’m sorry,’ she answered, this time more gently, ‘but I don’t want her getting the wrong idea about us.’

‘And what, exactly, would be the right idea?’ he replied tersely. Before she had a chance to formulate some sort of reply, which for the life of her she didn’t know quite what, he cut in. ‘Forget it. I’ll see you at eight.’

Scott was still quietly fuming when he pulled up outside her house as scheduled. He had half a mind to loudly rev the engine on the drive and then stomp into the house, shouting at the top of his voice, so Sally knew exactly who had just arrived. To say he felt aggrieved was an understatement. Not the best frame of mind in which to talk to Megan about their future.

She greeted him warily. He didn’t know whether that was because she sensed his annoyance, or whether she was worried that he was going to talk about issues that made her uncomfortable. Like what was going on between them. Like the fact that he knew damn well she still wanted him as much as he wanted her.

‘Would you like a drink?’

What he wouldn’t have given for a stiff measure of whiskey. ‘A coffee would be great, thanks.’ Whiskey, painkillers and fast cars. Not a combination to be recommended.

He followed her into the kitchen where she set about making two mugs of coffee with quick, tidy movements. He loved to watch her when she wasn’t looking. Loved the way she moved with such lithe grace. Then she turned and caught him staring.

‘How are you getting on with the sling?’ She looked pointedly at the object in question, which was currently dangling out of his jacket pocket.

‘Fine.’

‘I’m not a doctor, but isn’t it more effective if you actually put your arm in it?’

‘Funny girl.’ Refusing to smile, he pulled the sling out of his pocket and shoved it round his neck.

‘Here, let me.’

Carefully, she eased his arm into the sling and straightened out the material, her arms looping round his neck as she smoothed it down. At that moment he made the mistake of breathing in. His senses got a double dose of Megan heaven. She smelt as fresh as a daisy and as sexy as a siren. What a combination. As his good arm automatically reached for her, itching to pull her towards him, she spun out of his grasp and went to pick up the drinks. He took some satisfaction from noticing that her hands weren’t totally steady.

‘We can take these into the sitting room. Mum and Dad have gone upstairs.’

Frustrated, aching in parts of his body that went far beyond his shoulder, Scott followed behind her, unable to stop staring at her cute buttocks as they moved beneath the tight material of her trousers. God, he loved everything about this woman.

She waited for him to sit down and then deliberately chose a seat as far away from him as possible, which made him want to yell with frustration. But before he could do or say anything, she shocked him to the core with her opening words. ‘I found out some interesting information about your father today.’

‘Oh?’ He was aware of his whole body tensing as he reached on
to the coffee table for his mug.

‘John Foster was there on the night your father was arrested.’

‘Christ.’ Coffee spilled from the mug on to his hand. Shoving it back on to the table, he wiped his hand on his trousers. Then he braced himself and looked up. ‘What did he have to say?’

‘He was there as part of the back-up team. The police had a tip-off that your uncle was about to set up a deal.’ She hesitated. ‘He was involved in counterfeit money. I don’t know if you knew?’

‘Yeah. Dad told me.’ Thrusting the hand that was still smarting from the spilt coffee into his pocket, he tried to marshal his scattered thoughts. While he desperately wanted to hear the police’s view of what had happened that night, to see if it matched his father’s interpretation, he desperately
didn’t
want to discuss more of his family’s shady past with Megan. A round of conversation about his fraudster uncle and jailbird father wasn’t going to create the right atmosphere for what he had in mind. Which went more along the line of spilling out his feelings and persuading her to give them another chance. He just hadn’t worked out the mechanics of how he was going to do that yet.

‘Well,’ Megan continued, clearly set on telling him what she’d found out, whether he wanted to hear it or not, ‘It seems that the police were watching your uncle from a next door room, waiting for the deal to go down. Then your father burst in. He spoke angrily with your uncle, demanding he stop what he was about to do and come with him. A fight started between the two of them. Then the man your uncle had been about to do business with arrived. In the chaos, one of the police officers fired a warning shot. At least that’s what was supposed to have happened.’

‘The officer accidentally shot my uncle,’ he filled in slowly. It was what his father had always believed.

‘Yes. Terrified that he might go down for it, or at the very least it might ruin his career, the three policemen there that night concocted a different story.
That your father shot his brother. They figured your father was involved in dodgy dealings anyway, so he deserved a stint in prison.’

‘He wasn’t,’ he said sharply. It was vital she understood that.

‘I know.’

Scott tried to picture the events of that night. The confusion on his poor father’s face as he’d not only had to come to terms with the loss of his brother, but also the fact that he was being charged with his murder. The image left him shaken. ‘What happened to the officer who fired the gun?’

She gave a small shake of her head. ‘He died from a heart attack several years ago.’

His body suddenly felt chilled and he reached for his coffee, needing the heat. ‘Is this all going to be put on record?’ His voice was shaking and he couldn’t stop it. ‘It’s too late for Dad but damn it, it’s only right that he should have his name officially cleared.
Even if it has to be posthumously. I want every bugger that ever besmirched his character to realise they were wrong.’

‘I’ll make sure it is, Scott. We can get the press to print something. It’ll make quite a story.’