I’d been right about him heading my way when the newspaper article about his accident had come across my feed. He wanted something from me. Again. There was no other reason he showed up. Not for a birthday or graduation from the academy. Not even Christmas.
He rubbed his face. He had a five o’clock shadow that was more salt than pepper. “That’s because I’m under a lot of stress.” He tipped his head toward the seat across from him. “Sit down. We need to talk.”
“No,” I said. “We really don’t.” I lowered the pistol and gritted my teeth. I didn’t want this man to be in the same town as me, much less the same house. How dare he tell me to take a seat at my own table. What was it with controlling men?
His familiar brown eyes were filled with a plea. A silent beg. “Meggie, please. My life’s in danger. I wouldn’t have come if it wasn’t desperate.”
My stomach clenched, and I worked to steel myself against whatever story he had. His problems weren’t mine. They stopped being mine a long time ago.
“I can’t help you,” I said to forestall whatever favor he was going to ask. This was a familiar dance. He came begging for favors, and I sent him on his way.
He sat there, unmoving, staring at the mouth of his beer and some of my resolve bled away.
Dammit. I hated him, but I couldn’t resist his… his… fuck if I knew.
I plopped down in the chair opposite him.
He considered me for a long moment. “You never will forgive me, will you?” He sounded old and tired.
I blew out an impatient breath. “It’s not about forgiveness. Although, no–I probably won’t. Leaving your daughter to take the fall for your job was pretty low. I spent a year in juvie because of you.”
“I keep trying to explain–I had to get out of there or the cops would’ve picked me up, too. If I’d gone in, I’d still be in jail. I couldn’t have helped you from the inside. You were under eighteen.” He twisted his beer on the table, watching the condensation drip down its neck. “They go easier on minors. Your record was sealed.”
“So you’ve said.” I got it. I did. Logically, it made sense. But emotionally? It had felt like an abandonment. No, it had been just that. I’d been all in with my dad playing cat burglar jewel thief, thinking we were a team except he’d left me to take the fall. A year. In juvie.
What was the saying? There’s no I in team?
I shook my head, sickened by the sight of him. At what he’d done. What I’d done. The life I had before I returned to Sparks. The one I wanted to forget and tried to put behind me by becoming the good guy. Enforcing the law instead of breaking it.
“So you’re desperate.” I got back to the point.
“It’s Burns. I was working a job for him and got double-crossed by my partner.” His eyes went soft. “It should’ve been you, Meggers.”
I slapped my hand on the table. “God, Dad! It will never be me! Never again. I am a sheriff’s deputy.”
He went on like I hadn’t interrupted. “My partner took the goods, and I had nothing to give Burns. He’s turning the screws on me now–he thinks I’m the double-crosser. I have to do a job to prove my loyalty. I take nothing, the prize is that I get to live.” My dad gave me a lopsided smile.
“Burns is your old business partner, right? What is he exactly? A bookie? Loan shark?”
He shook his head. “Worse.”
He didn’t say more, and I really didn’t want to know. I wasn’t even sure why I asked in the first place. Any guy who was going to kill my father wasn’t someone I wanted to know anything about.
Shit.
“I can’t help you, Dad. You know I can’t.”
He sighed. “Meggie, I can’t do it on my own–not with this broken collar bone.”
I assumed he got it in that accident I read about.
“I’ve done all the research and planned it all out. You’re the only one who can do it, though.”
“You mean there’s no one else who will do it for free.”
He frowned. “No, it requires a special skill set.”
I lifted a brow. “What’s that? A sheriff’s badge?” I flicked the one on my uniform.
His gaze took in my uniform as if he needed a reminder of the path I’d taken with my life. A good one.
“It’s your size and agility. It’s a skylight job–too tight… and high for me to get through, even if I wasn’t injured.”
“Oh no.” I huffed out a laugh. “No way. You’re out of your mind. Absolutely not.” I stood. I needed to get my dad out of my house. This conversation was over. I had nightmares about the last time I crawled through a skylight… and the year that followed.