The Negotiator (31 page)

A floor-to-ceiling bookshelf lined with books took up an entire wall. A quick scan of their titles revealed they were positioned in alphabetical order. Various original paintings from artists she recognized filled another wall, their positions perfectly aligned. It appeared the PI work paid well.

Andy’s face was set in hard lines. “Let’s not beat around the bush, Donaldson. You’ve been following Ms Savage for weeks. Now you’ve approached her son. You’ve stepped over the line. We’re here for answers.”

Ignoring him, the investigator turned his attention back to Cally. His piercing gaze pinned her to the seat. “There’s someone who misses you a great deal. He hired me to find you and to report back on how you’re doing. He’s also very interested in your son. He’d like very much to see you both.”

Her heart leaped in her throat and her hands were suddenly damp. Images of Stewart flashed through her mind as he’d been over ten years ago. Laughing, smiling, charming—selfish, egotistical, cowardly.

There was a time, not that long ago, when the news Stewart had come looking for her would have set her heart racing with excitement and anticipation. She couldn’t count how many nights she’d dreamed of him finding her and begging her to take him back.

But that was before Andy. Before she knew what real love was. Before she knew that loving someone was as much about giving as it was about receiving. She was no longer the innocent young girl whose head was turned by a good-looking charmer. She’d learned the hard way that life didn’t always end up happily ever after. Though it was so much better now…

Her son was the most precious thing to her in the world and a tiny part of her would always be grateful for the contribution Stewart had made to his existence, but she was through with Stewart once and for all. He didn’t deserve her. He didn’t deserve
them
. He never had.

Glancing across at Andy, she saw the tension in his face. He seemed to have come to the same conclusion—the man who’d hired Donaldson was Stewart Brady. Her heart ached when she saw how his eyes were shadowed with doubt and vulnerability and his hands were fisted in his lap.

Wanting to reassure him, she reached over and took hold of his hand, gently easing his fingers out of their clenched position and entwining her fingers with his. Giving his hand a squeeze, she smiled at him, hoping he could feel her love.

* * *

Despite Cally’s encouraging smile and the reassuring pressure of her soft hand in his, Andy’s gut tightened at the investigator’s words.
It had to be Brady.
He was coming after Cally—probably with a view to picking up where he’d left off. Only this time, he had a son. He was going to waltz in and begin playing happy family for however long it suited him this time around.

Andy had no doubt it wouldn’t be forever. The Stewart Brady’s of the world were always looking for something else. The degree of selfishness required to turn your back on your pregnant, sixteen-year-old girlfriend didn’t generally lessen. In fact, that type of inherent self-absorption usually only got worse.

He only hoped Cally would see it for what it was. Brady was a leech. He’d suck her dry of everything good she had to offer and when it suited him to leave her again, he would. Andy understood better than most the Stewarts of the world. His father had been one of them.

Bob Warwick had effectively abandoned his family many years before his death. His drinking and violent outbursts—and later, his addiction to illicit drugs—were all acts of a selfish, self-centered man with no thought or concern for how anyone else was faring.

His father’s childhood might have been a train wreck, but that didn’t excuse Bob Warwick for perpetuating the same cycle of violence and abuse on his family. After all, despite all the statistics, Andy had managed to pull himself out of the mire of pain and humiliation of his youth and had made something of his life. He simply couldn’t imagine ever taking his fists to Cally, or to any woman or child.

As if sensing his thoughts, her fingers tightened in his. His heart tripped over and he returned the pressure, taking comfort from her gesture.

“It’s Brady, isn’t it?” His eyes were hard on Donaldson’s face.

“I’m afraid I can’t answer that. I’m sure you appreciate client confidentiality.”

The fakeness of Donaldson’s perfect smile set Andy’s teeth on edge. Anger flared to life. His voice became low and threatening. “Did I forget to mention I’m with the police? Be warned. You go near Cally or her son again and I’ll have your license revoked so fast you won’t even have time to clear out your office.”

Donaldson’s smile lost some of its brilliance, but remained firmly in place. “You can’t do that. You’re bluffing.”

He reached into his jacket pocket.

Donaldson tensed.

Andy flashed his badge. “Just watch me.”

Andy pushed back his chair and stood. Despite the investigator’s impressive height, Andy towered over him, his strength and sheer physical presence dominating the room. The men eyed each other across the desk. Turning abruptly, Andy helped Cally from her chair and then strode to the door.

“We’ll see ourselves out.”

* * *

“It
has
to be Stewart.” Cally stared out the window as Andy drove silently back the way they’d come.

“
Mm
,” he replied noncommittally, not ready to get into a discussion about her ex-boyfriend and how she might or might not still have feelings for him. But she was persistent.

“There’s no one else who fits the category. ‘Someone who misses me a great deal’ and who’s also interested in Jack? Of course it’s Stewart.”

He sighed, resigned to the fact that she needed to sort out the thoughts which were no doubt swirling around inside her head, just as they were in his.

“What about your father? Maybe it’s him?” he said, more to steer her away from the subject of her ex-boyfriend than to explore any real belief he had that the man involved was anyone but Brady.

He wanted to howl and scream at the injustice of it. She’d agreed to marry him, but that was when there’d been no other men vying for her hand. Now, with the imminent re-emergence of her first love, the father of her child, he couldn’t help but wonder if things would be different—if even now she was regretting her hasty agreement to marry him.

After all, as far as she knew, he was just a police officer with a nice car and a big TV. He hadn’t wanted her to want him for his material possessions, but if push came to shove in the game to win her heart, he’d pull out all the stops to come out triumphant.

A small voice inside him argued with him about whether he really wanted her if, in the end, she chose him over Brady merely because of his wealth. The thought disquieted him as much now as it had earlier, when he’d decided to keep it secret. But she was
the one
. And if she loved him, too, wouldn’t that be enough?

“It wouldn’t be my father,” she said quietly, interrupting his thoughts. “You don’t know him. He’s not a man who forgives a wrong and in his mind I wronged him more than anyone. At least, that’s how he saw it. He didn’t even tell me when Mom died.”

Andy choked, shocked out of his reverie. “You’re kidding? What sort of a father does that?”

“The same one who was principal of the local school and threw his pregnant teenage daughter out on the street.”

He shook his head in disbelief, still amazed any father could react that way. After a few moments, he reached over and took her hand in his and squeezed it hard. “How did you find out she’d died?” he asked quietly.

Cally released a deep, shuddering breath. When she finally spoke, her voice was dull and lifeless. “My aunt told me. I’m not sure how she found out, but after all, they were sisters. I guess she found out through her family.”

“When did your mom die?”

“A couple of years before Aunt Mary. Jack was six. She had a massive heart attack. It happened at home. It’s funny, she’d never even been sick before. At least, not while I lived there.”

“Sometimes these things happen and no one really knows why,” he offered, trying to comfort her.

“Yes.” She grimaced. “That’s what my aunt said.”

“Did Jack go to the funeral?”

“
I
didn’t go to the funeral.”

For the second time in as many minutes, his mouth fell open in shock. “Say,
what?
”

She turned to stare out of the window. He’d almost convinced himself she wasn’t going to answer when she turned back to him, her eyes welling with tears.

“My father told me not to go.”

He gaped and moved his lips, but words were beyond him. He shook his head and tried to string a sentence together. “Say that again?”

“My father refused to let me to go,” she repeated, her face hardening. “I telephoned him after I found out and he told me I wasn’t welcome there.”

“You’re kidding me? He wouldn’t let you go to your own mother’s
funeral
? That’s incomprehensible. What did your aunt say? Did she go?”

Cally shook her head sadly. “No, she’d been cut off by her family years earlier, my mother among them. As much as she wanted to go, she knew my mother wouldn’t have wanted her there and she respected that.” She swiped at her eyes. “Not that it didn’t upset her. I caught her crying in the garden the evening after we found out.”

He let go of her hand and negotiated the exit off the freeway and headed toward Chatswood. “Did your father know you had a son?”

“Yes. Aunt Mary telephoned my parents shortly after Jack was born.” Her lip trembled. She struggled on with what he could tell was forced insouciance. “Neither of them came to visit me. Not even once.”

His fingers tightened around the steering wheel. In angry silence he cursed Cally’s parents who’d hurt her just as much, if not more, than her selfish boyfriend.

“That leaves Brady,” he murmured.

Cally’s shoulders slumped. “I guess so.”

Andy pursed his lips, dread weighing him down. “I think you should meet with him.” The words fell out of his mouth.

“
W-what
? What did you say?”

His gaze clashed with hers. He understood her shock. Even he couldn’t believe he’d said it, but there was no other way. Brady had to be dealt with. Andy had always believed the best way to deal with a problem was head-on.

“I said, I think you should meet with him.”

“You mean with
Stewart
?” Her eyes were wide.

“Yes, with Stewart. It’s the only way. Meet him up front, see what he wants and then hopefully, he’ll be satisfied and disappear out of your life again.”

“But what if he doesn’t?”

It was the same question that was killing him, but he wasn’t about to admit that. Instead, he shrugged casually. “Then we’ll deal with that, if and when it happens. It’s not as if he’s going to come charging in and whisk you off into the sunset. You’re with me now, right?”

He stared ahead, pretending to concentrate on the road in front of him and waited nervously for her answer. It came without hesitation and his heart clenched.

“Of course! It’s just that, I’m not sure if I’m ready to…share Jack with Stewart.” She glanced across at him. “It’s different with you. I mean, you’re not his father. You’re not someone who might have a legal claim to him. Not like his father would. Do you know what I mean?”

He forced a smile to conceal the stab of hurt. Of course he wasn’t Jack’s father, but that didn’t mean he
couldn’t
be—did it? Surely, she’d thought about how things would be after they got married? He wanted to adopt Jack as his own.

He frowned and wondered for the first time whether she’d be unhappy with the idea. He’d assumed she’d be thrilled about it. It never occurred to him she might feel territorial about her son or worse, that she’d be opposed to the idea.

“Andy? What’s the matter? Did I say something wrong?”

The uncertainty in her voice clutched at his heart and he exhaled on a loud sigh. He didn’t want any misunderstandings between them. If they were going to argue about his role in Jack’s life, they might as well deal with that now.

He gave her a sideways look. “You’re right. I’m not Jack’s father.” He pinned her with his gaze and then returned his attention once again to the road. “I’m going to marry you, Cally. You’re going to be my wife. So, I was wondering where that leaves Jack? If I’m not going to be a father to him, then what?”

She sputtered, completely taken aback. “Andy…um, I don’t know. I guess I haven’t… I haven’t thought about it. Of course you’ll be in Jack’s life. He’s my son. He and I go together. Love me, love my son.”

He nodded, sparing her another glance. “Okay, that all sounds good in theory, but what about when it comes to the hard stuff? What about discipline and deciding whether he’s going to the movies with one of his mates or what time he has to be home? Who will decide that stuff, Cally? If I’m going to be the kind of father I want to be to Jack, you’re going to have to let me have a say in everything. I’m not only going to be a father to him when it suits you. I can’t have you pull the rug out from underneath me if it doesn’t.”

She stared at him, her eyes widening in surprise. “I-I don’t know what to say, Andy. I guess I haven’t given any thought to the practical day-to-day stuff. I’m just happy you want to marry me.” She offered him a strained smile, but he wasn’t buying it.

“You need to think about it, Cally. It’s all well and good to be happy about getting married. Hell, I’m thrilled about it. But, we need to talk about Jack. Especially now Brady’s back in the picture.”

She sighed and her face sobered. “You’re right and I’m sorry. It’s just that, Jack and I have been a two-man team for so long… It’s going to take some getting used to—sharing the responsibility for him with someone else. Even when we lived with Aunt Mary, she never intervened or interfered with the way I raised him.”

At the look on Andy’s face, she added, “Not that I’m implying you’re going to interfere, it’s just that…” She shrugged helplessly.

His eyes burned with emotion. “Cally, I’m never going to be happy being a visitor in Jack’s life. I accept that he’s your son and for the last ten years, you’ve had total control over him.” He glanced across at her again, trying to gauge her reaction. “But I can’t and I won’t be a part-time dad. It’s all or nothing. I need to know I have your support on this.”