LITMIR.BIZ

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but he’s dangerous all the same.”

      She narrowed her eyes. “Did he hurt you? Threaten you? What did he do to make you think he’s dangerous?”

      Sasha glanced toward the beach. “I don’t know.”

      “You don’t know?”

      She turned and pushed the hair back from her eyes, considering John Jordon and the unsettling effect he’d had on her mentally, emotionally...physically. She swallowed. “The man has more anger in the tip of his little finger than I’ve got in my entire body, so there’s trouble on the horizon whichever way we look at it.”

      “I see.” Marian looked toward the bakery across the road. “Does DI Garrett know he’s here? We should call her. We’ve just gotten rid of one Jordon and another turns up.” She faced Sasha again. “Did you know he had a son?”

      She shook her head. “Nope. And he says Freddy didn’t, either. I’ve got no idea what this is going to mean for the fair or Templeton.”

      Marian pushed away from the railing. “Well, whatever it means, DI Garrett should know he’s here. I’m going to call her right now.”

      When she spun away, Sasha clasped Marian’s arm. “Wait. I want to get an idea of what he intends to do first.”

      “But you said—”

      “I know what I said.” Sasha straightened and pulled her bike upright. “There’s something about him that intrigues me. Something’s just not right. He doesn’t exactly look ecstatic to be here, any more than I am to see him.”

      Marian gave an inelegant snort. “How can anyone be right in the head if they’re the product of Kyle Jordon’s bodily fluid? Answer me that.”

      Sasha wrinkled her nose. “Seriously? Bodily fluid?”

      Marian gave a hoot of laughter and patted Sasha’s cheek. “Be careful and call me as soon as you know anything. DI Garrett should be told what’s going on and she trusts my judgment, as I trust yours. The minute you tell me this man is up to no good, I’m on it.” She brushed her thumb over Sasha’s cheek. “I know what that fairground means to you and what it meant to your granddad. Watch your back, okay?”

      Fighting to keep her composure, Sasha covered Marian’s hand with hers and lifted it from her face. She squeezed the older woman’s fingers. “I will. Now get back to the bakery before the inspector turns up because of a riot over honeycomb muffins, let alone anything else.”

      Marian smiled despite the lingering concern in her gaze. “I’m going. Just remember where I am.”

      Sasha saluted, and Marian hurried across the street. Once she’d disappeared inside the shop, Sasha inhaled a deep breath and drew a folded piece of paper from the back pocket of her jeans. She opened it and stared at her carefully typed letter to Kyle, offering him every penny she had for the fair. The amount included the money her grandfather bequeathed her from Funland’s sale to Kyle seven years before, plus some savings.

      Of course, there was still the glaring problem of the contract clause that gripped and twisted at Sasha’s heart...confused and irritated her mind. Why had her grandfather written in a clause to say that the fair wasn’t ever to be resold to anyone in the Todd family? She stared ahead at the growing numbers of locals and holidaymakers gathering on the sand to enjoy another day of the school holidays.

      Why would you do that, Granddad? Why would you keep something from me when you said so many times you wanted it back in the family?

      It was a long shot, but she just hoped and prayed her suspicion that with Kyle imprisoned and her grandfather having passed, the clause would be deemed invalid. She tightened her jaw. Every hope was pinned on the money she’d accumulated being enough. She couldn’t allow this clause to cut her dream to a million pieces. Her plan to ask Freddy to give the letter to Kyle when he next visited him had given her something to hold on to. She finally had a decent sum that even Kyle surely wouldn’t outright dismiss.

      Now John was here, and it was time to find out what his reaction would be to her offer. Clause or no clause. She slid the paper back into her pocket, straddled her bike and pushed onto the road. It was time to face the music...or maniac.

      * * *

      IT WAS ONLY eight-thirty when Sasha stowed her bike at the back of the fairground offices. She locked it to the iron bars of a sad, decrepit and very much disused kiddie ride before smoothing her hands over the rumpled cotton of her shorts. Rare self-consciousness overrode her, the same as it had in the bathroom that morning. Cursing, she tidied her shirt and ripped the band from her hair.

      She shouldn’t give a crap what John Jordon thought of her, but his gaze was unnerving and...baring. Yesterday, there were times he’d studied her with such intensity, she wanted to glance at her chest to see if her nipple had popped over the vee of her shirt. She couldn’t let him see the way he made her aware of her body whenever she was within two feet of him.

      Tipping her head upside down, she scrunched her hair before standing straight and swinging it over her shoulders.

      Her long hair was the only thing she had going for her in the way of armor. If Kyle’s son thought she hadn’t seen the way his blue eyes swept back and forth from her hair to her eyes last night, he was a damn fool. Every man she knew was a sucker for her hair. Why, she had no idea, but it didn’t mean she couldn’t use the phenomenon to her advantage.

      Everything else about her seemingly brought admirers straight back to earth with a hard bump within a few weeks. Their hair fetish soon cooled when they realized Sasha was more tomboy than girly girl...or else they sensed her discord, her wary apprehension of what might come next. She lifted her chin. One day, she’d meet a man with enough balls to stick around longer than a month or two.

      She blew out a shaky breath and swept her gaze over the back of the office. Just remember, you do fine and dandy kicking them out of your bed, instead of the other way around. Your way or no way, remember? She narrowed her eyes as a blush heated her neck. Even though they never put up much of a fight.

      Stepping across the short dry grass, the early-morning sun warming the back of her legs, she strode purposefully to the office and pushed open the door. Her heart beat hard, but her determination was on full-power. Steeling herself, she shot her gaze straight to Kyle’s desk, expecting John to be sitting there ready and waiting. The chair was empty.

      “God damn it.” She released her pent-up energy in a whoosh of air from her lungs. She planted her hands on her hips. Now what?

      The door clicked open behind her and Sasha spun around. Freddy wandered in, his ever-expanding waistline juddering with each step and his shaven head shining with perspiration. He closed the door, his brow furrowed.

      Sasha stepped toward him. “You okay, Freddy?”

      He turned. “You’re late.”

      “Not officially. Officially my hours on Friday are nine to nine, remember?”

      He grunted and walked to his desk. “Never known you to take any notice of what time of the day or night it is.” He collapsed into his chair, his gaze wandering the length of her. “You looking for our new boss, by any chance?”

      “Not particularly. He asked to see me first thing, that’s all.”

      “He’s outside.”

      Sasha glanced toward the glass doors. “Right.”

      “He’s been here since I came in at seven-thirty. Christ knows what he’s doing out there. He’s walking around with this look on his face. A look that tells me he’s Kyle’s boy through and through.”

      She stepped closer to the desk. “And what does that face look like exactly?”

      “Like he’s a hard son of a bitch. You wouldn’t think it looking at the pansy way he’s dressed this morning, but I guarantee that bloke out there has a mean streak.” He met her eyes. “Takes one

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