Irresistible Knight (16 page)

Jesus. What did he care about her past? He turned around to hide his annoyance. “No. I'm okay. You want coffee?”

“Yes, please.”

“How do you like it?”

“With everything in it.”

Bors turned to look at Taylor. She was smiling at him with a look of an innocent sleepy child on her face. “Everything in it, huh?”

“Yeah. With cream and sugar. Splenda and not real sugar if you have it. And
Half And Half
cream. Not a big fan of powdered cream. If you have it. Please.”

Bors laughed. Alrighty, he supposed when Taylor said everything in her food that would mean her preference. “Coffee with everything in it, coming right up.”

“Why did you pick this spot to build your home? I know this is a beautiful place, but don't you want to be near the city, people?”

Bors placed two steaming mugs on the table and sat down on the chair closest to Taylor with his legs stretched in front of him. “I was born and raised here. Love the San Juan Islands. This...” he added, nodding toward the glass window, “is me and my brother's playground. We have great memories here and we'll continue creating more. If, someday, I lose my head like Tristan, I want my children to grow up here. I want them to know how it feels to climb up a tree, run and play hide and seek in the woods, and watch squirrels stuff their cheeks with nuts. Not glue themselves in front of television. I want them to get dirty, catch bugs, dig worms, and catch the sun in their hair.”

“In other words, you want them to be free.”

“Free from the trappings of the modern technology, yes. I'd rather see them get muddy, or wet than spend their time sitting on the couch flipping channels, or on computers, or texting their fingers away.”

“Your future children are lucky then.” Taylor spoke softly. The smile on her face was gone. “I wish I had the same experience as yours. The closest I got to nature was walking on the beach. I never had a pet. Mom didn't like them. So I practically grew up alone, inside the house most of the time.”

“No friends?”

“Brace yourself, Bors. I'm home-schooled. From elementary to high school. Went to Cornish College of the Arts with a full time chauffer. Took private lessons. My only constant company was my bodyguard who blocked anyone from approaching me. I never experienced being on a school bus. I watched life change through the limo's tinted windows. Sad and pathetic, huh?”

That explained why naiveté oozed out of her. It added to her sex appeal. “Not really. I bet some people would find your experience exciting.”

“Yeah. Like people from the third world country. I guess you're right. Compared to some, I'm still lucky.”

“Right. You were overprotected, but not mistreated.”

“No. Jean never mistreated me. At least not intentionally. But I wouldn't wish for anyone to have a dad like Jean. I love him, but he's not a normal dad. He's smart, but dense when it comes to me. He thought by giving me access to money that I'd be the happiest woman in the world, not understanding that all I needed was him.”

Of course, only a daughter would say something like that, he thought. “Being cooped up would drive me nuts. I don't like being confined, trapped. So I understand what you're saying.” Bors sipped his coffee, his eyes never leaving Taylor's face. She was so trusting, so willing to open up. Taylor was deprived of companionship, of someone to share whatever it was women liked to share with one another. “What made you say he's not normal? Was it the abnormal part that had you running away?”

“Yes and the fact that I want my freedom, Bors. To do things as I please. But freedom is at the bottom of my list. I left to find help to save Jean.”

“And you have to run away to gain those things? Couldn't you just tell Jean,
hey, Dad. It's time for me to leave the nest.
You're an adult. My sister left home when she was eighteen. Kept on coming back, of course.”

“I'm sure your sister had a choice whether to leave, or stay. Not I. I would have left home at the age of fifteen if I had the chance. Bors, unlike you and the rest of the kids growing up in a normal household, I was jailed in my own home.”

“Why would Jean do that?”

“I have a pretty good idea about it.”

“What, you know too much about Jean and his unsavory business that he's afraid you'll send him to jail?”

“You're too smart for a vermin catcher.”

“Thank you. I've been telling my siblings that I have a brain, but they won't believe me.”

“Trolls have brains, too. Like the Bridge Troll.”

“Ha, ha. About saving Jean, don't know how you plan on doing that. If it is your conscience that's telling you he needs saving, would a confession help?”

“Are you suggesting I confess to you?”

“If you feel like it. Unload to me. Besides, I'm interested in learning more about him.”

“Still trying, huh. I contacted your father to ask for his assistance, not you.”

“I know. But I might be able to help. Want me to knock some sense into your father? I bet you it's easily done.”

“I don't want to see him hurt.”

Fuck! I want to make him suffer.
“It's sound advice.”

“All I want is for Judge Knight to help me make a deal with Jean.”

There is no dealing with that asshole. He should be sent straight to hell to burn for eternity.
“Ah, a deal to help Jean. Let's hear it.”

“My silence in exchange for Jean's agreement that he would stop his unsavory business.”

Shit. This has just gotten better and better—not!
Bors wondered if she understood that even if Jean stopped with his fucking business, he would still have to face time. He, being an agent, understood her though. Relatives often times were blinded by their love and found it difficult to accept the truth. Damn it, he didn't want her silence. “Jean will not agree to it.”

“Why”

“He knows you.”

“He treated me like a prisoner because he believes that I will tell on him.”

“You have a cell phone, yes?”

“Yes.”

“I am assuming it's the kind with an internet and all that apps crap.”

“Yes.”

“If you really wanted Jean to go to jail, you could have done so in many different ways, Taylor. Jean knew that. So to offer him a deal about your silence is crap. Jean has a totally different reason for jailing you.”

“You don't know that.”

“Oh, yes I do.”

“I would squeal on him if he didn't promise to stop running his business.”

“A bluff. You wouldn't squeal on your dad.”

“How do you know that?”

“You told me, baby. Evil, dirty, fucking son of a bitch. Those are just a few that we could attach to Jean's name. But you still love him. He is your father. You will not send him to jail.”

He knew when an opponent was defeated. And looking at Taylor, he knew he defeated her idea.

“You're right. I love Dad.”

“He will not buy your threat because he knows you. Do you have a plan
B
?”

“Yes.”

“Let's hear it.” He should take the opportunity and offer Taylor his own deal. Jean's confession in exchange of a life sentence with a possibility of parole. But he'd wait. For now, he'd let her speak her mind.

“I'll tell him that he won't see me again.”

“Sounds plausible, but it depends on how close you two are.”

“We don't play cards, or watch TV together, if that's what you mean by close. But we do have an invincible bond. Jean will do everything for me and I for him. His fatherly affection runs deep. I can feel it.”

“Then you might have a chance of stopping Jean.”

“I am hoping Judge Knight could help me. I need him to figure out how to better help Jean without him ending up in prison.”

Jesus Christ. He wondered if she would run away from him, too, if he told her he'd rather slit Jean's throat and toss him in the garbage bin for the rats to feast on. She'd probably clobber him in the head, then run back to Jean to warn him. Bors pinched the bridge of his nose. Of all the people, why did she have to be Jean's daughter?

Holy mother of shit!
“You know, baby, he broke the law, hurt people, and stole innocence. But you still want to help him find a way to escape punishment? He needs to face the consequences of his actions.”

“If you suffer your people to be ill-educated and their manners corrupted from infancy, then punish them for those crimes to which their first education disposed them. What else is to be concluded but that you first make thieves and then punish them? In Jean's case, a corrupt politician.”

“Wow man. You just quoted my best friend.”

“Your best friend?”

“Yeah. Sir Thomas Moore. He wrote Utopia. I had lunch with him, too, the other day. With Bach.”

“You're never serious, are you? I never read Utopia until the third chair violinist, Carrie, told me about the movie
Ever After
. She said it's good. So I watched it. After that, I ordered Utopia online and read it. The beginning bored me to death, but it's a good read. Well, how did your lunch with Moore go?”

“Boring. He's English and drinks tea instead of coffee.”

“You should be a comedian and not a vermin catcher.”

“Love the job.”

“Dad loves his job, too, I think.”

“Power and money. People are often blinded by those two. Obviously, Jean is one of them for him to enjoy his job. Babe, there is no excuse for your father's actions. Therefore, he must be punished. By the way, he is a thief. He stole girls’ innocence by exposing them to vultures and snakes and robbed them of a chance to enjoy life, the love of their parents. Oh, and the parents—imagine their suffering. You lost your mother. Imagine those parents losing their daughters.” What a low blow to use her mother, but Taylor must open her eyes.

“I know, Bors. That's why I want to make a deal with him. Before it's too late. I want to save the part of him that is still good.”

It is too late, Bors wanted to say. Jean's soul was as black as the nights on Orcas Island, but not as beautiful. But the pain he saw in Taylor's eyes stopped him from doing so. “What are you going to do if he agrees?” He couldn't believe he asked the question. As far as he was concerned, Jean would sit his dirty ass in jail. All he needed was evidence against him.

“Move on. Start my life that's been stalled for years. Maybe go to Italy and find my mother's family.”

“Leave the country?”

“Yeah. I've been wanting to travel. I could start with Italy.”

Somehow, the mention of her leaving the country sounded worse than her wish for Jean to just end his unsavory business and skip jail. He wanted her here, sitting in his kitchen, talking with him, quoting Thomas Moore. Hear her play her violin.

Since the builder applied the last finishing touch to this house, he'd never even spent an hour here. Too quiet, and no one to share it with. Now, Taylor appeared in his life, and all he could think about was to keep her. Why? Good God, he had no idea. How in the world could a woman unravel a man's mind in such a short time? He stared at Taylor and wondered what spell she cast on him.

“What would you do if you were in my position?” Taylor asked, clueless about the inner turmoil he was going through.

“Me? I won't make a deal with him. I'll use all kinds of chemicals to eradicate him. Beat the shit out of him, then toss him in jail. Squish him like a cockroach. Those are just a few off the top of my head.”

Taylor sighed. “That's why I am asking Judge Knight and not you.”

“Baby, I suggest you sit on your decision about talking to my dad. What you want to tell him and how far you would go. Dad is a good judge. The best of the best. Having said that, you might not like his idea of help. Are you going to tell him what kind of a man Jean is, and how many innocent victims suffered because of him? If you do, you will be putting my dad in a position. A bad one. And you might want to think about what I said. Your dad committed crimes, therefore he must face the consequences.”

“I thought about that.” Taylor sighed. “I'm glad we're having this discussion.”

Wish we weren't.
“Baby, I may belong in a different quadrant, but we still roam in the same circle. I hear stuff. I know stuff, which means other people, too. Letting Jean go—”

“See? This is the reason why I must talk to your dad. It's only a matter of time before someone squeals on him. I'm trying to be proactive here. You catch vermin and yet you know about Dad. Imagine the police, FBI, politicians?”

I am FBI.
Jesus. He'd been busting his butt trying to trap the man, and here he sat with the woman who knew everything about Jean, but wanted the opposite.
I need a Tylenol or maybe a walk in the woods.
Bors downed the rest of his coffee. Time to change the subject before he started interrogating Taylor and let her know that he'd been after her father for quite some time now.

“You know, I think you are right. I'll think about what to tell your dad.”

“Sit on your ideas for a week. We'll brainstorm and then we'll talk to Dad.”

“I like that idea.”

A week with you. Hell yeah. I love the idea.
“Cool. Want another cup?”

“No, thank you.”

“I think we should talk about good stuff.”

“Like what?”

“How about breakfast? At least if you get nauseated listening to me talk about vermin, you'll have something to throw up.” Later, he would talk to his dad. Maybe he could suggest a way to handle his situation without blowing his mind off.

“Eewww! Okay, breakfast sounds good.”

“Eggs and toast, or pancakes and bacon.”

“Eggs and toast are fine. I'll help.”

“Sunny side up or scrambled?”

“Scrambled. I don't like it gooey. When it comes to food, I like mine cooked. Can't stand blood in my food. That's why I don't like going to Outback Steakhouse. They don't cook my steak the way I like it.”

“How do you like it?”

“Burned, baby!” Taylor laughed. “Sushi? God, don't know how people could eat raw fish.”

“Alright. Maybe you should cook your own eggs, huh? Show me how you like it. Up you go, princess.”

“Right on. We are cooking.”