Frigid Flora

thirty-three - independent woman

Chapter Thirty-Three

Parker's P.O.V

"Hey! Blondie, go get your uncle would you?" I shouted to the boy behind the desk. He couldn't have been older than nineteen but he was acting like a six year old. Granted, a snarling man carrying a shot gun had indeed just stormed into the once peaceful police station of a small town where scarcely any crime was committed - well, none that they knew of - but he could have at least ran and got back up. Especially seeing as this was about the seventh time I'd called him.

"He's scared," Ian laughed. I could tell he had no interest of turning the gun away from its current target - but perhaps that wasn't apparent to the boy. His hair was still ginger, but his eyes were a vivid blue; two stone cold stormy seas. They suited him more than his previous black set had and somehow managed to look more threatening despite what was probably the friendlier colour. Perhaps it was because it was the real him. They weren't masked behind anything. "He won't call for help."

"Help is on its way already," I said. "The call was made for his superior. You're going down, Ian."

"And you're willing to let you and your friends fall alongside me?" He asked. I said nothing, just stared down the barrel of his pointed gun. "How heroic of you. Well, I guess in that case..." He cocked the gun, the loud click making both Skylar and Matthew gasp aloud.

"So hasty?" I hoped he couldn't see how nervous I was. He'd known me since I was eleven thanks to Jason's parents being a friend of his, not quite as smart as Flora's dad to see that the man had changed. He'd worked with me since I was fourteen. Chances were he knew me well enough to understand I was hopelessly prolonging this. I didn't care. It was worth a shot. "I thought you'd want to make me suffer. Especially after stealing Flora from you. Don't deny it, you're jealous."

His jaw ticked, hand shook a little. "Jealous? Of you? Please. I have everything I want. Do you know how much money I've got being in the business I am? Do you know how much brains it takes, how much concentration, to be able to do what I have done? Become other people? I have talent and I'm rich. Why would I want to be a teenage kid with no girlfriend and daddy issues?"

"Flora is my girlfriend," I lied knowing that it would piss him off. She was as good as so it wasn't much of one, but a label never had been confirmed. There had always been so much going on. It felt good to say it at least this once. "So yeah, Ian, I think you're jealous."

"When did this happen?" It was working. His gun had lowered ever so slightly, distracted by a fact he hadn't been aware of.

"Right about the time you guaranteed Flora would despise you for as long as she lived. When you told her you'd murdered her father. So I guess it's your fault we're together, actually. Thanks for that."

He was in front of me within the space of a second, gun pushing into my chest. I didn't dare take a breath incase the rising of my chest somehow pushed Ian's hand into pulling the trigger. The cool metal seemed to seep through my shirt, chilling me to the bone.

"Flora," Ian growled lowly, mouth virtually frothing. His nose twitched as if the scrunching of his features was an attempt to reign in his temper. "Does not despise me. She might not be so fond of me at this moment in time, I admit, but she will grow not to fear me. She will grow to accept me first. Then she'll see my point of view, and then, perhaps, she'll even come to care for me."

"As a father?" I said, unable to help riling him some more. Of course he didn't think of Flora as a daughter. The guy, for reasons unbeknown to everybody save himself, thought it possible he and Flora could have a relationship. Flora had forced me to watch enough crime shows with her when struggling to fall asleep - honestly, CSI was like a morbid bed time story to that girl - to know that angering the murderer when he held a weapon never ended well, but I just couldn't resist. Whether it was nerves or adrenaline or fear, I couldn't seem to keep the words to myself. "Of course, it all makes sense now. You wanted a daughter and that's why you killed off her dad. You wanted a family. Creepy way of starting one, though, I must say. Took you a while, too-"