I've Been Watching You: a stunning crime thriller from The North East Police Series by K.A. Richardson Read Free Book Online
Authors: K.A. Richardson
at 5 p.m. on the dot, known to get the car serviced every six months and tell him if anything was wrong and she’d known if she didn't tell him, then there would be trouble. Hitting her didn't make him feel like a man. He’d never had a problem feeling like a man, he knew his place.
Always had.
Way above the position of any mere woman. But hitting her had helped teach her that she was so far below him she could taste dirt quite comfortably. He made sure their son, Matthew never saw though. He didn’t want his son seeing all the things he’d experienced as a child. As right as it was to show a woman her place, he would teach his own son the right way – slowly and patiently – not by hammering the point home with every whore passing through the house.
When Eve had told him she was pregnant, he’d seen the fear in her eyes, the belief that he would hurt her for getting pregnant. She couldn’t have been more wrong. For the nine months she carried their son, he never laid a hand on her. He would never hurt his own child, the one person to whom he could pass along everything his father had taught him. He would never let anything happen to a child of his.
He was a better father than his own had been.
John had been removed from his father’s care at eight years old, placed into what would become the first of many foster homes.
He’d thrown himself into studying, finding an early infinity for computers and using them as an escape for the constant abuse and hatred in the children’s homes. Focussing on the computing, he had built his resume and now worked as a mobile nerd, attending and fixing people’s home computers daily, as well as those brought into the store.
But he’d never forgotten the lessons his father had taught him in those early years.
John’s mother had left when he was four: disappearing into the night without a word, leaving him behind. His father had moved straight on - bringing in different women until he found one that stayed past the next morning. A woman who knew her place, directly beneath his dad. Social services had done their best to keep him away, restrict his contact. But he had resisted, running away often and finally returning when he turned sixteen.
John frowned to himself. That's when it had all changed. He’d arrived at the house and walked in, expecting some kind of reunion. Instead he had found his father dead in his tatty old armchair, an empty bottle of whiskey at his side. He’d spent his teens imaging some kind of reunion where he would be welcomed back into the fold with open arms, and in one visit his dreams had been squashed. John had been devastated, and somewhat relieved all at the same time. He’d never had any illusions regarding his father, but he was family. As soon as the funeral was over he had started searching, looking for someone to fill the void.
It hadn't taken long for him to meet Eve.
Releasing the tension in his frown, his cheeks relaxed as his wrinkles subsided. It was time to play nice. Nobody could know the anger simmering beneath like a volcano sleeping softly.
Nobody except Eve.
And there wasn't a whole lot she could do about it.
He waited until the nurse left them alone, him sitting by his wife's bedside. Clicking the bedroom door shut, he smiled widely as her eyes flashed through fear to acceptance. The zip of his trousers sounded as loudly as the crack of a gun in the small room. He held the smile in place as he pulled her head down towards him, feeling her gag as he thrust in and out.
It never took him long to finish, the fear of someone walking in a constant worry to him, but she was his wife. And in this home or not, she would perform her wifely duties.
She couldn't tell anyone. Wouldn't have even if she could. She knew her place.
Chapter Five
1st June, 1910 hours - Police Gymnasium, Sunderland HQ
Jacob grimaced as he kept a steady pace on the treadmill. His hands kept him steady on the handles and finally, he felt himself
Always had.
Way above the position of any mere woman. But hitting her had helped teach her that she was so far below him she could taste dirt quite comfortably. He made sure their son, Matthew never saw though. He didn’t want his son seeing all the things he’d experienced as a child. As right as it was to show a woman her place, he would teach his own son the right way – slowly and patiently – not by hammering the point home with every whore passing through the house.
When Eve had told him she was pregnant, he’d seen the fear in her eyes, the belief that he would hurt her for getting pregnant. She couldn’t have been more wrong. For the nine months she carried their son, he never laid a hand on her. He would never hurt his own child, the one person to whom he could pass along everything his father had taught him. He would never let anything happen to a child of his.
He was a better father than his own had been.
John had been removed from his father’s care at eight years old, placed into what would become the first of many foster homes.
He’d thrown himself into studying, finding an early infinity for computers and using them as an escape for the constant abuse and hatred in the children’s homes. Focussing on the computing, he had built his resume and now worked as a mobile nerd, attending and fixing people’s home computers daily, as well as those brought into the store.
But he’d never forgotten the lessons his father had taught him in those early years.
John’s mother had left when he was four: disappearing into the night without a word, leaving him behind. His father had moved straight on - bringing in different women until he found one that stayed past the next morning. A woman who knew her place, directly beneath his dad. Social services had done their best to keep him away, restrict his contact. But he had resisted, running away often and finally returning when he turned sixteen.
John frowned to himself. That's when it had all changed. He’d arrived at the house and walked in, expecting some kind of reunion. Instead he had found his father dead in his tatty old armchair, an empty bottle of whiskey at his side. He’d spent his teens imaging some kind of reunion where he would be welcomed back into the fold with open arms, and in one visit his dreams had been squashed. John had been devastated, and somewhat relieved all at the same time. He’d never had any illusions regarding his father, but he was family. As soon as the funeral was over he had started searching, looking for someone to fill the void.
It hadn't taken long for him to meet Eve.
Releasing the tension in his frown, his cheeks relaxed as his wrinkles subsided. It was time to play nice. Nobody could know the anger simmering beneath like a volcano sleeping softly.
Nobody except Eve.
And there wasn't a whole lot she could do about it.
He waited until the nurse left them alone, him sitting by his wife's bedside. Clicking the bedroom door shut, he smiled widely as her eyes flashed through fear to acceptance. The zip of his trousers sounded as loudly as the crack of a gun in the small room. He held the smile in place as he pulled her head down towards him, feeling her gag as he thrust in and out.
It never took him long to finish, the fear of someone walking in a constant worry to him, but she was his wife. And in this home or not, she would perform her wifely duties.
She couldn't tell anyone. Wouldn't have even if she could. She knew her place.
Chapter Five
1st June, 1910 hours - Police Gymnasium, Sunderland HQ
Jacob grimaced as he kept a steady pace on the treadmill. His hands kept him steady on the handles and finally, he felt himself
Similar Books
Roots of Murder
Janis Harrison
That Devil's Madness
Dominique Wilson
Selected Stories of H. G. Wells
H.G. Wells
Harry Putter and the Chamber of Cheesecakes
Timothy R. O'Donnell
The Deep State
Mike Lofgren
The Reluctant King (The Star-Crossed Series)
Rachel Higginson
Kornel Esti
Deszö Kosztolányi
Dominant Species
Guy Pettengell
Veiled (A Short Story)
Kendra Elliot