Finding Trust (Centre Games) (2 page)

Chapter One

Rihanna stood barefoot on the beach with her toes curling in the sand, still warm from the day’s thirty-five degree Celsius heat. It was the party to end all parties—New Year’s Eve Surfers Paradise Beach. The band was just starting their last set before midnight. Her body was acting of its own accord, pulsing and pumping unconsciously to the beat. The music went right through you, seemed to become part of your whole being standing there on the beach in front of the high-rise strip, celebrating the end to one year and the start of another.

The lighting changed to highlight the lead guitarist and that’s when she saw him clearly. The long nimble fingers of his left hand flew over the strings of the cherry red Fender. The bicep of his right arm expanded and contracted to create the strumming of the instrument that was calling for all attention. Unlike most musicians, this guy was seriously built. The soft blue denim of his jeans emphasised the powerfully muscled thighs that were thrusting forward to the beat of the drums. The guitar slung across the front of his white T-shirt did nothing but enhance the size of his shoulders and the flatness of his abs.

But it wasn’t until her gaze moved higher to his face that she was totally gone: The broad forehead. The chiselled jaw and cheekbones. But it was the crystal blue eyes that cut right through you that ended it for her right there. He sang on to the chorus of the song, “Take me baby, make me yours tonight.” His deep husky voice added the depth and the seduction to the more melodic and expressive lead, who just happened to be totally hot in his own right. Although he looked more like the typical musician: lean, lithe, and bit of a bad boy.

Rihanna’s man was more of a jock than a musician. Hey, stop right there, she thought. Since when had the lead guitarist become
her man
? Probably since he had sung “Taaake me baaabyyy, maaaake meeee yours tooonight” in that deep voice. It was the one Steel hit she actually knew. She turned her head to see whether any of her three other friends were having a similar epiphany. They seemed to be having a good time sipping Absolut vodka and giggling as ladies do under the influence of music, a huge party, and the beach. But they didn’t seem to have suffered the same masculine demise as she had. She really needed to get out more!!!

She looked back to her man and that’s when their eyes connected and held. Was she imagining it or was Mr Lead Guitar looking right at her?

He couldn’t be? Could he?

Probably five thousand people were on the beach enjoying Steel do their thing, and at least half of them were women. The chances of him locking his gaze on to her had to be very improbable. Rihanna knew she was averagely attractive to look at, but so were hundreds of other women here tonight.

To test her theory, she dragged her gaze from him and casually looked around the people crushing forward, trying to absorb more of the energy of the band and the party. High on life, alcohol, and hopefully nothing else.

She slowly scanned back to where her eyes had left his a few long seconds before, across fifty feet of throbbing crowd and another verse of the ultimate invitation song. To her surprise, his gaze had become almost a leer and it was directed right at her. Feeling flustered, she hastily looked away again, only to return her gaze to meet his again across the crowd. As if to confirm her suspicion, he raised his eyebrows and curled the right-hand side of his mouth into a subtle smirk.

***

Brayden walked onto the stage at the edge of the beach for the final set before the lead into the countdown to New Years. Matt, the drummer, started the
tap, tap, tap
rhythm with his drumsticks before adding the bass drum. He quickly picked up the beat and announced his presence with the strings of his guitar. He was comfortable and easy with the song. He had helped his mate, Jace, Steel’s front man, write it last winter on the point at Byron Bay. He was filling in as lead guitar tonight for another mate. The planets were aligning again; he could feel it.

She was out there; he could sense it. Just as his superiors at the Centre had mentioned—she would be here tonight and she held the key to stopping potentially one of the most ingenious and potentially deadliest terrorist plots ever. His target was a renowned equine veterinarian. She and her father were working on vaccines for the deadly Hendra virus that had struck terror into the horse and wider Queensland community. As part of his mission briefing, he had learnt that anyone unfortunate enough to contract the disease had less than 50 percent chance of survival. Currently, there was no known cure.

Current research suggested that the disease was from the rabies family; it was thought to be spread through horses coming into contact with the faeces of flying foxes. People then contracted the disease through contact with the mucus of the infected horse.

His mission was to protect the female veterinarian and aid in the recovery of any research materials or virus samples that may have fallen into the hands of the terrorist cell that was currently targeting the father and daughter research team. Another of his colleagues would be responsible for recovering his target’s father, who was currently missing and thought to have been abducted.

All of his animal senses had been alert for the last half an hour since she had wandered into his scanning range. He could smell her musky feminine scent that had a combination of cinnamon and something else. Now all he had to do was sight her. Bray was locking on to her unique scent. Each and every one of the thousands of people here tonight had a unique scent signature. He merely had to sort through the proverbial haystack to find the needle.

His gaze travelled slightly to his right-hand side, looking out over the rolling crowd to the pounding waves. The south easterly had sure picked up and would provide a few good curls for anyone up to a wave in the morning. The onshore breeze also generously provided his highly tuned animal senses with the hint he was looking for.

Gotcha!

His gaze zeroed in on her. Oh yeahhhh!!

She was there to his right, not more than fifty feet from him. Her scent and frequency profiles meshed, confirming that this was the woman he was looking for.

And what a striking looking surprise she was. The file photo he’d been given did not do her justice. If he hadn’t specifically been looking for her tonight, he thought that he would have noticed her anyway. She sure was striking and hard to miss. Her mink coloured hair, falling in long, lush waves, frame
d her high cheekbones, and set off her unusual hazel eyes. Her rosebud mouth with a sensually full bottom lip drew his attention and turned his thoughts to a subtly more male orientation.

When he moved slightly forward to the microphone and joined in the chorus with “Taaake me baaabyyyyyy , maaaake me yours tooonight,” her eyes moved up to meet his and he knew he had her attention.
Bingo!
She held his gaze momentarily before becoming self-conscious. Her eyes slipped from his and began to look out into the endless gyrating waves of revellers around her.
So she was a little unnerved by the directness of his gaze
.

Her eyes returned to his and again he held the connection. Minky, as he thought of her now, broke the connection again. So she wasn’t sure if he was looking at her. Well, he thought, let’s make sure you’re not confused any longer, Minky. The next time her eyes returned to his face, he raised his eyebrows and openly smiled at her.
Yep, it’s you I’m interested in tonight, sweetheart
.

***

“Rihanna.” Her friend Jasmine was shaking her arm. All the time, her eyes never left her new man.

“What?” Rihanna screamed over her right shoulder to her friend. The music and crowd were so loud even her scream was lost.

“The lead guitarist—he’s staring right at you,” Jazz screamed right back.

“I just realised that myself.”

“Do you know him? He’s not the regular Steel lead guitar. He seems to be filling in for Reece and doing an awesome job of it.” Jazz was a huge Steel fan; she had dragged Rihanna to many concerts over the years and Steel was her current favourite band. Rihanna’s music knowledge and interest tended to only extend to what was currently being played on the radio but she usually agreed to go along with Jazz, often just as an excuse to get out and enjoy herself.

“No, I don’t know him,” Rihanna yelled again, her throat beginning to smart at having to yell to communicate with her friend next to her.

“Well, he sure looks like he would like to know you better,” she yelled. “Hey look, over there, coming down across the road, there’s Andy and Mitch.” Jazz started to move past her and deeper into the crowd, heading towards the road. Rihanna could see Andy’s blonde head moving swiftly toward the beach and the edge of the group enjoying the band.

Andy was Jazz’s on-again, off-again boyfriend. He worked as a chef at a local seafood restaurant. The hours he worked didn’t help with keeping the relationship together. But at least Jazz had a relationship, which was more than Rihanna could say about her own life. She had been going through one hell of a relationship drought of late. It had been months—no, make that nearly two years—since she had had a man in her life, and even then he’d been nothing more than a casual date. Her life revolved primarily around her work and her father. They’d both become quite obsessed with the Hendra vaccine project.

Rihanna looked back to the stage as the song ended to an enthusiastic round of applause and a whole heap of whistling. The butterflies started to rise in her stomach. He was still looking right at her. Her skin was tingling from his almost visual caress. She decided to settle back and play the “gaze game” with him for a while. What could a bit of harmless flirting hurt?

***

Ahhh, Minky, he thought. So you realise the connection and now you’re coyly flirting with me from afar. Their gazes connected, sharing some sort of silent conversation with the overtones of the music.

He played on song after song in the set, as midnight steadily approached. He realised he was actually having a really good time. There was nothing much better than playing a gig with his mates. Bray just didn’t get to do it all that often, much to his and their disappointment.

Jace began the countdown to midnight: “Ten, nine, eight.” He saw Minky moving off farther to his right. From his height advantage on the stage, he could see her tracking across to join the slim redhead who had settled on the edge of the crowd with a couple of guys. “Seven, six, five.” Minky still had a good twenty metres to cover when he realised she wasn’t going to make it to her friend before the countdown to midnight finished.
Ahh shit
, he thought. He really didn’t want a girl who looked like that in the middle of a boisterous New Year’s Eve crowd by herself. His animal instincts were beginning to act up again. He was feeling the familiar increase in pulse and heightened sense of awareness that always preceded danger.

“Four, three, two.” He saw the dark head move in close to Minky and place a casual arm around her shoulder; her stance immediately stiffened. His gut tightened into a hard knot and he could smell her fear spike up through the crowd. “One. Happy New Year!” A huge cheer went up from the crowd. Champagne poppers exploded everywhere and party whistles filled the air with the din of a thousand sea birds. The smell of her fear intensified and spiraled towards him across the crowd. He kept his eyes focused and zeroed into the back of her head. He could not afford to lose sight of her.

***

Rihanna’s nostrils filled with the reek of stale sweat and garlic—or was it curry? Yuck, it was gross. Her heart had lodged itself in her throat and her veins throbbed with the adrenaline of fear. The big man had placed his arm around her shoulders and then stuck something against her that she could only presume was a knife from the point tickling her right ribs as they moved through the crowd.

“Keep your mouth shut. Keep moving and don’t make me use this,” the man growled into her ear. She caught another horrific blast of his breath. Rihanna hastily scanned her eyes left and right, looking for anyone who might notice she was in trouble. Her brain was frantically processing her options of potential escape. The crowd was hindering any options. Nobody noticed her being dragged from the crowd at knifepoint. They were all too close and focused on the music, the atmosphere, and one another. Amazing how she could be in a crowd but be so alone.

Her fear seemed to have peaked at the “extreme” level. Be calm…think…you can get out of this, she kept telling herself. What she needed was room. She needed to think ahead and prepare for what opportunities of escape may present. Her mind whizzed. Her body shook with fear. The knife continued to prick her ribs every few paces, a very real reminder of the danger she was in.

As the crowd roared with the welcoming of the New Year, Rihanna decided her plan. As they moved through the edge of the crowd, she would try to pull away. She needed room to be able to achieve this and the crowd simply did not provide the opportunity.

They were almost at the edge of the crowd when he dragged painfully on her shoulder and barked into her ear, “Don’t try anything stupid or I’ll stick you hard, bitch.”

Oh shit
, things have definitely got worse and her fear level had just hit an all new high. Had she telegraphed her intentions?