Finding Trust (Centre Games) (3 page)

As they reached the edge of the crowd, the lead vocal said, “We’re gonna take a little break and let you all get a drink and maybe a New Year’s kiss.” Another loud roar went up from the crowd. Her mind was foggy to anything but the knife in her ribs and how she might get away. Just as they made their way through the last of the crowd, another man approached quickly from her left—her opportunity to get away had just been foiled for the immediate future. Her best hope was that one of her friends might have noticed her heading off with a couple of strangers and wander over to investigate.

Shit, Shit, Shit. Jazz probably thought she was still making goo goo eyes with the lead guitar. How could she have been so stupid to get separated from her friends on a night like this? All because she was too focused on flirting with somebody she would never even meet. Stupid, Rihanna, stupid, she mentally chastised herself.

***

He had to move quickly. Fortunately, that wasn’t a problem for him with his animal speed. When he’d realised what was going on, he’d immediately motioned to Jace to take a break. He had just about ripped the strap off his Fender in the hurry to get off the stage and find her before that guy did God knows what to her. He lost sight of her as he slipped off the side entrance to the stage and into the shadows of the temporary structure. Her fear was clear and allowed him to easily track the direction her captor was taking her. Adrenaline caused by fear let off a unique scent, which made tracing her simple.

Brayden covered the ground as quickly as he dared. Having incredible animal speed was one thing. Not drawing unwanted attention was another. He skirted around the edge of the area that the portable lights were illuminating, using the dark to conceal his presence. His nose was telling him he was quickly gaining on them. He caught sight of them up ahead. The trio, as it had now become, was about to leave the beach and cross the esplanade, into one of the darker side streets, he guessed. Looked like they had picked up an additional hand.

He saw Minky stumble and limp when she stepped onto the road. He noticed she was barefoot. He sensed and saw the pain shoot through her. She had obviously stepped onto something and cut her foot. The smell of her blood was now mingling with her fear. He needed to get her out of there and fast.

As he expected, the two goons led her down a narrow street into the loading dock at the rear of a hotel. He was trailing about a hundred metres back. A white van was waiting there. He guessed that was their transport. Bray took a quick glance around to make sure nobody was paying him any obvious attention and then sprinted noiselessly behind them. He covered the distance in less than three seconds.

***

Rihanna could feel herself becoming increasingly terrified. She thought she had a fair chance against one but two was much less of an option. All she could hope for at this stage was that by going along with their plans, an opportunity to get away might present itself. Why they had grabbed her hadn’t even entered her mind. Getting away was all she could think about.

The guy on Minky’s left reached for the sliding door on the side of the van when a voice came out of the shadows.

“Let her go and I’ll consider letting you live.”

Excitement rained through her. It was music to her ears but at the same time left no doubt as to the menace and cold hard intent of its owner. The owner of the voice stepped forward from the shadows and Rihanna immediately recognised him as “her man.” Relief tentatively began to rise in her heart.

The guy to Rihanna’s left turned and lunged for her man. Mr. Lead Guitar neatly swiveled and drove the man into the side of the van with a kick to the solar plexus like she’d never seen before. The guy must have travelled five metres before coming to rest, slumped in a heap on the ground. He wasn’t getting up anytime soon and the side panel on the van would need some serious time in the shop.

The other guy had changed his stance; he closed his grip around her shoulders and slid her in front of him. The crook of his arm was now depressing her windpipe. Her breath was coming in short gasps and the knife was now pressing sharply just below her left breast.

“Back off …or I’ll—” He never finished his sentence. Mr Lead Guitar was beside her, holding her close and supporting her weight. How could she have been at knifepoint one second and in the safety of his arms the next? Somehow he had closed the distance, disarmed and decommissioned her attacker. She didn’t even recall him moving; how did he do it? Had she blacked out from lack of oxygen?

“Are you hurt?” he asked, his voice softening in concern as he reached up to brush some loose hair from her face.

“No, just very shaky and a bit sore,” Rihanna managed, the words catching in her bruised throat. Her shoulder felt as if it had been jarred.

“If you’re going to be okay for a minute, I just need to check on something.”

She nodded, not wanting to pain her throat any more. He gently guided her to a low wall.

“Just sit here for a minute, honey. I’ll be right back.”

Not wanting to leave the warmth or strength of his embrace, Rihanna reluctantly perched on the low brick wall he had guided her to. She watched him walk to the two thugs who had assaulted her. As lousy as she felt at that particular moment, conflicting emotions running through her, she didn’t fail to notice or appreciate the width of his shoulders tapering to his narrow waist, his tight hard butt, or his long athletic legs. He sure was built and just about every woman’s fantasy man.

He bent down and started going through their pockets. What was he doing? Then she realised, he was checking them for identification.

“Just as I expected. No ID.”

She watched him pull a cell phone from his pocket and place a call. She caught snippets of a conversation about what had happened. He must have been calling it in to the police. Rihanna gave herself a mental slap.
Snap out of it.
She hadn’t even thought about calling them herself. The cops must get a hundred of these calls every New Year’s Eve.

After finishing the call, he walked back to her, and extended his hand to her.

“Come on, you don’t need to sit here and look at this scum any longer.”

She went to move forward and stumbled. “Ouch. Ouch.” She began to hop on her left foot. The adrenaline had subsided enough that her foot had become very tender where she’d cut it on broken glass as they had crossed the road.

Before she could say another word, he’d scooped her into his arms and was heading back down the street towards the beach. Reality kicked in and Rihanna realised she didn’t even know his name. She knew as much about him as the guys who had grabbed her, which wasn’t much. But for some reason, she felt safe with him. She just realised then that whoever he was, she hadn’t even thanked him.

“I guess I should thank you,” she croaked, her throat still very tender. She really needed something to drink and maybe one of those anaesthetic lozenges. She wriggled slightly in his arms and unintentionally snuggled a little more closely into the spot just under his collarbone. She noticed how good he smelt. It was some sort of fresh citrus smell. Mmmm, it was definitely making her hormones do a happy dance.

“No need. All part of the service.” He paused and then added, “My name is Brayden, by the way…Brayden James.”

“Well, Brayden, I’m very pleased to meet you.” Damn, another mental kick. Did she really have to emphasise the word “very” so much? Would he take it as a come-on or as gratitude for coming to her rescue? Ah, what did it matter? She was safe. It then occurred to her to ask, “Where are you taking me?”

“I thought we’d head back to the dressing rooms behind the stage. You can get cleaned up there, and get out of this mob scene.” As if on cue, a group of noisy revelers came the other way, yelling “Happy New Year.”

“I need to finish up the last set before we pack it in for the night.”

She then remembered the earlier flirting of the evening. Of him keeping gazes locked across the crowd with her. She felt a rush of embarrassment flush over her face and neck. It then occurred to her to ask the obvious question. “How did you know I was in trouble?”

“I was watching you and then it just didn’t seem right that you would head off with that guy when you didn’t head off with your friend. Then I just got this feeling that you were in trouble so I followed along.” There, he’d said it. Now, would she buy it?

The fundamental rule of any mistruth was to keep to the truth as much as possible. She didn’t say anything immediately, probably thinking over what he had said. To distract her, he asked, “You never did tell me your real name. I’ve kind of been thinking of you as Minky in my head.”

“It’s Rihanna Mason.”

He nodded. “Pleased to meet you, Rihanna.”

“Why Minky?” she asked.

“Because of the colour of your hair. It reminds me of the gorgeous play of colours in mink coats.”

Whatever she thought, she was struggling to see it, but if he liked it, who was she to argue?

***

It suited her, he thought. He shifted her weight slightly in his arms so that he could increase his stride length. He needed to get back to the stage for the final set and he needed to make sure she was safe.

As they rounded the portable building behind the stage, a beefy guy in black with an earpiece motioned forward and drawled, “Hey mate, we were just about to send out the search party for you.” He raised his eyebrows at the sight they made. A harsh frown from Brayden was enough to convince him to reconsider voicing the thought that was clearly running through his head.

“Rihanna is going to hang out here for a bit. Make sure no one bothers her.”

“No probs, Bray.”

With that, Brayden scaled the three stairs and was through the door into the surprisingly plush portable building. He placed her carefully on the leather lounge that ran down one side of the room. Without a word, he moved to the other end of the room and immediately went to the wall-mounted first-aid box. He rummaged through until he found what he was looking for.

Brayden sat beside her and motioned for her to put her foot across his thigh. He took a quick look and then started to clean the wound with some antiseptic swabs.

“It doesn’t look like it needs stitches. Are your tetanus shots up to date?” he asked as he carefully cleaned the wound.

“Yes, I work with animals so tetanus boosters are a necessity.”

That piece of information confirmed what he already suspected. He had the right girl. Now he just had to get through the next hour so that he could get down to his real business. He was finishing up applying some cream and a bandage when Jace poked his head through the door.

“Ah, there you are.” He eyed Rihanna with what initially looked like surprise; it then moved quickly to outward curiosity, particularly with her foot quite clearly in his lap. Jace cleared his throat and asked, “You ready to get out there again?” Jace’s raised eyebrows were not lost on her.

“Yeah, just give me a minute.”

At that, Jace turned and left.

Bray’s ministrations to her foot had changed to a firm but gentle stroking over her ankle and up the front of her shin. He seemed to be totally unaware he was doing it. The feel of his hand on her skin was sending shivers all through her blood. She knew she should protest but somehow being close to him and him touching her allowed her to feel more relaxed.

“I have to go. You’ll be safe here; rest up and we’ll sort all this out when I finish.” He placed her ankle gently back down on the floor, rose from the lounge and headed for the door. He was so at ease with himself; he moved so smoothly. As he turned and went through the door that no doubt led out onto the side of the stage, he turned and added, “Help yourself to anything in the fridge.” With that, he gave her a quick wink and the same half grin he had on stage. The door closed and he was gone.

Rihanna let out a huge sigh. Only then did she realise she’d been partly holding her breath. She let her head fall back against the soft, plush backrest of the lounge, suddenly feeling very tired. Her thoughts were still very jumbled and didn’t seem to make a lot of sense. The events of the night flashed in her head like a badly-edited home movie.

It wasn’t every day a girl flirted with an incredibly hunky man, who just happened to be a member of the hottest band in Australia; was kidnapped by two disgusting thugs with severe personal hygiene issues; was subsequently rescued by incredibly hunky man; and was then asked to wait by incredibly hunky man in his dressing room while he finished his New Year’s Eve set. Whhhhattt ammm I doooingg!!!! Arrrrrrhhhhhh, she thought. These sorts of things happened to other people—not her.

Rihanna realised she had been sitting there a minute or so when the clear, crisp rock music of Steel filled the dressing room. She’d been having trouble sifting through the thoughts in her head prior to the band starting up again. After the band started, it was near impossible to make sense of anything in her head. The intensity of the music seemed to create a fuzz that would not let the events of this evening settle into any logical pattern that allowed her to process and consider what had happened.

About then her cell phone beeped, indicating that she had a message. She pressed a few buttons and scrolled through the message from her friend Jazz—
Andy and I heading back to his place. Crash there later if u want. Hope u have a better offer!