Hero Duty (3 page)

‘What?’

‘I have curves. I swim daily.’ She wasn’t scared of the water if it was safely in a pool. ‘But no matter how much I exercise, I’m a big girl.’

He snorted.

‘I am. I’m nearly six-foot tall and I have curves to match. I refuse to look like a skeleton for anyone.’

‘Well thank F-heaven for that.’

A giggle escaped her. ‘You can swear in front of me.’

‘Not on my grandfather’s veranda or in his house. Swearing in the garage is allowed, if you’re alone. In front of a woman is soap in the mouth time.’

She laughed for real.

He grinned and squeezed her shoulders. ‘Okay, so despite looking like a supermodel, you’re actually a normal, if rich, girl. Go on with the story.’

‘Oh.’ She’d been feeling happy. Being admired did wonders for a girl’s ego. ‘I can’t remember where I…I guess I should tell you about Derek.’

‘Your stepbrother? What was it you said about him? That he “reflected well” on your dad? Maybe your stepmother wasn’t as confident as your dad and felt threatened. Maybe you were too much competition.’

‘Ha. I was never any competition for Portia. I always made that clear. I signalled submission. I stood in the background, wore plain colours.’

‘None of that would make you invisible.’

‘It did.’ She slumped back against the porch swing. ‘I never caused trouble. Once I left school and left Dad’s house, the family would forget me for months at a time. I was an awkward but ignorable appendage to the perfect family unit. I met Derek’s fiancée for the first time at their engagement party. She had no idea that Derek had a stepsister, that Dad had a daughter as well as a son.’

Brodie covered her hand where it lay on Buddy’s rough fur. The simple action said everything. He saw her. She was not lost.

The temptation to believe that was huge, and it was precisely what she needed him to protect her from: she needed his strength to save her from trading everything for the feeling of belonging.

‘Let me tell you about Derek. Everyone sees him as a rich man’s son. That’s how he sees himself. Except it’s not true. Dad, Portia, and Derek used to talk about my Pops. It was Dad who taught them, by the things he said, to make fun of Pops’ memory.’ She pressed her lips together hard. Her grandfather had loved her unconditionally and she’d returned that love. In disrespecting his memory, her dad’s attack on his former father-in-law had been an attack on her. ‘Dad would mimic Pops’ Polish accent. They’d joke about his funny sayings.’

Her anger was years old, but she’d held it in for so long. Now, learning why her Dad had been so awful about Pops pulled the cork on it. Everything they had, Pops had worked for.

‘It turns out that when Pops died, he’d willed everything of his, everything, to me. I never knew. Maybe I was naïve. Maybe I was stupid. On my eighteenth birthday, Portia organised a huge party that I didn’t want, and on the afternoon before it Dad called me into his office and had me sign a huge stack of papers. Or maybe the stack wasn’t so huge. But I was stressed and scared by the party Portia planned and Dad…Dad always got angry if I asked questions or didn’t fall in with his plans. So I signed. I remember that there were a couple of witnesses in the room. Men who worked for Dad. And he said, “Good girl. I’ll look after everything” and that was it. Until he died and the lawyers turned up, I didn’t know that I’d given him my power of attorney.’

The betrayal hurt so bad it was a physical ache in her chest. ‘If he’d asked me, I’d have given it to him anyway. But the whole time he was alive, I believed Numbat was his, inherited from Mum. That’s the way inheritance works. If two people die in a car accident, the oldest is thought to pre-decease the younger. So Mum would have inherited from Pops, and then, Dad from her. But all Dad inherited was their shared house and her bank account. It was a lot, but nothing like what Pops left me.’ She hugged her knees tighter. ‘I don’t think Dad intended to fool me. But I was fourteen. He naturally controlled my estate. In the four years till I was eighteen, he got used to heading Numbat and having all that power and influence. He was good at it.’

‘So your dad took over your granddad’s — Pops’ — company, behaving as if it was his. Did Portia and Derek know the fortune was yours and not your father’s?’

‘You’re smart. No, they didn’t know. When the lawyers told them…Dad had lived up to and beyond the salary he drew from Numbat. He had the image of a billionaire to maintain.’ Ouch. That sounded bitter. ‘When Portia learned that Dad had left her debts, and that the money was — had always been — mine, she had hysterics in the lawyers’ office.’

‘I always wondered what hysterics was.’ Brodie shifted one large boot and set the swing in motion.

‘She threw herself at me and scratched a line from the corner of my eye to my ear.’

‘Hell.’ He touched her chin, tilting her face towards him.

‘It’s healed. One of the lawyers hauled her off me.’ She was very conscious of the gentleness of his touch. ‘I think that’s what really convinced Portia and Derek that it was true. The lawyers only cared about me. Someone even mentioned pressing charges for assault.’

That was when Derek had stirred from his chair and his stunned silence. He’d gathered up the raving Portia and left.

Jessica had signed paper after paper — reading these ones — and arranged for her father’s debts to be settled. Then she’d gone home alone and sat shaking for a solid two hours. Not even hot cocoa laced with whisky could combat the soul-deep chill of shock.

‘It took Derek a week — or perhaps it took him that long to convince Portia — but then he moved to reclaim his role of Crown Prince, or rather, to take over totally from Dad. He brought me papers to sign, granting him my power of attorney.’

‘Bloody hell.’

‘Derek hasn’t given up. He wants Numbat, and he and Portia know me. They know that I hate confrontations. They’re phoning me or calling in to see me every day. And Derek works at Numbat. Dad made him a vice-president. I swear he’s funnelling horrible stuff my way. Decisions that I can’t understand, and staff who treat me as if I’m an idiot. Even worse are the staff members who try to suck up to me. I am not crying.’ Her voice wobbled.

‘Course you’re not,’ Brodie said agreeably.

She sniffed. ‘Derek wants Numbat but I can’t give it to him. It was Pops’ life and his gift to me, and Dad and Derek were mean about him. Only I’m such a coward, Brodie, and I’m scared.’

The hand rubbing her back stilled. He eased her from him to look down at her flushed face. ‘Is Derek threatening you?’

‘Not really. Not like you mean. I don’t need a physical bodyguard. I told you the truth. I need you, a hero. You fight for what you believe in. I need to be strong like that. This time I can’t run, I can’t give in. I have to stand and fight for myself. But I can’t. I’m a coward. I know that alone, I’ll crumble. I have jelly for a backbone. That’s what Derek is counting on.’

‘Jessica, you can afford to hire lawyers to fight for you.’

‘Not against family pressure. It’s been six weeks since Dad’s death. Portia is organising a memorial party. I have to be there, since she’ll be scattering his ashes from the yacht. But I know Derek will use the weekend, will use the fact that I’m upset and scared, to bully me into doing what he wants. I’m so ashamed of myself because I’m terrified I’ll give in.’

Brodie sighed.

She felt his deep inhalation and long breath out.

‘All right,’ he said at last. ‘I’ll come to Sydney with you. I’ll be your hero.’

Brodie had flown around the world during his time with the army, but military airports and flights were a whole different, grimmer, ballgame to the new Perth Airport. The busy transit point sparkled with shiny surfaces, echoed with the noise of people, especially squealing babies, and generally exhibited all the signs of an ant’s nest that had just been kicked: it was about to boil over.

He’d expected Jessica to be daunted. After all, she’d literally shaken with nerves when she’d accosted him in the garage. Instead, she wove expertly through the chaos, a surprisingly battered backpack slung over one shoulder. He’d offered to carry it and had his courtesy refused.

He watched her skirt a large family group, wailing with the grief of departure — or the happiness of arrival, he couldn’t tell — and turn to look for him. He closed the distance between them in three long strides. ‘You haven’t lost me.’

At six-foot two, he could give her four inches and the crowd didn’t bother him at all.

They’d caught the early morning flight from the regional airport near Jardin Bay and would now catch a connecting flight to Sydney. From west coast to east coast in a handful of hours.

By mid-afternoon, they’d be in Sydney. It was a bit of a change from the army’s ‘Hurry up to sit around’ approach. Jessica was always on the move.

She’d tied her hair back in a practical plait. It was a lot longer than he’d suspected yesterday when she wore it coiled up. The plait ended just above her waist. He’d had girlfriends who’d have killed for hair like that, but they’d have worn it loose, taunting men.

Jessica seemed unaware of her effect on the opposite sex. Add some attitude to her curves, height and blonde beauty, and she’d be a Viking goddess. No, wait. What were those women in the metal bras? Valkyries.

‘What?’ she asked him.

He’d laughed under his breath and she’d caught it. ‘Nothing.’

‘Fine.’

Okay, maybe she did have some attitude. He’d have to help her reveal more of it. Not that he wanted a Valkyrie, but Jessica had her own style. She needed to trust it.

Like him, she wore jeans and a T-shirt, though her shirt had a picture of the Sphinx across the front. Mysterious and cool.

His shirt was from one of Zane’s sponsors. As a professional surfer, Zane had been bringing home promo stuff like T-shirts for years. When he quit the pro circuit in a year or so, Brodie would have to start buying casual clothing.

A million dollars would buy a hell of a lot of shirts.

Brodie didn’t think he’d be taking the million dollars. Maybe he’d accept some money for expenses. It depended. He was at a loose end, and Jessica clearly needed help. He’d check out her situation, assess it, and then decide on a course of action. His armour might be dented from some brain-rattling blows, but evidently he couldn’t resist the role of knight in rusting armour. Or maybe it was Jessica he couldn’t resist.

He switched his duffel bag to his other shoulder and checked the lounge number. Then he checked his watch. They had an hour to kill. ‘Coffee?’

‘Good idea.’ There were shadows under her eyes, marks of strain that she hadn’t tried to conceal. Her skin was clear of make-up. Only her lips faintly glimmered with gloss. ‘What’ll you have?’

Her mouth was set in a firm line that meant mutiny. ‘I’m buying.’

He’d been a sergeant. He’d also been brought up by an old-fashioned grandfather. There was no way a woman was buying his food or drink. She dug in her bag for her purse. ‘We’ll go Dutch.’

It was good that she could compromise. Problem was, he didn’t do compromise.

‘I’ll get you a flat white, no sugar.’ He’d taken in her preference when she’d bought one at the regional airport. He walked off before she could hand him the money, but not before he heard her impatient huff. He grinned. He preferred her grouchy to nervous around him.

Ten minutes later, he’d successfully fought the crowd at the café. ‘I got you a muffin as well. Chocolate.’

‘Thanks.’ She tried to hand him money.

‘I’ll drop it on the floor.’

‘Fine.’ She pushed it into her jeans pocket. ‘I’ll give it to charity.’

‘You do that.’ He sat on one of the two chairs she’d nabbed and stretched out his long legs.

A kid of about five immediately ran the length of the row of seats and hurdled his legs, shouting.

The kid’s harassed mum dashed after him. ‘Sorry.’

‘My fault.’ Brodie tucked his legs away as best he could. Airports, and air travel in general, weren’t designed for tall people. He slanted a glance at Jessica and found her smiling.

She had tucked her feet beneath her chair, neatly crossed at the ankles.

‘Eat your muffin,’ he pretended to grumble.

Yesterday evening, after she’d left to book a room in a local bed and breakfast, he’d gone back to Zane’s house, hit the shower, then booted up his computer. A quick search had brought up information on her background that she hadn’t given him.

For a start, Ms Jessica Trove was actually a doctor. She had just attained a PhD in Archaeology and taught classes in Canberra. Impressive for someone only twenty-five years old, single and a self-confessed chocaholic — it really was astounding the information available publicly on people.

The financial newspapers had covered her father’s death. Ian Trove, age 58, Chairman of Numbat, survived by his wife, Portia, son, Derek, and daughter, Jessica. Brodie noted the ‘son’ not ‘stepson’. Jessica hadn’t exaggerated. Derek Amberly definitely presented as the heir to Numbat.

Interesting. The media hadn’t cottoned on to the reality of the situation. Then again, an enterprise as powerful as Numbat undoubtedly had a public relations division capable of re-writing reality and it seemed that at the moment Derek controlled it.

Snapping the laptop shut, Brodie had then cleared out Zane’s fridge and taken the contents to his Granddad’s. He’d also given the old man a brief rundown on his new job.

‘Do you believe the girl?’

‘Yes.’ Delusional people could be convincing, but Jessica wasn’t delusional. The history of Numbat named her Polish grandfather as its founder, and mentioned his tragic death, along with his only child, in a boating accident fourteen years ago. ‘I don’t know what sort of tangle she’s in, but I do believe that she’s scared and for whatever reason, she doesn’t feel that she has anyone to take her back.’

‘Maybe that says something about what sort of person she is,’ Granddad had pointed out. ‘A person has friends, if not family.’

‘Do they? I thought I had friends in the unit. Nearly all of them turned on me. They took their lead from the major.’ And his betrayal had hit Brodie hardest. Major Folke and he had served together in Afghanistan. ‘Sometimes you can’t trust the people you know. They have their own agendas. And when you think about the amount of money involved…’