Seventh (The Seventh Wave Trilogy Book 1)
Page 9
He nodded defeat, aware that all of what Cade had said was indeed correct. He had come into his life at a time when he needed what he called ‘left-field support’ and in Cade’s case it was an impromptu meeting that resulted in his major investment in The Oceanside.
Stan had never questioned where the money had come from, content with Cade’s story that he had been the victim of a messy divorce and a subsequent spell of good luck.
Frankly, he didn’t really care, Cade had rescued him at the point of taking on water, of drowning, had steered the ship back on course and had seen The Oceanside become quite the trendiest bar and restaurant in town. In a short space of time, his investment had been well rewarded.
Stan quite liked his car, albeit he would never admit it, he actually really liked Cade too. He was what the Kiwis referred to as a ‘good bastard’, but above all Stan was completely captivated by his friend’s companion.
“Twenty years older…lucky bastard…” he muttered as he wondered around clearing glasses from the tables and making small talk, all the while contemplating the answer to the question that only Cade apparently knew the answer to: “How? Lucky bastard”.
Cade could tell that his new-found friend was tiring – quietly he hoped that she wasn’t too tired – so indicated that he would carry her along the beach on his back. He bent his knees and put his arms out, ready to accept her legs.
Like a little girl she jumped onto his back and they started to run along the sand, the hissing of the outgoing tide doing its best to drown out her shouts of mock protest.
Arriving back at Spindrift he couldn’t help admiring her car, but he wouldn’t tell of course. That was tantamount to admitting defeat. A sideways glance was all she got.
“I see you looking Jack Cade, you love her, and you want her no?”
She playfully leant over the bonnet, allowing her hemline to rise just far enough to entice him towards her.
“I do, more than you can imagine.”
And he did.
It wasn’t until the next morning that he would explain his confusion over a light breakfast.
“I meant the car, you bad Englishman!”
“Oh, really, how, terribly, terribly naughty of me.” His fingers pressed to his lips in an attempt to be plausible.
On this subject he was incredibly translucent, and she loved it, as much as she had loved the preceding night. This time things were a little less frantic, less daring, but very much more sensuous.
“Jack, I have decided, I stay a few more days then I drive to Auckland and change my tickets, I stay as long as I can. Perhaps Big Stan let me work as a Waitress. No?”
“No. Frankly, I’d rather you worked for Hugh Heffner. I can find you some work, just not with Big Stan and it cannot be paid.”
“Is Mr Heffner a friend of yours?” Her apparent naivety was incredibly attractive.
“No thank goodness, Stan is quite bad enough with his entourage, thank you very much; I don’t want you adding to it. So, what made you decided to stay a while longer?”
“You can say I am just stupid but I have your love in my first sight, in just a few a days I need you, so, if it makes you happy then yes I stay, until you or the government throws me out!”
He found himself chatting to her, comfortably, with an assurance he had perhaps never had with any female before. Somehow this woman was entirely different. He poured her a fresh coffee and discreetly cleaned the kitchen as she relaxed, now flicking through the channels on the wall mounted television.
“Jack, there is nothing on, your television is worse than ours, we should go to bed. Or go for run, or walk, or race the cars. We only have a few more days before I must go to Auckland, show me this wonderful place, then, we go to bed.”
“OK, with such a list I need to prioritise and it’s something I’m highly trained to do. If you want to see this beautiful place, then we haven’t got time to go to bed…”
She feigned disappointment.
“…but if that is what you want, then yes, I guess I can be persuaded at the end of the day!”
She beamed a sunny, carefree smile.
“We’ve eaten, so for a while a run is out of the question, besides you would never catch me, we’ve walked the beach a few times, so how about a drive?”
“Yes! I drive though, in a real sports car, no?”
“Yes OK, but only if I get to try her out too, you know, just to see if she handles as well as her owner, to see how she responds to my touch.”
It was initially lost on her, but he knew that she somehow understood.
“OK, let’s finish our coffee and you can fire up that beast, I have some errands to run in Pauanui, you’ll like it there, lots of lovely houses, lovely people, a stunning beach and if you are really good, you can buy me lunch.”
They gathered their things and headed for her car. He tapped his code into the house alarm system which responded instantly, locking itself down, waiting for the Master to return.
She was already in the Porsche.
Chapter Three
As he walked towards the Cayman, she turned the key. He conceded, she sounded beautiful, animal-like, a discreet, yet sporty tone that hinted at its maker’s racing pedigree. This was a very nice car indeed. He was envious but desperate not to communicate this to her just yet.
Moments later they were out on the road.
Leaving the town, she began to provide a commentary on the car’s engineering – he found this quite surprising, his own prejudice surfacing appallingly.
“You like the sound of the engine, Jack? This one has 3.4 litre, six-cylinder engine, the sports exhaust, makes it sound…sexy! She has seven-speed PDK twin-clutch automatic too, watch this!”
A deft tap on the steering wheel paddles selected third, causing the car to lunge forwards, gripping the road surface and launching it into a superbly weighted overtake of four other vehicles.
“Nought to one hundred in four and a half seconds, Jack!” She was raising her excited voice, better to be heard over the raucous cackle of the engine as it kept pace with her lightning-fast gear changes.
He was impressed. The change-up was magnificent, even better than that on his own car, itself a revelation of engineering.
For a moment neither spoke as she concentrated on driving, really driving. He noted how she used the throttle to balance the car, expertly, holding off, trail braking and then reading the road, skilfully, almost playfully. She knew how to drive.
“I love her, Jack. She is so amazing. Feel that power. It excites me, almost as much as you excite me.” She laughed at his puppy-dog expression. “It’s OK Jack, I love you really.”
Mile after mile melted away, bends treated with respect, straights treated with utter contempt, slower traffic passed in a moment. The combination of chassis, transmission and sheer refined power had him hooked. He loved the Audi, but he wanted this.
It had never once crossed his mind to ask how she had come to have it in her possession. Perhaps it should?
‘Perhaps, Jack, you should just bloody relax for once in your down-trodden, cesspit-inhabiting life?’ he found himself musing as she deftly threw the car from corner to corner.
As they made incredible progress across country, he finally began to relax, no longer mentally, and at times physically braking for her. He hadn’t been this impressed in the passenger seat for a long time.
The last time he saw driving this good – and at the hands of a female, well, that was a while ago and in another country.
She turned on the Bose eight speaker surround sound system. AC/DC’s Thunderstruck rumbled through the multiple speakers, a perfect accompaniment to the performance of the Cayman.
Soon they were singing along to its chanting chorus.
Elena threw a punch in the air to each chant, steering skilfully with the other hand.
Jack knew he couldn’t match Brian Johnson’s screaming, rasping voice so he didn’t try, but inwardly he was belting out the tune.
As they had left Whitianga, he had noticed a black Rolls Royce, not exactly the rarest thing on the road, but this was a Wraith; new to the country, extremely expensive and very, very powerful. It was a leviathan, and it had his utmost respect; nearly two tons of motoring madness.
Since the very early days out on the beat, alone and always in the pouring bloody rain, he’d been observant. Frankly, if you weren’t you we failing to do your job – and importantly in the worst possible case you would end up injured, dead or worse.
He smiled inwardly at the thought of being worse than dead.
‘Cops eh Cade, half the time you don’t want to be on duty and the other, well you’re never bloody off!’
He was running a few memories around in his head of the ‘old days’ and tried to push the Wraith out of his mind. Life was good, and right now it was quite frankly abso-bloody-lutely wonderful. Quite why this girl had entered his life, he still wasn’t one hundred percent sure.
Should he be suspicious? Should he check her out? That is more than he already had; one thing was for certain: she didn’t have too many hiding places left.
He took a deep breath, almost under his breath, and let himself unwind.
Another look in the tinted passenger mirror rewarded him with an empty road; the Wraith had turned off down a farm track.
It was replaced by a bright red Volkswagen Golf R.
“Nice,” he said out loud.
“Thank you Jack, you like my driving?”
“I do, sorry I was talking about the Golf behind us, very capable, very quick and half the price of this beast!”
“Yes, Jack, but it’s a Golf. Question, who is your favourite actress?”
“Kate Beckinsale for looks, Kate Winslett for acting,” he replied without hesitation.
“OK, so I tell you to spend the night with me or Kate – you choose me right? Yes, it is same with Golf, very fast, nice car, but which one go in your garage at end of day – the Porsche. Anyway, it is being driven by a boy!”
Clearly unaware of the aspirant Bulgarian racing driver behind the Cayman’s wheel, the young male in the Golf decided it was time to try out his new steed and changed down to fourth as he applied pressure to the throttle.
Both cars were on the Tairua-Whitianga Road heading south.
As the Golf got alongside the Cayman, the driver took a split second to look to his left. For some reason he had stereotypically expected to find an elderly, wealthy female behind the wheel, driving, like Miss Daisy, instead he found himself looking into the startling green eyes of a drop-dead gorgeous twenty something that he would have frankly exchanged his car and both legs for, in a heartbeat.
What made the event even more fanciful was that the anonymous female blew him a kiss, waved and then hurtled off down the road before he had a chance to get past her.
He lunged back to the left-hand side of the road and accelerated, coming up behind her quickly as she braked for a sweeping left-hand bend.
Jack tried his best to remain relaxed, looking across the headland to the azure-blue Pacific Ocean.
“Lovely day for a race, Miss Dimitrova!” he offered, knowing that she was now operating at a different level.
“Jack, I’m showing this boy how to drive,” she responded a little too excitedly for his liking. Despite his years of advanced driving, he knew that these mountain roads were unforgiving at best – equally he knew that a full-blooded eastern European goddess was not to be messed with either. It would take a brave man to halt her progress.
The Cayman darted left and right, the Golf driver refusing to yield.
They approached the small hamlet of Coroglen; she left the braking until very late, double-tapped the paddle shift system and dropped the car from sixth to third, its engine providing the opportunity for her to make the change appear almost imperceptible, but above all intensely fast.
They flew over the Waiwawa River and soon got up to 130 mph. The car was capable of much faster, and apparently so was its driver. Jack had warned Elena about the roads and the local highway patrol, who were, in his words, ‘less forgiving than the roads they patrolled’ but for now at least she had erased his words from her immediate memory.
The joust continued for another twelve miles. To many it would have been an eternity, to them it was a game, a game of Big Cat and Ferocious Mouse. Neither of course would admit to being the rodent.
The scenery reminded her of home but with the notable addition of the cobalt blue Pacific Ocean which was in her peripheral vision; hazy with occasional whitecaps, an ever-present mass of sparkling sapphire and pristine sandy coves which intermittently revealed themselves among the pine forests and plunging valleys.
Bends continued to be treated with contempt, straights shortened and hills ridiculed. She was enjoying every inch of the journey and the car seemed to be perfectly matched to any given command.
He conceded, however, that given the cost, his next car may well be the Golf, its own performance outstanding in such exalted company.
“Let him by, he’s earned it, poor boy,” suggested Cade with a wry smile.
“Never!” proclaimed Dimitrova with a pump of the fist.
At one point Cade watched her slowly, provocatively lick her lips.
They dropped into the town of Tairua alongside its beautiful harbour, their speed now at a sedentary level and more in keeping with the environment. Jack switched on the radio. A song was playing. He was unsure of the singer, but he loved the words.
The song finished, a local DJ announced that it was called Riptide by Vance Joy, before going on to describe the weather for the next few days. Cade noted the title for another time.
Once through the town she opened up the Cayman again, but for some reason as they hurtled along State Highway 25 towards the wonderfully named Duck Creek she slowed, placed her arm out of the window and allowed her challenger to pull up alongside her.
The Golf driver didn’t hesitate for a second and soon they were cruising at a respectable eighty miles an hour, windows down and comparing vehicles. The air whistled by her window as she yelled to her opponent.
“I let you win!” she shouted to the good-looking male, a young European who had clearly done reasonably well for himself. Cade guessed that he had entered the world of information technology early in life and was now reaping the rewards.
Red Golf carried out micro-adjustments to his steering, desperate to avoid running off into the water-filled ditches that were an ever-present feature in this part of the world.
Designed to take the sting out even the most powerful tropical or winter storm they mirrored the road perfectly, adding safety but a hint of danger too – a driver, and particularly an inexperienced one, only had to place an errant wheel on the gravel to find themselves tumbling out of control and into a nearby field. The unlucky ones would meet their fate by careering down into a pine-filled gorge.
“I let you let me!” he shouted back, enjoying the automotive flirting before decelerating sharply to allow a large truck to proceed north.
He whipped the car back alongside the Porsche once more and this time noticed Cade. He nodded, as if in apology, perhaps for chatting up his…daughter?
Cade, ever one to read body language skilfully leant across and shouted, “If you think she’s a maniac on the road you should try her in the bedroom!”
Suddenly unsure of what he had got himself into, the Golf driver nodded, smiled and floored the throttle, soon creating a healthy gap between the two cars.
“Jack! You scared him off. Anyway, he was a boy in the car so he would be a boy in the bedroom!”
Red Golf found himself pondering a few questions: Who was she? Why was she of such interest? And fascinatingly, was that a roadside offer of a swinging session? That was a first! He might never know, but assured himself that whatever the outcome, he had enjoyed the journey. Whoever the older guy was, for now, he was a lucky man
.
The couple indicated left and turned towards the stunning town of Pauanui as the Golf headed south west towards Kopu Bridge and the inevitable drive north to Auckland. Dimitrova flashed her lights, earning a double flash of the Golf hazard lights.
On the way to Pauanui, he questioned her about her driving skills.
“Forgive me for asking, but where the bloody hell did you learn to drive like that?”
She laughed openly, “Jack, I intimidate you?”
“No, far from it, actually I found it to be a real turn on. Most women, with a few exceptions, can’t drive a car like this, like…that.” He nodded back to the Tairua Road.
“My father and my brother, they teach me. When I was little girl I learned on the family farm, my uncle, he had lots of land so we drive fast – everywhere!” she paused as if recalling a time in her past.
“But you would have had something much slower than this?”
“Of course, but I learn. I find a good-looking boy and make love to him for days until he introduced me to his father…”
“My God, you slept with him too?”
She slapped his thigh, “No naughty Jack, his father owned a garage!”
“Yes, now I understand.”
“I don’t think you do. His son was terrible in bed. So I had affair with his father, it was worth it to get to drive the Porsche 911 Turbo, a car so sexy I just look at it and have…” she ran a few words through her mind before completing the sentence, “…orgasm.”
She bit her lower lip for the rest of the journey, which Cade found instantly sexy. She was desperate not to reveal that the story was almost entirely untrue. She had worked as a valet at Sofia Airport, deliberately as it transpired, so that she could drive the latest vehicles from the parking bay to the garage, her ‘little detours’ proving invaluable in her learning curve.
Eventually she would meet a man, they would become lovers of course, but in truth she only ever wanted him for the car. His pathetic, lumbering skills in the bedroom were worth enduring for the chance to drive and Bulgaria, well it had some of the best driving roads, anywhere.