Copyright © 2013 by Natalie Gayle
KINDLE EDITION
ISBN978-09875142-1-9
All Rights Reserved.
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This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events or locales is entirely coincidental.
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Table of Contents
Author's Note
Dedication
Prologue
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chatper 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Chapter 34
Chapter 35
Chapter 36
Epilogue
Acknowledgements
About The Author
Author’s Note
I started writing “Finding Trust” about five years ago. I set out to write a book that I would like to read, so it incorporates all my favourite things: romance, suspense, action, a little fantasy, and something a little “out there”.
The “out there” component of the book is the Hendra virus. I’ve been heavily involved in the equine industry for more years than I should probably admit to and it has had a massive impact on the industry. I have used the Hendra virus in a totally fictitious manner with very liberal doses of an overactive imagination, but it is a very real threat to the equine community.
The virus first came to prominence in 1994 with an outbreak occurring at the Hendra racing stables of Vic Rail (Brisbane, Queensland). Hence the name Hendra took hold. Over the last decade the incidences of Hendra in Queensland have increased at a very alarming rate.
It is a fatal virus for both horses and humans and it sparks real fear in the equine community and to a lesser extent the general population. In fact, the virus has proved fatal for several people including two leading equine veterinarians. These two vets and the carers for the sick horses are the true heroes. They unwittingly gave their lives in order to treat sick horses. They all had families and they have all been drastically impacted by the virus.
The virus doesn’t discriminate, seventy five percent of horses contracting the virus have either been euthanized or died and sixty percent of humans.
After writing the first 25,000 words I put the book away until mid-last year. Life simply got in the way.
Things changed and I had a bit more time on my hands so I decided to revisit the world I’d started to create.
The places referred to are broadly accurate but again have been used fictitiously. However, the Gold Coast, Queensland is a region close to my heart. It’s home, I grew up here and still live here.
As I was just about to complete “Finding Trust”, the news we’d all been waiting for finally broke. A vaccine for horses for the Hendra virus was now commercially available. (Late 2012).
This is a marvelous breakthrough for the equine industry and a significant move in the right direction for stopping the reign of terror the virus has evoked.
So to all the people who have been part of this very important research and testing: a very huge thank you.
I hope you take “Finding Trust” for what it was intended to be a: a romantic suspense novel that dared to look at a very real topic in a totally fictitious way.
Happy Reading
Nat
Dedication
I dedicate this book to all the romance writers that have come before me and to all those that will come after. Everybody needs a little bit of fantasy and their happy ever after.
Prologue
Fifteen years ago—University Tutorial Room
“Sit down. Relax and let’s get acquainted.”
The voice was deep and smooth but ribboned with a hint of something that could only be described as dark as it infected the room via the concealed wall speakers. The energy in the room shifted and all twelve bodies sat a little straighter in response to the undercurrent in the voice. Relax was the last thing any of the six young men and six young women could do. The nervous energy was almost like a haze enveloping the group.
“Have you figured it out yet?” The uncertainty zipped through the college classroom, the question seeming to bounce off the nondescript beige walls. The unease and restlessness was visible amongst all. A few more energetic types looked as if they wished to respond but were not quite sure what the answer was or whether in fact the question was rhetorical. Others chose the stereotypical college attitude of “who cares.” Silence was the deafening answer, because no one wanted to look like a fool in front of a bunch of strangers, on the first day of class.
“The connection. Why you are all here: at this school, in this class.” This statement drew audible murmurs amongst the group. Several heads took long sideways glances, trying to reach the answer that seemed obvious but somehow just out of their grasp.
“The answer is simple, but complex.” The voice trailed off with just a hint of humour. Agitation amongst the group was quite visible now. They were clearly becoming distressed at the tone and annoyed by the cryptic puzzle that was playing out before them.
“You’re all related by blood and genetics but are not siblings or family.” The gasps that followed were clear. All twelve faces looked from one to the other, desperately trying to figure out the brainteaser presented to them as the truth of the information sank in. Their blood suddenly became thicker and felt not at all like it could pump through their veins.
At last, a large, dark-skinned man asked, “How can we be related by blood and not be siblings or family?” His question all the more obvious when a quick scan of the room produced the proverbial mixed bag of multiculturalism that was so politically correct amongst modern society. It seemed just about every race, colour, and creed was assembled. This only heighted the tension and the absurdity of the question posed. The visual evidence indicated that the twelve men and women were not brothers and sisters in the commonly accepted sense. If that was not the case, then what? How could they share blood genetics?
It seemed the voice was going to answer and end the questions that still remained answerless. “You all share twelve common genetic threads, i
f you like. Your human makeup and characteristics were inherited from your paternal father and maternal mother.” The voice subtly emphasised the word human. The word seemed to hang in the air for an eternity.
The voice continued, “The other twelve genetic threads are DNA components taken from the twelve animals that make up the signs of the Chinese zodiac.” The shock ricocheted around the room like errant electrons. The tension had now evaporated into outright confusion, disbelief, and horror. Some of the twelve members of the group were actually holding their hands and feet up for closer inspection, as if trying to see any visible signs of the infused animal genetics, while others desperately tried to remember what the twelve animal signs were. Rat, pig, dog, monkey, snake, rooster—ahhhh! What did it matter? Apparently they all shared the same blood as a large proportion of any regular zoo, if the voice could be believed.
“Quite simply, you are human but with varying degrees of animal traits, abilities, and tendencies.” The voice paused, waiting for the information to penetrate the raging storm of emotions radiating from each individual. “You share the characteristics of the rat, ox, tiger, rabbit, dragon, snake, horse, goat, monkey, rooster, dog, and pig. It is likely that each of you will exhibit stronger tendencies towards some animals—namely dog, tiger, and horse—but all animals are present in each of you.”
“Had you never thought it strange before that you had exceptional eyesight, hearing, strength, and any number of other abilities that your friends lacked?” A few nods and the first rays of recognition spread across some of the faces. “Surely you must have wondered at some stage in the eighteen years of your life thus far why you could easily do things that others could not. You are different—unique.
“The answer to how this happened is simple. All of your parents experienced fertility issues. You are all the product of IVF, but with a difference. A distinct difference, for a higher purpose.” The voice sounded satisfied, bordering on smug. The more answers the group were given, the more questions that were raised. What was the higher purpose the voice referred to?
“The degree to which you choose to embrace these gifts is totally up to the individual. However, the path of least resistance is to commit to the training, skills, and camaraderie you will gain here.”
The group was all but stunned into silence, desperately trying to absorb the words that proceeded and the ones that would follow.
“You are different—accept it.
“In time, you will all have the answer to the question you are asking…Why? Until then, you have enough to consider.” The voice was complete; the audio to the classroom switched off, the finality unmistakable.
The twelve young men and women turned and faced one another in some sort of subconscious bonding or acceptance—a common understanding established. The information they had received and the peculiarity of the situation had tentatively bonded them together as surely as the altered blood they jointly shared. The experiences over the years to come and the genetics they shared would make them closer than family.
Three men and two women sitting in the comfort of the viewing room turned and nodded to one another. Their satisfaction and relief was overtly evident. At last it had begun; the group was formed. But would it be soon enough and would they succeed? Only time and the twelve individuals in the room could answer that question.
Chapter One
New Year’s Eve—Fifteen years later
Surfers Paradise Beach, Gold Coast, Australia
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 w
ith 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.
Finding Trust (Centre Games) Page 1
