Rory piped up. “We could always torture them, boss.” Laughter softly rippled around the room. No doubt that had been Rory’s intention. He never could stand the mood to be too serious for too long.
“Southall, you know that’s not helpful. Besides, you think I haven’t already thought of that?” Tom Anderson had an evil gleam in his eye as he said it. Rihanna knew he was a man you didn’t cross.
“I’m sorry, Tom, but I must insist we at least alert the relevant authorities to the potential of an increased risk. This will give us the ability to tighten things up around equine travel documentation and have the appropriate quarantine staff and resources on standby. To not at least alert them goes against my professional and personal moral codes.” Her father was animated in his delivery and as much as Tom could be scary, her father could be dogmatic and was difficult to budge once he made up his mind. Rihanna knew from his tone he’d made up his mind.
Tom must have recognised it as well. “I still don’t like it, Peter, but I’ll allow it. We need to work up some sort of departmental bulletin that looks official but can’t be traced back to us. Rheeba, can you take care of that, please?”
“Sure, boss. When do you need it by?” Her voice was clear through the speakerphone.
“Fourteen hundred. If we’re going to bother alerting them, then we at least need to give them time to act.” Rihanna was fast learning that once Tom made up his mind about something, he supported his decision fully and expected the outcome to be positive as planned.
Tom shuffled some papers in front of him and started to look at planning options. “Okay, let’s look at logistics for this thing. I want to split the team into three. Alpha team looking after neutralising the threat against the spectators, Beta team neutralising and monitoring the situation with the horses, and Charlie team, you’ve got logistics and support.” He sat back in his chair and cast his eyes around the table, looking from each one of them to the next. He was sizing them up, trying to decide something.
“Okay, we’ll structure the teams like this. Alpha team will be Dylan, Aaron, Angelo, Mickey, and Alison. Dylan, you’re in charge. Beta team will be Brayden, Quade, and Rory. Brayden, you’re in charge. Charlie team will be Rheeba, Selena, Rachel, and Emma. Rheeba, you’re in charge.” Tom scratched a few notes on the pages in front of him, before looking up again.
“Peter and Rihanna—I want you both with Beta team. You both know the players at this event. You both also know the virus better than anyone. We’ll need your combined expertise to spot how they might intend to spread the virus.”
“Boss, do you really think that’s safe? I’m not happy about Rihanna being that close to the threat.” Brayden had tensed in his seat and was clearly very unhappy about Tom’s intent to have Rihanna so close to potential danger.
Rihanna immediately felt her temper simmer. Surely it was her decision how close to the action she became? Just because they were in some sort of relationship—God, she was still struggling with that—it didn’t mean he had the right to interfere with how she operated her professional life. But to make it even worse, he’d gone and done it again in front of even more of his team this time. She glared at him across the table but said nothing. She was more interested in what Tom had to say first. Jazz’s raised eyebrow hadn’t escaped her either.
“Brayden, Rihanna is involved in this specifically because of her knowledge of the virus. Regardless of your concerns, we need her at the event. You’re leading Beta team—make sure she’s safe.” Tom’s words left no doubt in anyone’s mind that the conversation was over, at least from Tom’s perspective.
Brayden wasn’t happy; in fact, if she had to guess, she’d say he was downright fuming.
Silence had descended around the table. Brayden clearly wanted to say more but was resisting in order to maintain some level of professionalism.
Jazz broke the silence. “So what’s my role?”
Quade, who was sitting beside Brayden, glared across the table at Jazz, his look silently telling her that her presence in this assignment was not wanted or needed.
“You don’t have a role, Miss Carter,” Tom confirmed for Jazz.
“Bullshit, I don’t. I’m involved in this as much as everyone else now. I’m not going to sit by and do nothing,” she argued.
Tom was clearly taken aback by Jazz’s fierce display of defiance. He was not a man who was used to having his orders or decisions questioned. Jazz and Tom held each other’s glare for a few seconds. Neither of them looked like backing down.
“Fine then, you’ll be on standby to provide medical assistance. That’ll save us from having a resource sidelined keeping an eye on you. Rheeba, she’s on your team.”
Rihanna saw Jazz bristle at Tom’s reluctant acceptance of her need to be involved. Her eyes blazed daggers at him. The man didn’t know it yet, but he’d thrown down the gauntlet where Jazz was concerned. The thought that this would be interesting to watch crossed more than one mind at the table.
“Right, boss. I’ll call you after this meeting, Jazz, to go through what needs to be done,” Rheeba confirmed.
“Okay, if there are no further questions, split into your teams and start planning. We’ve got less than two days before the sales get underway.” Tom said no more. They’d all been dismissed.
***
Brayden caught up with Rihanna in the kitchen; she was pouring juice into glasses for Peter and herself. He knew she was pissed at him over his overprotective display in the meeting. Yeah, he was probably out of line but hell, he’d just found her; the last thing he wanted was to lose her again.
“Hey, Minky, can I have one, too?”
She looked at him with steel in her eyes. Yep, she was pissed off. However, she still had the good manners to get a glass and pour one for him as well.
“Thanks, babe,” he said gently, knowing he was well and truly in the doghouse.
If he had her pegged right, she’d carry on as per normal for the purpose of the team, but as soon as they were next alone—all bets were off. Batten down the hatches, he was about to cop it big time.
Oh well, these were just the idiosyncrasies of relationships, weren’t they? It would take time for them to really get to know each other. He couldn’t help his protective instincts where she was concerned.
Peter sat at the bench. Clearly, he was aware of the tension between them and as he’d been as much a part of the meeting as they had, he obviously knew why.
He cleared his throat, uncomfortable with what he was about to say but pushing on nevertheless. “Umm, if it’s any consolation, Brayden, I’m as unhappy about Rihanna being involved in the operation as you are. I don’t want her at risk in any way shape or form. From what I’ve learned, I’ve nearly lost her at least twice, maybe three times, and that simply doesn’t sit well with a father. I’d like you to reconsider, Rihanna.”
Rihanna had her back to them, returning the juice to the fridge; she spun around, clearly pissed off. “You want me to what?”
Her father ignored her anger and made his request. “You heard me quite clearly, Rihanna. I’d prefer you’re not involved or at least remain behind in the support team Rheeba is organising.”
“Not going to happen, Dad. As you pointed out, I’ve been targeted three times this last week or so.” Rihanna emphasised her words by holding up three fingers and then turning to point at each of them. “Now it’s my turn to help shut this thing down for good. I’m not going to be sidelined by either of you thinking that I’m not up to this.”
Before either of them could get another word in, she stormed from the room.
Brayden turned to Peter, who was quietly sipping from his glass. “Is she always like that when she doesn’t like what’s being said?”
“Pretty much. She’s not used to being told no. She’s always been incredibly headstrong and determined but very sensible so we’ve not often quarrelled. In a lot of ways, she’s had to be.” Rihanna’s father was looking off into space.
He
didn’t say anything, waiting for Peter to continue. When he realised that the older man didn’t intend to add anything further, Brayden decided to press him for more information. He really didn’t have much insight into Rihanna’s childhood and it was bugging him.
“What do you mean by that, Peter?”
“Well, when Helena died, many would say I checked out. I functioned just barely but if the truth be known, I’d say I was a pretty lousy father.” Peter’s words were heartfelt and Brayden could see how much they cost the man. He didn’t probe. Brayden sensed that if he waited, Peter would reveal more.
“Sure, I lost my wife, but in a lot of ways Rihanna lost her mother and her father. I was there physically but I was certainly of no use emotionally to her. From what I can gather, it’s hard enough being a sixteen-year-old girl at the best of times. I can only imagine how difficult it was for her with Helena gone and me barely able to function, let alone provide support to her.”
Peter had revealed quite a lot. It provided Brayden with more points of reference. Now he was just joining the dots in a lot of ways to get the whole picture of what Rihanna was really like.
“I’m sure you did what you could, Peter. You strike me as a caring father,” Brayden diplomatically added.
“That’s a generous thing to say, Brayden, but what I did was not enough. I truly believe Rihanna has avoided relationships for fear of losing someone. Like I did. I have to say I’m surprised and pleased to see that you’ve somehow managed to crack through those walls she puts up to keep everyone at a distance.”
“You mean the ice stare at fifty paces?”
“That’s the superficial defence mechanism. The tough one lies a lot deeper. I fear she’s not letting herself love someone for fear that somehow she may suffer the same fate as me. She knows how much I miss her mother and I think she’s avoiding the risk in order to avoid the potential pain.”
Brayden contemplated Peter’s words. He made sense and he was being very revealing. Far more than Brayden expected from the father of a girl he’d just started to see.
“Have you spoken to Rihanna about this?”
“God, no. Rihanna and I don’t discuss things like this.” Peter turned to Brayden, an amused smile on his face. “You’ve got no idea how difficult it was for her to tell me about you yesterday. I think that’s also one of the reasons she relies so much on Jazz. She trusts Jazz and she doesn’t have her mother to talk to anymore.”
“Well, Peter, if it’s any comfort, I think you’ve got her pegged just about spot on. She’s opening up more and more to me each day but I have to be fairly insistent about it.”
Brayden finished his juice and put the glasses in the dishwasher. “I suppose I’d better go and see if she’s calmed down.”
“I’d say she’s off chatting to Jazz. Let her go for a while longer. Jazz’ll know what’s best for her,” Peter suggested.
“You really have that much confidence in Jazz?” Sure, he knew Jazz was Rihanna’s best friend but he was interested in Peter’s opinion of Jazz.
“I owe Jazz more than I could ever repay. She was the one who kept Rihanna together when Helena died. She was the one who did the job that I was supposed to do.” Peter had returned to staring off into the distance again. “That girl may appear flighty and a lot uppity, but she’s super smart, insightful, and loyal beyond reason to Rih. For that, I love her like another daughter.” The older man’s sentiment was clearly visible in his face.
“Yeah, no doubt about her loyalty and she is kind of fun to have around. It has been entertaining to watch her and Quade go at it these last few days.”
“That’s Jazz for you. Always full of surprises.” Peter straightened on the stool. He clearly wanted to say more and it was important to him. “Just promise me you’ll try not to hurt her, Brayden. I know no one can ever really make that promise, but I want you to be careful with her heart.”
Brayden felt the gut-wrenching uncertainty return. He still had so much to disclose to Rihanna. She had a right to know. What a damned mess. “I promise I’ll do the best I can.” That he could promise but would his best be good enough? And once Rihanna knew the truth, she may never want anything to do with him again.
“That’s all I can ask. I know you’ll keep her safe.” Peter nodded his head, clearly satisfied with Brayden’s answer. “Now are we going to keep gabbing like a ladies’ knitting circle? Or are we going to figure out how to stop these bastards?”
Brayden could appreciate a man who had his priorities straight.
Chapter Twenty-Six
“I can’t believe he’s done it again, Jazz. Just because he told me he loved me doesn’t mean he gets the right to tell me what I can and can’t do.” Rihanna fumed as she paced back and forth at the end of the bed in the room Jazz was using.
Jazz was sitting cross legged on the bed, making notes on a pad following her call with Rheeba. She sat up abruptly. “Did I just hear you say Brayden told you he loved you?”
Rihanna stopped her pacing and plopped on the end of the bed. “Yes, exasperating, isn’t it?”
“A totally cool, gorgeous, and wonderful guy tells you he loves you and you think it’s exasperating?” Jazz threw down her pen in disbelief. “Unfuckingbelievable.”
“Oh, Jazz, stop being such a drama queen.” Rihanna huffed.
“Actually, Rihanna, I think it’s you that needs to look at the drama queen bit,” Jazz spat back at her.
“What do you mean?”
Jazz moved to lean up against the headboard. “I don’t think he actually thought through what he was saying, Rih. I think he just reacted to the thought of you being potentially in harm’s way.”
“Well, he embarrassed me in front of everyone again. This is the second time he’s done this sort of thing.” She knew how whiny it sounded but she just couldn’t help herself.
Jazz adjusted the notebook on her knee, clearly about to make more notes. “Maybe you’re looking at it the wrong way?”
“I don’t understand what you’re getting at.”
“Ever think that maybe he just publically declared how much you mean to him? He pretty well argued with Tom publically about your safety. Arguing with Tom isn’t something I see these guys doing often. I think he just told his team, people that matter to him, that you’ve just gazumped them on his priority list.”
Rihanna thought on that a moment. Maybe Jazz was right. “But why did he have to go and treat me like a five-year-old in front of everyone?”
“Rihanna, I love you dearly, but you’re sounding whiny and annoying right about now.” Jazz looked at her and Rihanna knew she’d pushed her luck too far. Jazz was fantastic but even she had limits. “Rihanna, everyone has their faults. You’re seeing Brayden’s protectiveness as a fault. I’m seeing it as a measure of how much he cares. Be happy you have someone that cares enough to worry about your safety. Andy just cared about how much use my friends could be.”
Oh God. Rihanna felt sick.
She’d selfishly been carrying on like a spoilt brat and Jazz was the one who had copped the body blow from that asshole Andy. Was it uncool to wish ill of the dead? Ah, what did it matter—he’d betrayed them all and placed thousands of people at risk because of his greed.
But that gave her no reason to be a shitty friend and become so self-absorbed that she missed just how much all this had hurt Jazz. Jazz was carrying on like nothing had happened but Rihanna knew that Jazz was brilliant at hiding what was really upsetting her when she wanted to.
“Sorry I’ve been a shitty friend. I’ve been so caught up in what’s going on in my life. I’ve neglected to be there for you. I know Andy was a jerk and all for what he did. But you guys were still together when he died and that has to be hard.”
“Yeah, it is.” Jazz looked out the window. Rihanna could tell she was doing it to prevent the tears falling down her face. “Andy and I had broken up a few days ago. I just didn’t tell you. You were happy with Brayden and didn’t need me spoiling it with th
e Jazz and Andy breakup version nine. I’m just struggling with the guilt I feel at putting everyone at risk.”
Rihanna moved up the bed and put an arm around her in a hug. “Oh Jazz, don’t think that. None of us blame you for what he did.”
“Yeah, but I blame me. I’m a shrink, for fuck’s sake. I should be able to spot shit like this.” Jazz’s anger at herself was revealing. This one was going to take a while for Jazz to work through.
Rihanna pushed herself back against the headboard as well. “We all make mistakes. Mine has been not trusting anyone enough to have a relationship with. Yours has been trusting the wrong guy. We live and learn, I guess.”
Jazz half snorted. “That’s very Zen-like, Rih. Why the change of heart?”
“Oh no, you don’t. Don’t go getting all shrink on me now.”
Jazz just folded her arms over her chest. “Just answer the question, damn you. You know how much I like to prod and probe at things.”
Rihanna cleared her throat, suddenly finding it hard to speak. “I think I love him as well. I think I’m just looking for excuses to push him away, sort of easier to create a reason to finish than to really make the effort to see where it could go.”
A satisfied smile crossed over Jazz’s face. “Mmmm, you have been paying attention. So what are you going to do now? Yell at him or tell him you love him?”
Rihanna didn’t have to think on that very long. “Umm, a little of both.”
“Good answer.”
Rihanna continued to sit beside Jazz, not moving.
“Well, what are you waiting for?” Jazz prompted. “Go tell him.”
“What about you?” Rihanna asked, unsure whether to leave Jazz just now.
“I’ll be fine. I have a bit longer of beating myself up then I’ll decide it’s time to let it go.”
That’s one of the other things Rihanna loved about Jazz. She always had a plan. Even if it was one that involved beating herself up.
Finding Trust (Centre Games) Page 31
