Tumble Creek

by Louise Forster

  His grim expression hadn’t changed. Brock took a deep steadying breath, caressed her temple and gently wiped a tear off her cheek with his thumb, then quietly asked, ‘You okay?’

  She gave him a slight nod, and spoke carefully, not opening her mouth any further than necessary. ‘It’s not what you think. Foot got caught, fell out car, chin first … hit a rock. Jett … and fell again.’ She grabbed his shirt. ‘Here … in cabin … grandmother’s ring. Can’t talk, hurts.’

  Brow deeply furrowed, worry darkening his eyes, Brock took the face washer out of her hands and, with utmost care, dabbed her swollen mouth. ‘And this?’ he asked, narrowed eyes on her right cheek as his fingers lightly traced an area of swelling, tightening skin. Landing on her chin wouldn’t have caused swelling to her cheek … without any grazes. Brock’s stormy eyes darted back to hers.

  ‘That was an accident,’ she whispered, eyes flicking to Jett then back to Brock. Well, that was a mistake; being pissed off at Jett was easy for many reasons, but trying to take her phone, and accidentally backhanding her, though painful, it was unintentional. ‘An accident, Brock.’

  ‘Two things, Sofe: had he left you alone like you’d asked, you wouldn’t be spitting blood right now, and you wouldn’t be heading for a black eye.’

  ‘What?’ She brought her fingers up feeling around for swelling.

  Brock took her hand and gently guided her fingers. ‘Yeah, right there, Babe.’ Brock let her go and surged to his feet.

  ‘Wait!’ Sofie cried out, voice dry, raspy.

  It was too late, Brock strode off, thankfully past Jett, and headed for the kitchen. Sofie’s shoulders sagged with relief. Nevertheless, on his way, Brock pointed at Jett. ‘Do not move! You do, I will find you!’

  Swallowing hard, Jett paled.

  Brock came back with ice wrapped in a tea towel, hunkered down again, and gently held it to her cheek.

  ‘I told you not to move,’ Brock warned without turning around, his tone ominous.

  Sofie glanced over Brock’s shoulder and, sure enough, Jett had sidled a couple of feet closer to the door. How did Brock do that? Training?

  ‘Back in a minute, Sofe,’ Brock said gently. ‘Keep holding the ice near your eye.’

  Brock stood and swung around, his movement economical and fluid for a man his size. Every inch of his muscular frame under control. His presence dominated the room. Not missing his stride, he had Jett hooked under an arm, hauled him up and slammed him against the wall, forearm to his throat.

  And Brock’s rage was unleashed.

  Sofie had never seen Brock use ‘physical’ force with anyone, and to see it now was frightening. His explosive emotions, along with Jett’s fear, made her skin prickle. Cold seeped through her skin, she hugged her arms around herself, at the same time trying to stand and call out to Brock, but he wasn’t listening.

  Brock growled, ‘You have got to be fucking insane!’

  ‘I didn’t do that! It was all an accident.’

  ‘I told you not to approach Sofie or Claudia. Get it into your thick skull, they want nothing to do with you!’

  ‘She’s my wife, my family, you said so yourself. You said teenagers were a pain in the arse,’ Jett squeezed out through a constricted throat.

  ‘That was said so you would open up and talk. And in the meantime you’ve added your own slant to it. Get this—’ with his free hand, he jabbed a finger into Jett’s chest, ‘—not one word of what I said that day was true—not one! It was all about protecting my woman and her amazing daughter. Nothing else. So far you’ve done nothing but damage. And you call yourself a man—a father!’

  ‘I have every right to talk to her … er, them.’

  ‘The moment you left your wife, left your family to cope on their own—you gave up that right,’ Brock snarled. ‘And the moment they tell you to leave them alone—that’s exactly what you do!’

  ‘This is police harassment,’ Jett wheezed.

  ‘Yeah?’ Brock tilted his head as if considering, but not really. ‘As you can see I’m not in uniform, but you know what?’ He edged closer, almost nose to nose with Jett, who pushed back as far as he could against a wall. ‘Even if I was, I wouldn’t give a shit!’ The anger and power behind his voice electrified the room.

  Heart pounding Sofie tried to call out, but all she managed was a raspy whisper. ‘Brock.’

  His arm remained across Jett’s throat as he swung around. ‘It’s all right, Sofe, I’m not going to hurt this piece of shit, but bottom line—’ he turned back to face Jett, ‘—Had you not started this bullshit, Sofie wouldn’t be holding an icepack to her face right now. Do you understand me?!’ he roared.

  Jett nodded. Brock eased his hold on him.

  Sofie heaved a sigh, thinking crisis over, thank God.

  ‘Sofe?’ Brock called to her.

  ‘Yes,’ she said as loud as she dared.

  ‘You left a message on my phone, you still want talk to this scum?’

  She put her hand up, hoping he understood that she wanted to tell him what she thought. He gave a brief nod, and Sofie continued, carefully. ‘He wants me to buy him a house in Rose Bay or Vaucluse.’ She stopped for a moment and dared to lick her lips. ‘He wants money, that’s all. I hoped he wanted to mend relations with Claud. He’s using my sweet girl to get to me.’

  Enraged, Brock yanked Jett to within an inch of his face, his feet barely touching the floor.

  Sofie strained to hear what he had to say.

  ‘Don’t fuck with my girl, don’t fuck with my girl’s daughter, you’ve caused them both enough pain to last a life time! Lastly, do not fuck with me.’ Brock paused, neck and shoulders rigid, then continued, his tone threatening when he hissed. ‘On second thoughts, yeah, fuck with me. Do it, Jett!’ he dared on a deep growl. ‘Test me—I’ll throw in my badge—and you’ll end up on life support with a tube to feed you, and another to take your shit.’ Jett’s Adam’s apple bobbed up and down as he tried to swallow. ‘Yeah, that’s right. No skin off my nose if I’m on the force or not; make no mistake, I mean every word.’

  It astonished Sofie how much she and Claudia meant to Brock. His profound and protective statement overwhelmed her with a force that left her breathless, quickly followed by a warmth that penetrated deep inside her chest. Her stomach churned; Brock was ready to give up everything to protect her and Claudia, everything! Could she handle that? Shit! Holding a hand over her mouth, she ran towards the kitchen, eyes darting, searching, hoping to find the laundry. She ran through a side door to her left and found the bathroom and toilet. Racing into the tiled chamber, she dropped to her knees, which hurt like a bugger, and vomited to the point of collapse.

  Heavy footfalls hurried her way and Brock came running in.

  ‘Shit,’ she groaned. Head pounding, she really didn’t want him to see her like this, heaving up the remains of breakfast. She waved a hand behind her, hoping he’d get the message to leave her alone.

  He ignored her gesture. Kneeling beside her, he gathered her hair, swept it back with both hands, holding it out of the way as another wave hit. Thinking it was over, Sofie sat on her bum and, trembling, slumped against the wall. Brock disappeared and came back with the face washer that she’d dropped. He rinsed it under a cold tap at the basin, crouched down beside her and swabbed her face. He rinsed it again, folded it and placed it on the back of her neck.

  ‘Hey, Babe,’ he said, his voice on edge, but trying to sound softer, just for her, always sweet just for her.

  She lifted her head, but damn it was heavy, like it weighed a ton. His smile was so tender, tears welled.

  ‘Hey,’ she managed to say. ‘Sorry, I’m a bit of a mess.’

  ‘You fall on your head?’ His fingers went to her hair, carefully searching, she guessed, for lumps or cuts. ‘You must’ve to say something crazy like that.’

  Blinking, she dropped her forehead onto her knees and slowly mumbled, ‘I think I’m a little concussed … I’m all right, don’t let Jet
t get away.’

  ‘He’d have to walk,’ he said.

  The tinkle of metal caught her attention, she lifted her head a little. The keys to Jett’s expensive car dangled from Brock’s hand.

  ‘You’re a clever dick.’

  Brock grinned and stayed silent. Suddenly, an arm went around her back, the other under her knees: he scooped her up and helped her stand over the basin. Avoiding the mirror she rinsed her mouth, and carefully washed her face, then had a few sips of water.

  ‘You done?’ he asked.

  ‘Yes, thank you.’

  Brock scooped her up again, walked out to the living room and laid her down on the couch with a cool cloth on her head. Fingers under her jaw, he examined her chin. He let her go and hovered over her, emotions in check, face a blank mask except for his eyes: they were resolute, deadly, which was even more worrying than outright rage.

  ‘Jett knows something about my house,’ Sofie mumbled. ‘I never said the truck was stolen, but he knew.’ Frowning, she slowly shook her head, and without another word conveyed her thoughts. There was no doubt Brock understood what she was alluding to: his eyes and quick, short nod, was acknowledgement enough that he had the moron who destroyed her home.

  ‘Sofie,’ Jett pleaded, ‘we’ve known each other since high school. We have a connection and I know we can make a great life together. Even your mother thinks so.’

  That her mother was involved really hurt. Exhausted, there was no way to control her emotions; her mouth trembled and tears leaked out the sides of her eyes and spilled down into her hair.

  He gave her a warm smile and a slight shake of his head. ‘You and me Babe, with Claudia. Nothing else matters … ’cept Jenn, Calum, Sarge and Gypsy. And Tak of course.’

  ‘Yeah, there might be a few more, hey?’

  ‘Just a few.’ Eyes following his fingers, he ever so lightly stroked her face. ‘You okay? You don’t want to …’

  ‘Vomit?’

  ‘Hmm.’

  ‘My head’s thumping … don’t feel the need to throw up … I’m okay.’ Sofie nodded and ignored everything outside Brock’s protective cocoon—let the experts deal with whatever—then exhaustion took over, her eyelids drifted down, the world around her disappeared and she let herself sink into the cushions; restful sleep soon followed.

  Chapter 11

  Out on the veranda, Brock fought for self-control when all he wanted to do was crush Jett like a bug. To go off the rails would only hurt Sofie, she needed him to be with her, not looking at him through a set of bars, and besides, that would also mean Jett had won the battle. So, to hell with him and his manipulations.

  Tyres crunching on gravel had Brock looking up to see Takumi behind the wheel of a police cruiser. An ambulance followed a couple of car lengths behind.

  ‘I don’t need an ambulance,’ Jett complained noisily.

  Brock bent down, grabbed Jett’s shirt and, twisting it hard, he made the mongrel gag. Close to choking the life out of him, he ground out roughly, ‘Are you for real? You fucking arsehole!’ Takumi mounted the steps but Brock remained focused. ‘It’s not for you, you useless piece of shit.’ He shoved him away and flicked his hand as if he’d just touched something foul.

  Takumi stopped just inside the cottage door and whispered, ‘Shit man, what happened to Sofie’s face?’ He didn’t wait for an answer, and rounded on Jett, accusingly, ‘You did that—you scum!’

  Brock grabbed Takumi’s shoulder and held him back, explaining, ‘Sofie’s foot got caught on something. I think she fell out of the car, came down hard on her chin. My guess is she didn’t have time to protect herself.’

  ‘Yeah, from that one!’ Takumi hitched a thumb at Jett.

  ‘You may have a point. The medics will assess the damage, she probably needs an x-ray. Could be concussed, vomited her guts up earlier.’

  ‘Fuck!’ Takumi stepped inside the cottage and bent down over Sofie’s face for a closer look. ‘Shouldn’t concussed people be kept awake?’ he whispered.

  ‘No, that’s old school,’ Brock muttered.

  The paramedics came in carrying their medical kits.

  ‘G’day, Pete, Harry,’ Brock greeted them. ‘In here.’ He led them into the living area.

  Harry slipped on a pair of gloves and started checking Sofie’s vital signs. Lifting her eyelids he checked her pupils with a tiny torch. She slowly focused, and moaning pushed herself up on her elbows.

  ‘Oh my God. I’m fine,’ she croaked past swollen lips. ‘Brock, tell them I’m fine.’

  ‘Sofe, relax and let them do their job,’ Brock ordered gently.

  ‘But I’m tired, that’s all.’ He raised his eyebrows and gave her a look. ‘God, all right, jeez, bossy.’

  ‘We’ll take you in for x-rays,’ Harry said. ‘You’ve had a decent whack on your chin. How’s your neck?’

  ‘A bit sore.’

  He fitted Sofie with a neck brace, and as they carefully slid her onto the stretcher and were strapping her down, she asked, ‘Is this really necessary? God I feel like an idiot.’

  ‘Better safe than sorry,’ Pete said.

  Brock took the opportunity to talk to her. ‘I’ll be right behind you, Sofe,’ he murmured and kissed her forehead.

  They wheeled her out, down the steps and into the ambulance.

  ‘Bring him in,’ Brock said to Takumi, with a sideways nod at Jett.

  ‘I’d like to just throw him in the back, take the long way home, maybe go bush bashing over the roughest terrain in the country,’ Takumi muttered holding the door open for Jett. ‘Get in,’ he ordered, and his big hand landed hard on top of Jett’s head, shoving him down.

  ‘Why?’ Jett complained, ‘I haven’t done anything wrong.’

  ‘We believe you can help us in an investigation. If you don’t come willingly we will get a warrant out for your arrest. In the end, you will come in and answer questions.’

  ‘I’m suing you for police harassment and unnecessary force! I repeat, I did nothing wrong,’ Jett bellyached bitterly, dragging his legs into the car.

  ‘Is he for real?’ Takumi asked, pulling a just-tasted-something-sour face.

  ‘’Fraid so.’

  ‘You’d better fill me in,’ Takumi prompted.

  Brock told him what Sofie had said, how Jett boasted about a stolen truck that had ploughed through her house.

  ‘Okay.’ Takumi gave him a devilish, badass grin. ‘We might have our man.’

  ‘Yeah, there’s just a small thing called evidence. Cos we both know, he’s not going to confess.’

  Takumi chuckled, ‘We’ll see.’

  Eyes locked on Takumi’s, Brock told him, ‘I know you’re liking this a hell of a lot, but don’t do anything stupid and jeopardise this investigation. I want that mongrel to pay.’

  ‘Shit no! Don’t worry, he’ll pay.’ Takumi slid behind the wheel, grinning.

  Brock glared at the rear end of the police car as it headed down the driveway. ‘Go, mate,’ he told himself, ‘hospital now.’

  ***

  Lying in Brock’s enormous bed, Sofie started to rouse and, half asleep, stretched her aching limbs. She raised herself up, and resting on her elbows, she listened to the murmur of voices filtering through the open bedroom door. It was Brock speaking just above a whisper with Claudia, who sounded upset, and more guilt fell on Sofie, hard. Sofie needed to get to Claudia, tell her she was fine, it was all an accident. Damn it, she should never have tried to mend bridges with Jett for Claudia’s sake … How was she going to explain it all without making Claudia feel worse?

  She shoved the covers off, pushed herself up to sit, swung her legs over the side, and waited a moment for the room to stop spinning. Slowly, she stood, but her legs buckled and she fell back on her bottom; bouncing a little on the mattress wasn’t great either. She counted to twenty and tried again. It was better this time, blood was finally reaching her brain. She even managed to bend over and pluck her fluffy dressing-gown off a nearby chair. She
shrugged it on, and not wanting to scare the crap out of herself with her reflection, bypassed the bathroom as she slowly made her way down the hall to the kitchen.

  The moment Sofie entered through the open door, Brock and Claudia swung around to face her. Typically, Gypsy didn’t stir from where she slept, curled around Claudia’s neck. Sarge lifted his head from Claudia’s lap and directed his big brown eyes at Sofie before raising his rump to stand, then he sauntered over and ducked his head under her hand, nudging it for a pat.

  Eyes warm, Brock gave her an encouraging smile, moved to her side, and said, ‘The hospital called while you were asleep, it’s okay, you can remove the neck brace.’

  ‘Oh, that’s a relief. Ever tried sleeping with one of these?’

  ‘You did great,’ Brock chuckled. ‘Your snoring reached us all the way from the bedroom, has to be a record.’

  ‘Oh sure,’ Sofie mumbled.

  Brock came up behind her, eased apart the Velcro strips and gently peeled off the brace, tossing it onto a chair.

  Sofie tipped her chin up to give her neck a good scratch and her eyes caught the heart-wrenching look on Claudia’s face. She quickly cleared her pissed off expression, but Sofie didn’t miss the flicker of emotions: worry, fear, and rage. She went straight to her sweet girl, took her hand and with a little tug pulled her up. Claudia dropped Gypsy on the chair she’d just left and walked into Sofie’s arms for a good long mother-hug.

  Sofie whispered, ‘I’m fine. It’s all good.’

  Claudia’s chin rested on Sofie’s shoulder and she muttered, ‘Really? Not from where I stand.’

  ‘Oh, but it is, sweetheart. None of it was anyone’s fault, okay? I agonised about talking things over with Jett. But I figured this was my last-ditch attempt for us to have a worthwhile adult conversation. And, before you both go off your nuts at me, we hadn’t arrived at the cabin yet and I knew I’d made a mistake … wasting my time. Unfortunately, as I was hopping out of his car to walk away and call a taxi, I fell. I was so dazed I didn’t have the strength to get up. Luckily, Brock was there within minutes. I suppose he’s told you everything?’