Finding Trust (Centre Games) (37 page)

What he wouldn’t give to know what she was thinking right now.

Chapter Thirty

The world began to slowly come into focus. Rihanna hadn’t opened her eyes but she could hear voices around her. She tried to move her legs and that immediately caused a jolt of pain to slice through her body.

She forced her heavy eyelids upward. All she could see was white: white walls, white ceilings, and white linens.

“It’s okay, Rih, you’re in the hospital.” It was Jazz. She’d know her voice anywhere. Just hearing Jazz immediately made her feel better, less anxious.

“What’s going on?” Her voice came out croaky, hardly recognisable even to her own ears.

“We’re just patching you up and about to take some x-rays. How do you feel?”

“Like I’ve been run over by a truck.” Her voice was stronger and sounded more familiar to her ears.

“We’ll get you something for the pain now that you’re awake.”

“So how bad am I?”

Jazz sighed. “Well, you’ve got a nasty gash on your forehead that will need some attention from a plastics guy. A heap of bark off down your right arm which we’ve cleaned out and bandaged.” Rihanna was immediately relieved to hear that was sorted out and she wouldn’t have to live through the pain of a road rash cleanout.

“You’ve also got a few monster bruises down your right side. One on your hip in the shape of a hoof, and there’s a beautiful purple one on your ribs. Hence the x-rays.” Jazz confirmed her laundry list of injuries, although none were anything too significant.

“Okay, how long was I out?” she asked, completely unaware of time.

“You’ve been in and out of consciousness for the last couple of hours. Do you remember what happened?”

Rihanna sucked in a breath and forced her mind to focus on the details she could remember. There’d been flashes as Jazz spoke but she hadn’t tried to string them together to make any real sense. Now that she called them, her memories came flooding back in detail. The force of the detail created a hollow feeling deep in her belly.

“Start at the beginning,” Jazz prompted. She must have noticed her discomfort.

“I remember the waterers filling up and having to get the horses out of the boxes and moved to the front for transport. The storm hit and I was leading a couple up to the front, when the filly knocked me to the ground. I fell on my right side and I just remember seeing hooves come at me. I think I must have got trodden on once or twice.”

Jazz nodded her encouragement. “What happened then? Do you remember?”

Rihanna nodded slowly. The motion of her head moving set off another round of pain in her skull and made her feel a bit queasy. “I think I blacked out for a bit. The next thing I remember I was being dragged backwards by one of the Chinese guys.” She paused, catching her breath before she went on.

The terror of being held hostage for the second time ripped through her. The adrenaline flooded her system a second time and she was only recalling the event. Rihanna looked down at her hands and noticed them shaking; embarrassed, she curled them into tight fists and pushed them below the white waffle weave blanket covering her.

“Oh my God, how’s Quade? Did he make it?”

Rihanna saw the grey look come over Jazz’s normally dancing green eyes. “He’s in surgery now.”

“How bad?” Rihanna pushed.

“Touch and go.”

“Where’s Brayden and Rory?” Rihanna was panicked now. Memories were all coming back in massive waves, swamping her. She wriggled on the bed, agitated, desperate to get up and find out what was happening.

“They’re all fine. Brayden’ll be here soon. He was finishing up a briefing with Tom and the others. In fact, he insisted I stay with you.” Jazz rolled her eyes. “Like I wouldn’t anyway.”

Rihanna took another cleansing breath and tried to compose herself. What she’d been through just hours before was more than she could handle. She looked at Jazz and continued.

“We were near the stables when Brayden appeared. He pulled a gun on the Chinese guy and they yelled at each other a bit. Then another Chinese guy came up beside us and put a gun to my head.”

Jazz gasped loudly at Rihanna’s retelling of the story. “I hadn’t heard that bit. Can you go on?” Jazz was obviously worried about the toll remembering was having on her.

Rihanna nodded. “Next thing I heard a gunshot and I used some of those self-defence moves the guys were teaching us during the week. I got free but it was already over. The guy beside me was dead. He’d been shot to the back of the head.”

“Was it Brayden that shot him?” Jazz asked, obviously surprised at the initial exchange of gunfire.

“No, Brayden was in front of me. He was shot from the side.” She knew that bullet had surely saved her life but there was just something so cold about the way it was done. It was silly but she was incredibly relieved that it wasn’t Brayden that fired the bullet.

“Well, it had to be someone else then. Who do you think—Quade?”

Rihanna gathered her thoughts, shaking her head, indicating no. “I’m pretty sure it was Rory. I’m thinking Quade was with Dad down at the back stables.”

Jazz let out a long breath. “Wow. I have to say I’m a bit shocked by that. I wouldn’t have picked Rory for the type to take a shot like that. Quade sure, but Rory no.” Jazz brushed back the lock of hair that had fallen across Rihanna’s face. “Anyway, I’m just glad that he did make the shot. I don’t think I’d survive if something happened to you.”

Rihanna gave her a weak smile as if to say—
yeah, sure
. “Thanks, Jazz.”

“Oh, stop it. You can’t be too bad if you’re givin’ me shit already.”

They both laughed and Rihanna was quickly clutching at her right side. “Farrrkkkk, that hurts.”

“Serves you right for doubting me.” She giggled.

“Okay, okay, I take it back, just don’t make me laugh.” Rihanna cringed, holding her ribs.

“Alright, you’re forgiven.”

“Do you remember what else happened?”

Rihanna’s forehead creased in a frown. She was trying to get the ordering right in her head of all the random flashes that were bombarding her brain.

“You and Tom arrived and you patched up my head and arm.”

Their conversation was halted when a nurse came into the room, pushing a wheelchair.

“They’re ready for you in x-ray, Miss Mason.” The older woman moved to the bed and began helping her into the chair.

Rihanna looked around at Jazz, still agitated from the situation with Quade.

“It’s okay, Rih. I’ll come with you.” Jazz knew she was freaking out; she’d been through too much in the last few days.

Their conversation was temporarily halted while the nurse helped Rihanna into a wheelchair and pushed her down the corridor and into a room marked “X-Ray.” The nurse helped her out of the chair and settled Rihanna on the metal table.

“Someone will be with you shortly,” the nurse advised before leaving Rihanna and Jazz.

“So when can I get out of here?”

“As soon as we figure out the extent of your injuries and patch you up. You know this as well as I do, Rih.”

“Yeah and you know I hate hospitals.” She had, ever since her mother’s cancer treatment had meant she’d endured countless visits. Watching her mother become weaker and weaker, being dragged away from her father and herself. She’d come to loathe going into them.

“I do but you know they’re a necessary evil.” Jazz shook her head as if trying to resolve something in her mind. “To this day, I still can’t understand why you thought you wanted to be a doctor?”

Jazz was referring to the three years of medical study Rihanna had done at university before swapping to veterinary science. Rihanna had then rushed through vet science in a hurry. She had credit points from her medical studies and could demonstrate heaps of prior knowledge due to working with her father since she was barely double figures.

“I thought I wanted to be a doctor and cure cancer. This is not news, Jazz.” She huffed, annoyed.

“No, but it still puzzles me.”

“Jazz, everything in life doesn’t have to be about solving a puzzle. Besides, you became a shrink for similar reasons.”

Jazz had opened her mouth about to retaliate or more likely deny what was obvious when the radiographer walked in, cutting short their conversation.

“Okay, ready for some x-rays, Miss Mason?” the radiographer asked, busying himself behind one of the machines. He didn’t wait for a reply but went on without looking up from what he was doing. “So we’re going to be taking some x-rays of your ribs and hip. Are you pregnant or is there a chance you could be?”

The radiographer looked up from the x-ray machine he was preparing when she hadn’t answered. Rihanna’s eyes cut to Jazz, who was pinning her with a worried stare.

She knew she had to answer but somehow she was struggling to get the words out. Somehow speaking this to somebody other than Brayden made it all the more real—all the more possible.

Finally, Jazz prompted her. “Rih, answer the question.”

Rihanna looked up from her fingernails that had suddenly become very interesting, directly into Jazz’s pinning stare. Time had run out and she didn’t have an option; she had to answer.

“Yes,” she breathed in a voice barely above a whisper.

She immediately saw shock on Jazz’s face, quickly covered by a look that she knew meant this was far from over. Jazz wanted the whole truth and there was no way she’d stop before she got it.

The looks between the two women were broken by the radiographer. “Umm, is that a yes you are pregnant or a yes you might be?”

“I might be,” Rihanna confirmed for him.

“Okay, that’s fine. I’ll just take extra precautions with draping you to prevent any issues of radiation potentially affecting the foetus.”

The room was silent as the radiographer went about his business. Jazz helped him manoeuvre Rihanna into a couple of better positions in order to get the angles he wanted and in no time at all, the nurse had taken her back to her room where she was awaiting the results, another step closer to getting out of here.

Jazz pulled a chair to the bed and took her hand.

“Okay, Rih. Spill, what do you mean you might be pregnant?”

Rihanna’s comeback was quick and flip. “I didn’t think I needed to explain to you how babies are made, Jazz.”

Jazz just huffed and stared at her even more.

Okay, clearly humour was not going to work.

Jazz pulled down her best doctor demeanour and went on. “When was the first day of your last period?”

Rihanna told her. It was easier than arguing when Jazz was in this frame of mind. Jazz was a bulldog and there was no way she was not going to get all the information she wanted. Rihanna also knew she wanted to anyway. So she gave her the information she wanted.

“Okay and when did you have unprotected intercourse?”

God, she was being so clinical. It felt even worse than Rihanna expected.

“The second of January.” She paused as Jazz took that in and nodded. “Then again about five days later at the beach.”

Jazz’s eyes went wide and Rihanna silently cursed her stupidity for running her mouth. Jazz just got under her guard and before she knew it, she’d confessed everything.

Jazz was clearly amazed at what had transpired.

“Yep.”

Jazz was still shaking her head and half laughing at the same time. “I can’t believe you—Rihanna Mason, queen of distance where men are concerned—fucked a guy in the water in front of us all and we didn’t even suspect. Hey, we knew it was a hot make-out session but…all the way? Impressive!” The news clearly astonished her.

“Well, there you go. Maybe you don’t know me as well as you thought.” Rihanna smirked, regaining a little bit of wounded pride from the inquisition.

“I think it’s fantastic! Finally you’ve met a guy that affects you enough that you throw off all your responsibilities and preconceived ideas and just live. Just breathe and not analyse everything to death.”

“Mm, and now as a result I could be pregnant. I clearly thought that one through, Jazz,” Rihanna snapped sarcastically.

Jazz had gone still; her face was blank and her eyes had taken on a faraway look.

“What is it, Jazz?” Rihanna asked, clearly worried where her friend had disappeared to all of a sudden.

Jazz squeezed her hand tighter and looked her directly in the eye. “How much do you remember from when I was working on Quade after he was shot?”

Rihanna shook her head, clearly not understanding. “I don’t know what you mean.”

“Do you remember any of the conversation that Brayden and I had about the drugs I wanted to give Quade?” Jazz’s voice had an edge to it that indicated there was a very relevant point to her question.

Rihanna was desperately trying to remember and struggling to do so. “Something about Quade being allergic to something other than saline? Brayden was worried you’d give him something that might make him react badly.”

Jazz nodded, encouraging her. “Can you remember exactly what he said?”

“Not really. It’s all fuzzy.”

“Try to remember, Rih,” Jazz almost pleaded.