Ridge Creek Reunited (Ridge Creek Duology) (4 page)

My last sentence complete, a couple of things happen at on
ce. First, the car swerves and falters
a little before resuming its course. Almost like it is running out of petrol at the same time as trying not to run something over. The second, a look of
absolute
horror washes across the older man’s face. Blinking rapidly at me, his eyes blank out. He then turns slowly and slumps back into his seat, staring out the passenger side window. He doesn’t say another word.

Frustrated at his lack of reply, I sigh angrily and I too slump back hard against my seat and begin to pay Pierre attention again. It would appear the conversation is over.

We continue to drive in silence for a short while before the driver finally cuts in. “Sir,” he asks sounding concerned and reaching his arm out to place it on the older man’s shoulder. “Are you okay Sir? Have you lost too much blood?”

The older man, still silent, does not respond. The driver once again asks, “Sir?”

“Heads are going to fucking roll. You hear me? Every person associated with this whole fucking thing will regret every second that I lost. This is no longer a game. If I find out that bitch’s game playing caused this, she goes
down.
You hear me?” The older man states in a deadly tone.

“I hear you Sir,” the driver says, “but I need to know if you are okay.”

“No I am
not
okay,” the older man snaps. “You just heard what she said didn’t you. What the fuck did you hear in that conversation that would make you assume
anything
was okay?”

“Sir, I hear you. I need to know about your body. Not your head. Your head I can’t do anything about right now. Your body I can.”

“My
body
is
fine…
” The older man seems to lose track of the conversation and falls silent again.

“The biker…” the old man mumbles almost to himself.

“Our ETA is five minutes sir. From what I just heard I think I need to get a briefing from Alex and Joe so we can decide how we handle this. I’ll do it as soon as we get there.”

Sighing, the older man agrees with the driver. “Agreed.”

Scared, confused and pissed off all at the same time, I drop my head to Pierre’s face and breathe in the addictive smell of puppy. “Thank God you’re here,” I mumble to him. “If you weren’t I think I might have just thrown myself out of yet another moving vehicle for no reason. I don’t think these men are here to kill me.”

*****

We arrive a few short minutes later at what appears to be our destination. I figure this out by the sheer number of people who encircle the car on our arrival. Within milliseconds, the car becomes the center of a hive of activity. Our arrival gels more with my
MC Hammer
theory than the arrival of two villains with their captive (and her dog).

Weird.

The house we’re parked in front of looks
stunning.
Having turned off into a side street on the outskirts of the small city, I was surprised when a short time later we again slowed and pulled through two enormous wrought iron gates. The gates were flanked by high, cream colored concrete walls that were fitted out with chic lighting that shone down on small shrubs planted along the base of the wall.

Very classy.

The gates closed automatically behind us leaving us in a small, well lit courtyard with a small army descending on the car. A modern, cream rendered, double story house rises before us.

Glancing around at all the people approaching the car, I instantly decide that all plans to escap
e are for the immediate future thwarted. There’s no way I can make a run for it now, there’s just too many people. I decide my best play is to keep quiet, stay calm and gather information on where I am and whom I’m with. I focus my attention on relaxing as best I can by concentrating on Pierre. I feel my heart rate start to slow.

That is until doors on the car start opening and all hell breaks loose.

The first door to open is the passenger side front. This is done by a tall guy in a black suit who instantly grabs the older man by the elbow and lifts him from the car. The older man shrugs the tall guys hand off and turns towards the back of the car to lock his eyes on me.

Next, my door is yanked open by an Amazonian looking woman who looks about seven feet tall. She is wearing a grey suit with a white, button down shirt and her dark brown hair is dragged high on her head in a bun. She stoops down to the car as she opens the door. “Ms. Lovett,” she announces as she leans forward and holds her hand out for me to shake.

I stare dumbly at her hand for a few beats and then slide my eyes to hers. They are dark brown too, almost as dark as her hair. She stares at me, her eyes intelligent as they assess me for a brief moment before she continues. “Right, you don’t know what’s going on then. In that case, give me your dog and follow me. Let me assure you, you are now
safe.
Let us have the doctor look you over, we’ll have your dog checked out and then we can arrange for you to spend some time catching up with Mr Bradford.”

What the?

I cast my eyes back to where the older man is still staring at me looking stiff and concerned. I can now see the shine of blood on his black shirt near his hip. He’s holding his bunched up jacket pressed against his side. It too is shiny with the blood it’s been soaking up as we drove along.

Confused and slightly fascinated at this whole turn of events I decide to nod and hand
Pierre to the woman. The older man looks slightly relieved as I make my own way and alight from the car. “My name is Gina,” the woman announces quickly as she turns and strides towards the house. “Follow me.”

Casting another glance towards the man, I notice he is again studying me silently, his face emotionless. I stare boldly at him for a few beats before I look away and follow Gina.

*****

My next half hour is a whirlwind. Chaperoned inside the house, I
’m taken to a large bedroom on the first floor where Gina informs me a Doctor and Veterinarian already await my arrival. Gina ushers me inside the room where she hands Pierre to one of the men and leaves.

Realizing I
’m now unsupervised, I do the obvious. I quickly announce to the two men in the room that I’ve been kidnapped and they need to help me escape. They both look at each other for a few moments and then the man not holding Pierre, a medium height man with mousy brown hair and gray eyes approaches me. “Indeed. Let’s take a look at you first.”

Unsure what to think of that response, I comply. Letting him usher me to the bed, I take a seat while he goes about his business checking my blood pressure, asking me questions, flashing lights in my eyes and tapping my knees with a reflex hammer.

While he does this, the other man examines Pierre - to the best of his abilities. I say to the best of his abilities because Pierre sure gives him a run for his money. Pierre, fully rejuvenated after a nap in the car, is incapable of standing still. I’m also suspicious he needs to go to the toilet, badly. Wiggling and flopping about on the bed, I watch as he gets even more excited about all the attention from the vet and starts panting loudly, slobber pouring from his mouth drowning both the bed and the man examining him.

Both men finish their examinations quickly. Placing Pierre on the floor, the vet announces that Pierre is in excellent health. The Doctor advises me of the same and they both leave.

Leave without another word.

What the?

Do they not care that I’ve been kidnapped? They must be on Vincent’s payroll too.

Goddamit.

I stare astounded at the door for a few beats then refocus my attention on Pierre. Almost laughing out loud, I find him to the side of the room, squatted next to a chair taking a leak.

“Woops,” I chuckle as I watch a massive puddle creep across the carpet beneath him. “Thatta boy.”

Moments later, Gina reappears. With incredible speed, her intelligent eyes spot the puddle on the carpet. I watch a small smile tip the edges of her lips before her eyes lock on mine. “Not toilet trained yet?”

“No, I’ve only had him two days,” I reply as I once again wonder what the hell is going on here. Captors aren’t supposed to be civilised and engage in small talk are they?

Her eyes slide back to Pierre. “A Dogue De Bordeaux, yes?” She asks as she watches him gallop back across the room to start attacking my feet.

“Yes,” I reply disinterestedly, my mind back on Jake and the events of the past hour or two. “Is Jake Holder dead?” I ask again not expecting an answer.

“No,” she announces confidently moving her eyes back to mine. “He should be fine. I understand that Ritchie ‘winged’ him on purpose. He didn’t fire a kill shot.”

“Thank God,” I murmur as a wave of relief pours
over my body and I think I feel my heart miss a beat. “What’s ‘winged’?” I ask.

She considers her words carefully. “A nick to the
latissimi dorsi. Ritchie is an excellent shot. I’m inclined to believe him. Joe and Alex also reported he was alive and well when they restrained him and left. Unless something happened after the boys moved out, he should be fine.”

Well at least Gina is being helpful and answering my questions. I decide that if my current situation were different, I would probably even like her.

“We need to get you downstairs to Mr. Bradford. He’s causing merry hell and won’t let them stitch him until you’re within sight. Can you come with me please?” She asks softly in a voice that almost sounds caring. “I can take your dog for a walk outside if you like. While you talk to Mr. Bradford.”

Mr Bradford is the old man?

Now even more confused, I decide to agree. “Okay.” What more can I do. At least I know Jake is alive so now I just need to work out what they want with me and start planning my next move. I also need to know why Mr. Bradford is so interested in me.

“Good,” she announces scooping up Pierre.

“His name is Pierre,” I tell her as I lift from the bed to follow her.

“Great name,” she chuckles as she turns towards the door to leave. “I’ll see you after you’ve finished with Mr. Bradford.”

Following her at a near jog in my attempt to keep up with her long Amazonian stride, she moves along a hallway, down the stairs and stops before a set of double doors to our right. Giving me a hand signal to wait, she leaves me standing alone in the huge open room that surrounds the base of the stairs. She opens a door and disappears through with Pierre.

Again, weird.

No one is stopping me leaving.

Although she does have Pierre in her arms so it
is
unlikely I would leave without him even if I were planning on running towards the front door to try at an escape. Jake gave me that puppy and told me he goes wherever I go. That means I don’t leave him behind.

Glancing around me I take in the grandness of the room I’m standing in. It
’s wide, the floor is polished marble and the walls are painted a pale china color. There are huge oil paintings of the Australian outback hanging at regular intervals along the walls. It is as I decide that I will move over to look more closely at one of the paintings when the door reopens and Gina returns. Holding the door open, she announces that Mr Bradford is ready to see me.

I give her a small smile
as I nod and reach out to give Pierre a quick rub before I turn and walk through the door.

Mr Bradford as I now know him
; is perched on the edge of large wooden desk. He looks agitated. His shirt has been removed and a tall, silver haired man with long delicate fingers stoops over him inserting tiny stitches into what looks to me like a horrifying, gaping wound. A wound that I gave him. I can now see why Jake said the bullets packed a punch.

Mr Bradford however, appears far more concerned about my arrival than the size of his wound or the stitches being so intricately sewn into his body. “Pe… Arianna!” He announces as his blue eyes settle on mine. “I am pleased to hear advice that you and your puppy are unharmed from the events earlier this morning. I cannot tell you how relieved I am.”

I stare blankly at him, unsure how to respond to that greeting when right now, the last place I want to be is
here.

His agitation increases with my lack of response and he starts to fidget. He looks as if he is about to stand up and stride across the room to meet me when I see movement to my left. Within seconds, Ritchie, the bald headed man from the car, crosses the room and places a hand on his shoulder. “Sir, be still.”

“Hurry up!” Mr. Bradford snaps and I watch as the silver haired man looks up at Ritchie with an exasperated look on his face. Ritchie rolls his eyes and they both seem to ignore Mr. Bradford’s snap.

Taking a closer look at Ritchie, I almost physically cringe. Boy is he
ugly.
His calm, smooth voice belies the ugliness of his features. With his bald head, a huge nose, heavy brows, beady brown eyes and an enormous chin, I
almost
feel sorry for him. Being
that
ugly must make life hard.