Riley’s Billionaire (11 page)

Her jeans, shoulder bag, shoes — all were soaked.

‘Jack.’ Riley leaned toward his ear so he might hear her better. ‘I don’t think the Dolphin Cruise is on for this time of night.’

His response was to gun the motor and keep travelling.

Did he even know where they were?

Riley watched for signs that could point them toward a motel. Ah, familiar names she’d heard of. Tuncurry, Forster, pronounced Foster. Now she knew where she was. Two small towns almost joined together. There was One Mile Beach somewhere around here. But still no...oh, yes. Finally. A motel. And Jack passed it.

Resigned to thinking she’d spend the night being pelted by rain, Riley decided it best to simply trust him. He’d gotten them this far without killing her. Might as well hang on for the duration.

Signs soon alerted her they had entered Newcastle. She stared in surprise at two young men on segways. In the rain? They seemed to be having the time of their lives.

Names of streets whirred past her field of vision. Occasionally she caught one. Kahibah Road. Darby. Wickham. Finally they arrived at what looked to be a major hotel set amidst this sandy-beached slice of New South Wales. Jack coasted into a garage, and from there it was all Riley could do to walk with him to the front desk. She paid no attention to the transaction, heard very little of Jack’s brief chat with the night clerk. She was just thankful when they stepped off the elevator and into their room.

‘Don’t fall asleep yet.’ He ushered her into the bathroom. ‘We’re muddy — have to shower.’

Riley protested. All she wanted was to lie down, shoes or no shoes, clothes or no clothes. She was bone tired, cranky, and while she’d had a lovely time with Jack, now all she needed was rest.

‘Strip or I’ll undress you myself.’ Jack left her alone and closed the door behind him.

Seconds later, she heard the door open, and to her amazement, he shucked his clothing and stepped in after her. Before she could complain, he ordered her to face him. Riley placed an arm over her bare breasts and her free hand over her lower abdomen. But Jack wasn’t looking at her. He looked past her, reached, and produced a small bottle of shampoo.

Open-mouthed, Riley allowed him to squeeze several drops onto her head.

‘Massage.’ He still spoke in clipped sentences.

He’s probably as tired as I am and could care less that we’re naked. She scrubbed her head, working in the citrus smell of shampoo.

Jack didn’t appear to be through barking orders. ‘Exchange places with me so I can shower.’

She obliged, smiling through her tiredness. They weren’t precisely in tandem, but somehow their disjointed system worked, for they both got clean. Jack helped her apply conditioner into her hair, switched places with her, helped her rinse. Then he held the shower curtain aside and asked her to step out so he could finish showering.

The shower couldn’t have taken longer than ten minutes. Riley sat on the bed, unsure of her next move. She couldn’t wear the wet towel to bed — she’d dampen the sheets. She sure wasn’t willing to sleep in the nude.

A knock at the door startled her, and Jack appeared in the doorway from the bathroom. ‘Stay there.’ He tucked the towel about his waist and answered the call. It was room service with a pile of clothing, a cart of coffee and cups, and some bread. Jack signed the bill and turned to her.

‘Want something clean to wear to bed?’ He tossed her a large tee-shirt. ‘Sorry. I didn’t check to see if they had any underwear.’

Riley was tired but had a moment of clarity and light heartedness. She grabbed her shoulder bag from the floor. ‘Women sometimes carry an extra pair.’ She pulled out the thin strip of material and dangled them on a finger.

Jack shook his head. ‘I’m not asking why. So long as you’re comfortable, I’m happy.’

Riley took her knickers, bag, and tee, and passed him to get back into the bathroom. Emerging within a few seconds, she felt better than she had since they’d left their starlit hill.

Jack had turned down the bed. ‘Pick a side.’

Riley jumped on the one nearest the bathroom and quickly settled against her pillows.

Her husband went to the cart. ‘I don’t expect you’re hungry, but in case you are, there’s some bread and jam.’ He poured himself a cup of coffee. ‘Want some?’

‘Yes, please.’ She tucked her legs under her and leaned forward to receive it.

‘Careful — it’s hot.’

Riley rose to get the milk and sugar. He might enjoy his coffee black, but she didn’t. Once she had the liquid the precise shade of brown that appealed to her, she noticed Jack had opened their sliding glass door and stepped onto the balcony.

Their leather jackets were hanging from the backs of the room chairs, and he’d emptied the contents of his pockets. Riley approached carefully.

‘Not to help you foster a bad habit, but would you like a smoke?’

He grinned. ‘I would indeed. You’re welcome to join me.’

‘No, thanks, but I’ll sit out here with you if you like.’

Jack grabbed a blanket from the foot of their bed and wrapped it around her. ‘To keep you from getting wet.’

Riley pulled it off. ‘We’ll both use it.’ She flattened it on the balcony and sat, patting a place beside her for him to sit.

‘Some honeymoon I’ve given you.’ Jack lit his cigarette. ‘I’m sorry about the rain.’

‘Ah, like you’re some god who controls the weather?’ Riley snuggled against him. ‘I had a wonderful time.’

‘Really?’ He looked down at her, a question in his dark eyes.

‘Yes. Not what I’d anticipated but more than I’d hoped tonight would be.’

They sat hip to hip but not quite shoulder to shoulder, considering he was so much bigger than her, but Riley was comfortable, content once again.

‘For a while,’ she told him, ‘it didn’t seem you were stopping.’

Jack agreed. ‘Believe it or not, Newcastle was closer than home, so I took a chance we’d find accommodation.’

They were settling into a warm space, watching as the eastern sky grew lighter with the approach of dawn, when the sound of Jack’s cell phone cut the air.

‘Bloody hell.’ He started to get up, but Riley insisted on getting it for him.

She watched the look of concern cross his features. ‘It’s Amelia.’

At this hour?

Jack looked at the alarm clock on the bedside table. Should he have phoned to let Amelia know they were alright? She’d not kept tabs on him before, so he knew something was up.

‘Jack? Thank God you’re there.’

‘Amelia, is everything okay?’

‘It most certainly is not. Brian and Sharon have arrived, and you know that woman makes my ass itch.’

Who? Jack rubbed his forehead. Ah. Patrick’s parents. ‘When did they arrive?’

‘Last bloody night around midnight, and she’s done nothing but go on and on about her trip to Scotland and ask questions about Riley. I suppose Patrick told them.’

She paused as if waiting for Jack to respond, but he had no clue what to say.

‘Amelia, it’s past five in the morning.’

‘I know! I’ve been worried about you. Where are you and Riley? The sky is pissing rain here.’

‘Newcastle,’ he said, ‘and it’s raining here as well. Was. It seems to have stopped.’

‘What the hell are you doing in Newcastle when I need you here?’

Jack’s tired mind finally grasped what Amelia was trying to convey. He’d suggested they not even tell Riley about her heritage until yesterday, and the main reason was that someone had tried to kill her. Now others knew she had practically returned from the grave, how soon before word spread?

***

He barely slept that night, mulling over the what-ifs. ‘Is there anything you can think of that seemed out of the ordinary at the orphanage before you left? Anyone asking questions about you?’

‘Can’t this wait?’ Riley threw herself face down on the bed she had just vacated, groaning.

‘It’s important,
chérie.’
He had phoned the orphanage after Riley fell asleep and asked to speak to the Mother Superior, who hadn’t been much help other than to verify what little Riley remembered.

‘When she finally spoke,’ the nun said, ‘all she would say is Riley, so that’s what we called her. We didn’t know if it was her name or that of someone she knew, but it was better than calling her Jane Doe.’

When asked if anyone besides him had inquired about her, the nun said several had been curious, and at first everyone from the police to child services to reporters had asked about the little girl.

It hadn’t occurred to Jack to ask until then. ‘Were any of your other children given the last name of Grace?’

‘No. There was something intrinsically sweet and different about Riley, and we wanted her to have something that nobody else had so she wouldn’t feel like just a face among a sea of other unwanted or orphaned children.’

That let out the possibility that her brother and sister had been deposited there as well. Jack had thanked her then spent the next hour making notes, trying to make sense of things.

Riley sat up. ‘Mind telling me why you’re so concerned about my past all of a sudden?’

This was not how he’d hoped to tell her she might be in danger. Jack explained what he knew and waited for her to respond. She didn’t appear afraid, but her curiosity was piqued.

‘Who told you someone wanted to harm me?’

‘One of the investigators I hired spoke with a man who had shared a cell in the prison in Maryborough with a man who talked about a kidnapping he’d done for hire. He’d said he was supposed to kill all three children, but he couldn’t do it, so he’d farmed them out to various places.’

Riley’s eyes widened. ‘And you believe this man?’

Jack shrugged. ‘My private detective did.’

‘Who...what was this inmate’s name?’

‘Gerald Frost. Ring a bell for you?’

She shook her head. Her breath hitched, and her eyes darkened. ‘What crime did he commit?’

‘Does it matter?’ Jack really didn’t want to get into that with her. Bad enough he’d had to tell her what he had.

Riley crossed her legs and put her elbows on her knees, face in hands. ‘I don’t know what to make of this. On the one hand, I’m thankful he spared my life. On the other...Jack...I have a brother and sister out there somewhere, if they’re still alive.’ She straightened her spine. ‘I was so self-absorbed and confused when looking at that photo album that it never occurred to me until now. My poor parents. And...what happened to the others?’

‘I know,
chérie,
and we’re doing all we can to find them, but you must see how this changes things. If someone paid him to get rid of you before, and we don’t know where he is now, you might still be in danger.’

Riley scoffed. ‘If he didn’t kill us then, why on earth would he wish to do so now?’

‘It’s not Frost we’re worried about — Riley...’

His implication seemed to have struck home. Now she looked worried. ‘Whoever hired him...’

‘Exactly.’ Jack sat beside her and wrapped his arms around her, hugging her. ‘I won’t let anyone harm you. Believe me?’

She nodded, and he kissed the top of her head. A reflexive gesture, he realised, but this time it was different. He felt a tenderness for Riley he couldn’t qualify, a fierce determination to keep her safe compounded with a depth of emotion he’d never felt for anyone. In the short while he’d known her, Riley had crept into his heart somehow and had nestled there as if she belonged.

And you like it, mate.
Jack’s grip on her relaxed and he became aware of so many sensations. Her hair tickling his chin. The soft feminine form he held. The gentle, sweet scent of the shampoo she’d used. And the knowledge his body was about to betray him.

Men were more complex than women, thought Riley, and that was saying something. She’d had several male friends and even a boyfriend or two, but none of them had prepared her for Jack. One minute he was comforting, the next he was cold. She knew he felt something for her, so maybe this was how he dealt with frustration and fear. Distance himself from all emotion and remain as collected as possible.

Well, he could do as he pleased. Riley wanted to speak to the inmate. She knew Jack wouldn’t go for it, but maybe Patrick would be her ally and help her locate this man. It’d take an hour to get back to Sydney from the Hunter Valley, then a flight to Brisbane, who knew how long from there to the prison? Seems she’d read there were Qantas flights direct from Townsville to Maryborough.

Then she’d need to factor in time to visit Frost, if he was still imprisoned, and time to get home. Somehow she knew there was no way Patrick would allow her to travel to a prison alone. They’d most likely have to spend the night in a hotel, which would cause trouble in her marriage, even if they took separate rooms, which they would.

Goose. What marriage?
Maybe she could find an excuse to get away for a day. Come up with some reason involving her work as viticulturist for Cadigal Valley.

Another problem arose. How would she pay for the trip? She had a little money in a savings account and was reluctant to use it, but that might be her only solution.

Their trip home didn’t take as long as she’d expected. She occupied herself with numerous ways of ferreting out more information about her past and neglected to notice much on the journey north. It wasn’t until they pulled up to the driveway that Riley realised they’d returned.

Jack helped her off the bike and took her helmet and jacket. ‘There’s a stairwell leading to the bedrooms.’ He pointed to a corner of the garage. ‘Why don’t we take that and avoid Patrick’s parents and an inquisition from Amelia? I’ll go down in a bit and make apologies, saying you need a rest.’

Grateful, Riley nodded. She was curious about other family members, but it’d be nice not to meet them before she showered.

She waited while he secured the bike and hoisted their blanket and hamper, and the two of them ascended the stairs.

‘Jack?’

‘Mmm?’

Riley fell into step with him in the hall leading to their suite. She lowered her voice to a whisper. ‘I don’t suppose you’d take me to Maryborough — to visit this Gerald Frost?’