Ridge Creek Reunited (Ridge Creek Duology)

by C L Green

  That’s if he’s telling the truth.

  But why wouldn’t he be? And who else but a father would go to such an effort to find me? I can’t help think that at least some of his story is true. Or maybe I just want it to be.

  He managed to answer every single question without blinking Arianna.

  I can only trust that he was sincere. And truthfully, I’d only spent a couple of hours with the man this morning, but those hours had flown. They’d flown because Stephen Bradford was likable. He was a good conversationalist, he was a good listener and he genuinely seemed to care about me. Me, the daughter he hasn’t seen since I was two years old.

  Two years old.

  “Aagh,” I groan as I rerun his story in my head, again. Having just told it to my friends no wonder they’re dubious. It seems like a tall tale indeed.

  Stephen Bradford is seemingly a wealthy man. A very wealthy man. Born into money, he’s the son of Australian metal mining magnate Richard Bradford and current Chief Executive Officer of his father’s company.

  Stephen Bradford also has an older sister, Elizabeth Bradford. According to Stephen, Elizabeth Bradford is not a nice person. Unhappy being a female born to a father who is a strict advocate for patrilineal inheritance, she despises her lack of placement at the head of her father’s company. She believes that as the oldest child, she should be in the position of power.

  Carrying a huge fire in her belly to fight against her father’s traditional patrilineal ways, Elizabeth Bradford is a bitter and twisted person. Devoting her life to proving herself a better candidate to take over the leadership of her father’s company, she’s been fighting hard to discredit and remove Stephen at every turn. As an intelligent, wealthy woman in her own right, she’s also a woman with the time and the resources to cause both her brother and father considerable grief. And this grief has been going on for decades.

  Examples of Elizabeth’s style of grief (never proven of course) had been near miss car accidents for both Stephen and his father (unusual mechanical failures) and unusual mining explosions when one or both of the Bradford men were on-site at a mine. There have also been two separate incidences of fraudulent dealings exposed within the company. Both of these incidents, if undiscovered could have led to stockholder takeovers that would have removed both Stephen and Richard from their positions of power. They would also have placed Elizabeth in one.

  These incidents if Stephen is to be believed, are taken by both he and his father like water off a ducks back. Seemingly the two Bradford men have learned to accept they have an evil sister and daughter who is Hell bent on killing them and they have learned to treat it as a game. A sick game, but a game nonetheless. A game where security tactics are employed to prevent her attacks and spoil her offensive maneuvers. A game where the entire family (including Elizabeth) sits down together at Christmas to discuss the various crimes committed against them throughout the course of the year. A discussion where with strained civility, every person in the room knows who was behind all of these seemingly random events. A discussion where mostly, the whole family laughs. Except for the one particular unsolved crime that nobody laughs about.

  The disappearance of Stephen Bradford’s two-year old daughter Penelope Bradford off a beach near Cairns while he and his wife were holidaying twenty-eight years ago.

  A crime so horrific that after two years of unsuccessfully searching for their gorgeous baby girl, Stephen’s wife Carolyn decided she could no longer carry both her own and her husband’s constant grief and she suicided.

  Although never proven, Stephen Bradford was always suspicious that his sister was behind the kidnapping. Never sure what her motivation was, he was suspicious Elizabeth had expected him to fall into depression and either go mad or fall victim to suicide. He was suspicious that she saw Stephen’s suicide as the answer to all her patrilineal inheritance problems.

  Which was very close to true and within an inch of fruition when her plan backfired. Stephen’s wife suicided first. His wife’s death was enough to snap him out of whatever grief riddled hell he was living in long enough to increase his resolve to live and never stop searching for his little girl. The only avenue he could take to spite the horrible woman that was his sister and ensure that his wife’s death was not in vain.

  Knowing all this, one can imagine Stephen’s surprise the night he was sitting on his couch in Sydney watching the National News and the spitting image of his wife appears on the screen before him. Arianna Lovett, missing from her home in the outer suburbs of Melbourne. One look at the screen and Stephen knew exactly who I was.

  Within minutes of seeing my face on the television, Stephen organized for two of his security investigators to fly to Melbourne and find out more. Unable to identify the exact reasoning behind my disappearance, Stephen’s men decided to keep an eye on both Tony Giotti and his boss Vincent Altieri. Not taking long to find out who Tony and his boss were; an assumption was made that I was kidnapped as some sort of leverage over Giotti and Altieri’s business.

  Although the men were following a wrong assumption, their eyes on Tony led one of the men to witness Jake and Zane’s arrival and departure from my house in Melbourne. It was not however until the next day when they discovered that Tony was dead in his lounge room, that the importance of the two bikers was realized.

  At that point, with nothing further to go on, the two investigators moved their full attention to finding the two bikers as well as keeping an eye on Vincent. It didn’t take many more days for them to discover more linkages and find out that Vincent was negotiating with two biker brothers from New South Wales for the return of one Arianna Lovett.

  Letting Stephen know of their suspicions that I was with the bikers, Stephen became excited and flew down to join in the search. Using Stephens time in the air to their advantage, the two investigators started reviewing Land Titles attached to Jake and his family. Their interest piqued when a property listed under his mother’s maiden name suddenly transferred to a new owner that same day. It was this particular property they decided to explore first.

  Landing in Melbourne yesterday with his personal army of security officers (one of the tactics in place to ward off offensive attacks from his sister), Stephen had ended up driving half the distance he’d just flown as he drove back out of Victoria and headed straight to the property of interest in New South Wales. His plan – to snoop.

  This plan was far more successful than he could have imagined. This was because minutes after their arrival, one of the bikers who allegedly shot Tony walked out the back door of the house to toilet a puppy. Planning on capturing him for questioning, Stephen’s men chased the biker into the shed while Stephen himself decided to find the poor confused puppy that had taken off into the trees among the melee. Having finally found Pierre cowering under a bush, Stephen had been carrying him back down to the house when lo and behold, I wandered out. Carrying a gun. And the rest is history.

  Oblivious to my minds wanderings, Jake breaks back into my thoughts. “I can’t have that ass clown camped out the front of my shop. You’re gunna have to ring Stephen, and tell him to call off his pet monkey. It’s bad for business. Certain clientele are not gunna want to walk through the front door to pick up their boxes with what looks like an undercover cop sitting in his car staring at our front door.”

  “He’s not an ass clown Jake,” I mumble against the bar again. “His name is Anton and he’s supposed to watching out for me.”

  Although probably a fair call that certain customers won’t like his style of surveillance as they come and go.

  “Get rid of the fuckin’ ass clown Arianna. We don’t need him.”

  “I don’t think I have a choice on whether he stays or goes,” I sigh as I lift my head from the bar to look at Emma. “Stephen said our security was ‘insufficient’ so he had to stay.”

  Emma rolls her eyes at me and then flicks a glance towards Jake. “I’m working on that. Believe me, I’m working on that.”

  “P
erhaps you could ring Stephen and explain that to him then?” I offer hopefully. “He understands a bit about security…”

  “Emma is not ringing Stephen to talk to him about our security!” Jake suddenly booms and I swing my full attention to him. His eyes harden and his eyebrow ring draws down tightly. His jaw sets stiffly and I can see a small muscle twitching across the square cut of his jawline. Not a good sign.

  Picking up his beer, he angrily drinks the last of it down and flings the empty bottle into a recycle bin with so much force that it smashes. The sound of breaking glass startles not only me, but Pierre and Jambo too. Jambo takes off from the end of the bar where he’s been quietly eat cut fruit. Startled, he flaps and flies around the room screeching. Pierre, terrified by the loud noise flees with his tail between his back legs straight across the room to jam his head behind the couch. His butt remains in view and all we can see his tail pressed hard between both his back legs.

  “Useless fuckin’ guard dog,” Jake growls angrily as he storms around the bar and towards Pierre. Pierre sensing Jake’s anger cowers further and starts scrabbling to push his huge puppy body into the small gap behind the couch.

  “Jake!” I snap as horror washes over me. “Don’t hurt him!” I screech as I jump from my seat to chase Jake who’s already halfway across the room.

  “I’m not gunna fuckin’ hurt him. Back the fuck off woman!” Jake growls loudly as he reaches the couch. Swinging down, he swipes a hand under Pierre’s belly and lifts him to his chest. Pierre looks terrified.

  “Give him to me,” I squeak as my eyes settle on my poor puppy who is freaking way the hell out.

  “No,” Jake growls lifting a hand to scratch Pierre under the chin as he turns around and starts heading towards the door to the shop front. He looks like a man on a mission. Changing my course to follow him hoping I can extract my dog from him at some stage, I nearly crash into his side as he suddenly turns and heads back to the bar.

  “Jesus,” I mutter, “Make your mind up.”

  “I have,” Jake growls as he arrives back at the bar. Handing Pierre to Emma, he leans under the bar and rattles among the glasses and bottles looking for something. Walking over to Emma, I take Pierre from her hands to cuddle him. He’s already relaxing and starting to look a lot less terrified.

  Jake straightens from the bar and I gasp as I realize what he was looking for. In his hand is a huge hunting knife with a shiny, sharp blade.

  “Oh my God, what’s that for?” I screech as I curl Pierre close to me.

  Is he going to gut Pierre for failing as a guard dog?

  No!

  Emma and Zane both look at me and then back to Jake with confused looks on their faces. Jake ignores them and rounds the bar. Holding out one hand towards me, he growls, “Give me the fuckin’ dog.”

  “No!” I gasp in horror. There is no way I am handing this puppy to him while he has that big assed knife in his hand.

  “Arianna,” he pins me with a very serious looking don’t fuck with me stare. His jaw is tight and his nostrils are flaring. “Hand. Me. The. Fucking. Dog.

  Uh oh.

  I snuggle Pierre as close to my body as I can get him and dip my lips to his head. I then consider my choices.

  Run?

  “I won’t let you hurt him,” I whisper against the fur on the back of Pierre’s head.

  I hear Jake sigh. “Not gunna touch the fuckin’ dog Arianna,” Jake explains as he holds his hand out to me.

  “What’s the knife for then?” I ask tipping my eyes up to stare at him suspiciously.

  “You’ll see,” he says waving his hand impatiently in front of me. “Don’t make me ask again.”

  I turn my eyes to see Emma sitting with her mouth slightly open looking shocked. Zane leans forward, a hand on her arm. He’s shaking his head at her. He then moves his eyes to me and he nods silent agreeance that I should hand Pierre over.

  What am I supposed to do if Zane thinks I should too?

  Damn.

  Kissing Pierre slowly on the head, I look up at Jake as I feel the burn of tears in my eyes. Confused and scared out of my brain that I’m about to hand my dog over to a knife wielding puppy slayer, I do.

  Jake takes Pierre, shakes his head in annoyance and drops him into Emma’s lap.

  What the fuck?

  Turning back to me, he takes my hand and tows me towards the door that exits to the shopfront. Now even more confused, I follow without resistance.

  Still wielding the hunting knife in his other hand, he lets go of my hand briefly to flick the door open before retaking my hand to drag me into and through the shop. Reaching the front door, he lets go of my hand only briefly to open the door and propel me out onto the street.

  Standing on the kerb, Jake quickly flicks the door closed behind us and takes my hand again. Like a man on a mission, he strides down the street. Towards Antons car.

  Ohmigod. He’s going to gut Anton instead?

  A new fear strikes my veins and I feel icicles coursing through my body.

  “Jake. No.” I blurt as he drags me closer and closer to Anton’s car.

  Not even faltering in his forward motion, Jake ignores me. I can feel the waves of anger rolling off him and right now, it’s easy to see they’re all focused on Anton.

  Arriving at the side of Anton’s car, I watch in fascination as Jake moves swiftly to swoop down and slam the hunting knife into the rear tire of the car. I hear a loud hiss and watch as the tire instantly deflates.

  Still on the move, Jake tows me further along the car to the driver’s side window where Anton is looking at us in the rear vision mirror. The look on his face is hard to describe. It’s a mixture of annoyed and wary.

  Not hesitating for even a brief second, Jake grabs the driver’s door handle and reefs the car door open. “I’ve just given you a reasonable excuse to have been sitting on the street out the front of my shop for the past three hours. Now either phone Roadside Service or change the fuckin’ tire yourself. Then move the fuck on. We don’t need eyes on our business. Tell Bradford we have security covered. I don’t make the same mistake twice. Ever. If he wants to know how his daughter is, he can visit her like any normal so called fuckin’ father would. Call her, make a time and place; then meet on mutual agreement. He does not leave a monkey sitting on my pavement to watch her and log every person that walks through that front door. He does not have someone following her around and he does not, under any circumstance, set foot on my patch without an invite. You got it?”

  Anton blinks slowly, absorbing Jakes speech. His face dangerously blank as his eyes slowly take a tour of Jakes considerable body before settling on the huge hunting knife held firmly in his hand. Seated in his car I can see that Anton himself is not a small man. He looks fit, lean and ripped fit, but he also seems aware that he’s at a distinct disadvantage seated in his car.

  Lazily sliding his eyes to Jake’s, he nods. It’s clear his decision is a concession only. His eyes burn the distinct warning that he’s dangerous and this particular battle has gone to Jake but the war is far from over.

  I smile gratefully at Anton for making a good decision. Anton’s eyes slide to mine and I watch as his lip lifts minimally in a return smile. The movement so small I’m not sure I even saw it. I hear a low rumble coming from Jake.

  A growl. Seriously?

  Deciding the conversation is over, Jake slams the car door and we head back to the shop. It’s not until we’re inside the front door that I finally get the courage to tug Jake to a standstill. Taking a huge breath I ask, “What was that about?”

  Appearing slightly calmer now, Jake turns to face me and replies. “Watching my shop and fucking up business, not on. Watching you and making you feel like you’re under the microscope, not on either. Right now, we don’t even know if that whack job Bradford is telling the truth. He could be anyone. I’m glad he brought you back to me but until I’m sure he is who he says he is, you don’t spend any time with him without me or Zane at your
back. You got it?”

  “Um… Sure,” I agree as I realize the sense behind his words before explaining, “We’re having a paternity test done. I sucked on a swab.”

  Jake nods but his eyes hard. “That’s a good start but did you see him take the swab test?”

  “Well… No.”

  Damn.

  “You send off for a kit. We go see Bradford, he does the swab in front of you and we’ll send it off ourselves. You need to be sure of his story Arianna. It all sounds too farfetched for me. There’s more fallout that could happen from this, the first being your so called mother could go to jail, if that’s what you want. Do you know what you want?”

  “God, I hadn’t even thought about Patricia. Did she even know who I was all these years? Who the hell is she?”

  “Exactly,” Jake nods as he nibbles at his bottom lip. “This shit could take months to corroborate and meanwhile we don’t need Bradford’s monkey parked out the front. You hearing me?”

  Well clearly Jake has managed to assess my situation far faster than I have so I think I’m going to have to go with his way for now. What he’s saying needs some thought.

  Nodding my agreement, Jake gives me a smile as he wraps an arm around my waist. “Just trying to keep you safe Ari. Not sure how you managed it, but you’ve gotta win the award for the most fucked up family (and pseudo family) on Earth.”

  Leaning into him, I have to agree.

  “Time for you and Emma to hear about our visit to Vincent Altieri, yeah?” He announces as he propels me towards the counter at the front of the shop again.

  Holy shit. Altieri.

  Tensing up, I start to have a mini freak out. Jake squeezes me reassuringly. “Pretty sure you don’t need to worry about him anymore babe,” Jake rumbles from above me.

  God I hope so.

  Squeezing him back, I draw in a huge breath of air. “That would be nice.”

  Chapter Seven

  The Wife

  Arianna…

  “Yeah Ma, table for five if you have one,” Zane announces rising from his seat at the bar. These are the first words I’ve heard from him over the past fifteen minutes as Jake explained his version of their chat with Vincent today. The type of chat I’m glad he didn’t have with Anton a short while ago. I’m not sure I’d like to witness that type of chat.