by Iris Blobel
Their Bond Through Jade
By Iris Blobel
“Like karma, destiny is neither good nor bad, it just is.”
—Dorothy Holder
Table of Contents
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Other Books by this Author
About the Author
Acknowledgements
THEIR BOND THROUGH JADE
Copyright © 2017 IRIS BLOBEL
This is a work of fiction. Names, places, characters, and events are fictitious in every regard. Any similarities to actual events and persons, living or dead, are purely coincidental. Any trademarks, service marks, product names, or named features are assumed to be the property of their respective owners, and are used only for reference. There is no implied endorsement if any of these terms are used.
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the author, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in a review and certain non-commercial uses permitted by copyright law.
Where to find Iris
Website: http://irisblobel.com/
Newsletter: http://eepurl.com/bQ68rL
Twitter: https://twitter.com/_iris_b
Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/4067254.Iris_Blobel
Blurb
Pikorua, the Maori name for the symbol, is a twist that is said to symbolise the strength of the bond between two people. Mat is certain there is something between Tiffany and him.
When Tiffany Cahill opens the door to the police, memories flood her mind of the previous year and a relationship gone bad. Frightened, she calls her friend, Steve, for help, but instead a stranger answers the phone. Little does Tiffany know how much this New Zealander is going to impact her life, especially after she is assaulted only a few hours later.
Mat Apanui, the owner of a helicopter tour company in New Zealand, can’t ignore the worry in Tiffany’s voice when he answers Steve’s phone. Before he knows it, he is spending most of his business trip to Melbourne with her. Desperate to keep her safe after an attack, he invites her to stay with him in Queenstown, NZ.
With her safety at risk, how will Tiffany overcome her reservations and trust the sexy stranger enough to fly across the Tasman Sea?
One
When Tiffany Cahill opened the door and laid eyes on the police officers, memories flooded back of the horrid day the year before when she’d been dragged to the police station. Everything inside her tensed as she checked the lever for the screen door to make sure it was locked. She rubbed her damp palms against her pants.
“Miss Cahill?” the male police officer asked, his dark brown eyes focussing on her.
Scared, she wasn’t able to find her voice, she bit her lip and simply nodded.
“Miss Tiffany Cahill?” the female, and younger, officer asked.
Tiffany nodded again. If she focussed on the officer’s flaming red hair beneath her cap, she wouldn’t have to meet her eyes. But she allowed herself a cautious peek at the officers’ faces.
Their expressions were unreadable, which was worrying.
“I’m Senior Constable Jones. This is Sergeant Harris.” The officer paused for a moment. “We would like to ask you a couple of questions in regard to Thomas Terrill.”
“Who?” Tiffany asked, hardly above a whisper. Her whole body shook, and she knew she had to sit down soon or she’d faint.
“Thomas Terrill,” Jones repeated. “He was up on charges last year for the possession of drugs. The file states you were involved—”
“There’s no way I’ll come with you.” Her voice was louder than intended, panic rising within her. “You can’t make me—”
“Miss Cahill,” Jones said with a calm voice.
“We’re not here to take you with us, but to ask you a few questions,” Sergeant Harris explained, pulling out a little notepad from his shirt pocket, opening it with an expert snap. “Is there anybody with you at home?”
Tiffany frowned as she shook her head. Anxiety raced through the pit of her stomach, and she had to resist the urge to step back to shut the door.
“Anybody you can call?”
His voice was soothing, and when Tiffany met his eyes through the screen door, she noticed something that conveyed trust. And there was a need inside her to trust him, yet every fibre in her told her to not open the door. Never again would she let the police take her to the station and treat her like a criminal.
She bit her lip again, desperate to figure out whom to call, when she replied, “My brother.”
Harris nodded. “Thomas Terrill was charged with possession of drugs last year. You are noted as a witness.” He paused, checked his little notepad, and continued, “He’s also known as Hudson Ford.”
Leaning her head against the door, Tiffany took a deep breath to steady herself.
“Are you okay, Miss Cahill?” Harris asked.
“Please open the door,” Jones requested.
Holding up her hand, Tiffany replied, “I haven’t seen him since last year. I have nothing to do with whatever trouble he’s in.” Her entire body trembled, anxiety rushing through her like a tidal wave. She took another two deep breaths before standing straight to meet Harris’ gaze.
He searched her eyes before he assented with a nod and held out a business card. “We need to talk to you. I can assure you you’re not in trouble, but we need your help.” He squeezed the card into the small gap of the doorframe. “This is my number. Please call in when you have somebody with you, and we can have a talk.”
She nodded, appreciating him leaving the card in the door and not insisting on opening up.
“Will you be okay, Miss Cahill?” This time Jones asked.
The simple answer was no, but again, she nodded, hoping for this nightmare to end soon.
Senior Constable Jones and Sergeant Harris left, and Tiffany watched them drive off in their car. Only then did she close the door, leaning against it, and then slowly sliding down. Clasping her legs against her chest, she laid her head on her knees and took a few deep breaths until her heart rate returned to normal.
Tiffany wasn’t sure how long she sat there before she was finally able to get up and reach the phone in the kitchen. She stared at the modern cooking area in front of her as if she was seeing it for the first time. The old wooden cupboards contrasted with her fancy new fridge and oven. The window more or less right in front of her with the view to her neglected back yard. She stepped to the wooden table near the wall and sat before dialling the familiar number. It didn’t take long for someone to answer.
“Hello?” came an unfamiliar man’s voice.
Tiffany hesitated, but hung up without giving it a second thought. Checking the numbers by pushing redial, she pressed connect when she was sure. With her heartbeat up a notch, she focussed.
“Hello?” the same man answered, this time with irritation.
Frayed with confusion, she moved her mouth soundlessly until she got her bearings, “Uhm, can I talk to Steve, please?”
“He’s not home.”
“Who…who are you?”
“My name is Mat. Can I leave
him a message?”
Running a hand through her short hair, she racked her brain to put one and one together. This person definitely had a little Kiwi accent. But who the hell was he?
His next question hauled her back to their conversation. “Are you okay?”
“Of course I am. Please let him know I called,” she snapped, still out of sorts, and hung up, never giving him a chance to reply.
Breathing hard, she tried to calm herself and reduce the adrenaline that had shot through her and left her shaking all over. She took another deep breath before she walked to the sink to rinse her clammy hands and make a cup of tea. The sound of the phone made her jump, and she rushed back to grab it, nearly knocking over the vase of flowers, cursing the police all the way as well as Hudson, the bastard, who had left her in hospital bruised and beaten up last year.
“Steve?”
“It’s Mat. How about you tell me your name so I can ask Steve to return your call?”
‘‘How did you get my number?”
“I hit the redial button,” he replied, as if surprised by her question.
A smile twitched at Tiffany’s lips. He knew how to help himself. And he cared. “It’s Tiffany. My name is Tiffany.”
“Nice meeting you, Tiffany, even though it’s over the phone. So, you’re sure you’re okay?”
Tiffany hesitated, but noticed how talking to him calmed her. A quietness inside her began to push away the troubling fears, helping her to relax. “Who are you?”
‘‘My name’s Mat, but I’ve already told you that.”
There was no malice in his voice. She sat on one of the chairs, her body relaxing bit by bit. “Steve never mentioned someone called Mat.”
He laughed. “You know all his secrets?”
“No. But, considering I’m his best friend, I believe, he would have mentioned a friend staying with him.”
“Let me think, I can’t recall him mentioning your name, either.”
His voice had a teasing tone, and Tiffany was starting to like him. It was exactly what she needed after opening the door to the police.
“After his girlfriend, I’m the next most important person in Steve’s life,” she said, trying hard to match his humour. “And there’s never been a mention of a person named Mat. I’m pretty certain of that.”
“Damn that little bugger. Here I thought we were best buddies.” He paused for a second then added, “Tell me, Tiffany, why were you so upset?”
“You tell me first how Steve knows someone from New Zealand.”
He laughed again, and it was one of those contagious laughs, which told everyone of his love for it: deep, heartfelt, and infectious. She liked him already for his laugh alone.
“You picked up on that, ay?”
“Educated guess.”
There was silence before he explained. “Steve and I went to school together in Sydney, and we’ve stayed in contact.”
She remembered Steve had grown up in Sydney but then moved to Melbourne in his early teens because of his father’s job. Mat’s voice brought her back from her thoughts, before she was able to reply.
“Darling, I love talking to you, but I’ve got to be somewhere in an hour. Can you promise me you’ll be okay?”
“Thanks, Mat. Yes, I’ll be fine.” It wasn’t a big lie, because at that moment she was feeling better.
She hung up and noticed a smile on her face. And instead of a churning stomach, butterflies had made themselves comfortable. She thought of how easy the conversation had flowed and how attentive he’d been. And his voice. She liked his voice. It was deep and calm, smooth and articulate. She closed her eyes and lost herself in his accent. It hadn’t been strong, but still obvious to her.
And then there’d been his laugh. God, his laugh. It had turned her inside out.
With a big exhale, she covered her face with her hands, surprised that on a day she had to face the police, she was drooling over a man she’d never met, but only talked to.
For a mere few minutes, at that.
The police. A ripple of worry went through her, and she stood to search for her phone to give Steve another call. This time on his mobile.
****
The GPS voice in Matiu Apanui’s car had as little of a clue as he did about the directions to get to his meeting place, and after half an hour, he was still on the western side of Melbourne instead of in the city. The reason for it was Tiffany, who was on the threshold of his thoughts. He replayed the phone conversation over and over in his head. It was clear something must’ve upset her. Even though she’d relaxed during their short conversation, he’d been able to sense her tension.
“Shit,” he shouted as he pressed the speed dial button on his phone, remembering he’d never left a note for his friend.
“Mate, where are you?” Steve asked, by way of answering.
“I have no idea. Near a big park. Looks pretty with the trees alongside the walking tracks. Had no idea Melbourne had all these deciduous trees—”
“Mat!”
“The lovely GPS lady took me on a sightseeing tour first it seems. I’m considering stopping for a coffee and to reboot her at the same time.”
“And you called me to tell me that?”
Mat noticed the frustration in his friend’s voice and asked bluntly, “Tell me about your girlfriend.”
There was a brief silence, before Steve asked, “You want to talk about Jess?”
Mat’s laughter echoed in the small car as he turned off the engine and got out. With a few long strides, he headed towards the café. “I thought Jess is more than your girlfriend. I’m talking about Tiffany.”
There was a groan on the other end of the line. “I heard about your phone call. You must’ve left some impression, but if you start any rumours by calling her my girlfriend I will kill you.”
As he stepped inside the cafe, Mat asked, “You heard?”
“I’ve already spoken to her, but I don’t—”
“I’m glad you did. Tiffany was desperate to talk to you. I hope you were able to help her.”
Mat held his phone away for a moment, smiled at the young woman behind the counter, and ordered his coffee.
‘‘You’re still there?” Steve asked with a loud voice.
Mat shook his head with a smile and explained, “Yes, mate, just ordering a much-needed coffee.” His friend’s resigned sigh gave him another chuckle. “If you’ve already talked to her, we’re all good, ay.”
“We’re all good. Thanks for calling anyway and good luck finding your way. But, by the way, what the hell did you two talk about?”
Mat took a sip of the coffee and was impressed by the flavour considering it cost him only a few bucks.
“Mat, you’re pissing me off here. Will you focus on this conversation?”
“Geez, Steve. When did you get so touchy?”
There was a sharp intake of breath and an exhale on the other end of the line. “Tiff had a rough twelve months and a shitty morning. I’m simply concerned.”
Mat froze mid-stride. Damn! He’d assumed something was wrong, but now he was curious about the history of it all. “What happened?”
“What the hell did you talk to her about, Matiu?” His friend’s voice was now loud and his tone impatient.
Mat leaned against the car with one hand in his pocket and watched the heavy traffic, recalling his conversation with Tiffany earlier that day. “Well,” he began. “I answered your phone, and she hung up but rang again. I told her you weren’t home, and she asked me to leave a message and hung up. I returned the call, and we had a bit of a chit chat. You seem very overprotective.”
There was a pause before Steve spoke. “Yeah, she’s a great friend who’s been through a rough patch.”
“How come you’ve never talked about her?”
“I probably have mentioned her, but nothing worth you remembering.”
“Should’ve though, I guess.” Mat thought ab
out it for a moment. “Anyway, glad you talked to her. The panic in her voice had me worried. You’ll have to tell me more about your girl tonight. I’ve got to go,” he said eventually with a grin.
“She’s not my girl,” his friend replied through gritted teeth. “And good luck with your meeting.”
Mat disconnected the call, placed the cup of coffee on the top of the car, and tried to re-program the direction to his meeting place in his phone. How he missed Queenstown at that moment. With probably a mere tenth of Melbourne’s population, navigation was easy, only hampered sometimes by tourists who drove on the wrong side of the road or who were simply lost.
He thought of Steve’s comment about Tiffany’s rough year. Worry shot through him, and he wished he’d copied her number to his phone.
The sound of her voice still played in his head. A tone that stoked angst and concern.
Exhaling a long breath, Mat focussed back to the problem at hand, got into the car, and listened to the GPS directions — as well as following them. Thankfully, within half an hour he found himself in an office opposite Karen Young, the representative of an Australian travel agency.
A few months earlier, Mat had lost the coin toss between him and his partner Adam, and it was now he who was in Melbourne trying to negotiate a deal with Karen. Mat was interested in including his helicopter flights as part of a travel package for tourists in Queenstown, his hometown. He stepped into her small office, instantly overcome by some mild claustrophobia when he saw a small window with no view, but showing the walls of the building next door. Inhaling a breath, he forced himself to take in the rest of the well-decorated office, with framed photos from all over the world.
Including his beloved Queenstown.
Most of the places he knew, although he’d never been there, and he wondered whether Karen had.
“Nice meeting you, Mat.”
He shook Karen’s hand and was surprised by her firm grip. “Likewise.”
As they sat, he studied her small frame, her short wavy grey hair, and soft blue eyes. He assumed her to be in her mid to late fifties. Her complexion was honey brown with not even a small blemish on her skin, but a few lines around her eyes.