Vortex

Vortex

Linda Driscoll

Copyright 2014 Linda Driscoll

Smashwords Edition

Smashwords Edition, License Notes

This book is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you're reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to your favourite ebook retailer and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

Other Books by Linda Driscoll

Two Close to the Edge (2014)

Chapter 1

If you dread an occurrence for long enough, when it eventually happens there is a kind of relief along with the dismay. Therefore, a voice within her said, At last! when Cilla saw the figure standing in the night shadows of her verandah. She had seen him even before David had stopped the car. A gasp of despair escaped before she could stem it, but that inner voice also said, Bring it on, I am ready.

What is it? David asked, turning to follow her line of vision but Cilla immediately switched on the charm to distract him,

Oh David, that was a lovely evening. The soft appealing voice, the beckoning pull of violet eyes, and the pressure of her hand on his arm made David completely forget the look of dismay that had been there a second before. Would you like to come in for coffee?

David looked at the woman next to him with surprise he hoped he had contained, but he thought not. It had been made obvious that he could expect to get no further with this beautiful, self-possessed woman that evening. He was, therefore, more than entitled to the rush of pleasant surprise that flowed through him. Maybe he had been mistaken.

That would be nice, he replied and she smiled at him. That smile transformed her into a warm, receptive woman. Cilla had been a challenge to David – tall, aloof, intelligent, immaculately groomed and polished, she daunted most males. The long auburn hair, high cheek bones, a small neat mouth and dark violet eyes that seemed to see through any facade and reduce someone to their naked self – it all shouted class. He thought he would get his fingers burnt with this one, but she was worth the pain. The fact that he had been able to take her out at all had put him up a notch in the eyes of his peers.

The fact that he had no suspicion of her deviousness was not to his discredit, for Cilla had known, from an early age, how to play the male ego. The major contributing factors to this ability were, firstly, an alluring prettiness that she had inherited and which had turned to beauty as she matured. Secondly, Cilla had been brought up on a walled off estate by her widowed father, who lacked neither money nor influence to grant her every wish. Hence her childhood and youth had been spent practising her whiles freely among the males in the entourage of tough business executives that worked with him, and the even tougher bevy of security consultants that came and went in the Brione Estate. And there had been few whom she could not wind around her little finger.

It was to Cilla’s credit that she had recognised her inclination to manipulate and charm, grown to detest it, and her father’s business dealings, and had turned away from the shallow life as a society princess that had fostered it. However, it would now prove to be an invaluable experience and she would not hesitate to use it, for her freedom was at stake and Cilla knew instinctively that this was her sole means for escape. Cilla was encouraging David’s protective, gentlemanly nature, making herself seem femininely fragile, provocatively innocent. She waited while he walked around the car to open her door then handed him her house keys. Her arm linked in his, they walked slowly up the pavement. She chatted brightly while he opened the iron gate and let her through first. As soon as she was sure he had closed the gate and was right behind her, Cilla allowed herself to look up the stairs to the verandah and seemingly become aware of the man now standing on the top step. She backed into David with a frightened little squeal and felt David tense as he too noticed the stranger.

However, the voice that came down the steps to them completely shattered the scenario of menace, the aura of danger, that Cilla was attempting to construct. The voice was deep, warm, almost tranquilising.

Good evening, Ms Brione. I hope you don’t mind but I took the liberty of waiting on your verandah.

Him. Why did it have to be him. Trust dad to send him. His features jumped out of her memory – rugged, no-nonsense face, the shock of thick, unruly, light coloured hair, the strong brow that accentuated his dark eyes, the hard mouth; and the athletic, lithe body. All that, only much more so now – broader in the shoulders with maturity, hair shorter and thicker for the loss of length, the mouth harder as if life had embittered him more, and a stronger aura of self-confidence. And, dropping her into the past and squeezing her heart as it had done years before, the lop-sided grin that flashed down at her.

But Cilla gave no outward sign of recognition. She clung to David’s arm, shrinking away from the form on the step.

You frightened me. What are you doing there? She felt David tense again and his arm encircled her shoulders protectively, drawing her back towards him. Just as she had planned.

The figure came down out of the shadows to the bottom step obviously, Cilla thought, trying to minimise the suggestion of threat by coming down to David’s level. For a fleeting moment, Cilla had a small stab of conscience. She knew she was deliberately pitting David against a dangerous adversary – a man who lived on his quick wits, sharp mind and, when necessary, well trained physical force. However her freedom was at stake so she pushed the disturbing thoughts away and resolutely followed her instinctive plan.

As if in continued counterplot, his voice came again, soft, almost subservient – no hint of threat, Your father sent me, Ms Brione. He wants you to return to the Estate urgently. Then to David, apologetically, as if a trusted family servant was speaking. Sorry to spoil your Friday evening, sir, but there are urgent family problems that can’t wait. A bit of trauma.

Cilla had a sudden surge of genuine concern. My father. Is he …

Alex – Mr Brione – is perfectly well. Please don’t panic. It’s a family matter that can’t wait. His smile showed that he had obtained the reaction he wanted, the one that would show David that his story was genuine, but before she could counter his advantage, he spoke directly to David. Mr Brione wanted Miss Cilla to come to the Estate right away, whatever the hour. Again, my apologies for spoiling your evening, sir. But orders are orders. Sir! What a farce. He’s older, bigger, more competent than David in every way. Surely David will see through this masquerade.

But David’s arm began to relax around her shoulders. He looked at her questioningly. Alex Brione! The mining magnate and entrepreneur. You’re his daughter, Priscilla Brione. I didn’t make the connection. The Cilla name must have put me off. Didn’t know I was keeping company with an heiress. He gave her a light kiss on the cheek. All right. Don’t worry about it. It can’t be helped. I’ll see you when you get back. I can see you’re in good hands. He let go of her and took one step away from her towards the stranger, holding out her keys.

Cilla grabbed for him. No, it’s not all right! You’re being duped by his trusted servant scenario. I don’t want to go with him. He’s just part of my father’s muscle. My father thinks he can snap his fingers and the world will jump for the privilege to obey. I’m not going with him. I want to live my own life. He’ll make me go if you leave, David.

David looked at her in amazement, then he looked at the stranger before him uncertainly.

Cilla, the calm voice became deeper and quieter, your father wouldn’t interfere unless it was vital. He knows and respects your feelings. You know that. His voice lowered even more and became almost, but not quite, threatening. And you know you’re throwing a lamb to the slaughter, don’t you.

David turned Cilla to look at him, his face grim. Cilla, I think I’m way out of my league here. I couldn’t fight my way out of a paper bag. But if you really want me to, I’ll … I’ll try to stop him. I don’t know what this is about – family problems or coercion but if you say so, well … perhaps you can get away. He was pulling her back behind him as he spoke.

Instantly the fight went out of Cilla. She was ashamed and aware of qualities in David that she had overlooked, or ignored. She gave a deep sigh.

I’m sorry, David. I shouldn’t have used you like that. Please believe me when I say it is an indication of how much I don’t want to go. Another sigh. I thought I had got away from my father. No-one does, though. Not really. It’s like being at the end of a leash. He lets you out so far but no further, and pulls you back in when he wants you. She pulled his head down and kissed him on the cheek. Thank you, David. I’ll call you.

Please do. I’ll be concerned until I hear you have worked this all out. I’m sorry I can’t help. But I’ll always be here if you need me.

David looked uncertainly at the stranger before him and there passed between the two men an unspoken exchange of respect. One sensed the other’s power and capability; the other sensed reliability and courage, and each knew the other’s worth. David gave him Cilla’s keys; they shook hands, and then David left.

Bursting with indignation, Cilla glared at the grinning face before her.

You … you neanderthal! Do you enjoy forcing people to do what my father wants? He has no right to run my life, and you have no right to … But he had turned and unlocked the door with her key, pushing it open with his hand and motioning her to enter. She stood her ground, still berating him until he reached out, grabbed her wrist and pulled her inside. Instinctively, Cilla clenched her trapped hand into a fist and pushed against his grip. Then, just as his arm countered by pushing in the opposite direction, she switched from pushing to pulling and her wrist slid out of his grasp through the gap in the circle made by his thumb and fingers. As her hand came up to protect her face, just as she had been taught, her knee came up to strike into his groin. His reactions were faster than hers, but even so he only had time to turn slightly sideways and receive the brunt of it on his thigh. He swore under his breath and reached out, fast, towards her. For one brief moment of panic, she though he was going to strike her, but his arm went past her to the door and slammed it shut behind her. His other hand pushed her knee, spinning her around until her back fell against his chest and pinned her to him and he lifted her and carried her, struggling, into the lounge room. He virtually threw her onto the settee and stood back watching her, his face dark.

Don’t you ever put your hands on me again! she spat the words at him.

Don’t ever give me occasion to again and I won’t. I forgot about your little self-defence sessions, I admit. But your element of surprise is now gone, and I won’t forget again. She opened her mouth to speak, but he went on. And don’t threaten me with you’ll tell daddy. He said to bring you to the Estate and, my oath, I will.

Her eyes sparked at him in defiance. He took a step towards her.

Has it occurred to you at all, in your self-righteous indignation, that there may be a good reason for him sending me? You are misjudging him badly because you don’t want your self-centred little world disturbed. He’s left you alone for nearly ten years. Hasn’t it even occurred to you that there might be something seriously wrong for him to ask you back, out of the blue?

Cilla eyed him suspiciously. You said he was all right, she accused.

He is. But he wants to stay that way, and for you to stay that way. His voice dropped a little. He is being … pressured, and the only way anyone could hold anything over him would be through you. The sensible thing is for you to come with me to the Estate where you are safe. Cilla opened her mouth to speak but was again cut off. Only until this is sorted out … his voice dropped further and he spoke the last sentence with a slap of bitterness that made Cilla blink, then you can walk out on him again.

The shock lasted only a second, then Cilla jumped to her feet again, her hands clenched to her sides. How dare you judge me! It’s none of your business what goes on between me and my father. I love him very much, but I won’t have him run my life … she was pacing around now, flinging her hands around in gesticulation, like he runs his organisations – pulling strings, giving with one hand and taking with the other, interfering in places he has no right to, bankrupting or supporting regimes …

He was grinning at her outburst so now she rounded on him with fury. and as for sending in trained apes like you, mercenaries, killing and teaching to kill, and …

You forgot plundering and raping, he said sarcastically.

I hate your type, she spat the words at him, then sat down with the stubborn finality of a donkey sitting down under its load. I don’t believe you. It’s a ruse to get me back. He hates to be outdone and I outdid him when I got away. I’m not going back. You better believe me.

He watched her, his face impassive, but knowing that he was still attracted to this little fireball, seeing her now, her dark eyes flashing, her soft mouth set in determination. But, damn, she was infuriating and unreasonable. And he was angrier than was wise. He had a job to do and needed his emotions under control. He took a deep breath before speaking.

All right. I take it that notice of war has been served. Pack a small bag. We’re going now, not waiting for morning. We’re going by car and we have a long way to go.

Cilla did not stir, If what you say is right and there is danger to my safety, why did he send only you? Why not a whole battalion, and where’s the jet? For that matter, how do I know he did send you, maybe you don’t work for him anymore and you’re the one I have to look out for. She sat back, satisfied with her speech.

He came to stand in front of her, towering over her, talking slowly as if to a child, ticking off the points on his fingers. Firstly, one man is less obvious than a team and secondly this is primarily a precaution. Thirdly, speed and stealth are the best cover. Planes have to put in flight plans and can be traced. I thought you would be glad of the cover of a car trip – no paparazzi, no newspaper stories. Your father wants you to go to ground, just drop out of circulation quietly and unobtrusively. And anyway the jet is in Indonesia. Finally, I have a letter for you, in his own hand. He dropped a sealed envelope on her lap, then crossed to the window and closed the blinds. He switched on a lamp beside the settee so she could read.

Cilla opened the letter slowly – as if afraid to read it. At the sight of the familiar staccato-style writing her heart gave a flutter of joy, and a lifetime of memories washed over her in an instant.

"Dearest Prissy,

My darling. I know you won’t like this and it may all seem a little melodramatic to you, but I have sent one of the men to bring you home to the estate. I cannot put my reasons on paper in case this should be read by others, so you will have to trust me. That, I know, you will find hard, but please believe me when I say that I love you and only wish you well. You find it difficult having been born a Brione I know, and I am sorry that you feel it necessary to fight that fact. But you are my beloved daughter and because of that, your safety is my concern. After all, if it were not for my activities you would not be in danger.

You will, no doubt, remember Mitch Benoir. This letter will serve to re-introduce him to you. I remember you were friends when he first joined us so I have sent someone you liked and trusted. He has become one of my top men since you left – one whom I trust explicitly with the care of my most precious asset.

All my love, and with great anticipation of seeing you again,

Dad

PS. The jet will be in Indonesia and I know you hate to fly commercial so let Mitch take care of all arrangements. Please leave everything in his capable hands and follow his directions."

Cilla glanced up, under the cover of her eyelashes to see where Mitch was in the room. She didn’t want him to see the tears prickling at the back of her eyes. He would interpret it as capitulation. What did he know of the history of the relationship between her father and herself, people who were too alike for their own good, and yet only had each other in the whole world? How could he understand what had finally driven her, clandestinely, to flee the cloistered, stifling existence her life had become, to