Free Finding Trust (Centre Games) by Natalie Gayle Page A

silently led Rihanna down the corridor and as he expected, the door to the lower-level lab was wide open. He turned and looked at her, noticing the river of silent tears spilling from her gorgeous eyes. He squeezed her hand reassuringly; it was a small gesture but one of intimacy and support when words could simply not compensate for the devastation she was undoubtedly feeling.
    If the upper level of the hospital was a cyclone centre, the lower lab was ground zero. A quick scan of his senses told him that the floor was safe. He turned and gathered her into his arms, as she sobbed silently into his shoulder.
    “It’s okay, sweetheart, we’ll sort this out.”
    She wanted to believe him; she really did. But how did you even begin to replace the equipment, the effort, or restore order to the chaos that had now invaded their life’s work?
    “Rihanna, can you tell me where you kept the virus?” His senses could detect a very faint hint but not in enough concentration to be the real deal.
    She pointed at a stainless steel cabinet that was open. “The virus samples were kept in special containers, kind of like the ones you would have seen radioactive material kept in. They’re all gone.”
    “How many were there?” he asked.
    “There were six containers, all with various levels of virus intensity.”
    He looked around again and noticed that there didn’t seem to be any computer equipment in the wreckage of the lab.
    “Did you have computer equipment down here?”
    “Yes, our laptops were over there on the bench to the right. We kept the door locked with biometrics, as you would have noticed.”
    “Do you have backups of the data?” Given what he had learnt of Rihanna, he was positive he already knew the answer but he had to ask the question anyway.
    “Yes, of course. We backup everything to external hard drives that we keep in the house safe and we also backup a copy over a VPN to the government agency that we are doing the bulk of the research for.” Her indignation at him questioning her professional standards and practices rolled off her in waves.
    “Sorry, Rihanna; I figured you would but I had to ask. It is part of my job.”
    “Well, your job sucks.” She turned and ran from the building.
    Brayden let her go. His senses were clearly telling him that there were no other humans in at least a kilometre of the property. She was safe from immediate physical harm. However, the emotional harm at finding her business and most likely her home in ruins would be more than most people could take. He figured she needed some time and space to process the chaos that her life had become in a matter of hours.
    After a last scan of the disarray of the lab, he removed his cell phone and dialled his contact at the Centre.
    “What’s up, Stud?” It was getting really old after all these years but routine was routine and a gag was a gag.
    “Hey, Rat Brat, I’m at the vet lab. As we expected, they’ve been here and trashed the joint.” He paused and took a breath. “The virus is gone. Rihanna is telling me that all six canisters are missing. Also the main laptops—although there should be solid backups of the data.”
    He heard his colleague swear a blue streak.
    “Wait one, Stud. I’ll check with the boss man on your next instructions.”
    He paused on the outside of the vet hospital and casually leant against the brickwork, desperately trying to take advantage of any shade offered in the Queensland midday sun. He could see Rihanna sitting in the shade of the big Moreton Bay fig tree that framed the front entry of the house. Her knees were drawn to her chest, with her chin resting on top. She looked as if she was staring out across the valley, looking at nothing in particular.
    A second later, his new directions were received.
    “Boss says head back to your place ASAP. He’ll send a forensics and clean-up team out there. He doesn’t want you to move out from your place until further notice.”
    “Roger. I’ll