Sweet Seduction Shadow (5 page)

"Ohhh. Didn't pick you as a tattoo tart," Kelly said, giving my arm a playful squeeze. "What's it like then?"

"It's on his right arm, almost all of his arm." I paused, remembering the way the ink curved lovingly around those bare, beautifully defined muscles. "It went from just above his wrist, to up under the T-shirt sleeve he was wearing. I can't help wondering if it stops just there, or goes further. You know, like maybe spreads out across his pecs."

"Hmm. Pecs," Gen whispered off to the side.

"What is it?" Kelly asked. "And if you say it's an anchor inside a heart with the words 'I'm stuck on Shazza' written beneath it, then you and me need to have a talk about tattoo appropriate artistry to swoon over."

I giggled at the imagery, then abruptly stopped. I hadn't giggled since before I was fifteen. And Abi Merchant definitely didn't giggle.

"Well?" Kelly persisted, breaking into my turbulent thoughts.

"It's tribal. Māori art, with a wicked Tiki hidden in amongst it. The lines are perfect, no smudge of the ink at all. The tone consistent across the entire tattoo. Someone took a lot of time drawing it. They were good at what they did."

I noticed then that Kelly and Gen had gone quiet. I assumed it was the fact I had taken such notice of shadow man's tat that had taken them by surprise. It had surprised me, considering what else had been going on at the time. But I must have really noticed it. I know I'm an observant person, I've had to be to pick up on the odd man out. But even I had to admit the detail I recalled was impressive. So, I kind of understood their astonishment.

"Just like..." Gen said softly.

"Yeah, spooky huh?" Kelly finished for her.

"But I suppose lots of tribal tattoos have Tikis in them," Gen surmised.

"Not that I've seen. His is the only one I've ever come across," Kelly remarked.

"Seen a lot of tattoos have you, Kels?" Gen asked playfully.

"Sweetie! You'd be surprised where guys hide their art."

"I bet," Gen said, then added. "Still, why would he be anywhere near our Abi? Where were you when this happened, Abs?" she asked, turning to me. I just stared back, mouth open, shock stealing all words.

This couldn't be happening. I shook my head. No. This was a coincidence, nothing more.

"Um," I managed, but thankfully Kelly saved me.

"Could always find out if he's acted the hero today. Simple phone call."

"Yeah, you're right," Gen agreed, pulling a slim mobile phone from her trouser pocket. "Abi, you never know, but we may just be able to put you in touch with hot, handsome and heavily tattooed."

"Um," I managed again.

"How cool would that be?" Kelly asked with pure delight. Not cool, I thought to myself.

"Hey, you! How's things?" Gen said into her phone and the world closed in to just this couch, her voice and whoever was on the other end of the line, talking so quietly I couldn't make out the words.

"So, you been busy today?" Gen asked overly innocently. There was a pause and then she laughed heartily. A throaty sound that was all Gen. "Of course I'm keeping tabs on you." Pause. "No, Dominic does not suspect you of a thing." Pause. "I do." Longer pause, a small giggle on Gen's part.

I think I was dying here.

"Just wanted to know if you've saved any damsels in distress, that's all. Can't a fan show her appreciation?" she added. Then the longest pause yet. Gen pulled her phone away from her ear and stared at it with a frown. Then followed that with a shrug of her shoulders and the phone returning to her ear. "You there, Ben?"

Ben. Could this
Ben
be my shadow man? Nah, how the hell could Gen know someone Roan McLaren would have hired to find me? Ridiculous.

Gen turned on her perch to look at me. Her eyebrows rose as she held my gaze.

"Yeah. Yeah, all right," she said, still looking at me. "I'll do that. See ya," she finally added, absently, then pulled the phone from her ear and hit the screen to end the call. Kelly and I stared at her, waiting for the verdict.

Kelly was practically jumping up and down on the sofa with anticipation. I wanted the cushions to swallow me up and make me disappear. Because I recognised that look on Gen's face. I'd seen it before. Shit, I'd worn that same expression many times myself.

The kind of look you get when someone throws a curve ball at you, and you're not entirely sure that you're ready to catch it.

"So, we got a winner?" Kelly asked. I couldn't say a word. Gen was looking at me strangely, a contemplative expression on her face.

"No," she said, quietly. "It's not him," she added, then got to her feet. "I gotta get back to work." She offered a smile, one I knew instantly was fake. Kelly missed it, as she happened to be reaching for her fourth chocolate from the plate before us.

"Well that sucks," Kelly said, stuffing the chocolate into her mouth and then proceeding to talk around it. "Only chocolate will fill the void of disappointment," she mumbled, although it sounded more like,
"Onwe shockit'll fill the voi of dissaoinen."

I was still frozen solid, as she swallowed her chocolate fix down.

"Still, maybe we can introduce you to Ben, Abs," she said happily. "If you like big buff Māori dudes with tribal Tiki tattoos, then you'll like all of him. Ben's a babe, with a hint of bad-ass thrown into the mix." Her eyes washed over my frame, taking in the immaculate outfit, and severely pulled back and prim hairdo. She let a laugh out on a huff. "Who would have thunk it? My little staid flatmate's got a penchant for bad-boy rough. Good on ya, sister. Keep 'em guessin'."

She stood up then too. "Betta earn my living. Thanks for sharing, Abs, and I'm glad you didn't get snotted by a car." She smiled, it was genuine, and headed off to the counter where a still contemplative looking Gen watched.

I looked at the decimated plate of chocolates I hadn't even touched and the mochaccino I hadn't even tasted, and I decided life really did throw curve balls at you. Because as ridiculous as it sounded, Ben with the Tiki tattoo, who knew Gen well enough to make her laugh her hearty laugh, was definitely the shadow dwelling tracker who'd saved my life today.

I had no way of knowing
what
he had said to Gen, but her reaction was enough. I stood up woodenly from the couch and took one last look around Sweet Seduction. One last chance to commit it to memory. I wasn't going to go to work now. There was no point in pretending all was well.

Nothing was well. Everything was wrong. How had Roan hired someone Gen knew? How did Gen know this Ben character? Why did the fragrance of his cologne feel so familiar? Was it a set-up? Was Roan simply playing with me? I felt sick to my stomach at that thought. Because it meant only one thing and I
so
did not want to admit it. To acknowledge what this strange coincidence meant.

If Roan McLaren was toying with me, he knew where I was and had known for a while. And he was taking his sweet, sweet time to play me. As though he was so sure of the outcome, he didn't need to rush to secure me at all.

I let a strangled sound out on that thought, which was drowned out by the music blaring from the speakers. I straightened my back, lifted my head and forced myself to look at Gen - knowing she was still watching me with that strange contemplative expression on her face. I smiled. I think it was a little sad. It was certainly an acknowledgement that I'd been found out and it was time to go.

I lifted my hand and waved good-bye. Watched as Gen frowned and cocked her head to the side. Then before she could do something that would make me cause more of a mess than I had already managed, I swung for the door and pushed past some customers walking in. The lunch rush was about to start, even if Gen wanted to hound me with questions, demand an explanation, she'd be too busy now.

And a bus would be arriving soon on Quay Street in order to leave at once, direct to Hamilton. It was time to bring Chrystal back, even if she was going to be a hashed up version of the Chrystal I'd been this morning.

I didn't bother to glance across the street at Pennyworth's. If I did, I'd want to go inside and see Angela one last time too. And it was obvious what a bad move that would prove to be. Sweet Seduction had proven my downfall, I would remain strong from here on in.

I took a detour onto Queen Street, going straight for the Pharmacy there. A quick purchase of essentials and I was on my way to the public toilets I'd used earlier. Chrystal was going to be a brunette, with green eyes and shoulder length hair. I'd miss the long locks, and even though I wasn't yet attached to the red hair, I was already attached to Abi. So seeing that colour disappear at all, was a significant hit.

Just as well I had over an hour before the bus was due, because the dye job took thirty minutes, the haircut another ten, and the threading of beads another fifteen. The woman who stared back at me in the mirror of the public loo was a stranger. She had Abi Merchant's green eyes and face, but little else. I wasted a precious five minutes taking her all in. Letting myself
see
her,
accept
her,
be
her.

As I purchased my bus ticket with cash and waited with the other passengers for the bus to be ready to board, I decided Chrystal Kerr wasn't going to be an entirely lost cause after all. Just because Auckland was too hot to handle right now, didn't mean I couldn't return in three days time to pick up her fake papers. I could make a day trip of it. Hamilton was less than two hours away. I could hide out there for the next three days, then return to Auckland to uplift my new ID.

It was a risk. One I wouldn't have taken in the past. But these papers were border ready. They were going to be the best papers I had ever purchased and replacing them was damn near impossible. It
was
a risk, but it was a risk I was prepared to take. I'd lay low in Hamilton, a forced break of sorts, and then I'd face the enormous risk of travelling across the border.

It would be so easy to give in now. To run away with my tail between my legs. To let Roan McLaren win this round. But this round was too important. I needed to dig deep now, to reap the reward later. As I settled into my seat on board the bus and considered what a life outside of New Zealand could entail, I resolved to make this work. To play Roan, just as he was playing me. He expected me to run. He wouldn't expect me to return to the city where he had finally found me.

The bus pulled out of the terminal and I watched all the newly familiar sights of downtown Auckland move slowly past. This departure felt different for so many reasons. One, I didn't want to leave. Two, I knew I would return, even if for one day. And that had never happened in my travels before. No two places ever visited again. And finally, if I was truly honest with myself, the third reason this departure felt different was because of
him
. Part of me was impressed he'd found me at all. Five years hiding gives you a sense of worth. I was good at hiding, yet Ben, Gen's Tiki tattoo wearing friend, had found me.

That intrigued me. That and the fact I couldn't help feeling Ben hid in plain sight too. Just like me. He hid in order to track someone; to watch them from the shadows, but not be seen. How many times had my eyes skimmed over his hiding spot this morning? How many times had I seen him and not perceived? He was undoubtedly my enemy, but for the first time in my life I felt a connection to another human being that made me feel alive.

Because you can't deny you're alive when your heart continues to beat itself right out of your chest. Even now, thinking of him, my heart rate was climbing and my breathing was starting to saw out of my mouth. I chided myself mentally and worked on lowering my blood pressure and just enjoying the sensation of being on the move again. I managed to lower the BP, but the moving again part no longer held any interest for me.

That's why I had to risk a return to Auckland in three days time. That's why I had to push the boundaries of the rules my father had given me, in order to stay safe. Because I couldn't keep going like this. I just couldn't. And that scary thought was enough to make me have to work on my blood pressure all over again.

By the time we reached Pukekohe, just South of Auckland, and the bus stopped for one last pick up, I was feeling better prepared for what lay ahead. I had a plan. An ID in the making. A destination in my mind. An escape route mapped out. This was familiar territory. This was what my father had taught me to do.

I watched as two male passengers boarded the bus and sat down by the driver. Both dressed in leathers more appropriate to riding bikes. I searched for any visible club patches or markings, but if they wore art it was hidden from sight. One had a goatee and dark straggly hair, the other was clean shaven and bald. They paid no notice to anyone around them, just hunkered down and flicked through car magazines in their laps.

Satisfied they offered no potential problem, I let my mind wander as I stared blankly out at the scenery flashing past. As it usually does, when I'm fleeing a location because I've felt my cover was blown, my mind went back to my father. To a scene near the end of the three years he'd taken to prepare me for this exact moment.

"You must always be vigilant, Sarah. Even when you're sure you are safe, don't lower your guard."

"But how do I do that, Dad? How can anyone stay so focused all of the time?" I asked, genuinely bemused at his insistence it can be done.

"Because the alternative is capture. Do you want Roan to capture you, baby girl? Just because you forgot to check your surroundings and lowered your guard?"

"No, of course not. But surely he'll give up on me after a while. Surely I can live a normal life eventually."

My father walked across the room we were in and grabbed hold of both my upper arms. He gave me a little shake. Not too roughly, but enough to get my attention.

"Don't you get it, Sarah. He owns you. Fuck it! He owns me, so he owns you too. Roan McLaren is not like normal men. He values his possessions only so much as to ensure they remain his. To lose either of us would be a hit to his pride, one he wouldn't suffer lightly. To lose you..." he trailed off there, a look of disgust crossing his face. I knew it wasn't disgust at me. My father had never looked at me like that, but seeing it on his face, when so close to mine, left me chilled to the bone.

"Dad," I pleaded. "I don't know if I can do this." I really didn't. Not just the scary part of it all, but the constant looking over your shoulder. The idea that I could never trust anyone ever again. It was a lot to ask an eighteen year old.

"Sarah," he said, his voice cracking as he wrapped me up in his arms and gave me a gentle squeeze. He pulled back and looked down at me. Sad blue eyes staring out of a tired and worn face, laced with fear. "The only way I will be able to go on, is if I know you are doing everything in your power to prevent Roan finding you. If I doubt your ability to do that, then I might as well hand Roan a loaded gun right now and tell him to shoot me in the heart with it."

I stared up at my father and felt fury wash through my veins.

"Don't put this on me," I begged. "I'm not strong enough to bear the burden of your life as well."

I watched as my father's face hardened into something I had never thought I'd see directed at me. I knew he needed to be tough when called on to do Roan's dirty work, but he'd shielded that side of himself from me over the years. He let me see it now.

"You are stronger than you think. You are a Monaghan, raised in the shadow of a drug lord's world. Your playground growing up was the Compound Roan McLaren ruled from. You have steel in your bones and sweet honey in your veins. Learn to use both well. Or you are no daughter of mine."

I wrenched my arms out of his grip and stumbled back from him.

"What the hell, Dad?" I demanded, probably showing a little of that steel and none of the sweet honey he'd just mentioned.

"Do you love me, baby girl?" he asked, a complete 180 from the hardened man I'd just met for the first time.

"Of course," I said immediately. My need to reassure him part of my heart and soul.

"Then make me believe this isn't all in vain. Give me a reason to go on living, to breathe the same air that man does, in order to keep you safe."

"Dad," I said on a whisper.

"I need to believe it, Sarah. Otherwise, why go on?"

I think I hated him a little in that moment. Forcing me to commit to a promise that would mean so much. Didn’t he understand what he was asking of me? Didn't he care that my life would never be free and easy ever again? If he gave me hope that I could just see the next few years out and it would all be over, I knew I could manage it then. But indefinitely? To forever look over my shoulder, to never lower my guard?

It was too much and I couldn't make that promise. So I turned on my heel and ran from the rooms we shared. Already moving in the shadows of the Compound. Already blending in, being seen but not perceived. For three days I avoided my father, then on the fourth, reality came crashing back in.

I was sitting in my favourite hiding spot. On top of the roof at the rear building, overlooking fields that backed onto the perimeter fence. It was night out, so lights bathed the carpark on the far side, and in the stillness I could hear the electricity humming in the fence several metres away. The odd security guard with his leashed Doberman dog walked past, doing the perimeter check. But none thought to look up here.

I spent many hours sitting under the stars hoping to spot a falling one on which I could wish. None came that night. But Roan McLaren did. Into the back field, the other side of the electrified fence. He had four of his bodyguards with him. Two of the big burly men dragging an unconscious figure between them. The other two containing a weeping woman as she pleaded for them to let her and her husband go.