Sweet Seduction Shadow (6 page)

I knew I needed to leave. Seeing this would be wrong for so many reasons. To not see, I could never be asked and have to lie. But that was the pathetic excuse. The real excuse? I knew what was coming, and it would haunt me for the rest of my life if I stayed to watch.

"You both chose the path you are on," Roan said in his nasal voice. I withdrew into the shadows a little further. "And it is a path that directly opposes mine. What did you think I would do when I found out you betrayed me? Nothing? Pat you on the back and say, good job!"

"Please don't kill us," the woman whispered. "Please don't kill us," she repeated on a whimper of defeat. Because she knew too. You don't play ball with Roan McLaren without knowing he breaks all of the rules.

"Oh, I'm not killing both of you, Marie," Roan said calmly, rocking back on his booted feet.

The woman's head jerked up to see the veracity in Roan's statement. Whatever she saw there, she didn't like.

"You were the one to betray me, Marie," he pointed out softly, reaching forward and cupping her face as though she was a favoured child.

"I know, I know," she whispered. "And I'm so sorry, so sorry. Please," she begged. "I know you have to kill me, but let Rick go. Please."

"That's not how it works and you know it," Roan answered, pulling back, but not before giving the woman a hard shove that had her face-planting into the dirt. She scrambled to her feet, then tried to reach her husband. One of Roan's guards simply lifted her off the ground and pulled her away by her hair.

"No, Marie. You took something of mine, so I'm taking something of yours," Roan remarked calmly, so at odds with the emotions running rampant on the air.

I heard her scream of denial and my body froze of its own accord. I wanted to slip from my hiding place and run from the roof. I didn't want to witness the silenced gunshot that took the life of her husband from her. Her sobs were enough to slice right through my heart. But my body simply froze.

And I watched Marie's husband topple over with a bullet hole in his forehead. Dead.

I must have made sound. I don't know. My entire body was in shock. I'd seen some truly horrific things in the past, things I didn't want to remember. But for some reason this was worse than all those things combined. Roan held the gun that took Rick's life, and although Marie was sobbing, his eyes flicked up to my hiding place on the roof. As though he knew I was there watching. As though he heard my slight intake of breath, even over Marie's continued weeping.

I didn't know them. I hadn't seen either Rick or Marie around the Compound before. But it didn't matter. I'd
seen
and I wasn't sure if Roan knew I had, but the cruel, twisted smile on his face when he looked up at the shadows on the roof that I hid in, was enough to scare the crap out of me.

Whether Roan knew he'd had a witness or not, the message was clear. As long as I stayed far away from Roan McLaren, he would keep my father alive, so that when I returned he could shoot him in front of me, over the back fence of the Compound.

I found my father pacing in our rooms shortly afterwards and I made the promise that changed the rest of my life.

The sounds of the other passenger voices came back to me, as the bus pulled into its first scheduled stop, forcing me to face this reality instead of a past that hurt almost too much to bear. I knew what kind of man Roan McLaren was - I'd had front row seats - even before he appeared in my bedroom at the age of fifteen. But even though the evidence of my memories was painful, it was worth it to be reminded of why I had to keep going. Why I could never give in or lower my guard. For my father's life, for the sacrifice he had given me, I had to keep looking over my shoulder and stay hidden in plain sight.

I let a long breath out releasing the memories, not scrubbing them from my mind entirely, but banishing them for now. Three days of hiding in Hamilton, then one quick visit back to Auckland to claim Chrystal's ID. Even knowing what could happen if I failed, didn't change my plans. Steel strengthened my resolve, the steel that my father told me lay within my bones. Yes, it was a risk. But if I took precautions, it would be worth it. Because how much safer would my father be if I was overseas?

My eyes lifted up to the front of the bus, not really planning on making a scan of my environment as we hadn't stopped since Pukekohe. But because of those revisited memories, my guard was once again fully up. A quick flick of my gaze across those passengers around me and then a search of the front seats down by the driver and front door.

It took a second, maybe two, to realise what I was seeing. So unexpected, despite my guard being up. One of the Pukekohe passengers, the one with the bald head and clean shaven face, was staring right at me.

As if a nest of fire ants had suddenly attacked, that itch between my shoulder blades ignited and I could have sworn the bastard at the front of the bus was staring down the barrel of a gun, sighting the huge-ass bullseye on my back.

Oh shit.

My blood thundered through my veins as I watched Baldy and Goatee step off the bus with some of the other passengers. We had ten minutes before the bus would head out again, on course for Hamilton. Most of those exiting the bus were heading towards the toilets or the café across the parking lot. But Baldy and Goatee were just rolling ciggies and standing around at the front door to the vehicle.

What the hell did I do now? I wasn't wrong. The bald headed guy
had
been staring at me. Even when my eyes met his, he didn't hide his interest at all. Just kept on ogling me like I was a piece of steak and he was starved. I bit my thumbnail and crushed my satchel to my chest. What the hell did I do now?

He'd see me if I stepped off the bus at the rear door. He could corner me if he finished that ciggie and climbed back on board. I was down the rear of the bus, past the back exit. I didn't want to be trapped, but I also didn't want to leave the safety of the bus just yet. I stood up, crouched over and made my way to a seat across the aisle from the rear door. I could still see their heads out of the window up ahead. If they boarded the bus up front, I could escape through the door opposite. If they split up, one to the front door, one heading to the back, I could make a quick dash and get out the back before they cornered me.

Oh shit, oh shit, oh
shit
. This was unexpected and really bad. These guys looked like the kind of men Roan would hire, but as yet they hadn't done
anything
. The prime time would be now. There were only three other people who remained on the bus with me. Two of them were sleeping, the third had earphones on and eyes closed, head nodding away to music. Prime opportunity for the leather clad men outside to approach.

But they just talked and smoked their ciggies. Neither looking in any particular direction, just shooting the breeze while they waited for something to happen. Me? Or the bus?

I hated this so much. This fear and anxiety and...
paranoia
.

I couldn't blame my Dad for the way I am now. He gave me the skills I needed to survive, but the person who put me in this treacherous, emotional roller coaster of a position to start with, was Roan Fucking McLaren and no one else. So, I most definitely blamed him. But that didn't solve my current emotionally heightened moment. Did the bald headed leather clad dude look at me because he was tracking me for Roan? Or not?

I could stay here and wait for the bus to reach Hamilton with the two leather clad dudes sitting innocuously, but menacingly to my mind, at the front of the bus. Or I could trust my gut.

Trust that feeling deep down in the pit of your stomach. Never question it. Never doubt.

OK, Dad. I'll just have to go with my gut.

The ten minute break seemed to last forever. A few more passengers climbed back on board with their snacks hidden in their bags so the driver didn't have a fit. The leather clad dudes smoked three more cigarettes, their gazes occasionally washing over the inside of the bus and quite possibly me, but I wasn't sure.

My heart rate maintained a steady 180 beats per minute. My respirations were racing to catch up. Sweat coated my brow and dribbled down my back. I prayed I wasn't losing it, because the leather clad dudes weren't acting as trackers should. But then, neither had Tiki tattooed Ben. Today had proven to be one out of the box, that was for sure.

And I was tired again. So very tired. Almost tired enough to give in, give up, let them find me and take me back to Roan. Let him do his worst. But his worst could be shooting my Dad in the head in front of me, over the back fence of the Compound.

I took a shattering deep breath in at that thought.

The bus driver came back, after the last passenger boarded the bus. My leather clad nemeses sat themselves down in their front row seats. Even from where I was sitting, half way down the bus by a still open door, I could smell the tobacco. The bald guy shifted in his seat, cast a glance over his shoulder towards me and smiled when his eyes met mine. They were a light grey colour. Could have been quite attractive if his continual interest in me hadn't just ratcheted up my heart rate to over 200 bpm.

The driver stood at the front of the bus, looking down at the row of seats, taking a headcount no doubt. My chest tightened. My breaths came in little short bursts. I tasted something sharp and metallic on my tongue. Adrenaline. I was drowning in it. Then as he moved to sit in his driver's seat, the springs squeaking as they took his weight, I took one last look at baldy - who had returned his attention to his car mag - and slipped out the back door.

I dashed around to the rear of the bus, before I took a breath in. A ringing had started up in my ears. Then ran full speed across the carpark to crouch down behind a Maui Campervan. The ringing was joined by an excruciatingly loud thumping inside my head. I watched through the gap between the bumper and the side of the camper, to see if my escape had been witnessed. It took five heart stopping seconds for the rear door on the bus to swing closed, quickly followed by the front.

I took a breath in. Flashes of bright white light encroached the edges of my vision. Three more seconds passed before the bus's diesel engine started up. I let my breath out. The white flashes were now strobes across my eyes. The metallic taste on my tongue had turned to bile. And my chest was now aching, burning, crushing my entire upper torso in a vice-like grip.

Then another six torturously long seconds ticked by before the bus started to pull away.

I sucked in air and held my breath until the bus disappeared out of sight down the main highway. My hands tingled, my head buzzed. I felt sick to my stomach. For a long moment my vision blurred while the white lights danced a disco display across my eyes. I panted through the need to vomit. It took longer than it should have for the adrenaline to be absorbed back into my body. Flushed from my veins. I ended up sitting slap bang down on the gravel of the carpark, behind the rear end of the campervan and just... breathed.

I was alone. The bus hadn't returned with Roan's trackers or any one else. I was safe. For now. But my mind wouldn't accept that, not when my heart was beating so fast I couldn't even count the thumping it made in my head. Not when my breathing was see-sawing out of my chest and my mouth was dripping with pre-vomit saliva.

I needed to move. I needed to plan my next step. I needed to think.

I glanced around my surroundings. I was hidden from the main road and the carpark, but I couldn't remain here. The tourists travelling in the campervan would soon return and head off into the sunset to see more of beautiful New Zealand. This hidey-hole would not last long.

But for the life of me I couldn't think straight. I couldn't even hear my father's voice in my head. I closed my eyes, scrunched up handfuls of hair in my fists and silently screamed. My mouth wide but no sound coming out, for fear of giving my hastily chosen hiding spot away. My body rocked backwards and forwards, as gravel from the carpark got embedded in my knees and shins. I didn't feel it, all I felt was panic and fear.

This had to stop.

Even if I'd been wrong about the two leather clad guys on that bus, I'd done the right thing by getting off. I'd followed my father's rules. Now I just had to move.

Move
.

I blinked my eyes open, took a good look around my surroundings and concentrated on slowing my breathing down. The rest - the heart rate, blood pressure, nausea - would fix itself, if I could only get a handle on my respirations.

It took several minutes. Several minutes more than I had. But walking out into Huntly having a panic attack was a sure-fire way of attracting attention.
Hide in plain sight
.

I stood up and stretched, rolled my shoulders and then brushed the loose gravel off my skirt and knees with my hands. My breathing began to return to a more normal pace as my mind worked through my dilemma. This was how you fought panic; with logic and reason and a plan of attack based on years of preparation. My palms were still covered in sweat though. I rubbed them on my clothing. And nausea still lingered in my belly, but bile, thankfully, no longer coated my tongue. Minute by passing minute my body was becoming mine again.

I rechecked my surroundings. Took another purposeful look down State Highway One. The bus was long gone, but that didn't necessarily mean that Baldy and Goatee hadn't missed me by now and forced the driver to pull over and let them off and were retracing their steps to here. I took a another deep breath in at that thought. I was safe, but maybe not safe for long. There was just no way to know. So, like my father had taught me, I needed to use my surroundings and change my disguise.

I rounded the end of the campervan before I could think better of it and strode across the carpark as though I belonged. Small town New Zealand was not the most ideal spot to hide out in, but I knew one place where there'd be enough people to lose myself in. I glanced at my watch. It was only three in the afternoon, but if I timed this right, it could just work. Baldy and Goatee would expect me to hitch a ride and get out of town as soon as I could, but walking along the main highway waiting for a lift was too exposed for my liking right now.

I needed shelter. I needed to pass a little time while not being seen. And then I needed to find someone to hide behind.

Hide in plain sight, but do it wisely. Befriend a giant and he'll stand between you and the monsters knocking on the door.

The return of my father's voice in my head was enough to get my mind back in the game. Keeping a wary eye out over my shoulder, scanning the street and assessing every single person who approached as a possible threat, I set about putting my plan into motion.

Staying in Huntly overnight would not be wise, even if Baldy and Goatee weren't who I had suspected them to be. But using Huntly for a few hours, to regroup, reassess and gather my strength, was something else entirely.

The rattle of my beads in my hair brought my attention to the first stage of enacting my plan. Chrystal's disguise was good for a lot of places, but the crowd I expected in the late-afternoon-heading-into-evening scene at my chosen hide for the night, was not ideally conducive to hippy chick. She needed a slight make-over.

I stepped into the first clothing store I could find, noting it was a second hand outlet and held a wide range of styles. I scanned the store for potential hazards, my heart rate still elevated enough to keep me sharp and focused. I snatched up a pair of faded hipster jeans, a black singlet with a single row of shiny black beads stitched into the low neckline, and found a wicked worn and patched tan leather jacket to go over the top. Scuffed, but way cute brown boots and I was done.

After making my purchase I located the public toilets down the street and used them to change inside. I took my time, having made sure no one was watching me before I entered, I was fairly certain I could catch my breath and alter my appearance, whilst letting a little more of the afternoon slip away. Chrystal's clothes and sandals folded down to take up a small amount of space in my satchel, but I decided although the contact lenses and beads were staying, my hair was getting tied up. I left the beads hanging down the right hand side of my face though.

Chrystal mark II was born. I was calling her Chrissie.

Now on to the second part of my plan.

The Huntly local tavern was only half full, but I expected that at four in the afternoon. There were enough people for me to blend in with. For now it was the best I could to do, and if Goatee and Baldy had got off that bus, I would have seen them somewhere on the streets, I was sure. The longer it took for them to appear, the more I felt sure I'd made a mistake. I'd been keeping a lookout for them, using all of my skills to not be seen, but
see
.

It didn't exactly help my heart rate any, but it was enough to make me play the part I needed to play in order to make my next move.

Although I wasn't hungry or thirsty, part of obtaining a cover was forcing yourself to do things that your body wasn't entirely on board with. I couldn't sit here in a pub, waiting for a giant to befriend, without enjoying some of what the local drinking hole had to offer. I'd stand out if I didn't.

The smell of yeast and fried chips met my nose as I crossed the room, my boots sounding solid against the scuffed and pock-marked wooden floor. I took a perch on a tall stool at the bar, my back to the end of the counter and corner wall, my front open to the rest of the room.

"What'll it be, sweetie?" a hard-worn middle aged woman asked as I settled into my seat.

"Don't suppose the kitchen's open, is it?" I asked hopefully. Lunch hour was well and truly over, most pubs don't start up again until around five pm. I was a lot late and a little early on both counts.

"I could do you a bowl of chips, I guess. Maybe some chicken nuggets on the side."

I beamed a smile at her, it was fake, but she didn't know that. The woman chuckled.

"You better watch out, a smile like that here is gonna get you in a
whole
lot of trouble." She headed off to put the chips and nuggets in oil and I glanced around my makeshift hide.

It
was
a little rough around the edges. The only other occupants were a couple of roadside worker groups downing pitchers of beer. They still wore their reflective jerkins. Their dust covered boots though, had been left at the door. It might have been rough, but it was a clean establishment. I could work with this.