TENDER DECEIT (Romantic Suspense Mystery Novel): First Love Series ~ Book 1 (5 page)

The red message light was flashing when Leah entered her hotel room. She picked the phone up and pressed the button to retrieve the message, her nerves tightening as she wondered if it might be Toran. It wasn’t. It was Julia, sounding a bit aggravated. Leah remembered guiltily that she had cut Julia off last night with the promise to phone her this morning, but she knew that if she called her friend now, she would be faced with a hundred questions she didn’t want to answer.

Leah put the phone back down. Julia would have to forgive her. Quickly, she powered up her laptop and sent Julia an email, assuring her that she was fine and asking her not to worry. Then she clicked over to her Facebook page, but there was no new message from Toran. Leah switched the TV on, watching eagerly as the news channel filled the screen. But somehow she knew the answer to her question, even before she saw it confirmed on the screen. There was no announcement of a mistaken identity. To the rest of the world, Toran James was dead. 

Leah stood in the middle of her hotel room, wondering what to do. After what she had learned this afternoon, she was crazy to go see Toran alone. Or the man who said he was Toran, Leah reminded herself. Whatever the police thought, her father’s death was definitely much more than a simple hit-and-run accident—there was something much bigger going on here. And somehow, she felt that Toran was involved too. It was just too much of a coincidence that he should be in this suspicious yacht explosion and also want to see her again, just after her father died. Of course, she could simply report everything to the police and let them deal with it. In fact, she could tell them about her date with Toran tonight and let
them
go to meet him. 

Leah sighed. She knew she wouldn’t. Call it recklessness, call it curiosity, call it some lingering sense of loyalty to a boy she had once loved, but she had to go see Toran herself tonight.

A few hours later, freshly showered and changed into a silk maxi-dress, Leah left her hotel. She decided to forgo the taxi for once and make her way to the HarbourFront Centre by the MRT—Mass Rapid Transit—the metro-railway network that spanned the city-state. It would give her the chance to get some fresh air and exercise, she decided. Wasn’t that the advice for the best way to deal with jet lag?

Once she set out, though, Leah wondered wryly just how much fresh air she was going to get. The humidity hadn’t let up despite the setting sun, and walking down the wide shopping boulevard of Orchard Road was a bit like wading through a thick broth. She lifted her hair from the back of her neck and silently grumbled at the Singapore climate. She could feel her carefully applied make-up already starting to melt on her face. She quickened her steps, eager to get to the air-conditioned interior of the Wisma Atria shopping mall which was the street-level entrance to the Orchard MRT Station.

A few minutes later, though, all thoughts of the climate left her mind as Leah turned to take the few steps up to the mall entrance. From the corner of her eye, she saw a familiar figure walking several yards behind her. He wasn’t wearing a navy suit this time, but she would have known him anywhere. It was the man who had followed her at Heathrow Airport.

Fear wrapped its cold fingers around her throat. Leah whipped through the double glass doors of the shopping mall and hurried across the main lobby, heading for the escalators down to the basement. Murmuring excuses, she pushed her way past the people leaning against the handrail and hurried down the moving steps, jumping off at the bottom. She glanced at a nearby sign. The station concourse was on B2, the next level down. She darted onto the next escalator, not daring to look back to see if the man was following.

Once on the concourse, she ran over to the ticketing machines and scanned the MRT map frantically. She was at Orchard… she would need to change at Dhoby Ghaut for the North-East line, which would take her down to the HarbourFront MRT station. Leah threw a glance over her shoulder. He wasn’t here yet. Quickly, she bought a ticket and headed for the gates. She saw the man riding down the escalator from above just as she slipped through the barriers.

He had seen her. He moved directly towards the barriers. Leah realised with horror that he must have some kind of smartcard with credit already loaded so he wouldn’t have to stop to buy a ticket. She turned and dived for the next set of escalators, which would take her down to the platforms on B3.

Stumbling off at the bottom, Leah risked a look behind her to the top of the escalator. She could see his head at the top, but for the moment, he was being delayed by a smartly dressed young woman assisting a frail
amah
onto the escalators. Leah saw the young woman scowl at him as he tried to push his way past the old granny and he was forced to take a step back and ride down on the step behind her.

It bought Leah a few precious moments. She heard the loud hum and
whoosh
as the train arrived and she hurried to join the throng of people waiting on the platform, letting the movement of the crowd bear her into the waiting car. The doors beeped rapidly, then slid shut, and Leah felt the train begin to move. She craned her neck to look back through the windows as they pulled away. She couldn’t see the man on the platform.

For a moment, her shoulders slumped in relief—then Leah realised that there could be a very good explanation why she couldn’t see him on the platform: because he was on the train with her.

She raised up on tiptoe and peered over the heads of the people around her, looking further down the car. Unlike the trains in London, the cars here were all connected inside to form one long, continuous compartment. She could see all the way down to the other end, although most of her view was blocked by the crowd of people. It was rush hour and the train was full of commuters. But if she couldn’t see him, it meant that he probably also couldn’t see her, Leah thought hopefully. And the crush of people filling the compartment would make it difficult for him to move down the car to search for her. She shrank against the doors, feeling momentarily safe behind the wall of bodies surrounding her; she would just have to make sure she got out fast when they reached Dhoby Ghaut.

The train had barely slowed and the doors whispered open when Leah was out like a greyhound from the starting gate. She raced across the platform, her eyes searching frantically for the signs overhead to direct her. Dhoby Ghaut was the biggest interchange station in Singapore, and at this time in the evening it was jam-packed with commuters as well as tourists and other residents heading out for the night. Leah pushed her way through the crush of bodies to the escalators and saw with a sinking heart that the platform for the North-East line was on level B5, even deeper underground. She wasn’t normally affected by such things, but with the thought of the man closing in behind her, the sense of claustrophobia was beginning to
overwhelm her.

She risked a glance over her shoulder, just in time to see him step off the train. Their eyes met. Leah turned and dived down the escalator. Arriving on B5, she felt like she was caught in some kind of repetitive nightmare. Here again was the platform with crowds of people milling around, and behind her, again, was the man who followed relentlessly.

The train arrived faster this time and Leah hustled aboard. But a part of her was starting to feel a sinking resignation—perhaps the way a fox feels when it knows the hounds are closing in—and she wasn’t altogether surprised when she looked up to see the man get onto the train through another door further down the car. Just like in a nightmare, it seemed that there was no way of shaking him off. 

To Leah’s surprise, though, he did not approach her once on the train, but stood with a hand up to the safety straps, looking out the windows as if lost in thought. She watched him warily for the rest of the journey down to HarbourFront but he did not look her way once.

Doubt filled her. Had she been wrong in thinking that he was following her? Feeling uncertain and confused now, Leah alighted at the station and began following the signs to HabourFront Tower Two, all the while throwing glances back over her shoulder. She couldn’t see him now in the crowds behind her.

Just like at Heathrow, his sudden disappearance threw Leah into a flurry of doubt. She thought back over what had happened on the MRT, the mad chase down the escalators, through the stations… had it all been the result of her paranoid imagination? Again? But what were the chances of the
same
man going the same way as her,
twice
? Still, Singapore was a tiny country—a city-nation, really—so it
was
possible that a man who had come out on the same flight as her would cross paths with her again. She had never seen him on her flight—but he could have been travelling Business or First Class in a separate cabin.

Leah came out of her thoughts to find herself standing in front of HarbourFront Tower Two, which looked like a multi-storey office building. She frowned and looked around, surprised to find the area deserted. She was standing in a paved courtyard, between three buildings, with some small trees, bushes, and other foliage growing in small triangular flower beds along the sides. A slight breeze stirred and she thought a shadow moved behind one of the trees. A prickle of unease passed over her, then Leah shook her head impatiently. She wasn’t going to let her paranoia run rampant again.

She walked in a slow, deliberate circle around the courtyard. As she passed near the front entrance of the building again, she glanced at her watch. 6:40 p.m. Toran was late. The unease washed over her again as she remembered Toran’s reputation for always being punctual at school. It was something that he had been teased for by the other kids. Toran James was never late.

So where was he now? And why had he asked her to come here?

The answer came to her just as she passed the clump of bushes again and heard a rustle behind her. Leah froze, eyes wide, as the panicked thought flashed through her mind:
it’s a trap
. The man who had been following her on the MRT… it hadn’t been a coincidence, she thought wildly. He had simply pretended to disappear, to lull her into a false sense of security.

A hand seized her arm suddenly from behind.

Leah whirled around and screamed.

“Quiet!” a voice hissed, as a hand clamped over her mouth and Leah felt herself pressed against a hard, male body, muscular arms folding around her like a band of iron.

She tried to scream again and struggled, kicking back with her heels. She heard a sound of annoyance and the hand fell from her mouth for a second. She took a deep breath, ready to scream again, when a voice she recognised spoke urgently in her ear.

“Leah!
Leah!
It’s me!”

He let go of her, then strong hands gripped her shoulders and gave her a sharp shake. Her head snapped back and her scream was cut off. Leah stumbled backwards, staring at the man in front of her.

“Toran?”

He glanced around, then moved swiftly, taking her right arm and leading her towards the building entrance. She stumbled along beside him, trying to keep up with his long strides, as they passed through the lobby of the building and headed towards the lifts.

“What—”

“Get in,” he said tersely as the lift doors opened.

“No.” She balked. “Not until you explain what’s going on. And what the hell you thought you were doing just now, manhandling me like that.”

He glanced back the way they had come and gave her a gentle push. “I don’t have time to explain now.”

“Well, I don’t care. I want—”

“
GET. IN
.”

The look on his face scared her. This was not the boy she used to know, but a man who could be dangerous. Very dangerous. She stepped into the lift and stood well away from him as the doors swished shut after them, and the hum of machinery told her that they were ascending. She noticed for the first time that he was wearing a baseball cap and dark glasses.

“Where are we going?” she demanded.

“To the fifteenth floor.” He took off the shades and cap, and ran a hand through his hair. “Leah, I’m sorry; this wasn’t how I planned the evening at all—”

“Oh, really? You mean you don’t always attack your dates and maul them as soon as you see them? I guess I should be honoured that I get that special privilege!” She was angry now—angry at how scared she had been, angry at his strange behaviour, maybe even angry at herself for feeling a thrill of excitement when she had been pressed up against his body. She remembered the way his chest felt, hard under her hands, and the rough thrust of his thigh against hers, and her face burned. Whatever it was she had expected to feel when she saw Toran James again, it wasn’t this raw attraction.

“Don’t be melodramatic,” he said.

“Melodramatic? Me?” Her voice rose in indignation. “You’re the one with the kidnapping act!”

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to hurt you. I just… Someone might have heard you scream and—” He broke off.

“And what?” She raised her eyebrows.

The lift pinged and the doors slid open.

“Come on,” he said, putting a hand to her elbow.

“No!” Leah pulled her arm away. “I’m not going anywhere with you until you explain. I’ve barely been in Singapore twenty-four hours and already I feel like I’m in some bad B-movie. What the hell is going on, Toran? Why did you contact me again after all these years? Why did you ask me to meet you last night?”

He said impatiently, “Because I wanted to see you, of course.”

“Don’t lie,” Leah snapped. “There’s more to it than that. I know about the yacht explosion.” She saw with satisfaction that he had gone very still. “Yes, I know that you’re officially supposed to be ‘dead’. Why didn’t you mention that when you saw me last night?”

The doors had slid shut again. Suddenly, the lift seemed a lot smaller. Leah felt a flare of panic. What was she thinking, confronting him here in this tight, airless space? She should have waited until they had gotten out, gone somewhere more public, somewhere she could get away.

She flew towards the controls, but he stepped forwards, blocking her with his body. His hand shot out and gripped her wrist. Leah felt herself pulled up against him, pressed once more against the taut, muscular length of his body. She gasped, throwing her head back, and looked up at him. The pad of his thumb brushed against the soft skin on the inside of her wrist and a shudder of awareness ran up her arm.

“I’ll explain, but not here. Not now. You have to trust me.” His green eyes burned into hers. Then he let her go, reached behind himself, and pressed a button. The lift doors slid open again.

Leah let out a shaky breath. Keeping her head high, she stepped out of the lift. They were in some kind of foyer, she realised, and was surprised to see that it was full of tourists milling around, snapping photos, talking and laughing. An Indian family with three small children pushed a stroller past them, heading towards the lift they had just vacated. Another family—American, by the sound of their accents—were arguing loudly as they pored over a map. The wife looked up, caught Leah’s eye and gave her a friendly smile. Leah smiled back, feeling safer now that there were so many people around them.

She glanced at Toran. Strangely enough, he seemed to have visibly relaxed as well. He was scanning the crowds with an expression that looked like relief and satisfaction on his face. Then she saw the sign on the wall next to them: “
SINGAPORE CABLE CAR
”.

“Do you remember?” Toran asked softly next to her.

Leah nodded silently as the past washed over her and pulled her under...

***

It was the week of Leah’s thirteenth birthday and she was excited when she heard that the class was going on a field trip—to Sentosa Island, via the Singapore Cable Car. They had been studying the mechanics of gondola lifts and a ride on a real example was the reward. The school bus dropped them off at the top of Mount Faber and she followed her chattering schoolmates eagerly as the teachers herded them into the cable car station.

Her best friend, Julia, was walking ahead as usual, her jet-black hair swinging jauntily in a ponytail behind her. Leah noticed that Julia’s lips were a glossy pink and her eyelashes were longer and darker than normal. Even though they were the same age, Julia seemed to have changed since starting the new school year. Now that they were in Seventh Grade, Leah noticed that her friend seemed less interested in their favourite childhood pursuits, like drawing, and more interested in things like fashion and make-up. Only last week, Julia had dragged Leah into the school bathrooms and eagerly taught her about
mascara
. And even though it was against the school rules, Julia had started coming to class defiantly wearing make-up on her eyes, lips, and cheeks.

She wasn’t the only one. Leah noticed that many of the other girls in class had started behaving the same way. They giggled, they fussed
with their hair, and they spent a lot of time looking over at the
boys
. Even as Leah watched now, Julia tossed her ponytail and glanced coyly over to the right where the boys from class were clustered. Leah followed her gaze and felt her own heart give that familiar little tug as she caught sight of Toran’s dark hair.

Because of the number of pupils enrolled, each grade was divided into two classes—A and B—with names allocated at random. You never knew at the beginning of each year whether you would be in the same class as your friends again. Leah had been relieved when she arrived in class 7A on the first day of the new year to find that Julia was already waiting there for her. And she had tried to ignore how much her heart had jolted with delight when she saw that Toran was there too.

Not that anything much had happened between them. After that first meeting the year before, Leah had spent the rest of Sixth Grade watching Toran shyly from afar. He had slowly found his place in the school, winning most of the other students over with his quiet confidence, his keen intelligence, and his mischievous sense of humour. The taunts about his simple clothes, his parents’ jobs and modest car had gradually subsided from all except Eric Hu and his gang. Toran had made an enemy for life that first day and things only got worse when he easily overtook Eric as the first in class and continued to challenge him for that position.

Now in Seventh Grade, Toran was also rapidly overtaking Eric in height, having shot up over the summer holidays. Leah had watched him surreptitiously, admiring the way his shoulders were broadening and his chest starting to fill out the crisp white shirt of his uniform. His long legs gave him an elegance that matched his height, like the lithe grace seen in the bodies of male gymnasts. He might not have the thick neck and bulky muscles of some of the other boys in class, but Toran James had a wiry strength and precision of movement that caught the eye.

It had come as a bit of a shock to realise that she wasn’t the only girl watching him. Since the start of the new school year, Leah had noticed many of the girls in class finding excuses to talk to Toran—asking for his help with homework, pretending confusion over class assignments—all the while batting their eyelashes at him. The fact that he remained friendly but aloof through it all only seemed to egg them on harder.

Watching them flutter around him, Leah had felt a prick of irritation and had resolved never to be part of that fan club. Even when she had caught Toran’s eyes on her occasionally, a tentative question in them as he looked at her over the top of the other girls’ heads, she had turned away and resolutely ignored him. 

So that was how they had gotten to the end of the first term in Seventh Grade and she had barely exchanged more than a few words with him. Still, she couldn’t deny that she was glad he was here on the field trip. Even if he was on the other side of the room. Even if they never said a word to each other. Somehow, just having him near made her feel happier.

“Didn’t think I’d ever catch
you
looking at boys.” Julia nudged her and smirked.

Leah looked hastily away. “I wasn’t. I was just wondering how we were going to all fit on the cable cars.”

“Well, they can take six people each, I think, so I guess they’ll split us up into groups,” said Julia. She glanced over to where one of their teachers was organising the students into two lines beside the carousel of cabins revolving past. “Bummer. Looks like it’s either boys or girls only in each cabin.” She giggled. “Jenny was just getting excited thinking what it would be like to be alone with some of the boys in one of the cars.” She lowered her voice to a stage whisper. “I heard that last year on the field trip, they caught two students
kissing
and… um… doing stuff in one of the cars. That’s why everything’s so strictly chaperoned this year. They both got expelled or something. But God, wouldn’t that be so cool? To have your first kiss up in the air like that?”

“Do you think it’s safe?” came a small voice behind them.

Leah turned to see Sarah, one of the quieter girls in class. Her red hair was tied in its habitual twin braids on either side of her head and her green eyes—paler than Toran’s—were enormous in her face. Sarah had always had milky white skin, but now she looked deathly pale, her freckles standing out sharply on her nose.

“What d’you mean—safe? Kissing in the air?” laughed Julia.

“No, I-I mean safe in the cable car,” said Sarah, her lower lip trembling.

“I’m sure it’s fine,” said Leah gently. “If you’re really worried, maybe you should tell Miss Ong—”

Sarah shook her head jerkily. “No, no, I’m fine.” She swallowed and her eyes moved beyond them to the cable cars sliding around the carousel and then out through the gap in the station wall, into the wide, open space beyond.

“Crap! C’mon, we’re getting left behind!” Julia gave Leah’s arm a tug.

They hurried to join the end of the line. Already, most of the students and teachers had boarded the cars and were heading out towards Sentosa Island. The girls’ line had five others left and the boys’ line had seven. Leah saw with a jolt that Toran was one of the boys still left. His eyes met hers and she blushed and looked quickly away.

Two empty cars swung around the carousel and Miss Ong waved the students on board. Six boys into one car, six girls into the other. Leah found herself separated from Julia as her friend was forced to join the five other girls in front of them. She stepped back to wait for the next car, conscious suddenly of the fact that Toran was the only boy left in his line. They would be in the last car together, she realised with a rush of excitement that brought colour to her cheeks. Of course, Miss Ong and Sarah would be there too, but still…

The machinery clanked and creaked as a new empty cable car pulled into the station and began its slow revolution around the carousel. The doors automatically opened to admit new passengers. Miss Ong waved at Toran, then nodded at Leah who followed him on board. They had barely settled into the seats, however, when Leah realised that Sarah wasn’t behind her. Looking out of the open doors, she was horrified to see the red-haired girl gasping and heaving, her eyes wide, her face devoid of colour. She was clutching the rail at the side of the carousel, resisting Miss Ong’s attempts to pull her on board the cable car.

“I… I can’t! I can’t! Oh!
I’m going to be sick—” Sarah doubled over, clutching her stomach.

Miss Ong looked uncertainly at the cable car with Leah and Toran in it, which had already made the U-turn around the carousel and was now gliding slowly towards the exit gap. She looked back at the distressed girl. “Sarah, do you have a fear of heights? Why didn’t you say? It’s really very safe, dear. Look, your friends…” She looked desperately back at Leah and Toran again, but even as she watched, the automatic cabin doors were beginning to slide shut. “Oh, wait—!”