Sweet Seduction Shadow (21 page)

"I didn't think about anyone else when I ran," I said softly. "My only concern was getting away. Avoiding what Roan promised. My Dad had never spoken of what would happen once I was gone. He'd only ever reinforced that I had to run and hide. I had no choice."

I licked my lips and then took a deep breath in, waiting for Ben to give me a signal, to soften and let me back inside those walls. But he was solid, an unyielding and immovable force before me. Impressive, but cold.

"I know now," I said softly, resigning myself to this one sided conversation for the time being, "that there are consequences to every action we take, every choice we make."

He blinked slowly. It was in no way a softening of his mask. Even the action of blinking right now came off as menacing. I brushed my beads off my face, as they'd fallen forward, and then returned my hand to his knee.

"But, that doesn't mean I regret running," I admitted. "Even if I had stopped to think back then, of what would have happened once I left, the only choice I could have made in order to survive, was to run."

His eyes lifted to mine, but he didn't give anything away in his steady, silent gaze.

I pushed on. "I don't feel like this choice is the same one. My life does not hang in the balance. But because of that, the consequences of saying no to Pierce are more weighty."

Strange, but it was true. You can gamble with your own life, it's your choice to make. But to gamble with someone else's? A totally different set of rules.

"I want to help because this could make a difference to those women who have lived with him for the past five years."

Ben leaned back in his seat, placing distance between us. My heart clenched at the move.

"So," I said, barely getting the word out past my tightening throat. "Why did I not just agree to Pierce?"

Ben's eyes, which had begun to stare off into the distant, reluctantly returned to mine.

"Because," I started, "you matter. I feel ashamed to admit it, but you matter to me more than they do. That's bad, isn't it?" The tears were brimming now, one slid over my eyelash and began its trek down my cheek. "How do I live with that?" I whispered. Being honest was a hard thing to do.

Ben stared at me for a long time and I watched a story unfold on his face. Expression after changing expression as he worked through what I had just said and what it actually meant. I'm not sure if he got it straight away and just refused to believe what he had concluded, or whether it actually took him that long to figure it out. But while I sat there with slow, thick tears cascading down my cheeks, I saw the process of his mind at work, from the look on his face.

Surprise. Doubt. Incredulity. Longing. Shock. Disbelief. Longing. Hope. And a strange sort of calm.

He finally reached out with one hand and brushed the tears off my cheeks. First my left cheek, and then my right one. He still looked blurry, through the film of moisture across my eyes, but his touch centred me, grounded me, made it possible to breathe again.

"If I asked you not to do this," he said, in his deep, rough sandpapery voice, "you wouldn't, would you?"

"No," I whispered. "If you really don't want me to do this, if it means that much to you. Then I'll walk away."

He closed his eyes and kept them shut for a long moment. I spent the time taking him all in. He was dressed in his well worn black jeans and faded black T-shirt. His tattoo peeking out from his sleeve and running tantalisingly down his muscled arm. His broad chest, rising and falling with the effort to get enough oxygen in his lungs. And his gorgeous, handsome face set in a façade of agony that I simply couldn't understand.

Did my confession pain him that much? Had I made a mistake to tell him the truth? I shook my head. It didn't matter. I'd cast the die and I would live by the outcome. Win or lose, Ben Tamati had stolen my heart, and for the first time since leaving my father, there was someone I would do
anything
for, to keep them happy and alive.

It should have scared me. I'd known him, I mean really known him, less than a week. But I had lived a life of lies for years. I had been trapped in the world those lies created, with no hope of escape. And from the moment Ben Tamati entered my world from the shadows, I felt free.

Was I addicted? Shit, yes! Did it matter? Not a chance. Would I let him go? Never.

I hadn't realised he'd opened his eyes again, I'd been zoning out staring at that Tiki in his tattoo. The Tiki is the Māori emblem for the first man. I was sure I could never look at another Tiki again and not think of
this
man. To me, the Tiki and Ben Tamati went hand in hand. I reached up absently and traced the shape of the Tiki and watched as Ben's free hand came up to cup my cheek.

My finger stilled above his tattoo and my eyes flicked up to his.

"I don't leave your side throughout all of it," Ben whispered, low and rough. "I'm either attached to your hip or Pierce is shit outta luck. We go in, we do this, and you set yourself free."

My turn to close my eyes and breathe deeply. I felt his forehead rest against mine.

"I'm yours, red. Totally fuckin' yours. You have given me more than I could've ever thought possible. So, babe, you're stuck with me."

He paused, laid a soft kiss against my skin and then reached down to my armpits and hauled me up to his lap. His hands came up and cupped my cheeks and he stared in my eyes; chocolate brown so dark and rich gazed back at me.

And in a deliciously rasping voice he added, "Even when you wanna go and do fucked up shit like this."

I smiled, it reached the very depths of my heart. And I decided that telling the truth was as liberating as flying free.

I was going to puke, I knew it. The small plane we were on was bobbing around like an apple in a barrel of water. I'd never flown into Wellington before, but I had heard how rough the landings could be. High and complex crosswinds which made the plane look like it was crab walking through the air as the runway approached at a ridiculous speed. My fingers clutched at the armrests on either side, my breaths came in short, sharp pants and sweat trickled down from my hairline across my temples.

And the killer? It wasn't even the appalling flight conditions which made me this veritable mess of anxious nerves. It was Wellington, itself.

Five years. Five long fucking shitty years. Never in any of that time had I pictured myself coming willingly back to Wellington. But I boarded this plane voluntarily. I was the one that gave the go ahead for this trip back into hell. I only had myself to blame, but that didn't help me right now.

I consoled myself with the fact that Roan McLaren was in Hamilton, some five hundred kilometres away. It was all that made this visit possible. I spent the entire flight repeating exactly that to myself.
Roan was five hundred kilometres away. Roan wasn't even here. Roan didn't know where I was. Roan couldn't get me.

Yeah, right. Fuck that.

The wheels of the aeroplane hit earth with a jarring high pitched squeal. The bulkhead rattled, the seat vibrated and I frantically tried to undo my seatbelt in an effort to escape into the toilet and lock the door, never to come out again until we returned to Auckland. My fingers were numb from the death grip I'd had on the armrests, so it took several attempts to release the buckle. Then once I was finally free and trying to clamber to my feet, a hard hand locked on my wrist and tugged me back down.

"I can't do this," I hissed at Ben as he held tightly to my arm and forced me to remain seated while the plane taxied to the terminal.

"It's gonna be OK, red," he murmured, reaching over and cupping the nape of my neck with his free hand.

I pulled back blinking and shaking my head. He didn't get it. I couldn't do this. Not I
wouldn't
, but I just couldn't. But he must have seen the fear on my face, because I saw him glance over my shoulder - I was guessing making eye contact with Detective Pierce - and then I was up and in his lap, his arms wrapped firmly around my waist, his eyes locking on mine.

"You are not alone," he vowed in that rough, low voice of his. "I won't let anything bad happen to you. I'll never leave your side." I kept blinking at him, knowing my eyes felt too big for my face and my body was trembling in his lap. "We get off the plane, we take a quiet walk together," Ben suggested. "And then, if you still can't face this, we catch the next flight back out."

Instantly relief coursed through me, shocking in its intensity. I let a long breath of air out on an almost whimper and felt myself sink into his embrace. No matter what, I had Ben by my side. Oh dear God, this was new. This feeling of not being alone. Of not having to face the hurdles in life without a helping hand to boost me over them.

I offered him a shaky smile. He didn't smile back, but his arms tightened briefly, letting me know he was there. I wasn't alone, but that he wasn't happy this was causing me so much pain. I think Ben Tamati would protect me from everything, if I let him. He would place himself between me and the outside world, if it meant I didn't have to feel fear and panic ever again.

"Shit," I whispered and his brow rose in question. But I couldn't voice the words on my mind.

I wasn't alone anymore.

I suddenly leaned forward and wrapped my arms around his shoulders, hugging him tight to my chest, nestling my face in the crook of his neck. My lips pressed softly into the flesh there and I just breathed him in for a long moment. That cologne that haunted my dreams. Savouring his now familiar scent and the sensation of being safe when I did so.

I'm not sure how long I rested there; settling my heartbeat, slowing my breathing, all of it to the gentle cadence of his. He felt so good beneath my body. So strong and firm, larger than life. My father had been right.
Befriend a giant and he'll stand between you and the monsters knocking on the door.
Ben Tamati was my giant.

I wondered what my father would make of him when they met. And they would meet. Dad was out of that life now, free of Roan, even if I wasn't quite free of that particular monster yet. But I would be. Ben would make sure. And facing Kasey today would mean the end of something that had tormented me for years. I needed to do this. I needed to find the courage to walk off this plane and track my old acquaintance down.

I needed to set that guilt I carried free.

I pulled back from Ben and took a look around the plane. It was empty, save for Ben and me in the seat, and Pierce at the front of the plane standing guard. I hadn't heard or seen the passengers disembark, nor did I see where the flight crew had gone to. Pierce had obviously pulled his badge and given us a moment of quiet, allowing me to find the courage I needed to see this through.

"Come on," I said, my voice sounding a little croaky. Pierce turned at the sound, but I kept my eyes on Ben. I didn't want to see sympathy or compassion in the detective's gaze. I wanted strength and conviction, exactly what Ben gave me when he stood to his feet and followed me into the aisle.

We walked single file off the plane, but as soon as we made it to the air bridge, Ben clasped my hand in his, entwining our fingers and walking at my side. Pierce fell into place beside us.

"I've got a car waiting for us outside the terminal," he said, indicating where we needed to go through the crowd of airport travellers. "The officer driving is part of the taskforce and one of the detectives who tried to contact Kasey yesterday. He'll give us a run-down on where we're at and how we'll do this thing."

Do this thing
. Even Pierce didn't have a name for it.

I just nodded, tightening my hold on Ben's hand, needing the grounding his touch gave me.

We came out into sunshine filtering through rapidly moving clumps of clouds in the bright blue sky. Evidence of why our aeroplane had jumped through hoops while trying to reach the runway. A dark grey Holden Commodore sedan sat waiting for us. A tall, clean shaven man in jeans and a worn leather jacket pushed off from the front fender as we approached. He smiled widely at Pierce, clearly recognising him, and ran his fingers through dark auburn hair.

They shook hands before Pierce turned to Ben and I, and introduced him.

"This is Detective Constable Simon Andrews," Pierce said, but didn't bother to say our names. The cop already knew who we were.

Detective Andrews nodded at us both, his deep blue eyes coming to rest on me. They ran over my body from head to toe. I had no way of knowing what he was thinking. His face was a blank mask, something I was well used to seeing, but still left me feeling decidedly on edge. I knew he wasn't so much as hiding
who
he was from me, but instead hiding his
reaction
to me from everyone. I understood. I didn't look anything like the picture they had on file. And I was also the woman who had been running from Roan McLaren for five whole years. Not to mention, the woman who had supposedly been doing Roan-like crimes all over the country.

"So, what's the plan?" I asked, deciding to get this circus on the road and not show my nerves in front of a stranger who had already quite clearly judged me.

Andrews ignored my question and turned that same impassive mask on Pierce.

"You really think this will work?" he asked, thrusting his hands in his jeans pockets.

Great, we had a doubter in our midst, just what my confidence needed.

"What choice do we have?" Pierce shot back, reaching past him to open the rear passenger door, then indicating Ben and I should get in.

I stepped forward and ducked inside, but not before I heard Andrews hiss, "This is gonna fucking backfire." The door to the car slammed shut behind Ben cutting off any reply Pierce might have had.

"Not exactly promising, is it?" I said under my breath before the detectives joined us in the car.

"He's got a point," Ben murmured, making my stomach sink and my nerves return. "But he's also a fuckin' jerk," he added, then reached over and snatched up my hand in his.

Moments later the two detectives got in the car. Pierce looked strained, a muscle was jumping in his jaw. And Andrews just looked angry. Whatever they had discussed out on the sidewalk had not been pleasant. I stared at the backs of their silent heads as we pulled out of the terminal carpark and then decided I'd had enough of kowtowing to other people.

I didn't want to be here, but I was doing the right thing. That did not give anyone the right to walk all over me. Andrews could go screw himself. If he had a problem with me then he'd just have to suck it up. Like I've had to suck up so much over the past half a decade.

"So, you going to give us an update, Detective Andrews?" I said, my voice hard and to the point. I felt Ben shift next to me, but I didn't twist to see the look on his face. Pierce did turn around in his seat though. His dark brown understanding eyes lifting to look me in the face. Before I could relax under that compassionate gaze, I pushed on. "Or are we just going to walk blindly into a room full of Roan McLaren's henchmen?"

"You'd probably know more than we would about how this operation works," Andrews shot back, flicking an angry glance at me in the rear view mirror, but returning his gaze front forward pretty much in the next instant.

"And how do you figure that, Detective?" I answered slowly. "Did I learn the ins and outs of criminal life from when I was a kid, trying to survive in that shithole? Or was it perhaps in the past five years as I ran from one place to the next to avoid being found by that bastard? No wait," I said, snapping my fingers. "I got it. It's when he cornered me in the hallway just before I escaped and told me exactly what he'd do to me when I was his. That's when I learnt all about how Roan McLaren runs his operation. When he had his hand wrapped around my throat holding my head still so I could get a good look at the photos he shoved in my face."

Silence met my statement. The kind of silence that sucks all the breathable air from a space. I'm not quite sure where that anger had come from. Was it really the detective's fault that I was back in Wellington facing my worst fears? Was it any surprise that he would still consider me part of that world to some degree? Pierce had only just learned the truth, this guy had spent the past year thinking I was in cahoots with Roan.

But I was angry and he was bearing the brunt of it. Because, if I was honest with myself, I was sick of feeling guilty. And Andrews made me feel more guilty by just looking at me the way he did. I am not Roan McLaren. I am not to blame for what he does. I carry guilt, but it is mine. Not any one else's to give me. And that guilt does not cover what Roan is and what he has done.

It's survivor's guilt. And right in that second, sitting in that unmarked police car with a judgemental cop driving us to a meeting that would make me revisit my worst nightmares, I was done accepting any other kind of guilt.

"Well?" I said, a little archly.

I felt and heard Ben chuckle at my side and watched as Pierce's lips tipped up on the edges. His gaze moved to Detective Andrews and he said, "Don't mistake the pretty face and delicate beads in the hair for someone you can push around, Andrews. Abi's got more courage than anyone I've ever met. She also has a good and just heart, nothing at all like we concluded she was."

Well, it was nice to know Pierce was a fan, but he was talking me up a little. My courage was a fickle thing.

Detective Andrews let out a slow breath of air and ran the fingers of one hand through his already ruffled hair.

"OK," he said, but that was all the agreement or apology we'd get. "Kasey works off the Compound in a café on Cuba Street. Her shift started an hour ago. It's the only time she's not monitored. We tried to approach her there, but pulled back when we thought it would spook her."

"Did she make you?" Ben asked.

"We're not sure, we don't think so though," he replied.

"So, it could be that she's monitored now," Ben pointed out.

"We do know what we're doing, Mr Tamati," Andrews shot back. "We've got the place under surveillance, waiting for your arrival. There's been no indication of anyone watching the woman this morning."

Ben turned to Pierce. "I'll make my own reconnaissance. Your men are not to approach me or Abi. We don't see you, you don't see us. We will not enter if I determine the place is on their radar."

"Who the fuck is this guy?" Andrews bit out, glancing angrily at Pierce. "You can't seriously think a Private Investigator can do better than we can."

"Yes, I do," Pierce answered steadily.

"Are you mad, Ryan? You're just gonna let him have free rein to waltz in there and ruin twelve months of dedicated police work?"

"He's got this," Pierce replied.

"Is he armed?" Andrews asked suddenly. I flicked my gaze over Ben's body. His belt was clean of the usual paraphernalia. I was guessing you can't carry that sort of equipment through airports or on planes. Pierce probably did, being a police detective. But super shadow security experts could not.