Sweet Seduction Shadow (23 page)

I turned and offered him a small smile. "I know," I whispered. "But I've got to do this." He nodded, face grim.

"If she causes a scene that threatens to expose you, I won't be able to hold back," he admitted reluctantly.

I think he expected me to baulk, to argue and get him to promise to remain calm and not interfere. But all I could feel was enormous relief. And elation, that I had someone I could trust at my back. And if it did go the way I was expecting it to go, and I clammed up or froze or did something equally as pathetic, Ben would get me out of there.

The sense of weightlessness at that thought was astounding. To go from having to face every hard and dangerous and uncomfortable situation all on my own, to having the load shared, was surreal. But a welcomed mix of fact and fantasy. I dreamt of this, but never thought I'd have it. Yet here he was, standing in front of my eyes, swearing he'd do anything to keep me safe.

"OK," I said softly, reaching up and brushing my thumb along the edge of his firm jawline. I could feel a slight stubble beneath my fingertip. I loved the shadow that grew on this man's face. It reminded me what he was,
who
he was.
My
shadow man.

"Just OK?" he asked, but his voice was playful again.

"Yeah," I said with a nod. "Life's too short to muck about, Ben."

"No Abi," Ben argued softly. "Life's not short. You've just had five years of yours stolen, so that's why you feel that way." He leaned in, wrapping an arm around my waist and pulling me tight against his chest, then whispered in my ear, "And I'm gonna spend the rest of my life showin' you how good and long it can be."

Oh shit. There was no denying it now. The last of my heart's defences cracked wide open and let this dark, complicated yet irresistible man sink in. My hand ran up the sleeve of his jacket, across the tattoo I knew was hidden there. My other hand lay flat above the tribal spiral etched on the right side of his chest. He was as beautiful on the outside as he was on the inside. But I was picking not many people got to realise that.

But Ben Tamati had let me in. Just like I had let him in too.

"We're perfect for each other," I whispered, surprised I'd said those words aloud.

"Yeah, red. We are," he agreed, before kissing me softly and then letting me step back from his embrace.

"Ready?" he asked.

I took a deep breath in and then stepped out of the shadows, with Ben at my side.

The café was bustling, voices in a low hum of conversation warred with the soft beat of a Nora Jones song on the stereo. The clang of dishes being stacked out the back, mixed with the steam and grind of beans from the espresso machine. It reminded me of Sweet Seduction. But where Genevieve's shop had soul and character and was the kind of place you wanted to linger, this place was perfunctory. I could imagine a lot of people just bought their coffee and treat to go, and didn't bother to stick around.

I spotted Kasey immediately. Pierce hadn't shown me a picture, which probably was an oversight, but it wouldn't have mattered. I knew her as soon as I saw her. She'd aged, and not well. But the brilliant violet-blue eyes and rosy cheeks still existed, along with the slightly pointed chin and soft curves at her hips. It was all there, at one time so similar to my appearance, but now marred with frown lines, dark patches beneath her eyes and stringy dyed black hair. And a faded purple scar from her right ear down the side of her neck, as though she had been sliced by a knife at one time.

Her shoulders were hunched too. I remembered that Kasey had always held her head high at the Compound when I'd seen her. Not so any more, it seemed. She'd also always worn colourful clothing, but five years of what I was guessing was a hard life had changed her wardrobe to dark browns and blacks. Even the lipstick she wore was a shade of red too deep. Against her pale skin it gave her a Morticia Addams look.

I'd stopped just inside the threshold as I'd taken all of her in. My usual scan-and-determine-level-of-threat when I enter a room had flown out the window when faced with a living, breathing memory of my past. If it wasn't for Ben grabbing my elbow and moving me to a table in the corner, I would have stood there for longer. Perhaps for the rest of the day. I couldn't breathe properly either, a pain had set up in the centre of my chest; heavy, crushing, intense.

I tried to decide what it was I was feeling. Fear? Anger? Mortification? I'm not sure, but for the first time in days that itch between my shoulder blades was a riot of scratches. I even shifted my back and shoulders, trying to ease the once familiar sensation some. It didn't work. Being here, in Wellington, watching Kasey serve her customers with barely any interest or life, was enough for that bullseye to return.

"Sit, red," Ben instructed softly at my ear, gently, but purposely guiding me into a seat at the table. He sat opposite me, but shifted his seat so his back was to the wall and his eyes could take in the doorway, counter and the whole room.

My eyes hadn't left Kasey since we walked in the door.

"I don't know if I can do this," I admitted softly.

"She may not even recognise you," Ben offered. "I'll grab us some coffee and somethin' to eat, and we'll just sit here for a bit, yeah?"

I nodded, but although my body appeared to agree, my head most definitely did not. Ben hesitated, eyes scanning my face, but then slid from behind the table and approached the counter to place our order. I used the time to breathe, to settle my heartbeat and to at least try to orientate myself to my surroundings.

There was one access way to the kitchen, which I knew led to the mesh covered door at the back and a quick get-away if needed. The door at the front had a chime on it, so every time it opened I'd know someone had walked in or out. I moved my chair, like Ben had, to give me peripheral vision of the front of the shop as well as the back.

I then scanned the customers, several minutes later than I should have, and determined - thankfully - that none of them posed an immediate threat. No weapons on display or ruining the line of their clothing. None appeared anything other than they were; shoppers and café dwellers out for a quick bite to eat and catch up with friends. I switched my attention to the staff and immediately saw a problem.

The guy at the kitchen serving hatch kept flicking his gaze over Ben, who was now at the counter handing cash over for our coffee and cake. Ben had timed his order well, being served by none other than Kasey. I wondered if he'd done it on purpose, not just to get a handle on her in person, but to see what the shifty looking guy in the kitchen would do. I watched as Ben acted perfectly normal, placing his order, not making more conversation than necessary, and not once looking at the kitchen hatch. He took his order number and turned back to me, walking across the shop floor with casual grace.

He slid into the seat opposite me, then reached over and grasped my hand - which had been resting on the table surface - pulling me closer, so he could lay a kiss on my lips. His free hand came up to wrap around the nape of my neck, and then he deepened the kiss. Not for long, but enough to send a signal. I tried not to sink into the moment, knowing exactly why Ben was making a public scene. If we were cops we wouldn't be snogging across the café table, in effect ignoring the environment, and sucking tongue like the end of the world was nigh.

His lips trailed across my cheek, to rest at the ear away from view. "She's got a watcher," he whispered.

"I know," I whispered back, moving my face to nuzzle his neck, as though I was kissing him back, and asked, "We've been made, then?"

He pulled back, laying a kiss on top of my nose. "Not yet," he said with a sexy smile, settling himself in his chair. "But we're at the top of the list."

"So," I said, leaning across the table and playing with the fingers on one of his hands. "What do we do?"

"Have a bite to eat," - his fingers entwined with mine - "drink our coffee and see if our girl takes the bait." The noise in the shop made our conversation private, but we still kept our voices low, and made sure our smiles portrayed a very different story than our words.

"What did you order?" I asked, as a server walked past with a plate of food for another table.

Ben's dark eyes flashed in the lights. I think he was impressed with my ability to carry a conversation whilst keeping a wary eye on our surroundings, then adapting when necessary.

"Just flat whites, this place hasn't got a stellar variety of coffees. And a slice of carrot cake to share."

Out of the corner of my eye I noticed the guy at the kitchen hatch had turned back to his cooking, no longer staring daggers at us.

"Perfect," I replied, seeing Kasey place a piece of carrot cake on a tray with two coffees. "Showtime," I added, as Ben squeezed my fingers in his.

I had no idea what was going to happen. Would she recognise me? Would she make a scene? Would she place our order on the table and just walk away? And if she did any of those, what would I say? I just didn't know, and it's not as though this was the first time I'd entered an unknown situation blind. But it was the first time my father's voice failed to offer up any wisdom in my head.

What would he do if he was here? Simple. He wouldn't be here at all.

I was acting on my own, for the first time in five years. But I was not alone.

I took a deep breath in, my eyes held by the dark granite chips of Ben's and then lifted my face to Kasey as she approached the table. She placed the cake down first between us and then picked up one of the coffees. Her gaze met mine. The cup and saucer hung in the air between us and she just stared.

I had thought I would freeze. I hadn't considered the fact that Kasey would.

"Hi, Kasey," I said softly, reaching up and taking the coffee from her now shaking hand. "This is Ben," I said, nodding towards a deceptively calm Ben. "How've you been?"

Ben's hand came up to take his coffee off the tray, as Kasey still hadn't moved.

"You shouldn't be here," she said, her words barely that of a whisper.

"Just visiting," I said. "You should go back to the counter now, but we'd like another coffee each to chase these down when you can." I was hoping that would give her time to get herself under control, and also to fool her watcher in the kitchen. Then she could come back and we could share a word or two. But she just kept staring at me, as though I was a ghost.

And I guess I was. Just like she was a memory from my past, I was a ghost from hers. My heart ached for what she must have been feeling. I could just imagine the plethora of emotions rolling through her body. I didn't envy her this moment, even though it wasn't exactly lovely for me either. Kasey, I think, was suffering right now more than me. Which gave me the courage to say the next words.

"I'm sorry," I whispered, stirring sugar into my coffee and belatedly realising I was doing exactly what Detective Pierce had said was my tell. Three strokes to the right, three left, then three right again. Kasey watched every movement.

"You have no right to be here," she said, voice stronger than before. Ben stiffened slightly, only enough that I could tell. But it did set alarm bells off in my head.

"Kasey," I said, cajolingly.

"No," she cut me off. Her words loud enough for those nearby to hear over the usual sounds of a coffee shop. "You shouldn't be here."

I wondered if she was warning me, trying to tell me I was in danger if I stayed. She didn't need that worry on top of everything else she suffered through.

"It's OK, Kasey," I said, placing my spoon on the saucer beneath my cup.

"No it's not!" she practically shouted. Ben shifted, grabbing my hand and beginning to rise from his chair. I pulled him back down into his seat and shook my head to say no. I needed to see this through.

"Kasey, I'm not here to hurt you. I just wanted to see if you're OK," I tried.

She leaned forward, hand rested on the table top, the other wrapped around the tray as though she could use it as a weapon if need be. My eyes darted to the tray at her side, then back to the narrowed eyes and deeper frown lines on Kasey's face.

"He's just stopped making me dress like you," she said through clenched teeth. "Five fucking years, Sarah, and he's only just stopped obsessing over you. Stopped making me do things all over the fucking country as though I was you."

Oh shit. "Um," I managed to get out, but words seemed to fail me.

On the one hand, I'd just had confirmed my worst fears. Someone I knew had been made to perform those crimes in my name, all over the country, in order to get the cops involved in tracking me down. But it was also a shock to hear Kasey say that with such hatred in her eyes. I couldn't blame her. What an utter fuck Roan had been, making this girl, who'd already suffered because of me, act like me, pretend to be me, commit crimes dressed like me.

"Kasey," I said, voice cracking slightly on the end.

"He's mine, bitch," she hissed. I stopped breathing altogether.

And definitely ears at nearby tables heard. I also noticed the watcher in the kitchen staring at us. Taking it all in, but as yet not making a move. Unable to see Kasey's angry face, or hear her threatening words. He could only see my reaction and Ben's slightly stiffened frame. So, I forced myself to smile up at Kasey, relax my shoulders and even offer up a shrug.

She pulled her head back as though I'd slapped her. Her grip on the tray tightened.

Then she spat in my face.

I closed my eyes and felt Ben place a napkin in my hand. I immediately wiped away her spittle. When I lifted my lids she was still standing there, a triumphant and ugly look on her face.

"You need to fuck off to whatever shithole rock you've been hiding under, Sarah. And don't ever think of going near my man. You had your chance. You passed it up. So, I'm Roan's woman now. And I'll slice your fucking face if you try to push me out."

It suddenly dawned on me; Stockholm Syndrome. That's what it had to be. Roan had hurt her. Abused her. And no doubt directed his anger at losing me on her. He'd made her do the most despicable things, all because of his obsession with me. But she thought she was in love with him. Wanted him. Defended him. And she thought I was a threat to the perfect world she imagined she lived in. A perfect world she'd had to imagine to survive.

I couldn't argue with her, I couldn't point out how fucked up her vision of Roan McLaren was. There was nothing I could say to make her change her mind. Not now, not here. I could only hope she would be saved when the police raided the Compound and Roan was locked away from her for good. I'd make sure Pierce understood she was a victim, because despite her having performed those crimes across the country disguised as me on Roan's orders, this woman had suffered. She could hardly be held fully accountable. Could she?

The watcher at the kitchen had moved and was now standing in the doorway to the back of the shop. Time was running out. And although this hadn't gone exactly as I had pictured it would, and I may not have been able to save Kasey today, there were others to consider. I swallowed my discomfort at facing off against this woman and my past, and chose my words with care.

"Kasey, I'm not here for Roan. You can have him."

"Liar," she spat back, lifting the tray up higher in her grip. Ben stood. So did I. She had a definite air about her that meant all business. We had to leave before the muscle bound watcher made his move. And he was about to.

My eyes flicked to his arms crossed over his chest and the look of menace on his face and came back to land on a similar facial expression on Kasey.

"Fine we're going," I said, voice low and even. "But tell me this. How many women and children in the Compound don't agree with you? Can you live with yourself by letting them suffer further, Kasey?"