Sweet Seduction Shadow (7 page)

Twenty minutes later I had my plate of fried goods and a tall glass of Coke in hand. I found a spot in a darkened corner to while away the next few hours. I knew every escape route off by heart, I could see people who entered the premises before they could see me. I was OK.

My giant arrived at six. I'd had four Cokes, another plate of chips to keep Shirley-behind-the-bar happy, and turned down three propositions by then. But I also had a pretty good lay of the land. These were hard working people. Salt of the earth. The backbone of New Zealand, so to speak. Ordinarily the particular mark I was after wouldn't be found here.

Luck was all that brought him to me. I'd been contemplating alternate plans when pretty boy walked in. With about five others in tow. Within minutes they were joined by four more. Bachelor party. Perfect.

It helped that there was a pool table down the far end of the room to keep them occupied, and that the group was completely comprised of men. No girlfriends to get in the way tonight. But what really made the difference, and made this man my giant of choice tonight, was the fact that he clearly obtained his muscles in a gym. Not on the farm, or working a roadside gang. Not swinging an axe in the forests or hauling heavy equipment at the quarry nearby. This guy had buffed up the cheat's way, and that made him perfect for me tonight.

I watched them play for forty minutes, as the pub filled up with the end-of-working-day crowd. The place was popular, exactly why my father had taught me to come to the local pub in a small town. What else are the locals gonna do, but socialise over a pint or two? With this sort of number I was just one of many in the throng.

Even my panic from the Baldy and Goatee incident had passed. Not necessarily my paranoia though.

I moved my perch to over by the door to the toilets, waiting for my mark to slip from the bachelor group and head my way. Another thirty minutes and two more pitchers of beer and I had him. It was only just gone seven, the pub wouldn't close 'til about one. I had six hours to hide behind his muscles and figure out where I was heading to next.

He walked with purpose through the standing room only mass of pub-goers, dodging sloshed pitchers of beer and lethal high heeled spikes. At this stage of the night he was still sober, but clearly gearing up for some fun. I let him pass, with a show of appreciation from my upturned eyes. Caught the grin as he sauntered by and waited for his return.

Eyes pealed on my surroundings and ears tuned into the sound of the toilet door opening back up, I was ready for him when he'd done his business and timed my moment well. It's not that hard to appear sloshed; a little bit tipsy. It just takes confidence and practice to make it seem real. I was all about making the lie real. It was who I was, whether I wanted to be that girl or not.

I stood up and watched as my satchel fell to the floor, then bent over at the waist to fetch it, the exact same moment my mark went to push past the narrow passageway I was blocking. My butt came into contact with his groin, his big hands wrapped around my waist at my hips to stop me tipping over sideways, and I enjoyed the sudden sharp inhale of air he made as I slowly stood upright again.

I twisted in his grip to throw him a smile over my shoulder, the one I think Shirley had seen, but in this context it meant something else.

"Well, hello," he said, voice deep and husky.

I used to enjoy this, back when I first ran away from the Compound.
This
being the only interaction I allowed myself to have with the opposite sex. I knew in that instant, of watching his eyes drift down to my tight fitting singlet, stay locked on my breasts and not move anywhere else, that I was so far past the pretence now, that I almost shoved the guy back and stormed out of the bar.

"Hey!" I said brightly and watched his eyes finally lift from my chest to my face.

"Hey yourself," he shot back. "Haven't seen you around here before. What's your name?"

"Chrissie. Yours?"

"Carl."

"Thanks for catching me, Carl," I said, returning my satchel to the seat at my side. "That deserves a drink," I offered, reaching into my bag for my purse.

"I could go a drink," Carl said, eyes back down on my breasts. Great. This was going to be a long night.

Three glasses of beer later, a few friendly ribs from his mates, and I finally had Carl on the tequila. We'd made it to eight-thirty and I already had his car keys, a description of his vehicle and where it was, in my little hot hands and head. Carl was none the wiser, the breasts seemed to lower his IQ, at a guess.

The joy of small towns like this, is even though Carl wasn't planning on driving home drunk tonight, his car was parked just around the corner and wouldn't be collected until he slept his hangover off by tomorrow afternoon. I would be in Hamilton or further, having ditched the car at the first opportunity, well before then.

The night progressed and even though Carl was enchanted with my physical assets, he wasn't that bad of a sport. He bought a few rounds, even bought some chips as the evening grew longer, and carried the conversation fairly well.

But he could not hold his liquor. Those pretty boy muscles tired easily, and made alcohol more effective than the rest of the hard-worked for muscle-bound crowd.

By eleven he was slurring his words, weaving in his chair, and making frequent trips to the toilet. His mates hadn't faired better, but at least they'd stopped checking on us and making a scene every time they passed by. It got easier and easier to slip my drinks into his, to make him believe I was consuming as much alcohol as him. Where in fact it was more like one to three.

By just on midnight I watched him stagger to the toilets one last time. The room was rocking, the bartenders all busy, and his mates too drunk to notice the brunette who'd entertained their friend all evening, slip out the swinging front doors. Carl's keys jingled in my hand as I jogged down the street and around the corner, keeping a wary eye out over my shoulder for any pursuers.

I waited five minutes in the shadow of a nearby tree, but when nothing stirred, I approached the car. Carl drove a Nissan Pulsar. I had to blink a few times at that. The alarm beeped merrily and the indicator lights blinked twice to announce the deed was done.

And just as I was about to open the front driver's door a shadow beside me moved. The smell of his cologne sending an unwanted shiver down my spine.

"I really hope you're not gonna drive while under the influence, red," a deep, gravelly voice said as the shadow approached. "Oh, wait. You're no longer a redhead." I didn't miss the sarcasm. "What
will
I call you now?"

I swung around to face him, sucking in air as though I was drowning and all hope was long lost. How much more adrenaline could my body handle today?

"Ben, the man who walks in shadows, I presume?" I somehow managed to numbly say.

He flashed me a smile, I sucked in more air. And then he simply reached forward and gently tugged Carl's keys from my hand.

"Always savin' your arse, red," Ben grumbled from only an inch or two away. Clearly not giving up on his chosen nickname for me, despite noticing my brunette colour change.

"I'm not drunk," I insisted, still in shock that he'd found me, that he was here, and that he smelled so damn nice.

"Not sober either. I spotted you downin' at least fifteen shots, three beers and barely any chips."

"Eight shots, two beers and I'd already eaten," I threw back.

"This ain't a negotiation. You can't drive when you've had that much piss."

I glared at him. "Who the
fuck
are you?" I demanded. If he was Roan's, then why the lecture? If he wasn't Roan's, then what the hell?

"Well, I ain't your fairy fuckin' godmother, that's for sure," he said, sounding a little angry. He shook his head, as though dumbfounded about something. He was quite clearly insane, and now would have been a good time to knee him in the balls again and run away.

I stood still and just looked at him.

"OK," I said eventually, wrapping my arms about my body. "How much is he paying you? Maybe I can better the offer?"

Ben's granite chipped eyes came up to stare at mine. For a moment he seemed to lose all train of thought, then with another shake of his head, he said, "You can't pay me what he pays me. I'm outta your league."

And OK, so I didn't have much money left, but still, a couple of thousand's got to be more than he'd get on this one retrieval job.

I started reaching into my satchel, hunting around for my wad of cash. A tearing sound broke the stillness of the air, as I opened up one of the hidden compartments where Dad's money was kept.

"What are you doin', red?" he drawled beside me.

"Finding you some money, so you can get on your way."

"Not gonna make a blind bit of difference. I can't be bribed."

"Everyone has their price."

"I'm
not
'everyone'," he growled.

"Well, I'm not going with you!" I almost shouted, pulling my hands free of my bag and placing them on my hips instead. "And no matter what you think you saw in there, while you were spying on me, I'm more than capable of decking you, bud. I've done it once, I can do it again."

"Woman!" he rasped, stepping up to place his nose practically against mine. I could feel the hot wash of his breath across my lips. It took everything in me not to lick them. "I'm already breaking
all
the rules for you. Don't push me!" The last was an almost inaudible whisper, his voice so low and rough.

I stared at him some more. It wasn't hard to do, to be frank. Even frustrated, as he clearly was right now, he was gorgeous. I blinked a few times to get my head back in the game, now was not the moment to lose sight of why I was running. "What rules?" I asked, to stall for time so I could get my mind clear and act appropriately. "I didn't ask you to break any rules."

He took one more step towards me, which brought him so far into my personal space I could actually feel the heat from his body. I'd never thought that possible, to stand so close to someone that you could feel their warmth. He towered over me too, and I'm not exactly short, but somehow his whole presence made him seem like a giant.

Inappropriately my father's words flashed through my mind.
Befriend a giant and he'll stand between you and the monsters knocking on the door.
But that was stupid, this giant was the enemy, not a protector to stand between me and the monster that is Roan McLaren.

"No," he said, voice so low it sounded like it was scraping across the tarseal at our feet. "You didn't ask, but I am." His head tilted to the side slightly, as though he was assessing me in some way. His eyes held no colour at all, in the dim light of the street, just black chips of granite staring at me intently, as though he could see right through my skin and tell who I really was. "Are you worth the risk, red?" he asked. I didn't know what to say to that, so I said nothing. Did nothing. Just stood there like a dork and waited for the world to spin off its axis. "I think you might be," he whispered. "But I'm not sure."

OK, so this was bizarre. If he was Roan's, then he should be bundling me into a van and securely tying me up with tape, to haul my arse back to Wellington. He wasn't, so that left a couple of possibilities. Option one: He was still Roan's, but he had an ulterior motive. Perhaps use me to get something he wanted from the drug lord. In which case, I was still screwed.

And the other option? He wasn't Roan's, but another contender for the 'trap Sarah Monaghan' job. But why? Who else would want me? Who other than Roan Fucking McLaren would want to track me down and do... what?

I had no friggin' idea, but both options sounded pretty bad. I was quite sure I couldn't pull off another knee to the gonads moment, he would be expecting it now. Even reaching into my bag and retrieving my can of mace had a slim chance of success. He was flush against me, his hands held loosely at his sides, but within snatching distance should I make a single move.

Somehow he'd gotten through my defences. Somehow he'd bamboozled me with his smile and rough, sexy voice and totally out there statements. In all the years of being on the run, not one tracker had got this close before. What was with this man? And how did I fight it?

My heart fluttered in my chest like a trapped butterfly. I could feel the delicate pulse at the base of my neck match the pace. My breaths were short and sharp and totally out of control. My skin tingled, adrenaline coursing through my veins again. All of these sensations I've had occasion in the past to experience. But never had they felt like this.

I was alive.
More so than ever in my life before. The noises of a quiet small town back street sounded crisp and clear to my ears. The rustle of leaves in a nearby tree, the creak of a gate swinging on its hinges. The distant roar of State Highway One and the odd late night traveller. The pungent smell of cooked chips and battered fish from the air vent at the back of the pub just down the road, mixed in with the yeasty smell of beer on tap.

And the scent of the man before me. Cologne; spicy, musky, masculine. And
him
. Everything was alive, present,
omnipresent
. I knew if I reached out and touched him, my fingers would dance across sensations I'd never had before. The desire to do so shocked me. I didn't know this man. I didn't trust him and he clearly didn't trust me. But I
wanted
him. I wanted him with every fibre of my body and being.

I even swayed involuntarily closer to his body until my breasts brushed the broad expanse of his chest. He sucked in a deep breath, which only made his pecs push harder against my nipples, making them throb. Making me throb. I closed my eyes briefly and licked my lips.

His hands grasped my wrists painfully and he hauled them up between our chest.

"What are you playing at?" he demanded in a guttural voice. "You think I don't know how you operate? How you toy with your marks, use them to get what you want? I've been watchin' you for a while now, red, and you are some piece of work." He gave me a little shake to send those last words home. A small sound escaped my lips unintentionally. It was pained, but not because he was particularly hurting me. His hold was firm and strong, but not nasty. It was his words that did it.

Oh, I knew he must have been tracking me for a while. I'd felt that itch for close to three weeks, getting stronger and stronger until I couldn't ignore what it was anymore. The cologne, the persistent erotic dreams associated with that scent; warnings I had ignored. It had to have been him. So, that didn't surprise me, and if I'm honest, his assessment of me didn't either. But what did surprise me, hurt me, was that I didn't want
this
man to think that was all I was.

What the hell was wrong with me?

"You don't know me," I said on a whisper, but the words were strong. Steel in my bones. "You know nothing about me. No matter what he's told you, it's all lies."

"I think I'll trust him over you any day," he said through clenched teeth and then suddenly released my wrists and stepped away. A gaping hole existed between us; a ravine, a chasm, that felt chillingly, achingly, wrong.

"So what now?" I spat back. "You've found me, so why aren't you wrapping me up and handing me over like a gift? Or do you have other plans? How best to use Roan McLaren's little obsession? What would a man like McLaren give you for me?"

Ben looked at me intensely for several long seconds. I don't think his chest moved the entire time he stared. He was a statue before me, so still, so silent. But coiled strength and menace lurked beneath the hardened shell. I should have been scared. He was here because Roan sent him. He was my enemy. Instead all I could think was how glorious it would be to crack that shell. To make him lose control. To be the one that pushed him over the edge.

I wanted to be the one.

Shit. Those dreams had really done a number on me.

When the seconds turned into a minute, I decided it was time to high-tail it and hitch a ride out on State Highway One. It wouldn't be the first time I'd thumbed a lift in the middle of the night. It probably wouldn't be the last. And how depressing was that thought?

I turned away and started walking down the street. He could follow. He could reach out and grab me. He could yell a few obscenities at my back. Anything would be better than the statue that just stared.

It took him at least two minutes to make his move. Longer than I had expected. I'd even made it back up to the intersection that led down the main drag in Huntly. I was about to cross over and head out onto the highway when I heard his footfalls at my back. He didn't say anything, he just fell into stride beside me, as though he was escorting me to my next ride.

"
Who
the
fuck
are you?" I repeated my question of before, this time it sounded exasperated.

He let a harsh breath out, it sounded as frustrated as I felt. Then he ran a hand through his short dark hair, the muscles across his chest flexed and I pictured the Tiki tattoo under his jacket sleeve bulge with that simple movement. Everything this man did caught my eye and fuelled my imagination.

"Why are you runnin', red?" he asked eventually.

"Well, that has to be the stupidest question I have ever heard!" I exclaimed with a wave of both hands up in the air to emphasise my frustration.

"It's a simple question," he replied, then repeated, "Why are you runnin'?"

"Because I don't want to be caught?" I said facetiously. "That's normally why people run," I added in a mumble. Well, in my world, it was.

"Why don't you wanna be caught?" he persisted. His voice now was level and low, it rolled over my skin like a comforting blanket. Oh, he was very good at this, wasn't he?

"I like my independence." I gave him the answer that would make the most sense. "Roan would take that away." And not nicely either.

And why was I answering this guy? This man who was my enemy. I supposed it was because it wouldn't change the outcome. He would still take me to Roan, if I didn't get away first. Surely my answers weren't that much of a surprise. Or did he think Roan represented the job of a lifetime?

"He's not everything you think he is, you know," I added and actually felt Ben stiffen at my side. I shook my head. Yeah, a lot of the guys who worked for Roan had been sucked into his god complex. They believed the bull he spewed out.

"How can you say that?" he asked, truly sounding astounded at my words. "How can you not see him for what he is?" Ben's voice had risen on that last question, frustration and outrage lacing his tone.

I stopped walking and turned to look at him, arms crossed over my chest, frown in place.

"How can you be so fooled?" I demanded. "You're just like all the rest. I didn't take you for being a mindless sheep." God knows why, but I thought he had a few brain cells to rub together, I'd obviously thought wrong.

"Right back at ya, sunshine," he said, leaning forward to deliver the words in my face. And
sunshine
? Where did that one come from? "Clearly you're as delusional as the rest of those fucked up piss-ants."

My eyebrows rose up my forehead.

"Oh, really? If I was so
fucked up
why did I escape at aged eighteen? And what the fuck's a piss-ant?" I demanded, hands back on hips, my body leaning forward into him to deliver my words in
his
face.

His finger came up and jabbed me once in the chest. "You. Obviously. Sold on the propaganda of a low-life drug pusher."

My finger came up and jabbed him in the chest once. "I'm not the one running back to the boss to hand over a non-compliant woman! Who's the one sold on Roan's propaganda?"

He stepped closer, chest to chest, his frowning face staring down at me from such an angle I had to lean my head right back to look him in his granite-chipped eyes.

"Why the fuck did you have to be part of
that
world?" he demanded in a growl.