Sweet Seduction Shield (4 page)

I frowned at
that thought, as I ducked down a side street I knew would take us
out onto the more populated Ponsonby Road. For over five years
McLaren had let me be. He'd exacted the price for my crime against
him. His warped sense of justice had allowed him to let me walk
free, having witnessed my husband's murder because of me. McLaren
would have enjoyed the idea that I suffered daily with visions of
how and why Rick died. To him that was just. In his world it was as
good as an eye for an eye.

I took
something precious from him. McLaren took something precious from
me.

But now, all
of a sudden, one of his men turns up at my door. Why now? Because
he's been arrested and he's suddenly calling in marks? Or because I
was approached by Detective Pierce?

A crash
sounded out behind us. A quick glance let me know the tattooed
freak was still chasing us, but had collided with someone's trash
on the sidewalk, tripping him up and giving us a modicum of
increased distance from our pursuer.

"Faster,
Mummy," Daisy murmured against the sweaty skin on my neck. "He's
running funny."

"Limping," I
corrected out of habit.

I didn't get
the standard roll of her eyes in reply, she'd tucked her head back
into the crease of my neck. Out of sight, out of mind.

"Not long now,
Daisy-girl," I whispered, hoping my words sounded convincing to
younger ears.

I spotted a
bus slowing ahead, navigating traffic in an effort to pull to the
side of the road. It was still fifty feet away, but I saw the
opportunity it presented and dug deep, adding a spurt of speed from
God knows where. My legs ached, my arms ached, my chest and head
ached. Even my vision began to blur.

God, please.
Please
. Let me
make it. The bus stopped, the side doors sprang open and two people
stepped off.

Twenty
feet.

One old lady
with too many shopping bags hauled herself up the first step. I
glanced over my shoulder and caught sight of McLaren's man within
ten feet of us. I yelped. He was practically within reaching
distance. My face spun forward in time to see a bicycle jump the
footpath just before my eyes, but not in time to stop our
collision.

Someone yelled
out a warning. The bus doors slammed closed. And Daisy, the cyclist
and myself came crashing down onto the hard concrete ground. The
world spun as we went head over feet, my shoulder slamming into the
side of the cyclist's helmet, my knee jarring painfully against the
spokes of his bike's wheels. My grip on Daisy was yanked free as a
scream tore from my throat.

No!

The sound of
my daughter's agony and shock fractured my heart in two. I
scrambled over the tangle of metal that was left of the cyclist's
bike. I ignored his sprawled form on the footpath and pushed well
meaning bystanders aside as I fell to my knees next to Daisy.

A young
twenty-something man sat shocked and grazed with my daughter in his
arms. People were congratulating him on his quick reflexes, a
waiter from a nearby restaurant came out with white towels and a
bag of ice. Someone dug their cellphone out to dial an ambulance.
Questions about our welfare were being asked, as the young man
handed a crying Daisy over to me.

While I
whispered words of love and checked her with my hands for injuries,
my eyes darted about the footpath behind us. The tattooed man had
disappeared from sight, but that did not mean he'd gone.

As we'd made
it to Ponsonby Road the crowd which had gathered was quite
substantial. The fact that the guy who caught Daisy had been aware
enough to act in time, meant that others had seen what had happened
too. Several people were talking about the thug who had been
chasing us. Within seconds of clasping Daisy to my chest the
questions started.

"Was he a
mugger?"

"Did he hurt
you?"

"What did he
want?"

"Is she your
daughter?"

"Someone
should call the Police."

I stood
immediately, righting myself as soon as my injured knee gave out,
and stared at all the well meaning onlookers with pure dread in my
veins. I licked my lips, searching for some reasonable excuse to
offer up.

"Take it
easy," someone said off to my side and I jumped. Backing away from
the concerned look in a businessman's eyes. "You and the girl need
to be checked out."

I shook my
head, gripped Daisy tighter. No one was taking my daughter from me.
No one.

"I..I've got
to go," I stammered.

"Calm down,"
another person said, this time a middle aged woman. "You're safe
now. An ambulance is on the way. Let them treat your daughter."

"She's fine,"
I insisted. But even I could hear that Daisy was still crying.

"I'm sure she
is," the woman cajoled. "But wouldn't it be best if she was seen to
by professionals?"

I couldn't
think. I couldn't form a coherent sentence. I was working on pure
adrenaline. Fight or flight. And I sure as hell wanted to flee. I
moved a few inches further away from the crowd, a restaurant window
at my back. For all the experience I had at schooling my features,
at hiding my fear behind a confident and icy exterior, I was
completely unprepared for this. This depth of fear from holding a
tearful Daisy in my arms after running for our lives from an
assailant.

Part of me
knew an ambulance was safe. Getting Daisy checked out made sense.
But the part of me that had just relived a night over five years
ago was unable to make that connection cleanly. Unable to banish
the sound of the gun being fired. The image of the muzzle flaring
bright orange in the still, dark night air. Unable to stop my
reaction to the blood and brain matter that splattered my face, ran
down my chin, and dripped under the edge of my blouse's collar.

And going to
the hospital would mean more questions I couldn't answer, which in
turn would mean inevitable involvement by the Police. Which I could
not allow.

No, we needed
to run. To hide. To think of a plan. We couldn't leave the country
without our passports. And I wouldn't return to my house to collect
them until I knew Daisy was somewhere safe. But right now I
couldn't formulate a plan, all I could do was get us out of
here.

My eyes
scanned the street. Took in the conscious, but clearly grazed and
battered form of the cyclist, the cautious, curious, but concerned
looks from the bystanders. And a restaurant waiter holding a cup of
brightly coloured flavoured ice. The kind of drink they serve
children, chocked full of food colouring and artificial flavours.
His eyes met mine and he held the cup out, clearly having got it
for Daisy.

I offered a weak smile and wrapped a shaky hand around the
base of the drink. The movement making the crowd gathered relax as
one.
The crazy woman was tending to her child at last,
maybe things would settle down after all.
I
nodded my thanks and shifted Daisy on my hip, feeling every
movement acutely. As soon as she saw the treat she stopped
snivelling and started inhaling ice crystals instead.

"Have you got
a bathroom we can use?" I asked the waiter.

"Sure," he
replied, as someone else said, "The ambulance will be here
soon."

"Tell them to
come in to see us inside," I ordered confidently, grabbing my
shield and wrapping it around me. I didn't wait for an argument,
just followed the waiter into the restaurant itself.

As expected
the toilet the waiter led us to was out the back of the business.
Right next to the kitchen. Which I was praying had a back door.

He ushered us
into the little stall and said he'd keep an eye out for the
ambulance out the front. I allowed him to close the door behind us,
and in case he was waiting to hear it, I flicked the lock.
Trembling I sat down on the toilet seat and shifted Daisy to get a
good look.

"Daisy-girl,
we don't have much time. Tell Mummy where it hurts."

She made a
loud sucking sound as she inhaled the last of the coloured slush up
the straw and smacked her lips enthusiastically.

"Just my
shoulder," she finally replied, pointing to her right hand
side.

I felt around
carefully, but when she didn't tense up, decided the injury must
only be minor. Mine on the other hand hurt like fuck.

"OK, baby. You
sit here, I'll quickly brush myself off, and then we've got to
go."

"Go where?"
she asked, as I pulled several paper towels from the dispenser on
the wall.

"Go from
here," I replied.

"But where
to?" she insisted, as I began wetting towels and delicately washing
gravel out of open grazes. I winced, but didn't stop cleaning
myself up.

"Somewhere
new," I said, as I chucked the bloodied paper into the bin in the
corner. I glanced up at my face in the mirror and blanched at the
size of my eyes and shadows beneath them.

"Kelly
Tarlton's?" Daisy asked excitedly, the chase and consequent fall
all but forgotten.

Well, what the
hell. "Yes," I agreed. "Kelly Tarlton's. But we've got to sneak out
the back, so we make it before they lock the doors on the Aquarium,
OK?"

"OK, Mummy,"
she chirped, slipping off the toilet seat and crossing to the door,
ready for the next adventure to occur. I shook my head, but found
myself miraculously smiling. If only my life were as simple as the
next aquarium visit.

We ducked out
of the toilet and slipped into the kitchen. The chefs were all
busy, but noticed us as soon as we entered the room.

"Can I help?"
one guy in a white outfit with extra large white chef's hat
asked.

"My daughter's
sick, she needs some fresh air," I offered, keeping Daisy’s face
planted into my neck with a well placed palm on the back of her
head. "Can we slip out your back door, there's a fuss out the front
on the footpath."

The chef
grunted, but pointed to a mesh covered door at the back. "Half our
meals are going cold because of it," he grumbled, clearly
sympathising with us about our need to go out the back and not the
front.

The door
clanged shut behind us, but I was already at the end of the alley.
Luck proved our friend, as a taxi was just clearing its latest
passenger on the side of the street. I slipped into the rear with
Daisy before the customer had finished paying.

Five minutes
later we were miles away from Ponsonby Road and the flashing lights
that had appeared there from the ambulance and police vehicles
parked in front of the restaurant. I sank back into the plastic
covered seat of the cab and let a slow, long breath of air out.

Home was out.
The goon would return there waiting for me.

Work was out.
My guess was McLaren sent his man because of my morning visit from
Detective Pierce. Heading back to the office was impossible
now.

Daisy's after
school carer was out. McLaren knew about Daisy now, he'd chase down
every lead. I contemplated warning Zoey, Daisy's babysitter, but
the less she knew the better, and if she appeared innocent, they'd
leave her alone.

Who, or where,
did that leave?

I suddenly
realised how isolated I'd let myself become. Being a single parent
I'd had to rely on others from time to time, but coming from where
I had come from, I had limited that circle of helpers severely.
Even though I had no one to turn to now, I was grateful that I had
kept our circle small. The less people who knew about us, the
better it was for them.

The taxi
pulled up outside Kelly Tarlton's Aquarium on Tamaki Drive. I paid
with cash and slipped out after Daisy, who was practically running
to the front doors of the building. Her pigtails flying, a skip in
her step. I noticed we'd lost her backpack somewhere along the way.
Hell, we'd probably lost it on our front doorstep, I don't remember
her school bag after running for our lives. But I had my handbag,
some cash and my bank cards.

The movies
always make out that you shouldn't use your electronic cards when
hiding. Which made me think of my cellphone. As we queued up in the
short midday line for entry, I reached inside my bag and thumbed my
phone off. There was no one to call me anyway.

I felt my
nerves untangle the deeper we went underground. As the lights
dimmed and the piped artificial sound of aquatic animals filled the
air, I let a little more of the tension go. We could spend a few
hours here, grab a bite to eat, stay out of sight, and then I'd
find us a motel to stay in. Of course finding one that would accept
cash and not credit cards would mean we'd have to travel further
out of the CBD. And to do that I'd need to withdraw cash from an
ATM, which I considered would be safe if it was in an area I didn't
stay in.

All of these
thoughts were spinning through my head, but as my daughter laughed
at the sharks swimming above us in the glass tunnel, and pointed
out each exciting new creature that she could identify by name, I
told myself that it would all work out somehow.

Because it had
to. Because there was no other choice than to keep Daisy safe.
Because my daughter was not going to pay for the mistakes I made
all those years ago. For the mistakes both Rick and I made before
we even knew Daisy was our future.

I sat in the Aquarium cafeteria, watching Daisy eat a burger
and fries, listening to the non-stop excited chatter she made, and
just breathed. For a small moment in time I just breathed. When we
walked out of the doors into the sunshine the worry and fear would
start all over again. For now I could believe we were safe. Just
like we were safe yesterday and the day before. Just like we were
safe this morning, before we were visited by a CIB cop.

My hand slipped into my bag and sought out his business
card.
Detective Sergeant Ryan Pierce,
it said.
Criminal Investigations Bureau, Auckland
City Police Department.
My thumb traced his
direct dial number, his cellphone number and then I flipped the
card over in my hand.