The Chameleon's Tale

by Andrea Bramhall

  But for now all they had to do was repeat Derek Marais’s work and get them the evidence they needed.

  She broke the surface and pulled herself through the water with long, powerful strokes. Each one helping to loosen her muscles and let her relax. Just a bit. Her head began to clear, and her thoughts drifted from little white pills and threatening phone calls to the woman behind it all. Amahle. She confused her. Yesterday, it had felt like they were getting closer. As though the attraction she knew was between them was pulling them together. Today, it felt as though Amahle was pushing her away again. She executed a perfect tumble turn and kicked off the wall before settling back into her rhythm. One, two, three, breathe. The shy smiles they’d exchanged on the way to the vineyard had felt so natural. She’d felt so happy. Now she felt like she couldn’t get a smile out of Amahle.

  She knew the strain Amahle was under was immense, but in reality was it that much different from when they’d set off on that walk? Before they’d run into Mbali and discovered her secrets and lies. Before they’d discovered that Sipho was missing. If it was, she couldn’t see it. They still needed the evidence to put this drugs racket out of operation and get the real medication back into circulation. They still needed some sort of lead as to who was behind it all in the first place. And they still needed to find Sipho because he was facing jail.

  She tucked her legs under her and turned again. That was another thing. What would she do about the stolen money? Should she press charges given that she was certain he was stealing the money to pay for medication for his sick mother? If she didn’t, she couldn’t claim for the lost funds on the insurance, and how would she explain the discrepancies to her new buyer? One, two, three, breathe. If she did press charges, where would that leave her and Amahle? Would Amahle accept that she had to and let it go? Or would she turn her back on Imogen and whatever it was between them before they even had a chance to figure out what it was? Given how reluctant she’d seemed to even talk to her today, was that something Imogen needed to worry about?

  One, two, three, breathe. She flipped her turn and came up on her back, gliding through the water, her arms brushing her ears with each stroke. Why did it matter anyway? What did she want from Amahle? Yes, she was gorgeous. Yes, she was smart and funny, and yes, she could feel the spark between them, but she already knew that Amahle wasn’t the one-night stand kind of girl. And I don’t stick around for breakfast. So why even bother worrying about it?

  Her arm hit the side of the pool. She cursed herself for missing her turning mark and rubbed at the sore spot on her forearm.

  Why was she even thinking about it? Because she was already sticking around for breakfast, and the thought of being anywhere else made her skin itch. Because the thought of anyone hurting Amahle made her want to hunt the bastards down and tear them limb from limb. Because the idea of anyone else touching Amahle, kissing her, made Imogen’s brain implode in a fog of jealousy.

  “Hey,” Amahle said as she squatted beside the pool. “I’m going to bed now. Let Josh know when you’re done. He’s going to lock up.”

  Imogen looked up and noticed how dark it had gotten. Ship lights far out to sea twinkled red and green on the inky black ocean beneath a blanket of twinkling white stars in the vast night sky.

  “I didn’t realize it had gotten so late.”

  “You seemed like you were lost in your own little world for a while there.”

  “Is everyone gone?”

  “Yes. The last one left about half an hour ago.” She reached out toward Imogen’s face, but stopped before she touched her, seemingly catching herself in the act of doing something unconsciously that her conscious mind didn’t want her to do. “Well, good night, Imogen. Thanks for all your help today.”

  “Can you stay a minute? I’ll get out now.”

  “You don’t have to. Just tell Josh when you’re done.”

  She reached out and caught hold of Amahle’s hand, stopping her from standing. “Please.”

  “Why?”

  “Because I’d like you to.”

  Amahle smiled. “That’s not a very good reason.”

  “Isn’t it?”

  The smile slipped from her lips. “It’s not a good idea, Immy.”

  “What isn’t?”

  “This. Us. You and me.”

  “Why isn’t it?”

  “Because you don’t do breakfast and I can’t go down that route again.”

  “What if I’ve changed my mind? About breakfast.”

  “I still can’t do this.” She pulled away from Imogen’s hand as she stood up and almost ran from the pool.

  Imogen pulled herself out of the water and ran after her, doing her best not to slip on the tiles and concrete. She grabbed hold of Amahle’s upper arm as she reached the door and spun her, pinning her back against the glass.

  “How do you know if you don’t try?”

  “Please don’t do this.” Amahle brought her hands up to Imogen’s chest, seemingly intent on pushing her away. The moment her hands touched the bare, wet skin, Imogen felt the electricity between them. She didn’t move any closer. She wouldn’t. Not until Amahle said she wanted her to, but she wasn’t going to back away while Amahle’s hands were on her flesh. She couldn’t. She felt as though those hands were branding themselves onto her very soul. But it was Amahle’s eyes that held her transfixed. In them she could see everything she needed to know about Amahle. She could see her vulnerability and her strength. She could see every fear and the courage she had to overcome every one, and the longing that cast a shadow over her heart. A shadow she hid within to prevent the world from seeing her pain. All Imogen wanted to do was be the light for her. To show her how to step out of those shadows and shine.

  “You make me want something I’ve never had.” She stroked her fingers up Amahle’s arm. “You make me long for something I was always afraid of.”

  “What?”

  “Tomorrow. With you.” She slid her fingers around the back of Amahle’s neck. “When I look at you I see you.” She pushed her fingers into her hair. “I see you today, and tomorrow, and every day after that.”

  “Immy, this isn’t the right time.”

  “No, you’re probably right. But this is the time we’ve got, and I refuse to have a second of it taken from us again.”

  Tears shone in Amahle’s eyes and her lip trembled. Imogen had never seen her look more beautiful. Amahle closed her eyes as she slid her hands over Imogen’s chest and around the back of her neck, attempting to pull her head down for the kiss they both craved. Imogen let her pull her closer until their mouths were within a hair’s breadth, their foreheads touching.

  “Is this what you want?” Imogen asked.

  Amahle whimpered and tried to close the final distance.

  “No. You told me you didn’t want this.” She braced her arms on the glass on either side of Amahle’s body. “Do you want me?”

  “Oh God, yes.”

  Imogen sighed and captured the lips so close to her own. Amahle moaned against her lips, goose bumps erupted all over her body, and she couldn’t help thinking that it was the most erotic sound she’d ever heard. She ran her tongue along the plump flesh of Amahle’s lower lip and gently sucked it before claiming Amahle’s beautiful mouth. She stopped thinking and just allowed herself to feel. She felt every inch, every plane and curve, she tasted every second of that sweet kiss. The kiss she knew in her heart should have been her first kiss. She brought her hands to Amahle’s cheeks. She wanted to feel her. She felt the dampness of tears against her palms even as Amahle continued to kiss her.

  She pulled away enough to whisper against Amahle’s lips. “Am I hurting you?”

  Amahle shook her head and stretched to kiss her again. Hungry and raw. Amahle’s teeth tugged gently on her lip, her tongue sought and gained entrance, and still the tears rolled down her cheeks.

  “Please tell me what’s wrong.” She wrapped her arms around Amahle’s shoulders and held her tight. She moaned
as Amahle’s lips settled against her neck, and a shiver ran up the length of her spine.

  “Nothing.” She kissed her neck. “Don’t stop.” Amahle pressed her hips into Imogen’s and grasped her backside, pulling their bodies tighter together.

  Imogen groaned. “Not here.”

  Amahle growled and nipped at the skin on Imogen’s shoulder. “Don’t you dare get me started then leave me.”

  “No chance.” She kissed her again. She poured every ounce of passion she felt into that kiss. Promising with every fibre of her being that the fire she started she intended to douse. “But you deserve better than a quick fuck against a wall.”

  “What if that’s what I want?”

  Imogen’s head spun at the husky, desired filled tones of Amahle’s voice. “Then we can arrange that for next time.” She trailed her hand down Amahle’s back. “You never did give me the full tour. How about showing me your bedroom?”

  Amahle didn’t say a word as she took Imogen’s hand and led her through the door. Imogen needed to feel more of her, and she couldn’t wait until they made it through the house. She tugged gently and pressed herself up against Amahle’s back, inhaling the scent of her. The mouthwatering mix of Angel perfume and the slightly spicy musk of Amahle’s skin was intoxicating. Her head swam, and it was all she could do to make her feet work.

  Amahle didn’t even turn on the light when they entered the room and Imogen hurriedly began opening buttons. From the dip between Amahle’s breasts to her waist, she tugged at the tiny discs of plastic until the front of Amahle’s dress hung open. The royal blue cotton gaped to expose the white lace encased breasts with stone hard nipples straining against the fabric.

  “Christ, you’re beautiful.” Imogen licked her neck and palmed her breasts, squeezing, teasing, and tugging on her nipples. Amahle reached between them, fumbling with Imogen’s belt.

  “Off. Take it all off.”

  “As you wish.” Imogen stripped quickly, watching Amahle do the same by the light of the moon filtering through the windows.

  “Lie down.”

  Imogen lay back against the pillows loving the way Amahle’s hips swung from side to side and her full breasts bounced a little as she walked toward her. She wanted to pay her another compliment, but she couldn’t form the words. If she were honest, she couldn’t even think of the words. She’d had sex more times than she cared to remember, but watching Amahle draw nearer, she realized that this was different. Tonight she cared more than she ever had before. Tonight she wanted to please and be pleased in a way that hadn’t even occurred to her before. It wasn’t just Amahle’s body she wanted to touch. It was her heart. The only thing that scared Imogen more was the fact that she wanted Amahle to do the same for her.

  The first touch of Amahle’s body covering hers was almost enough to make her come. Amahle’s fingertips trailing over her skin caused her to shiver even as her flesh felt like it burned. Everything felt new, but at the same time she’d never felt so comfortable. Every kiss turned her on more, flooding her body with desire, coating her sex with arousal, and filling her heart with something that she’d told herself she’d never find. Something she’d told herself she didn’t deserve. Every touch of Amahle’s hand, her lips, her body filled her with love.

  “Ami, look at me.” She needed to see that she wasn’t alone in the way she felt. She wished she was brave enough to voice her feelings, to ask if Amahle felt the same, but she knew she wasn’t. She knew that right now the best she could hope for was to see her heart reflected in Amahle’s gaze.

  Amahle opened her eyes and slipped two fingers inside her. A sexy smile tugged at her lips, but her eyes told Imogen everything she needed to know. She rolled her hips, enjoying the sensation of Amahle’s fingers sliding deeper inside her, and the powerful orgasm coursed through her veins. Every nerve in her body burned, her muscles tensed and strained, and every breath merely fanned the flames of the inferno her pleasure made her.

  Imogen couldn’t be sure how long it took for her to return to her body. It could have been minutes or hours, but when she did there were tears flowing down Amahle’s cheeks.

  “Did I hurt you?”

  Amahle shook her head. “It’s just been a long time.”

  A tiny alarm bell rang in Imogen’s head. “How long?”

  “Since Grace.”

  Imogen cursed her own thoughtlessness. “I’m sorry.”

  “What for?”

  “For upsetting you. Reminding you.” She shrugged. “Whatever I did wrong.”

  “You didn’t do anything wrong. And you didn’t upset me.”

  “Then why are you crying?”

  “Because I kept thinking that kissing you felt like the most natural thing I’ve ever done.”

  Imogen smiled, inordinately pleased that Amahle’s thoughts echoed her own. “I felt the same.”

  “And that made me feel guilty.”

  “I don’t understand.”

  “It felt like I’d dishonoured everything that Grace and I went through, all she suffered being with me, because for that moment I regretted that I’d ever touched another woman.”

  Imogen tried to hold on to her as she pulled out of her arms and rolled onto her back.

  “Please don’t say that.”

  “I’m sorry.” Amahle put her arm over her head. “I think you should go.”

  “What? You can’t be serious?”

  “Please, Imogen. This is awkward enough.”

  “It doesn’t have to be.” She leaned over her, desperate to see her eyes again. To see Amahle’s heart. “You don’t have to send me away.”

  “Imogen, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have made love to you, but please. Don’t make this more difficult than it has to be.”

  Imogen knew she needed to fight her corner, to make Amahle see that it was a mistake to evict her from her bed, but she couldn’t think. Her precious logic deserted her in the wake of her burgeoning feelings and the sting of yet another rejection. “You wanted me too.”

  “Yes.” She sat up and wrapped her arms around her knees. “But you’re the one who doesn’t do breakfast. Remember?”

  “Shouldn’t we at least talk about this?” You’re a fucking barrister! Think, woman!

  “What else is there to say?”

  “I don’t know. But a lot I’d imagine.”

  “Good night, Immy.” Amahle climbed out of the bed and walked into the bathroom, closing and locking the door behind her.

  Imogen stared at the locked door. Goose bumps covered her from head to toe, but she couldn’t decide if it was from the chill that had settled on her skin, or the chill that had settled in her soul.

  Chapter Thirty-six

  Sipho squinted into the daylight. He wasn’t sure how long he’d been in the boot of Tsotsi’s car, but his legs were cramped and refused to work when they dragged him out and dumped him in the dirt.

  “See, I told you I still got him. He’s a fucking pussy, man. Let me waste him. That’ll send her a fucking message.”

  A thick glob of spit landed on his face. He tried to wipe it off, but his hands were tied together and his effort was uncoordinated.

  “That’s not how we’re gonna play this. She isn’t getting the message.”

  Sipho zeroed in on the new voice. It sounded familiar, but he couldn’t place it.

  “Then we take her on directly.”

  “And just how do you plan to do that? Use him?”

  “Nah, man, I thought I’d go see her. He’s fucking worthless.”

  A boot touched his chin and pushed his head upward. Not painfully, just so that his face could be seen clearly. He wanted to see who this new person was, but as he opened his eyes, all he could see was a silhouette against the bright sun.

  “Always thought so myself. But I think he has information we could use.”

  “Like what?”

  “Like how we can discredit his sister. If she won’t back off, my friend in the ministry tells me that killing her wil
l raise too many questions now, so all we can do is dig up so much dirt on her that the people want to kill her themselves. Then it doesn’t matter what she finds out. They wouldn’t believe her if she told them the sky was fucking blue.”

  Sipho closed his eyes and wondered how they planned to make him tell them information he didn’t know. Then he remembered their mother and hoped that whatever they decided to do to him wasn’t enough to make him talk.

  “I still don’t see why we can’t kill her.”

  “If she’s dead there has to be an investigation into who killed her and why. That trail doesn’t end well for any of us, Tsotsi, my friend. If we discredit her, then it’s her they investigate, and our friend at the ministry can direct them to a trail of breadcrumbs that will cast enough doubt on her part in this so she won’t know which way to run.”

  “I still don’t get it,” Tsotsi said.

  But Sipho was beginning to. At least his part in it all. Whatever was going on behind all this, they were determined to bring down his sister. And he’d played straight into their hands. He remembered how Tsotsi had stolen his phone on the day of the DNA testing. The phone with Amahle’s number in. The phone with Thambo’s address stored in his contacts list. The phone where he’d stored the passwords to his bank account, emails. Everything. And Tsotsi and his mysterious friend had access to it all. He didn’t know how many “friends in high places” the bastard had. It didn’t matter. They’d gotten more than enough from him to do God knows what to his sister. I’m sorry, Ami. I’m so sorry. I was only trying to do the right thing. For Mama. For you. I’m such a fool.