I could stay here and wait for the bus to reach Hamilton with the two leather clad dudes sitting innocuously, but menacingly to my mind, at the front of the bus. Or I could trust my gut.
Trust that feeling deep down in the pit of your stomach. Never question it. Never doubt.
OK, Dad. I'll just have to go with my gut.
The ten minute break seemed to last forever. A few more passengers climbed back on board with their snacks hidden in their bags so the driver didn't have a fit. The leather clad dudes smoked three more cigarettes, their gazes occasionally washing over the inside of the bus and quite possibly me, but I wasn't sure.
My heart rate maintained a steady 180 beats per minute. My respirations were racing to catch up. Sweat coated my brow and dribbled down my back. I prayed I wasn't losing it, because the leather clad dudes weren't acting as trackers should. But then, neither had Tiki tattooed Ben. Today had proven to be one out of the box, that was for sure.
And I was tired again. So very tired. Almost tired enough to give in, give up, let them find me and take me back to Roan. Let him do his worst. But his worst could be shooting my Dad in the head in front of me, over the back fence of the Compound.
I took a shattering deep breath in at that thought.
The bus driver came back, after the last passenger boarded the bus. My leather clad nemeses sat themselves down in their front row seats. Even from where I was sitting, half way down the bus by a still open door, I could smell the tobacco. The bald guy shifted in his seat, cast a glance over his shoulder towards me and smiled when his eyes met mine. They were a light grey colour. Could have been quite attractive if his continual interest in me hadn't just ratcheted up my heart rate to over 200 bpm.
The driver stood at the front of the bus, looking down at the row of seats, taking a headcount no doubt. My chest tightened. My breaths came in little short bursts. I tasted something sharp and metallic on my tongue. Adrenaline. I was drowning in it. Then as he moved to sit in his driver's seat, the springs squeaking as they took his weight, I took one last look at baldy - who had returned his attention to his car mag - and slipped out the back door.
I dashed around to the rear of the bus, before I took a breath in. A ringing had started up in my ears. Then ran full speed across the carpark to crouch down behind a Maui Campervan. The ringing was joined by an excruciatingly loud thumping inside my head. I watched through the gap between the bumper and the side of the camper, to see if my escape had been witnessed. It took five heart stopping seconds for the rear door on the bus to swing closed, quickly followed by the front.
I took a breath in. Flashes of bright white light encroached the edges of my vision. Three more seconds passed before the bus's diesel engine started up. I let my breath out. The white flashes were now strobes across my eyes. The metallic taste on my tongue had turned to bile. And my chest was now aching, burning, crushing my entire upper torso in a vice-like grip.
Then another six torturously long seconds ticked by before the bus started to pull away.
I sucked in air and held my breath until the bus disappeared out of sight down the main highway. My hands tingled, my head buzzed. I felt sick to my stomach. For a long moment my vision blurred while the white lights danced a disco display across my eyes. I panted through the need to vomit. It took longer than it should have for the adrenaline to be absorbed back into my body. Flushed from my veins. I ended up sitting slap bang down on the gravel of the carpark, behind the rear end of the campervan and just... breathed.
I was alone. The bus hadn't returned with Roan's trackers or any one else. I was safe. For now. But my mind wouldn't accept that, not when my heart was beating so fast I couldn't even count the thumping it made in my head. Not when my breathing was see-sawing out of my chest and my mouth was dripping with pre-vomit saliva.
I needed to move. I needed to plan my next step. I needed to think.
I glanced around my surroundings. I was hidden from the main road and the carpark, but I couldn't remain here. The tourists travelling in the campervan would soon return and head off into the sunset to see more of beautiful New Zealand. This hidey-hole would not last long.
But for the life of me I couldn't think straight. I couldn't even hear my father's voice in my head. I closed my eyes, scrunched up handfuls of hair in my fists and silently screamed. My mouth wide but no sound coming out, for fear of giving my hastily chosen hiding spot away. My body rocked backwards and forwards, as gravel from the carpark got embedded in my knees and shins. I didn't feel it, all I felt was panic and fear.
This had to stop.
Even if I'd been wrong about the two leather clad guys on that bus, I'd done the right thing by getting off. I'd followed my father's rules. Now I just had to move.
Move.
I blinked my eyes open, took a good look around my surroundings and concentrated on slowing my breathing down. The rest - the heart rate, blood pressure, nausea - would fix itself, if I could only get a handle on my respirations.
It took several minutes. Several minutes more than I had. But walking out into Huntly having a panic attack was a sure-fire way of attracting attention. Hide in plain sight.
I stood up and stretched, rolled my shoulders and then brushed the loose gravel off my skirt and knees with my hands. My breathing began to return to a more normal pace as my mind worked through my dilemma. This was how you fought panic; with logic and reason and a plan of attack based on years of preparation. My palms were still covered in sweat though. I rubbed them on my clothing. And nausea still lingered in my belly, but bile, thankfully, no longer coated my tongue. Minute by passing minute my body was becoming mine again.
I rechecked my surroundings. Took another purposeful look down State Highway One. The bus was long gone, but that didn't necessarily mean that Baldy and Goatee hadn't missed me by now and forced the driver to pull over and let them off and were retracing their steps to here. I took a another deep breath in at that thought. I was safe, but maybe not safe for long. There was just no way to know. So, like my father had taught me, I needed to use my surroundings and change my disguise.
I rounded the end of the campervan before I could think better of it and strode across the carpark as though I belonged. Small town New Zealand was not the most ideal spot to hide out in, but I knew one place where there'd be enough people to lose myself in. I glanced at my watch. It was only three in the afternoon, but if I timed this right, it could just work. Baldy and Goatee would expect me to hitch a ride and get out of town as soon as I could, but walking along the main highway waiting for a lift was too exposed for my liking right now.
I needed shelter. I needed to pass a little time while not being seen. And then I needed to find someone to hide behind.
Hide in plain sight, but do it wisely. Befriend a giant and he'll stand between you and the monsters knocking on the door.
The return of my father's voice in my head was enough to get my mind back in the game. Keeping a wary eye out over my shoulder, scanning the street and assessing every single person who approached as a possible threat, I set about putting my plan into motion.
Staying in Huntly overnight would not be wise, even if Baldy and Goatee weren't who I had suspected them to be. But using Huntly for a few hours, to regroup, reassess and gather my strength, was something else entirely.
The rattle of my beads in my hair brought my attention to the first stage of enacting my plan. Chrystal's disguise was good for a lot of places, but the crowd I expected in the late-afternoon-heading-into-evening scene at my chosen hide for the night, was not ideally conducive to hippy chick. She needed a slight make-over.
I stepped into the first clothing store I could find, noting it was a second hand outlet and held a wide range of styles. I scanned the store for potential hazards, my heart rate still elevated enough to keep me sharp and focused. I snatched up a pair of faded hipster jeans, a black singlet with a single row of shiny black beads stitched into the low neckline, and found a wicked worn and patched
tan leather jacket to go over the top. Scuffed, but way cute brown boots and I was done.
After making my purchase I located the public toilets down the street and used them to change inside. I took my time, having made sure no one was watching me before I entered, I was fairly certain I could catch my breath and alter my appearance, whilst letting a little more of the afternoon slip away. Chrystal's clothes and sandals folded down to take up a small amount of space in my satchel, but I decided although the contact lenses and beads were staying, my hair was getting tied up. I left the beads hanging down the right hand side of my face though.
Chrystal mark II was born. I was calling her Chrissie.
Now on to the second part of my plan.
The Huntly local tavern was only half full, but I expected that at four in the afternoon. There were enough people for me to blend in with. For now it was the best I could to do, and if Goatee and Baldy had got off that bus, I would have seen them somewhere on the streets, I was sure. The longer it took for them to appear, the more I felt sure I'd made a mistake. I'd been keeping a lookout for them, using all of my skills to not be seen, but see.
It didn't exactly help my heart rate any, but it was enough to make me play the part I needed to play in order to make my next move.
Although I wasn't hungry or thirsty, part of obtaining a cover was forcing yourself to do things that your body wasn't entirely on board with. I couldn't sit here in a pub, waiting for a giant to befriend, without enjoying some of what the local drinking hole had to offer. I'd stand out if I didn't.
The smell of yeast and fried chips met my nose as I crossed the room, my boots sounding solid against the scuffed and pock-marked wooden floor. I took a perch on a tall stool at the bar, my back to the end of the counter and corner wall, my front open to the rest of the room.
"What'll it be, sweetie?" a hard-worn middle aged woman asked as I settled into my seat.
"Don't suppose the kitchen's open, is it?" I asked hopefully. Lunch hour was well and truly over, most pubs don't start up again until around five pm. I was a lot late and a little early on both counts.
"I could do you a bowl of chips, I guess. Maybe some chicken nuggets on the side."
I beamed a smile at her, it was fake, but she didn't know that. The woman chuckled.
"You better watch out, a smile like that here is gonna get you in a whole lot of trouble." She headed off to put the chips and nuggets in oil and I glanced around my makeshift hide.
It was a little rough around the edges. The only other occupants were a couple of roadside worker groups downing pitchers of beer. They still wore their reflective jerkins. Their dust covered boots though, had been left at the door. It might have been rough, but it was a clean establishment. I could work with this.
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 t
oilet. 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.
Chapter 6
Feeling Like My World Was Tipping Over Sideways
"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.
Sweet Seduction Shadow Page 6