I would always want more of Ryan's kisses. From that first kiss, in Ben and Abi's backyard under the Cherry Tree, I knew. He could never kiss me enough to sate my thirst for this man. For his teeth and tongue, for his touch, for what he made me feel just by pressing his lips against mine. He fuelled the flames, he stoked the fire, and all with a delicious, decadent, but thankfully family friendly kiss.
Oh, we wanted more. And we could have easily turned the snogging session into an x-rated show. It was borderline as it was. But we were both conscious of how quiet Daisy had gone. Of the fact my five year old daughter had stopped playing house and was watching the grown-ups play it way better.
We pulled apart, our eyes locked on each other. A conversation shared in just one heated, intense gaze. Then licking my lips I turned my head to look at Daisy. Hers was cocked to the side, eyes narrowed, one hand fisted on her hip.
Oh, crap.
"Hey, Daisy-girl," I offered with a smile, untangling myself from Ryan's arms, only to have Ryan wrap one around my shoulder and haul me back against his side.
It wasn't x-rated, but it was on purpose.
OK. We're having this conversation, are we?
"What's up?" I asked, and almost cringed. God, I'd never had to have this particular talk with Daisy. Any dating I have done over the past few years has been well out of her sight and mind.
"What're you doing?" she asked.
"Kissing," Ryan answered, before I could. I refused to look at him, keeping my attention on my daughter, my lips frozen shut.
"Why?"
"Because it's fun," Ryan intelligently replied. I did flick him a glance at that one.
"Daisy," I started, but Ryan was clearly on a roll.
"Princess, I guarantee you, when you get older, you'll want to kiss someone too. But," he added, making my whole body stiffen and my mind scream to a halt. What the hell? Stop now! "Make sure he's worth it first."
My eyelids closed slowly. This was a train wreck about to happen.
"Oh," she said on a burst of air. "Mummy?"
I sucked in a fortifying breath and opened my eyes.
"Yes, Daisy-girl?"
"I'm glad you're being nicer to deetetiv Pierce. He's worth it."
I smiled, I couldn't help it. Sometimes I wish I could see the world through my daughter's eyes. I imagine it would be beautiful in its simplicity.
"I think so too, baby," I said softly.
She looked at us intently for a moment longer, something working behind those round chocolate eyes, then offered a smile and spun on her heels to rebuild her 'house'.
My body relaxed in slow increments, helped by Ryan's gentle stroking of his hand down my arm.
"Well, that went brilliantly," he declared, setting the swing in motion again. "I'm in!"
The laughter started slowly, a huff of breath through my nose, then a rock of my body, my chest rising and falling with increased speed, until I collapsed against Ryan and let it have full reign. He hugged me to his side, laid a soft kiss in amongst my hair and let me have my moment. Realising, I think, that it was as much from humour as from pent up fear, and my body just needed to let go.
Long after I stopped my near hysterical breakdown, and the welcoming sounds of the sea and gulls and Daisy playing filled the air, Ryan spoke. I guess I had to be content with the fact that he'd waited until the sun began to dip in the sky to bring it up. But delaying any longer was not an option, even if I desperately wanted it to be. We'd had a lovely day together, a family day. Away from danger and angst and dread and the pain of our pasts.
But although we'd come to Ryan's holiday home to hide, it was never meant to be indefinitely. Things had been set in motion, dangerous factors were still in play, nothing had been solved. And as much as I loved the day we'd had, not finishing what I started would take its toll.
"I need to reread that ledger," Ryan murmured at my side. The swing seat still swung, Daisy still played on obliviously, but the world stopped.
"I know," I whispered.
"Do you want to be there when I do?"
I opened my mouth, then closed it again. Unable to think of the correct answer. I knew what was in that book. I remembered it all. Graphically. Did I want to relive it? Watch Ryan's face as he did?
It would have been so easy to say no.
I glanced around the deck we were sitting on, looked over at the garden full of colourful flowers. Realistically, I knew they weren't the same flowers Ryan's mother had tended, even the house may have been redecorated and wasn't an exact replica of the home she'd loved. But there was no denying that when he sat on this deck and looked at those flowers he thought of his birth mother.
When we had nowhere else safe to go Ryan faced down his past, despite the agony he knew would accompany it, and brought us here.
If he could do that, so could I.
"I'll reread it with you," I said, my voice only slightly shaking.
"There's my Tiger," he whispered, leaning forward and kissing me on the cheek. "Let's get Daisy inside watching a DVD while we do this."
He stood up off the swing seat and looked down at me as I hesitated to move. There was such a depth of tenderness and care in his eyes, as well pride. He had no reason to be proud of me, my past spoke of all the wrongdoings I'd done. But with him beside me I was trying to be better. Trying to do what was right.
I took his hand and let him lead me off the deck.
We set ourselves up in the dining room. Enchanted was screening on the LCD TV in the attached lounge. I could see Daisy swinging her legs up behind her as she lay on her belly and fell willingly into her own little fantasy world. But the ledger, spread out in front of Ryan and myself on the table, took up most of my attention. Opened to a date, some eight years ago. Three years before I stole the book from Roan McLaren.
I stared at Rick's writing. So familiar, yet the words were - even to my now jaded eyes - foreign.
Adam. Casper the Ghost. Angel Dust. Alice. Mister Blue. Muzzle. Moonrock. Brownies. Yen Pop. And then beside those, phrases such as: Zips, Zoomer, House Piece, Holding, Gunther, Trap, Tweaker, Graduate, Toss Up, Teardrops. And then dates and names. Full names, often with last known addresses, or just a street name and cross reference. Dollar amounts, with phrases like, Teener, Spoon, Eight Ball, Sixty-Two. There were symbols, but no legend. There were photos; mugshots, tattoos or scars that could obviously identify the person depicted in the image.
And finally a whole section devoted to payments.
Some were names and figures written in red ink with a cross in the last column. Paid.
Others were in black and had gruesome photos attached. Also paid.
I'd thought it back then, but now with distance and time to shield me, the emotion was more fervent. More real. I couldn't fathom how Rick had put his pen, red or black, to that ledger paper and scratched out those letters without feeling something. How had he come home to me at night and not dwelled on those photos? Not felt relief for those people who ended up in the red line with a cross in their final column. Not felt shock and horror at those that ended up black.
I sat there as Ryan methodically read every single line, no doubt understanding the language, or code, or slang, or whatever the fuck it was. Probably not even needing a legend to figure out the symbols. He didn't say anything. He just kept reading, slowly turning the pages, and occasionally jotting a few words down on a notepad to the side.
I became numb. I tried to tell myself it wasn't the Rick I knew and loved. It was someone else. I was someone else. I hadn't lived on the edges of this strange, vile world. I hadn't known someone intimately who survived in its trenches for years. I wasn't guilty by association, tainted by the filth Rick touched.
But I was, wasn't I?
Ryan made a sound, a slightly excited sound. Although any sound seemed animated after the slow, methodical turning of the pages and the dreadful silence that preceded the next. He flicked back several sheets, then returned to where he had read to, then checked his
notes. From what I could tell, in my frozen state of denial, he was comparing a symbol that appeared in each of those spots. A stylised palm tree with a strange pointed cap at its top.
"What do you make of that?" he asked, pointing to the symbol.
"A palm tree."
"With a Phrygian cap," he added. A what? "This is good."
"Why?"
"It's a symbol of Haiti."
"What's Haiti got to do with Roan McLaren?"
"Well, ordinarily, it hasn't got anything to do with him," Ryan explained. "But these symbols here," he pointed to a page with several different symbols against large figures and some of those words like Alice and Angel Dust and Mister Blue. "I'm thinking they're for people. Important people. Such as his largest suppliers."
"Why would you think that?" Granted some of the dollar amounts - or was that weights? - seemed large, but it really could have meant anything.
"The palm tree," he announced, sitting back in his seat with a satisfied air.
"The symbol for Haiti?"
"Yeah. And I'm guessing a certain Haitian born Auckland drug lord would use a symbol like that, don't you?"
I frowned at him.
"This ledger's a goldmine, Marie." I'd never want to wear gold ever again. "Not only does it shed some very disturbing light on how McLaren settled unpaid debts." My stomach roiled. "But it ties Wellington's premier criminal to at least one of New Zealand's most wanted drug traffickers of all time. You know what you've done?" he asked, seeming elated by whatever he'd uncovered between those filthy pages.
I shook my head, frown still in place. He reached up and rubbed his thumb over the creases in my forehead and smiled, intense brown eyes staring straight through me.
"You've handed the Crown Prosecutor, not one, but two and possibly more, criminals at once." he lifted a hand between us and started to count fingers off. "Roan McLaren. Declan King. And I'm betting the boys on the Organised Crime Squad assigned to CIB Narcotics would be able to work out the rest of these symbols as well."
He stared at me for a long while, maybe expecting me to clap my hands? I blinked back at him. Sure, two drug lords instead of one has to be good, but I'd always known the ledger held more evil bastards than just Roan McLaren inside.
"Babe," Ryan said, with a little frustrated sigh at my lack of enthusiasm. "This is better than I first thought. This is your ticket to freedom."
It is?
"I gotta call Dominic and let him know."
He leaned forward and gave me a peck on the lips, then stood up already pulling his cellphone from his jeans pocket. I watched him walk towards the hallway, probably to have the call in privacy, away from Daisy's prying ears.
Thinking of my daughter I glanced over and saw Enchanted was nearing the end. I sat stunned for a second, unsure if I should let the emotion, I was beginning to feel, in. Daisy looked so happy singing the last song along with her favourite animated friends. I wanted her to always feel this content and safe and alive.
Could it really be our ticket? Could the blasted thing actually be good for something in the end? I'd always thought it would mean disaster for McLaren, would condemn Rick, and could mean Daisy and my deaths. I'd never dared hope for more.
I wanted to embrace that burgeoning sensation, that had started in the middle of my chest and spread out as Ryan had become more and more excited. I wanted to feel it fill me up, melt the ice that had surrounded me for so long, and enjoy the burn like a bright sun.
I wanted to. Dear God, I wanted to.
Instead I sucked in a deep breath, brushed my jeans clean, and headed to the kitchen to start dinner.
Twenty minutes later Ryan found me.
Dinner hadn't been started, but there wasn't a speck of dirt in that kitchen to be seen.
Chapter 28
In Your Dreams
Ryan stood in the kitchen doorway and watched me for a good two minutes. He didn't say anything, he just watched. Like he so often does. Not judgementally, but as though he's trying to see things from my point of view, see what makes me breathe, pant, beg for more. Or in this case, what makes me find an old toothbrush and detail clean the grout between the tiles with bleach.
The kitchen smelled like a chemical factory, my fingertips were red; I hadn't been able to find rubber gloves.
Ryan took it all in silently, then slowly walked over to breakfast bar and sat down.
"There's frozen pizza in the fridge, Abi threw a Hawaiian and a Supreme in, not sure what we'd like, I guess."
My scrubbing slowed down, my vision began to widen, and my breathing started to settle.
"You choose. You know what Daisy would like," he added.
I turned the tap on above the sink and washed my hands, then without saying a word walked to the oven and switched it on. I stared at the orange light next to its dials for several seconds, then took a deep breath and spun back to face him.
He held my gaze, his eyes drawing me in. They said, You OK?
I nodded.
"You sure?"
I shook my head.
"Want a hug?"
I bit my lip.
"At least I know what to buy you for Christmas," he said, as he slipped out from behind the counter and walked across the space to reach me.
"What?" I asked, looking up at his face as he got closer.
"Gloves." His lips quirked slightly at the edges. "And cleaner that smells better than bleach."
I let him wrap me up in his big arms and pull me against his chest.
"You can get lemon-pine smelling ones," I offered.
He made an argh! sound.
"Lavender?"
"Hmmm."
"There's even orange."
"I could go orange," he declared.
"OK. Orange."
"Marie?"
"Yeah?"
"Dominic was with a QC, an old school buddy, when I phoned." I held my breath. Queen's Counsel, a senior lawyer. Someone with a bit of legal clout. "I told him what we found. Dom's good friend is approaching the Crown Prosecutor right now on your behalf. They're... cautiously optimistic. But in legalese that's down right excitable. Dom thinks the Crown won't have a choice but to agree to their terms. He expects to be able to give us an answer in about an hour's time."
His hands ran up and down my arms, as though chasing goosebumps, but I don't think he was consciously doing it.
"It's almost over, Tiger."
I didn't know what to say. I didn't think I could say anything. I held on tight and just breathed. Ryan let me. Giving me, again, exactly what I needed to survive.
"Shall we have some dinner, then get Daisy to bed," he suggested. "Even if we get an answer tonight, there's no point heading in until the morning. I want Nick on standby for extra security for you and Daisy when we do."
I nodded, needing to do something to keep my mind off what the QC was saying on my behalf to the Crown Prosecutor right now. Needing to avoid all the what-ifs and what-could-be. And needing to keep my hands off the toothbrush.
I slipped the pizza in the oven and watched as Ryan poured us both ginger beers, he held a third glass up.
"Daisy?"
"She loves ginger beer."
"Girl after my own heart," he declared, and a little more ice melted, a little more of the room came back into focus. And a little more of my body - respiration, heartbeat - became mine.
Dinner wasn't exactly strained, Ryan kept up an easy banter, engaging Daisy, trying to engage me. I tried to keep up, for my daughter, for him. He had Daisy in fits of giggles, which made my lips smile even if the rest of me was hanging in some kind of stasis. But it was hard. This was only one hurdle of many, but it was, in my mind, the biggest.
I couldn't allow myself to dwell on the tattooed freak or the ex-cop Simon Andrews. If I did that, I'd be an absolute mess, and I had Daisy to think of. But stopping myself from thinking of the legal side of my problems wasn't so easy to deny. Despite my history. Despite my association with the man who laundered McLaren's
dirty money. Despite the fact I stole from a drug king. I am a good person. A law abiding person. I'd like to think a morally upright person.
At least I was trying to be.
So the ledger and my possession of it, and what that could mean legally for me, was definitely forefront in my mind.
Forty minutes after Ryan had finished his call with Dominic, he received a text message back. Delay. We're working on it. Have faith, it said. An hour became an indefinite amount of time and I started to pace.
It was Ryan who put Daisy to bed. Ryan who sang Daisy Bell as she drifted off to sleep. Ryan who tucked her sheets in tightly, and kissed her sweet, sweet head. I watched, but I was trembling. From head to toe, and I couldn’t let her see me like that.
I'd thought I was happy to be rid of my icy confident shield. But I was drowning here. Ironic, isn't it? It was me drowning in Ryan's mother's house. Not him.
He was so much stronger than I'd ever been.
"Hey," he whispered, as he pulled the door to Daisy's room shut. "Hang in there, babe. We'll get through this."
My head shook from side to side. "How?" I whispered.
"Well, first a hot bath with copious amounts of bubbles." I blinked up at him. "You smell like bleach." He wrapped me in his arms and nuzzled his face into my neck, despite the bleach comment. "I wanna smell my Marie," he murmured.
"You want to see me naked," I pointed out.
"Yeah, that too. But if you want to bathe alone, I can manage."
"I don't know if I want a bath at all," I argued.
"Come on." He started pulling me towards the bathroom off our bedroom. "Let me run one and then you can decide."
He settled me on a stool in the corner and then fussed around pouring bath foam into the running water and lighting a couple of candles on the windowsill. I couldn't help but smile at his efforts. At any other time, with any other thoughts running through my head, it would have been romantic.
He turned to look at me, that intense gleam in his eyes. The candlelight flickered, making the colours melt and gold and reds flare up in amongst the brown.
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