by Iain North
He gave Amber five, and she re-emerged dressed in tight black Lycra shorts and a lilac bra top, hair scraped back over her face and tied it up in a ponytail. There was a stirring in his shorts.
‘You lead on.’
They wandered down the corridor, took the stairs and passed through the empty reception area into the cool morning air. The night had all but dissolved. The sky was lighter, the sun up. But like a cooker, the day needed pre-heat time before they could appreciate its full effect.
Amber set off first, jogging through the car park and out on to the access road. Jim followed, keeping pace well with her. But he knew she was just warming up and a much tougher challenge was still to come.
‘So what are you thinking about?’ Amber asked.
‘Hmm?’ Jim grunted.
‘You said you run when you need to think about things.’
‘The story I suppose.’
‘Problems?’
‘Not really. We’ll just have to play it by ear.’
‘Are you going back to see Siobhan?’
‘Probably. ‘
They ran on in silence for another couple of streets before Jim spoke again.
‘I wanted to apologise for the way I treated you yesterday.’
‘I didn’t mind dressing up as a drug addict.’
‘No, earlier in the day.’
‘When you dumped me in Kyle of Lochalsh?’
‘Yes. Sorry. It was rude.’
‘It’s forgotten.’
‘It’s just...’ He paused. ‘It was just Grant Bell.’
It wasn’t really what he wanted to say. What he wanted to say was: ‘It was just seeing you with Grant Bell.’
‘You two don’t get on, do you?’
‘Never have.’
‘He was okay. A bit arrogant, I suppose.’
‘Arrogant? That’s the least of it.’
Jim wanted to tell her to stay away from Bell. But that would come out sounding a bit too much like a father and daughter chat, the sort of thing he’d said time and time again to Kirsty. He wanted to be anything but a father to Amber. Even though he was old enough, as George insisted on reminding him, repeatedly.
‘Just watch yourself, that’s all.’ That was neutral enough, a bit of friendly advice from one friend to another.
Amber laughed. ‘You sound just like my dad.’
Bugger, it hadn’t worked.
‘I’ve known him a long time and he only cares about one thing. Himself.’
Amber stopped running and Jim pulled up beside her. She turned to face him, hands on hips, shoulders back, breathing deeply.
‘You don’t have to worry. I don’t fancy him, or anything. I don’t even like him very much.’
‘Oh.’ It was all Jim could manage. She took him by surprise. His heart was pounding, but that was probably just the running.
Her tone softer: ‘But it’s nice you care.’
He wanted to grab her, kiss her and make love to her right there in the street. But she was off and running again, and he was knackered.
‘Come on,’ she shouted, turning briefly, jogging backwards for a few yards, as his aching lungs battled to find enough oxygen in the whole of the world’s atmosphere to sustain his life.
*****
‘Jenny phoned while you were out.’ George was ladling a huge fried breakfast down his throat. ‘Couldn’t keep up, eh?’
‘What?’
‘Amber was back here 10 minutes ago. She’s a fit lass. But then you knew that already. ‘
‘What did Jenny want?’
‘No idea.’
Jim slumped down in the seat opposite George and snatched up his mobile phone. He dialled and waited.
‘Jenny. It’s me.’
‘Hiya. You sound breathless.’
‘I’ve been out running.’
‘What brought that on?’
‘Too many cigarettes. I thought it was time to get fit.’
‘Good for you.’
‘Are you coming home?’
‘Not yet. But I’ve got good news for you.’
‘Aye?’
‘The wedding’s back on. ‘
Big surprise. ‘What?’
‘Ron and Debbie are getting married. I got them talking and they’ve worked things out.’
‘You matchmaker.’
Jenny giggled. ‘It was easy, really.’
‘Is Ron flying out?’
‘He’s here already.’
‘And the big day?’
‘Sunday. You can make it, can’t you?’
‘I’ll phone the travel agent today.’
‘No need. I’ve booked you a flight on Saturday. It was all I could get.’
‘No problem.’
‘Pick your tickets up at Glasgow Airport. See you then.’
Jim plonked the phone back down on the table. ‘We’d better get our skates on.’
‘Yeah?’
‘Bloody Majorca beckons again. And we’ve still got a story to write.’
Jim grabbed George’s untouched glass of fresh orange juice. ‘You don’t mind, do you?’
‘Go ahead. It’s too healthy, it wouldn’t agree with my stomach.’
*****
Jim’s parking space in Bank Street was taken. But it didn’t matter. He didn’t want to be quite so close to the building this time. He pulled in a little further down the street. The white door was within sight, but they were out of view.
‘We’ll wait here until she arrives,’ he said.
Amber wiped some condensation off the windscreen with the cuff of her jumper.
‘Then what?’
‘I’ll just play the anxious dad again.’
‘And that’ll work?’
‘There are no guarantees in this job,’ George interrupted.
They waited for half an hour before Siobhan appeared. She was wearing the same heavy coat, her black shinny hair tied back sharply in a bob.
Jim quietly pulled the catch on the car door and slowly climbed out. George and Amber remained where they were, concealed behind a well-placed Transit van. She was surprised to see Jim, but not worried.
‘Hi.’ She smiled broadly, fumbling for keys in her jacket pocket. ‘I didn’t expect to see you here. Your appointment is not until this afternoon.
‘I need a word.’
‘I’m a journalist,’ Jim informed her. ‘Can we talk?’
‘What about?’ She moved towards the door, irritated at this revelation. She still hadn’t found her keys.
Jim stepped in front of her. ‘Providon, I need to find out more about it.’
‘She wasn’t you daughter, was she?’
‘No.’
‘So you were wasting my time.’
Jim nodded as she tried to push him aside. He held his ground, preventing her from reaching the door.
‘One of the prisoners you work worth has it.’
‘It’s perfectly lega1,’ Siobhan pointed out.
‘Tell me where it comes from.’
Irritable now: ‘It’s no secret.’
‘Tell me, then.’
Siobhan paused before speaking.
‘We’re involved in a clinical trial because we work with a lot of HIV positive clients.’
‘All I need is a name, then I’ll leave you alone.’
‘You’d better come upstairs. ‘
He followed her into her office. She closed the door firmly behind them. ‘We were approached by a drug company. They said they had a new drug that could help with our HIV work. They needed people for the trial.’
‘And you agreed?’ She nodded. ‘They sent me some scientific papers. They’re getting some very promising lab results.’
‘The company, what’s it called?’
Siobhan sifted through a pile of business cards in a box on her desk. She lifted one out. ‘Caleypharma.’
Jim had never heard of the company.
‘One of their reps came into the office,’ Siobhan continued.’ He told
us all about the drug.’
She handed him the card. Jim took out his notebook and scribbled down the address; a unit on an industrial estate in Inverness.
‘Thanks.’
*****
Jim dropped George at the railway station. ‘Are you sure you don’t want to come with us?’
‘I’ve got a paper to put together. The editor will have my balls in a sling if I don’t get some work done.’
‘Thanks for all your help. I’ll be in touch in a day or too.’
‘Aye. Let me know how things go.’
The two men got out of the car, leaving Amber in the back.
‘Just mind you don’t do anything you might regret,’ George said as he grabbed his overnight bag from the boot.
Jim wasn’t quite sure what he meant.
‘I saw the way you were this morning,’ George continued. ‘Just keep your hands in your pockets.’
‘Thanks for the advice,’ Jim said dismissively.’
‘Mind you do.’
George wandered across the square and into the railway station.
Jim climbed back into the car and pulled on his seatbelt. He inched out into the traffic and drove off.
Amber spoke: ‘I could hear what you were saying.’
Jim’s maintained his attention on the road ahead.
‘About me.’
He glanced at her.
‘About you and me,’ she pressed.
‘Don’t pay any attention to George. He’s got a vivid imagination.’
She gazed wistfully out the window at the shoppers bumping into each other on the pavement.
‘Why did you run with me this morning?’
‘I thought it would do me good.’ He lit up a cigarette and rolled down his window.
She raised her eyebrows. ‘Nothing else?’
‘Such as?’
‘Maybe you wanted to be alone with me.’
Jim jerked the steering wheel round and the car skidded into a side street.
‘Hey,’ she shouted. ‘Be careful.’
‘We need to sort this out once and for all.’ He braked sharply, scrapping his tyres along the rough edge of the pavement. Threw his cigarette out into the street. Turned to face her.
‘What’s happening between us?’
Amber shrugged her shoulders.
‘I’m tired of pretending,’ he sighed.
‘Pretending?’
‘Pretending that we’re just colleagues, fellow journalists working together on a story.’
‘We are.’
He reached round, held her shoulders in his hands. ‘I know we are,’ he scowled, ‘But there’s more.’
‘Is there?’
‘I want you.’
Amber gazed into his eyes, uncertain, blinking once, a nervous reaction to his fixed stare. Jim held her at arm’s length for a moment. It was now or never. He knew he shouldn’t. But there was something inside him. Call it lust, call it recklessness, call it what the hell you like. He didn’t care. It was controlling him. He pulled her towards him, driving his lips down hard on to her mouth, felt her lips part, pushing his tongue through, savouring the warm moisture within. She lifted a hand to the back of his neck, stroked the skin, grabbed him and pulled him into her.
‘You can’t,’ she mumbled.
‘I can,’ he pleaded.
Their tongues entwined, teeth knocked. His hand cupped her breast, caressed the ripe orb beneath her jumper. Felt the nipple through the coarse knit.
‘Not here,’ she moaned.
‘Where?’
‘The hotel.’
He tore himself away from her. She smiled, lips glistening with his saliva.
‘Okay,’ he said. ‘If you’re sure.’
She nodded.
He shoved the car into gear and drove. Drove fast, faster and faster, through a red light, to the hotel. They were in her room, on the double bed, frantically tearing clothes off. Holding, kissing, cuddling and caressing. Moaning, sighing, crying.
Jim opened a box of condoms taken from the drug centre. He pulled one on as Amber climbed on top of him, legs wrapped firmly round his thighs. He was in her. He was in her at last. And he was so hard, harder than he had ever been before. He sucked on her fingers. Let them go. Sucked on them again. Let them go. She pulled her hands down his chest, nails digging into the rough skin, tugging hairs out. She threw her head back, rising and falling on top of him. She was tight, so very tight. So tight it was painful. Up and down she rocked, ascending his shaft, to the very top, then plunging down like an elevator in freefall. Again and again, over and over, again and again. He grabbed her thin waist, held her hips, pulled her down, let her go like a coiled spring, pulling her down again and again, on to him, until he was on the verge of coming.
‘Not yet,’ she moaned, ‘Not yet.’
He screwed his eyes up. ‘I can’t hold on.’
‘Fucking hold on!’ Amber cried.
He held on. Kept his eyes closed. But he had to look at her. Had to see her. He opened his eyes. She was beautiful, so beautiful, her head rolling back, eyes closed. She swept frenetic hands back through matted hair, sweat gleaming on her forehead. He couldn’t help himself. It was so long since he’d felt the soft warm touch of her skin. A red hot bolt of lightening consumed his erection. He shoved his hips hard up under her, his body totally consumed by a powerful surge of pleasure. And he exploded inside her, forcing himself deeper and deeper into her until he had nothing left to give. She cried out, held her body tight for a moment and then slumped down on top of him, covering his face and chest in passionate kisses.
Jim wrapped his arms around her, held Amber, felt the pounding of her heart against his.
‘I love you,’ he whispered.
Jim opened his eyes. Amber was perched forward in the car seat, watching him.
‘What did you say?’
‘Sorry?’
‘You said something about us needing to sort things out. Then you went all quiet on me. What’s wrong?’
Jim relaxed his grip on the steering wheel, starred out along the line of terraced stones houses ahead of them.
‘Nothing.’
He eased the gearbox into first and pulled away, the nearside tyres scuffing the kerb for a metre or so until they broke free.
*****
Chapter 15
Billy Reid scowled as he pulled away from the hotel in Strathcarron. He gazed into the rear view mirror for a moment before returning his attention to the road ahead.
‘Exactly where do you want to go?’ he asked, irritation in his voice.
Sam tapped her broken nails noisily on the plastic door armrest but said nothing.
‘You must want to go somewhere.’
‘Just drive,’ she muttered.
‘What is wrong with you?’ he asked, looking across his shoulder at her dipped head.
She didn’t respond to his attempt at eye contact.
‘I need to get away from here.’
‘Are you in trouble?’ She didn’t answer.
‘You are, aren’t you?’
She shrugged.
‘Is it the police?’
Sam shook her head.
He felt relieved. The last thing he wanted was the police pulling him over.
‘Who, then?’
No reply.
They drove on through the night, along the open road into Lochcarron village. The only sign of life a couple of lads stumbling home from the pub. They passed out the other side of the village. The tarmac narrowed to single track, twisting up over open moor, down through a narrow gorge. There were no on-coming headlights. Billy pushed the accelerator down.
He could do with getting rid of her. Quickly. He was nearly there and he didn’t need this. How he wished he’d driven by when he saw her hunched by the roadside. Why did he pick her up? He needed to be alone.