Amber Storm (Assassin In Paradise Book 1)

by Jack Stroke

“Amber. Come back.” The agitation in Mother’s voice steadily increased. “Amber!”

  Stepping out onto the street felt both exhilarating and terrifying. Amber didn’t know that much about Diamond Logisitcs, but she did know one thing - people didn’t quit. It had never been stated outright, but always strongly suggested there was only way to leave — in a box. Mother wasn’t the type to let people walk away.

  Somewhere the clock was ticking.

  Amber was on borrowed time.

  12

  The cabbie smiled broadly as he grabbed Amber’s bag. She had to resist the impulse to punch him squarely in the face. The smile wasn’t the issue. She wasn’t used to letting people touch her belongings. That would all have to change. Maybe not the wariness of strangers touching her possessions, but altering her responses to everyday situations. Reprogram herself.

  She had flown economy to get here, and that was an experience in itself. It had been a long time since she had flown economy. Or any kind of flight with members of the general public. And now she was taking a taxi, which gave her a small measure of pride. Part of her desperately wanted to hire a car, to have that control. A taxi was good practice though. Baby steps.

  “Where you off to, luv?” the taxi driver asked, slamming shut the trunk. He was a large fellow with a belly so big it wasn’t clear how he would squeeze between the seat and the steering wheel.

  “Umm, Paradise by the Bay Holiday Cabins.”

  “Oh, Paradise Cove?” he said with surprise. “Sure thing. This your only bag?”

  “Yeah.”

  “On holiday?” he said with a confused look.

  “I guess.”

  “Wow, you pack light for a lady, you don’t mind me saying. Lotta women have three or four cases and I almost need a forklift to shift ’em, you know what I’m saying? Ha, ha.”

  They moved to their respective sides, Amber unsure whether to sit in the front or the back. She chose the back, thinking it would discourage conversation. She was incorrect.

  The driver leaned between the seats, giving her a strong whiff of stale coffee and garlic. “Stavros.”

  “Amber.”

  His palms were soft and sweaty. Hands shaken, Stavros turned back towards the front to drive. They moved slowly out of the airport car park towards the freeway.

  “What does ‘I guess’ mean?” he asked, eyeing her in the mirror. Immediately Amber was transported back to the hit. The man with the striking green eyes. Driving away from his house. He had looked at her in the mirror the same way. At least Amber wouldn’t have to kill the cab driver. Or hoped she wouldn’t.

  “Luv?”

  “Sorry, what?”

  “I said, what does ‘I guess’ mean? I asked if you were on holiday and you said ‘I guess’.”

  “I guess means it’s not really planned. I’m just kind of doing things, not thinking too much.”

  Easiest way to kill the cabbie - wrap piano wire around his throat with quick, concise movements. Strangle him as he drove. He would fight back, of course, maybe put a foot through the windscreen. It would be futile. Unconsciously her hand found the wire in her handbag, ready just in case. Prudent to wait until he stopped though. She wouldn’t want to risk another accident.

  “Improvised holiday, ’eh?” Stavros said with a booming laugh. “I like it. Wish I could afford to do something like that. Betchya everyone does. You’re a lucky lady.”

  “Maybe.”

  Taking the stolen photo of the two girls on the beach out of her pocket, Amber studied it once more even though she knew the image intimately. She wasn’t sure why she still had it.

  “So, what do you do that you can afford to take improvised holidays on a whim?”

  Without intending to, Amber analysed his language, trying to detect any anomalies. Making sure he really was a taxi driver and not a plant. An agent of some kind. His enormous stomach alone suggested not, and yet one could never be too careful. Besides, how could Mother have known she was coming here when Amber herself had no idea?

  “What do I do? Logistics.”

  “Sounds vague. Logistics. Could be anything.”

  “I think that’s the point,” Amber said.

  The cabbie had no idea what she meant and yet ploughed on regardless. “What is it? To do with business and stuff?”

  “Something like that. Doesn’t matter now though. I quit all that.”

  “And why did you decide to visit our little neck of the woods? What made you decide on Paradise Cove?”

  The ocean came into view out the passenger side window, drawing a smile out of Amber. Why not come here? It seemed as good a place to die as anywhere. She didn’t say that to Stavros, though.

  Instead, she said: “I came here as a girl with my best friend and her family. A long time ago now.” She glanced at the photo once more. “It’s the last place I remember being happy.”

  13

  The taxi pulled up at Paradise by the Bay Holiday Cabins shortly after. The place looked exactly as Amber remembered, except smaller. Faded sign out front, the paint job on the once brightly coloured cabins all peeling and cracked. That sense that time had stopped somehow and forgotten to start up again. Exactly what Amber was hoping for. It felt homey.

  There may have been plenty of expensive, fancy hotels at the nearby Port Simmons. Paradise by the Bay was different. It was family-style accommodation. Half a dozen cabins with beds and a kitchen. All you needed for a cheap holiday. And the location couldn’t be beat, directly across the road from miles and miles of white sandy beach and crystal clear water.

  Standing as still as possible, Amber breathed in the fresh sea air. Memories of arriving here as a girl filled her. The excitement of those first moments. The two weeks stretching out ahead, a seemingly infinite amount of time. The joy of having too many things to do mixed with the almost overwhelming desire to do everything all at once. And above all, the specialness of being able to share this with her best friend, Megan. Being invited here by her and her family, year after year.

  “Where is everyone?” Amber asked the cab driver as he deposited her bag next to her.

  “Everyone who?”

  “People. Tourists.”

  “Off-season, luv. It will stay quiet for the next few months.”

  Amber couldn’t believe it. The sun shone down on her, a little warm in her pantsuit and yet perfect for swimming or getting about in shorts and a tank top.

  “Yes, but this weather…”

  “The weather doesn’t change. Some times we’re busy, sometimes we’re not. Actually, here never gets too busy. Port Simmons is a different story.” He waddled back to the driver side door. “Enjoy your unplanned holiday. You need a ride anywhere, give me a call.”

  He beeped the horn twice as he drove slowly away.

  Standing there, the little details came rushing back to her. The smell of the saltwater on the air. The irregular shape of the paving stones leading to the cabins. For the first time in a long time, Amber had the inkling of feeling pretty good. It was all so familiar. Comforting. She half expected to turn and see Lion the cat sitting on his flat rock near reception, enjoying the sun.

  Amber turned and the sight of a fluffy, orange cat struck her to her core with the fear of God.

  14

  One of the many joys of visiting Paradise by the Bay was reconnecting with Lion the cat each year. Lion lived at the holiday cabins. He was a friendly thing who loved a pat and had a particular flat rock he enjoyed sunning himself on every morning.

  The trouble was, he was there right now. Amber blinked. She wasn’t imagining it. The bright orange feline, covered in fur. Far too much fur for such a warm climate. Sitting there surrounded by tall grass, looking like a little lion. It was the exact same cat. And yet it couldn’t be.

  “Hey, puss…” Amber said, squatting down and rubbing her fingers together. After a standoffish moment or two, the cat obliged, bouncing over, happy for some attention. Amber picked it up and checked its collar. Sure en
ough, the tag confirmed the animal’s name.

  This fluffy animal looked to be about five years old. The math didn’t add up. She hadn’t been here for twenty-five years. Cats don’t live that long.

  “Lion?” she whispered at the cat, not that it was about to divulge its secrets. Of course, it could have been a coincidence, but it paid not to believe in coincidences, not in Amber’s line of work. Which is what concerned her.

  She glanced around once more. Was all of this too perfect? The beach, the apartments, Lion?

  Amber’s mind leapt to whatever conclusions it could. What if she was dead? What if this was heaven and her mind slowly had to catch up with that? Not that Amber believed in heaven. She believed in death though. Had she really made it out of Mother’s office? Or was it all an illusion? Normally she wouldn’t allow herself to engage in such thoughts, but her mind hadn’t been right of late.

  Evidently she was cradling Lion a little too tightly because he squirmed and jumped to the grass, strutting towards reception.

  Unsettled, Amber decided to do the same, not convinced she was either dead or alive and needing a little more information before making the call.

  The problem was, inside, things only became stranger.

  15

  A bell dinged above her as Amber entered. The space had only two doors - the main entrance and one leading to an office behind. Not good if she needed to make a hasty exit. She told herself to relax. There was no reason she would need to make a quick escape, no matter how much Lion the cat had unsettled her.

  Looking through the other door, she could see movement in the back office.

  “Be with you in a moment,” came a lady’s voice. Amber assessed the woman to be in her sixties and not providing any sort of threat.

  She glanced about as she waited in the reception area. Maps and flyers for touristy activities lined the crowded space. Was this reception the same as she remembered? She couldn’t tell. She had no memory of the space at all. It was possible she had never set foot in here as a girl.

  “Sorry, I wasn’t expecting anyone in today. How can I help you?” a kindly woman asked, emerging from the back office. She was short and plump.

  “I just need a room for a while. A week maybe. Or two. Maybe more.”

  It took a moment to realise the woman was looking at her oddly.

  “I… I don’t have a booking. Sorry.”

  “Amber?”

  It was as though the lady’s face unexpectedly came into focus.

  “Joan?”

  The woman was definitely Joan - her best friend Megan’s Mum. Joan who had taken Amber with them on all those family holidays. That same kind face, looking as though it could use a good iron now, but beaming out from behind the wrinkles. Joan had always been small yet heavy.

  The fear of being dead rattled through Amber once more.

  The woman shuffled around the desk and gave her an enormous hug. It was smothering and awkward and then suddenly familiar and comforting all at once to the point Amber had to hold back tears. It had been some time since anyone had hugged her, especially a loving hug.

  When Amber pushed away to compose herself, Joan grabbed both of her hands with no intention of letting go.

  “Joan… What… What are you doing here?”

  “We moved here maybe five years ago. We own the place now.”

  “You own Paradise by the Bay? You and Pablo?”

  “No, Pablo is no longer with us.”

  “Oh, Joan. I am so sorry…”

  “Don’t be sorry. It’s not your fault. Not unless you’re the colon cancer that killed him about eight years back now. No, we always loved this place, you know that. It was time for a change of pace. We had Pablo’s life insurance, so we shelled out for this old dump.”

  “Wow…” Amber said, her mind adjusting to the shock and swiftly recalculating. She liked Joan, at least she had as a child. No, she loved Joan. However, staying here with her now wasn’t exactly what Amber had in mind. Not that she knew what she had in mind. Trouble was, she had already asked for the room. Tricky to backtrack now. Joan still wasn’t ready to let go of her hands.

  “And look at you,” Joan said admiringly. “So thin. You look exactly as you did… How long is it since we last saw you?”

  Amber bristled, fighting the urge to run.

  “I don’t know.” She did know. She knew exactly. It was twelve years. “Ten years… ish,” she said, attempting to sound vague.

  “Ten years. You just dropped off the face of the earth… What are you doing now that keeps you looking so fit and healthy?”

  “Logistics.”

  “Logistics…” Joan’s eyes felt like they were burning into Amber.

  The older woman finally let go of her hands and scurried around the desk. “Look at me, forgetting my job here. It’s such a shock to see you. Now, you said you wanted a cabin.”

  “Oh, yeah. I mean, it doesn’t matter. You’re probably full.”

  “Full? Phhfft. Never at this time of year. Never ever really, but especially not at this time of year.”

  A chill scorched through Amber. She had to get out of here. Now. Yes, it would be awkward. That didn’t matter.

  “Oh, you know, maybe I don’t…”

  “Don’t what?” Joan’s eyes turned icy, and suddenly Amber was sixteen and being caught sneaking in when she and Megan had been out drinking.

  “I can’t… I mean… I don’t want to be any trouble.”

  “Trouble? You’re after a place to stay, and we have nothing but empty cabins. How is that trouble?”

  Amber felt herself back towards the door. “Yes… I…”

  Joan cocked a hand on her hip. “So what, you are just going to disappear again for another ten years?”

  “No, I mean… I… Say hello to Megan for me.”

  “Say hello to her yourself,” Joan said, decidedly unimpressed.

  The bell above the door rang and in walked an even more familiar face from Amber’s past. Boxed in, Amber could have used that extra exit right now.

  “Oh, shoot.”

  16

  Time can be cruel. Staring into her childhood best friend’s face, Amber became aware of just how long she had been away. The intervening years had not been kind to Megan.

  The pretty, youthful face Amber recalled so well, lost behind an additional ten pounds and blotchy skin. Amber immediately felt self-conscious about her own looks, knowing aside from her facial scar, she looked much the same as she did last time they met.

  “Wow, Amber?”

  They hugged, the embrace nowhere close to as warm and comforting as Joan’s.

  “What are you doing here?”

  “I’m just…” What was she doing here? “On holiday?”

  “Are you asking me or telling me?” Megan said.

  “On holiday,” Amber repeated more confidently. “Just arrived.”

  “Okay. Where are you staying?”

  “She’s not sure,” Joan chipped in. “She’s either staying here for a week or two, or she is running away again.”

  “No… I’m not running away…”

  “Well, you have to stay here then,” Joan said. “Don’t be silly. Of course.”

  “Of course…” Amber repeated.

  Amber’s eyes went from Megan to the awkward young man at her back. Tall and slim, he looked to be in his early twenties, with a body that was built by regular time out in the water. His handsome face smiled shyly, cheeks flushed with a slight tinge of red. An employee she assumed.

  “You remember Ben, don’t you?” Megan said.

  “Ben? Jeez…”

  “Ben, this is your godmother, Amber.”

  “Ben…” Amber repeated absently, unable to wipe the shock from her face. “But Ben is a…”

  “What?” Megan said, picking up the strand of her sentence. “A boy? Not anymore. They grow up. That’s what happens when you disappear for ten years.”

  Gosh, he’d grown. He had a good foot on
his mother. Two on Joan. Amber and Ben regarded one another, neither sure whether a hug or a handshake was in order.

  “Do you remember me at all?”

  “Of course.” His voice was deep and melodic. “We met when I was five.”

  “That’s right.”

  They settled on a shake, Amber’s hand disappearing into his firm palm. Just like with Lion, the math messed with Amber’s head. No matter how logical it might be, she couldn’t match the young adult standing in front of her with the little kid she had met all those years ago.

  “So, you’re what? Seventeen?”

  “That’s right.”

  “You don’t look it.”

  “I know. Seventeen going on twenty-five, right?” Megan said, poking him in the ribs.

  “Mum…” He squirmed away, uncomfortable being the centre of attention. “Well, I’ve got stuff to do.”

  “What? Urgent playing on your Xbox?”

  Ben ignored her. “Nice to meet you… Again.”

  “Yes,” Amber said. “You too.”

  The tall boy loped out of the room.

  “Handsome, right?” Megan said. “I did something right with my life at least.”

  “Oh, don’t be silly, Megan,” Joan scolded. “You have done plenty of things right.”

  “Remember, he’s only seventeen,” Megan said to Amber. “So keep your hands off him, all right?”

  Megan’s attempt at humour sunk like a lead balloon.

  “So are you staying or what?”

  Nothing was keeping Amber here and yet at the same time she couldn’t leave now.

  “Yes. A room sounds great,” Amber lied. This was good. She wanted to be a normal person. Staying with old friends is what normal people would do, isn’t it? Besides, if it didn’t work out, there was nothing stopping her skipping out in the middle of the night.

  17

  When they were younger, no one could shut Megan and Amber up. They would talk endlessly about any and everything for every second they were together. What was it Joan used to say? ‘You two could talk underwater.’ Now, taking the short stroll from reception to the cabin, Amber couldn’t think of a single thing to say to her former friend, no matter how much she racked her brain.