Amber Storm (Assassin In Paradise Book 1)

by Jack Stroke

  Twenty or so boats sat in the marina, with spots for hundreds more. Boats that cost more than most people’s homes. Amber strode happily, reminding herself to slow at regular intervals, this being a walk for pleasure, not exercise. The sun beat down, offset by the breeze off the water. The water look so inviting she decided to go for a swim the moment she arrived back.

  As she moved, thoughts peppered her mind. Could she actually live like this? With nothing to do except enjoy paradise? Why not? The last twelve years working as an assassin had put plenty of money in her bank account. Didn’t she have everything she needed for life right here? Sure she would get bored here eventually, but that was tomorrow’s problem. Right now, what did it matter?

  Somewhere between Port Simmons and Paradise Cove, the path became less defined and rough, until there was no path at all. It was more like a challenging trek, scrambling over rocks and fighting through trees. The solitude was invigorating. Maybe she could do this walk every day? Even her shopping bags growing steadily heavier didn’t phase her. Amber welcomed the challenge.

  Pushing through the trees, an unexpected sight brought a broad smile to Amber’s face. Like a visit from a long lost friend. Hidden Beach. She hadn’t laid eyes on it for twenty-something years and never accessed it from this side before. Gosh, she loved this place. So secluded from even the quietness of Paradise Cove. Its own little world. Out in the bay, she spotted a boat hidden from Paradise Cove by the rocky outpost of The Point. The boat was a yacht or something. No, a sailboat. Amber barely knew the difference. She had some knowledge of speedboats, but nothing much larger.

  Actually, Amber had killed a man on a high-end yacht once, slitting his throat and tossing him overboard. She shoved that memory down deep inside. Already that felt like a different life.

  Deliberately avoiding thoughts of Mother and Diamond Logistics, she stopped her trek and sat to watch the boat for a few minutes. Happiness warmed her heart, as welcome as it was unfamiliar. She was so pleased to have come here. The boat reflected her mood, so peaceful out there, swaying gently in the glittering water. Maybe she should try going out on a boat again? Without, you know, the intention of killing anyone. Perhaps even get a boat of her own.

  Vaughan had a boat, didn’t he? That’s what Ben had said. She tried to tell herself the two thoughts weren’t connected. The desire to go on a boat and the thoughts of Vaughan. Was this his boat? Her mind flooded with thoughts of Vaughan’s cheeky smirk and lovely forearms.

  And annoyance he had called her kid.

  22

  “You walked?”

  “Sure,” Amber said.

  “Walked?”

  “Yeah, Mum. It’s where you put one foot in front of the other to go somewhere.”

  “From Port Simmons?” Joan said, ignoring her daughter’s input and sounding equally aghast and angry.

  “It’s not that far,” Amber said.

  “But… You had shopping and everything.”

  Joan had obviously observed her walk the last little bit.

  Amber shrugged. “Really wasn’t a big deal.”

  The three of them were standing around the Paradise by the Bay reception. Joan turned on Megan.

  “What is wrong with you?”

  “Me? What did I do?”

  “Why didn’t you lend her the car?”

  “She didn’t ask.”

  “Joan, I didn’t want the car,” Amber said. “It’s fine. I caught the bus there.”

  “See?” Megan said. “She is lucky to be back here at all if she caught the bus.”

  “I know, right? That’s why I couldn’t face it for the trip back.”

  Joan shook her head, still outraged. “You walked that whole way back and not one person stopped for you? Offered you a lift?”

  “Oh, I walked along the beach path.”

  “The beach path? From Port Simmons?” Joan said, eyes wide. “There isn’t any path for some of it, is there?”

  “Oh, like you would know, Mum,” Megan said. “I don’t think I have ever seen you even walk to the beach across the road since we moved here.”

  Amber and Megan shared a smile. Joan straightened to her full height, which wasn’t very tall.

  “Well, that was uncalled for. I think you’re very mean.” She turned to Amber. “And I think you might well be loopy. Don’t do that again.”

  With that, she stalked out of the office.

  “I can’t believe how much the same she is,” Amber said. “She has hardly changed a bit.”

  “Guess you change less once you reach a certain age. Or maybe some people don’t change. Others meanwhile disappear and come back with entirely new personalities.”

  The comment sat there, sucking all the air from the room.

  “Word is you did some crazy exercise routine this morning.”

  “Just some strength work and fitness work.”

  “I thought you were here on holiday. Are you trying to make us look bad?”

  The comment took a moment to process. Even then, Amber was unsure what her exercise had to do with Megan.

  “Well, Ben was impressed. He was obviously watching you.”

  “Yeah, I saw him. I met that guy Vaughan too. What’s his deal?”

  “Why?” Megan asked. “Are you interested in him?”

  “No, just interested. Not interested in him.”

  “He owns a boat. He is cute, but a bit young for us, I would have thought. Each to their own.”

  Amber resisted the urge to defend herself and repeat that she wasn’t interested in Vaughan.

  “He called me kid.”

  “Yeah, he calls everyone kid. Nothing special.”

  The fact he called everyone kid riled Amber almost as much as being called kid in the first place. She pushed her feelings to one side.

  “I can’t get over how big Ben is. Like a full-grown man.”

  “Ben is definitely too young for you.”

  Amber smiled patiently and they fell into an awkward quiet. There had been a place. A place Amber could recall well. A comfort level she once shared with Megan, where they could spend every waking second together for days on end and never have a single awkward moment. Amber longed to get back there, she just had no idea how.

  “Listen, Megan. Did you want to do something?”

  “I’m working.”

  Amber could see no evidence of that but she left it. “Not right now, tonight or something? Go into Port Simmons maybe? Have dinner? A girls’ night out.”

  “Yeah,” Megan said with minimal enthusiasm. “We could do that… Some time.”

  “How about tonight? No time like the present.”

  “I can’t tonight. I’m busy.”

  “Okay. Maybe tomorrow then?”

  “Maybe. I’ll have to see if I can get Mum to watch Ben,” Megan went on.

  “Watch Ben?”

  “What’s wrong with that?”

  “Nothing… I just… Does he need watching still?”

  “I’ll think about it,” Megan said, making it quite clear the conversation was over.

  23

  Amber spent the evening sitting under a palm tree as the sun slowly disappeared beyond the horizon, the bursts of bright orange pinks and reds not dissimilar to fireworks. She attempted to enjoy it more than she was. An annoyance gnawed away inside.

  Despite telling herself not to, Amber couldn’t help but keep half an eye on the owner’s cottage. There was no movement in or out, at least not from Megan.

  Amber returned to her room. When the darkness took over, she snuck out. Directly behind her cabin was a gate and the property’s rear fence. Amber followed the fence all the way to the owner’s cottage, staying hidden in the shadows. Light spilled out of the window she judged to be the lounge room. Sneaking as close as she could without being seen, Amber peered through the glass.

  Inside, Megan sat slumped on the couch, the flickering of a television lighting her face. Amber observed her for a while. The sum total of Megan’s m
ovements consisted of filling her glass from the longneck beer bottle in front of her and draining it as she watched.

  Amber snuck back to her cabin. So, that was it? Megan had a busy night drinking in front of the television? That’s why she couldn’t go out tonight? Fine, Amber thought. She wouldn’t mention the girls’ night out again and if Megan did, maybe Amber would be too busy.

  The sound of voices and movement woke Amber sometime later, out of place against the gentle lapping of the waves. Whoever they were, they were close. Too close. There was no reason for anyone to be this near her cabin. Especially not at this time of night.

  Grabbing her Sig from beneath her pillow, she slipped out of bed. Her silky pyjama shorts and tank top were not the ideal outfit, yet changing would take valuable seconds.

  Amber retrieved her night vision scope from her bag. The scope could attach to her Sig, but generally she preferred to hold it. Carefully sidestepping the tripwire, Amber eased open the front door and snuck out into the night.

  Creeping her way around the cabin, Amber followed the noises. Whoever was there was having difficulty with the rear gate. Why would anyone enter through this way? Amber could only come up with one reason, to get at her in cabin six. Had Mother sent someone? There was no way Mother would just let her walk away in the manner in which she did. And yet, Mother had no idea where she was. Besides, any of Mother’s operatives probably wouldn’t be waylaid by a gate.

  What was on the other side of the fence? Could Amber sneak around and capture the intruders from behind? No time.

  The gate opened. Scope in one hand, Sig in the other, Amber was ready to obliterate whoever came through. Until she saw it was Ben. And he wasn’t alone. The woman with him was a striking brunette. A little older than him perhaps, although not much. Had Ben lied about his age?

  Immediately it became clear why the gate had caused them so much difficulty. The twosome giggled and staggered, having had too much to drink. He shushed the woman, which only prompted more giggling.

  Without a sound, Amber withdrew to her cabin to a background noise of sloppy kissing and hushed laughter. Good on him. It’s not like there was a wide variety of choice for him of girls his age in Paradise Cove. Tourist season he would probably do quite well, although that time was limited.

  What were Amber’s godmotherly responsibilities here? Ben was too young to be drinking. With a smile, Amber recalled doing the exact same thing out one night with Megan. Sneaking out, getting drunk. Wrestling with the same back gate. On that occasion, the two of them had been considerably younger than Ben was now. Fifteen maybe? Gosh, what had happened to her life?

  Amber lay in bed, listening to the young couple as they said their goodbyes. She heard the girl ease the gate closed again and waited for Ben’s footsteps to head back to the owner’s cottage.

  Except the footsteps never came.

  24

  Exiting the cabin with slightly less caution this time, Amber found Ben lying on the ground a few yards up the path.

  “Ben?”

  “Hello.”

  “You good?”

  “Yeah, yeah. I was heading to bed but then it looked comfortable right here.” His sentence slurred together, becoming one long word.

  “Okay. But are you all right?”

  “All good.”

  Amber turned away.

  “Hey, Amber? Amber?” He tried to whisper although in his state, it came out louder than his regular speaking voice.

  “Yes?”

  “Don’t tell Mum, okay?”

  “Deal.”

  Amber watched him. He wasn’t going anywhere, not without help. She could leave him, although he could easily fall asleep and be found by Joan or Megan in the morning before he had managed to make it to his bed. And clearly he didn’t want them to know. Joan had caught teen Amber and Megan out drinking a few times and it had not been pleasant.

  “Come on,” she said, hauling Ben to his feet and supporting his weight.

  “Where are we going?”

  “You’re going to bed.”

  Assisting the inebriated seventeen-year-old was challenging work as he stumbled along. It would have been easier to flat-out carry him, although Amber wasn’t sure he would let her.

  “You have to be quiet,” Amber told him.

  “Quiet,” he repeated loudly, his breath warm with the stink of cheap spirits. He wasn’t talking much though. Past the chatty drunk stage and ready for sleep. They made it to the owner’s cottage front door. The door was locked.

  “Hey, Ben. Where’s the key?”

  No answer. Patting the front of his thigh, she couldn’t feel any keys. She did locate his wallet. Amber grabbed it and removed a key card.

  Jimmying the card between the door and the frame, Amber managed to get the flimsy lock open, despite having Ben all but lying on top of her, significantly adding to the level of difficulty. The door let out a distinctive creaking sound. Hardly loud and yet filling the otherwise silent air.

  “Which is your room, Ben?”

  Again, no answer. The last thing she needed was to wake Joan or Megan by the two of them barging into the wrong room. Luckily his was easy to recognise thanks to the decoration of some old stickers adorning the frame.

  Amber directed him towards the door and then changed her mind. The boy needed water. His hangover tomorrow would be brutal enough as it was. She shuffled him into the kitchen and forced about two glasses down his throat before he refused to have any more. Two was better than nothing.

  As she put the glass down, she froze, hearing something. A moment passed and no one appeared. It must have been nothing. Seeing Joan standing there would have come as no surprise. She always seemed to have a sixth sense for this sort of thing.

  Easing Ben back to the corridor, Amber found herself impressed by his physique. With a little work, he could have a highly functional, muscular build. She opened his door and lowered him onto his bed, placing his wallet on the table beside him. He was asleep before he even made contact with the pillow.

  “You’re welcome,” she said, even though he had said nothing. The situation brought a smile to her face. Familiar and yet different. Heading back the way she came, Amber slipped silently out of the bedroom.

  “What are you doing?”

  The unexpected voice made Amber jump a mile.

  25

  “I said, what are you doing?”

  Megan stood there, hands on hips. Maybe she inherited some of Joan’s late-night detecting abilities. She certainly was every bit as scary as Amber remembered Joan being.

  “Amber?”

  There was probably a simple lie Amber could have told to get herself out of this, but at that moment she couldn’t come up with one.

  “What are you doing?”

  Megan’s cheeks glowed and she made no effort to keep her voice down.

  “Nothing.”

  “Nothing?”

  Another door opened and Joan appeared, looking quite a sight with her long, white hair shooting off in all directions. “Girls, girls,” she whispered, “what’s going on?”

  Joan wore an ancient nightgown. The sight of it struck Amber like a blow to the face. She had seen Joan in this nightie before. Had she worn this exact thing all those years earlier, catching Amber and Megan sneaking in late at night? The thought evoked an involuntary smile.

  “What’s funny?” Megan asked.

  “Oh… I don’t know. Nothing,” Amber said, no hope of explaining herself.

  “You’re not going to think this is so funny in a minute,” Megan said.

  “Why? What’s happened?” Joan asked.

  “I don’t know,” Megan said. “All I know is what I can see and that is her sneaking out of my seventeen-year-old son’s bedroom at two in the morning.”

  “And you think… What?” Amber said. “What do you think is going on?”

  “I have no idea, that’s why I suggest you tell me.”

  Joan’s head snapped back and forth between
them like a spectator at a tennis match.

  “I can’t,” Amber said after some thought.

  “Can’t what?”

  “I can’t tell you what’s going on.”

  “Right,” Megan replied, increasingly flustered.

  “Megan…” Joan said.

  “Look at her, Mum. Look at what she’s wearing.”

  Amber’s silky plum pyjamas had never felt so short. While perfectly appropriate as bed attire, they weren’t the sort of outfit one would wear out in public.

  “He’s seventeen. Seventeen. A child. What was she doing in there… Wearing that… And refusing to say what…”

  Amber’s eyes narrowed. “What are you accusing me of exactly?”

  “I think you know.”

  “Oh, Megan,” Joan said.

  “Mum, we don’t know her. She’s a stranger.”

  “It’s Amber.”

  “Exactly. Amber who we haven’t seen or heard from in ten years. Maybe she’s a serial abuser. Maybe this is what she does. Seduces young men.”

  “You think I’m a paedophile?” Amber said.

  “I don’t know what you are. That’s the point.”

  “He’s seventeen. I wouldn’t —”

  “How would we know? It’s not like you don’t have form.”

  “Form? What does that mean?”

  “You kissed Richie Samuels…”

  “Richie Samuels?” Joan said with unnecessary alarm. “Who is Richie Samuels?”

  “Richie Samuels?” Amber repeated, the plates shifting in her brain as she tried to place the name. “But… he was… We were, what? Sixteen?”

  “Exactly. Ritchie was thirteen.”

  “Yeah, okay. But I didn’t know that. It was a mistake.”

  “Did you kiss him or not?”

  All the nonsense from back then flooded Amber’s brain. “Yes, okay, yes. I kissed him. But as I recall you were just mad because you wanted to kiss him.”