Amber Storm (Assassin In Paradise Book 1)

by Jack Stroke

  “Yes, but I didn’t kiss him, did I? You did.”

  “Okay, okay. I don’t think Richie Samuels is relevant,” Joan said, stepping between them. “I’m sure there is a reasonable explanation for what Amber was doing in Ben’s bedroom this late at night.”

  Both women looked at her expectantly.

  “Of course there is,” Amber said

  They waited. She didn’t go on.

  “And?”

  “Like I said, I can’t tell you what it is.”

  Fury and hatred spilled from Megan’s eyes. “Fine…” She pulled out her phone.

  “Who are you calling?” Joan asked.

  “The police.”

  “The police?”

  “Yep. If she won’t tell us, maybe they’ll have to sort it out.”

  At first, Amber assumed Megan was kidding, except Megan had definitely called someone, Amber could hear the dial tone.

  She had a decision to make.

  26

  “Okay, okay,” Amber relented, putting both hands up.

  Megan and Joan waited expectantly.

  “He’s drunk.”

  “What?” Megan said, hanging the phone up and staring at Joan.

  “He’s had a few too many drinks.”

  “Ben doesn’t drink,” Megan and Joan said at the same time, not quite in unison.

  “Well, I don’t know what to tell you. He has tonight.”

  Moving nimbly, Joan snuck into Ben’s room, while Megan continued to stare with hatred at her former friend. They heard Joan whisper Ben’s name a couple of times before reappearing.

  “I…” Joan said. “She appears to be telling the truth, Megan.”

  “He’s drunk?” Megan said, still not quite able to believe it.

  “Well, he’s asleep right now, but his breath smells of vomit and some sort of alcohol.”

  “Cheap vodka would be my guess,” Amber said.

  Megan’s expression didn’t soften one bit.

  “How dare you?” she spat at Amber.

  “How dare I what?”

  “It’s what? Your second night here and you pull this? He’s seventeen. How dare you try and corrupt him? Where did you take him?”

  Amber attempted to shake off the headache this conversation was inducing.

  “Megan, I had nothing to do with this.”

  “Megan,” Joan said.

  “I didn’t get him drunk,” Amber went on. “He did that all by himself.”

  Actually, a pretty brunette was quite likely involved, but Amber didn’t think it prudent to reveal that information right now.

  “Sure.”

  “Megan,” Joan tried again.

  “I’ve been in my cabin all night, Megan. By myself.” Amber blew out a loud breath. “I was in my room sleeping, when I heard a noise. Someone outside my window. Well, not outside my window exactly, but outside. Using the property’s rear entrance. I went out and found Ben. My guess is he was attempting to sneak in without being discovered. He wouldn’t be the first person to try that. I was going to leave him but when it looked like he was going to pass out, I thought I would help him to his room. Nothing more.”

  Joan nodded, happy with the explanation. Megan still appeared about ready to explode.

  “Why didn’t you just tell us that?” Joan asked.

  “He asked me not to.”

  “What Amber is saying makes sense,” Joan said. “There’s something else, Megan. Ben’s bedroom window is open.”

  “Yeah, but… So?”

  “Well, it would seem to suggest that he might have snuck out. And planned to sneak back in.”

  The look on Megan’s face made it clear she still wasn’t buying it.

  “Even if he did… even so, you don’t get to do that,” Megan said to Amber, no less angry. “You should have come and told me. Whose side are you on?”

  “Side? No one’s side. Ben asked me not to say anything.”

  “You’re a guest here. You’re not his parent. You don’t get to make those decisions.”

  “Okay. Well, I might have done differently if I had known you were going to call the cops on me.”

  “You don’t get to do that,” Megan said again, stabbing a finger into Amber just above her chest. “You don’t get to do that.”

  Megan turned on her heel and disappeared into her bedroom, slamming the door loudly behind her.

  Joan gave Amber a vaguely inscrutable smile and retreated to her own room as well, leaving Amber alone in the corridor, where she stood not entirely sure what to do now, brimming with fury and getting angrier by the second.

  27

  Really, the situation should have been amusing. So why was it making Amber so furious?

  Back in cabin six, Amber lay in bed, except that didn’t work. Getting up, she paced the small space. That didn’t work either. The encounter with Megan throbbed through her veins, denying her any opportunity to relax. What the heck was Megan thinking? What on earth did she think Amber was? How could Megan actually believe Amber would do anything like that with her seventeen-year-old son? Amber’s godson? And bringing up Richie Samuels. Come on…

  The problem was these issues were complicated by the reality of Amber’s life. She was a monster. Why did it matter Megan believed her to be one type of monster and not another?

  Cool, white moonlight slipped in through the tatty curtains, the evening shifting between clear light and total darkness. Maybe she should simply leave right now. Although she doubted Stavros worked at this hour.

  Moving quickly, Amber threw on her exercise gear. Her running shoes were fiendishly expensive and yet they would earn their keep tonight. Without bothering to think, Amber knew instinctively what she was going to do. She was going to go for a run. Blow off some steam. And not the easy beach run. Oh no. She was going to run to Port Simmons and back, along the only semi-existent beach track. Hopefully the moon would supply sufficient light and if it didn’t, too bad. It would be a dangerous trek at this hour, and Amber had no intention of taking it slow. She was going to move, and fast. Stare the danger in the face. Prove she could beat it. She needed this. She needed to do something and so she headed off.

  Amber started steadily enough, in no particular hurry. Then, as the path became more treacherous, she increased her speed until she was moving as fast as she possibly could. A couple of times she slipped and almost went over, resulting in her cackling like a maniac and increasing her speed even more. Sure, she could easily twist an ankle or break a leg. Or worse, slip and split her head open on the rocks. If she did, so be it. It was out of her control. She assessed the ground visibility to be at maybe sixty percent with the moon out and zero when it disappeared.

  Amber ran until her throat burned and her lungs screamed at her, unable to cope anymore. Finally, the lights of Port Simmons appeared in the distance and she turned back.

  When she had reached that state where her mind couldn’t focus on anything other than how tired her body was and how much it needed to stop, she slowed. No thinking. That was the aim. The night was cooler than the previous one and her black micro-tech tank top stuck to her, thanks to the build-up of sweat.

  The moon guided her way back until it disappeared for good. Traversing the uneven track felt just as challenging going slow as it had fast, even if that was an illusion.

  Approaching Hidden Beach, Amber stopped. A light flickered in the water. Just a small one. A torch or something similar. The light caught Amber’s eye as it bobbed up and down, slowly approaching the shore. As she watched, a boat appeared out of the darkness, the torch carried by whoever was on board. The boat navigated the calm water with ease. Three people sat on board, one rowing, another holding the light.

  The moon long since gone, Amber stood in total darkness. It was three-thirty a.m. Something about this didn’t sit right. Why would anyone be out at this hour? What could they be doing? All her instincts told her it was definitely something untoward. Unless they were fishermen. Fishing was foreign to Am
ber. She knew little about it, other than they kept odd hours.

  Amber decided to follow them. Not necessarily to do anything. Just to have the knowledge. Controlling her breathing, she stayed completely still. She was close and yet they wouldn’t be able to see her unless they shone their torch right out her. Even then…

  The figure with the light jumped out as they hit the beach and pulled the rowboat to shore. It was only a boy. The other passengers followed him out. Were they a family?

  A voice rocketed through her mind. For once it wasn’t Mother’s voice. What was she doing here? It was a simple question. One she had no answer for. Forget them. She was thinking again. Whatever was going on here was none of her business. This is what old Amber would have done, assassin Amber. Finding out about these people and what they were up to. Following them. This wasn’t what she wanted her new life to be. It wasn’t what a normal person would do.

  Moving quickly, she strode away. If the family ws doing anything illegal, good luck to them. It was none of her business.

  She’d be leaving Paradise Cove in the morning anyway, so what did it matter?

  28

  It was already daytime when Amber woke after a few hours of fitful sleep. She didn’t have a whole lot of possessions, making packing relatively swift and painless. Rather than head to the office like she should, she decided to leave the money for her stay sitting on the cabin table along with the key. Megan and Joan would figure it out. She didn’t know the exact amount owed and left more than enough to cover the rent of the cabin for a couple of nights. She was considering whether to leave a note when a knock at the door shattered the peace.

  “Amber?”

  Joan. There was little point pretending she wasn’t here or jumping out the window. Amber cursed herself for not getting out earlier. This was precisely what she didn’t want to have to deal with.

  “Yes, Joan?”

  “May I come in?”

  “Of course.”

  The door opened and Joan appeared with a plate of bacon and eggs sitting on some delicious homemade bread.

  “I just didn’t want to barge in and set off an alarm or something.”

  Putting the plate down at the table, Joan immediately spotted the money and the key.

  “Oh, Amber,” she said, her voice heavy with disappointment.

  “It’s for the best, Joan.”

  “Uh huh. The best for who?”

  “For everyone.”

  “Oh, you are a silly girl. Sit.” When Amber didn’t, Joan repeated herself with force. “Sit. Eat.”

  Amber did as she was told. The food was hard to resist. When would she next get to enjoy a home-cooked meal?

  “Don’t be too hard on Megan,” Joan said once she was confident Amber was eating and not about to run away. “You have no idea how difficult it has been for her. I don’t think a single day has gone by when she hasn’t thought of you. Didn’t wonder what you’re doing.”

  “My life hasn’t been so great…”

  “Oh, Amber. That’s not how the mind works. You got out. You got away. Megan was left behind. All she could do was imagine where you were. What you were doing. The most glamorous and exciting things. The reality of your life didn’t matter.”

  “Okay,” Amber said, crunching into the grainy toast, a little yoke dribbling out from the inside of her egg, just how she liked it. “Even so, she doesn’t want me here now.”

  “She doesn’t know what she wants. And you are being silly.”

  “She accused me of molesting her seventeen-year-old son.”

  Joan clicked her tongue, throwing open the curtains with more vigour than they looked like they could handle. “You’re being ridiculous and blowing things all out of proportion.”

  “Joan, you were there last night. She almost called the police.”

  “Almost isn’t the same as doing it. She got carried away by what she thought she saw. It was unfortunate but nothing major.”

  Taking a seat, Joan tapped the plate where Amber had sliced off a fatty piece of bacon rind. “That’s a waste.”

  “They used to say that sort of fat was bad for you,” Amber said.

  “Oh, fiddlesticks.”

  “I agree, but now I don’t care for the taste.”

  “Do you know what the hardest job in the world is? Being a parent.”

  “I wouldn’t know.”

  “Okay,” Joan said, studying her intently. “Are you sure?”

  “Am I sure? Of course. How would I know?”

  Joan nodded, looking as though she wanted to say something but holding her tongue. “Well, it is. Especially being a single parent. That is the hardest of all. Much harder than logistics.”

  “I’m sure it is.”

  “There are things no one ever tells you before you have children. You always love your kids, but no one ever tells you that sometimes you hate them too. Hate them with a passion. Sometimes you even wish they were dead. You see, even me saying this to you now, you probably think that I’m a monster.”

  Amber shook her head. “I’m in no position to judge.”

  “Even when you love them, it’s difficult not to want to blame them for ruining your life. To think of all the things you could have done if they had never existed. That has been Megan’s reality for a long time now.”

  Joan leaned back, her chair struggling under her weight.

  “That’s how we ended up here. In Paradise Cove. Things were not good at home. Megan was in a funk. A terrible funk. So bad that I didn’t know what to do. I did my best to help her, but I am her Mum. I can only do so much. And we heard Martin was selling up here and I thought, why not? I was desperately worried I might lose her at home, and this was the one place I remembered her being happy. Truly happy. Here with you. And so we packed up our lives and we came here.”

  Amber waited for the story to go on. There was no more.

  “Joan, I’m sorry. I had no idea.”

  “You apologise a lot, you know that? But words are meaningless.”

  There was a scratching at the door. Amber opened it and let Lion the cat in.

  “Hello, little cat.”

  Lion padded about like this was his room.

  “Nothing little about him,” Joan said, watching the cat. “You know, we tried to make everything just as it was when we used to come up here. Exactly the same. Even that cat. Would you believe Megan drove for seven hours to get that thing? We couldn’t just get a cat from Port Simmons animal shelter. Oh no. It had to be a ginger cat, identical to the one that used to live here, and we had to call it Lion.”

  Amber could understand that.

  Lion reached up, putting his front paws on Amber’s leg and meowing. She fed him the fatty bacon scraps, which he was most pleased about.

  “For a while it kept Megan happy, but there has always been something missing.”

  Amber watched Lion happily devour the bacon and walk in tight circles, sniffing around for more.

  “What is it you want me to do?” she asked Joan.

  “I want you to be a good friend to Megan. I want you to stay around and make her life better.”

  “She doesn’t want me here.”

  Joan clicked her tongue again. “Are you this bad at logistics? You say you quit your job, but are you sure you weren’t fired?”

  “I tried with Megan…”

  “So try again. Keep trying until you succeed. She’s your friend and she needs you.”

  “I… I can’t.”

  “You know, Amber, I had really hoped you had grown up over time. You haven’t at all. You are a coward. You are still that same cowardly little girl who had a tantrum because her best friend married someone she didn’t like, and so she ran away.”

  Even the vague mention of Megan’s ex, Ellis sent a shiver through Amber.

  “That’s not what happened, Joan. With Ellis.”

  Joan stood. “Oh, please. That’s exactly what happened. I was there, remember?”

  29

&
nbsp; Amber remained in her seat, unable to move. She desperately wanted to defend herself, in her mind at least, and yet at the same time she knew she couldn’t. The memories of that time with Megan and Ben’s father, Ellis, were still there somewhere in the abyss of long-lost thoughts, but they were locked away tight, and any idea of accessing them set off screaming alarm bells in Amber’s brain.

  What the heck could she do now? Exercise. Exercise was her escape. Except she could hardly go for a run again. It had barely been six hours since she got back from her punishing late-night run. What would she do instead? What did normal people do to keep the bad thoughts at bay?

  Amber took the empty plate and followed Joan up to the owner's cottage. Was she supposed to knock or just walk in? She decided on doing both at once.

  “Hello?”

  The wire door slapped back, bouncing into position. A radio murmured quietly from somewhere, locals discussing the day’s news. Joan had made it to the kitchen where she was already busy, while Ben sat at the table finishing an identical bacon and egg breakfast to the one Amber had enjoyed. Megan sat opposite him, flicking through screens on her phone.

  “Hi.”

  Ben looked her way and smiled politely and looked away again, not saying anything. Megan glanced up, not saying anything either. What was Amber doing here? She felt as though she needed to have a reason.

  “Just… returning my plate.”

  She shoved it towards Joan.

  “Thanks, dear. Just in the sink.” Joan turned to Ben and Megan. “See you two? It’s not that hard. If Amber can bring her plate all the way from cabin six, you two lazy so-and-so’s can bring your plates from the table.”

  “Geez, Mum. Did you take Amber breakfast again? Some guests get special treatment.”

  “She is not ‘some guest’. It’s Amber.”

  Amber hovered awkwardly. Realising no one was going to offer her a seat, she just took one.

  “Another nice day out there,” Joan said, peering through the kitchen window.

  And then there was nothing. No talk. Was the mood in the owner's cottage particularly odd or was it always like this? Not so much an elephant in the room - more the room was full of elephants. No mention was being made of Ben’s big night out. There was no outward signs of his adventures obvious just by looking at him. Maybe he was one of those fortunate people not affected by hangovers. Megan was like that when she was young, Amber recalled. Was she still?