Amber Storm (Assassin In Paradise Book 1)

by Jack Stroke

  “Thanks for that, Amber,” Joan said, reappearing.

  “No worries. Mar Lar?” Amber opened the car door for Joan.

  “Soon. I just have a couple more stops to make if that’s all right…”

  Played by a sixty-year-old woman.

  “Of course. That’s fine.”

  Amber could see Megan and Ben smirking in her mind’s eye. Little wonder Megan didn’t like taking Joan to Mar Lar.

  Amber pulled out of the spot. Behind them, she spied movement. The man she had seen climbed into an SUV and moved out as well, behind the little hatchback. She hadn’t imagined anything. The man wasn’t just some local.

  Now they were being followed.

  40

  Joan directed Amber to a florist a few streets away. The man in the big SUV followed them. He kept his distance as best he could. Not easy to follow someone subtly in the Port Simmons off-season streets.

  Who was he? One of Mother’s? He didn’t seem like it. If he was, she was scraping the bottom of the barrel with her choice of agents. Or maybe that was the point. Maybe Mother was sending her a message. You mean so little I can send someone as bad as this after you. Although that was hardly Mother’s style. Who else knew Amber was here? Why would anybody else be interested in her enough to tail her?

  When Amber pulled into a car spot, the man did the same, a few cars back. Which begged the question, why had he walked by earlier? The explanation Amber could come up with was that he was returning to his car to grab a weapon.

  Amber had to make the next move, not leave it up to him. She needed a plan of attack. First step - remove Joan from any possible danger.

  Before the older lady managed to get out, Amber stomped on the gas. The car lurched forward.

  “Amber…”

  “I’m hungry. Let’s go to Mar Lar now.”

  “But, I just have to make one or two stops more —”

  “No.”

  “No?”

  “This isn’t a discussion. I am happy to take you other places afterwards. But we are going to the restaurant right now.”

  “Fine,” Joan said, making it clear it really wasn’t.

  Amber watched the SUV in her rearview mirror.

  “How do we get to this restaurant?”

  “I’ll direct you as we go.”

  “No. The whole route. Now.”

  Amber committed Joan’s instructions to memory.

  “Is your seatbelt on?”

  “Of course.”

  Keeping her eyes on the SUV, Amber increased their speed slightly.

  “Amber, I am sorry if the stops have upset you. It’s just —”

  “It’s fine, Joan. I’m not upset. You may want to hold on though.”

  Without warning, Amber floored it, catching their pursuer on his heels. Spinning the hatchback around the corner, the tyres let out a loud squeal. They flew along the streets with greater speed than a regular person feels comfortable travelling.

  “Amber…” Joan said, clinging on tightly. “Why are you going so fast?”

  “Oh, just hungry.”

  Amber weaved around a car, taking the next turn with even more acceleration. In much the same way as it is difficult to hide when following someone, Amber had no luck losing the SUV in the quiet Port Simmons streets despite their head start. That was fine. Losing him wasn’t her intention.

  “Amber. You are going too fast.”

  “Sorry, Joan. We’re almost there, aren’t we? Are you ready to get out?”

  “I suppose. Yes.”

  Amber took the final corner and pulled a handbrake one-hundred-and-eighty-degree turn, bouncing into a space right out in front of Mar Lar. The smell of burning oil and rubber wafted in the windows.

  “You’re going to kill my little car driving like that.”

  “Sorry, Joan. Get out. Go get us a table.”

  “Where are you going?”

  “Umm, to park the car.”

  Joan glanced about, mystified. “You’re parked right now.”

  “No, I can’t park here. You’ll get a ticket. We don’t want that. Go in. I’ll just be a sec.”

  Joan flashed her a disapproving look and climbed awkwardly from the vehicle. She barely had the door shut when Amber took off again, leaving Joan staring up at the parking sign and trying to figure out whether Amber should have been able to park there or not.

  41

  Time for action. The SUV driver knew he had been made and wasn’t about to let Amber get away. That was good. He believed her to be running too. That would be an advantage.

  Amber drove fast yet aimlessly, keeping an eye out for what she was after. A laneway or dead-end. When she found one, she picked up her pace again, driving around the block and hoping the SUV driver either had a lousy sense of direction or wasn’t thinking. It was possible he was a local who knew the streets around Port Simmons, although that didn’t seem terribly likely.

  She slowed until the SUV was right on her bumper. When Amber arrived at the laneway again, she turned in unexpectedly, causing the SUV to overshoot the entrance. He had to reverse back. When he followed her in he found the little, white hatchback parked by a dumpster, door wide open. No sign of Amber.

  The driver slowed, cautious, head on a swivel. As his car passed, Amber jumped from the shadows and threw open the passenger side door. It was a risk. The passenger side could have been locked, although that was rare these days with central locking. Surprised, the driver inadvertently hit the gas. Amber had to grab the wheel to avoid hitting Joan’s car. That would have been difficult to explain.

  With her other arm she smashed her elbow into the driver’s nose. Repeatedly. They hit the dumpster, not hard enough to deploy the airbags. The driver snatched up a gun from between the seats. Despite the weapon, his position put him at a severe disadvantage, and his seatbelt limited his mobility.

  Amber bent his arm the wrong way, forcing it behind the seats. With her free hand she grabbed his scalp and rammed his head into the steering wheel. Twisting his fingers, she managed to force him to drop the gun, which she grabbed, using it to strike him. A couple of mighty blows across his head and she knocked him out cold.

  Everything went still and quiet.

  Should she kill him? Probably. He would have killed her. Something didn’t sit right with her about it though. A connection she couldn’t quite make.

  Glancing about to ensure no one was coming, she searched the driver, locating his phone in his pocket. Would the facial recognition still work? It should. Even if his face was pretty messed up, she hadn’t altered his basic bone structure. With the phone unlocked, she checked his calls. No names or numbers she recognised. Same with his text messages.

  Deciding against killing him, Amber called the police and alerted them to the accident. She followed this up by keying in a number she knew by heart.

  “Diamond Logistics.”

  “Tony.”

  “Amber. Where are you?”

  “Tell Mother nice try, but it didn’t work.”

  “What didn’t work?”

  “Shall I kill the operative, Tony? I haven’t yet, but I can easily. Tell Mother to let me be.”

  There was a pause on the other end.

  “I’ll call you back. Can you stay with this number?”

  Amber glanced down at her unconscious friend. Sure. Why not? This guy didn’t need his phone.

  42

  “What did you do with my car?” Joan asked.

  Amber pointed through the restaurant window across the road. “It’s just there, see?”

  “If you planned to park there, why did you go racing off up the road like a crazy person?”

  “I didn’t realise there was a park there at first.” Amber picked up her menu. “What’s good here? How about the swordfish?”

  She glanced around. Could they switch tables? Joan had made a terrible choice. Ideally, they should have had their backs to the wall and a view of the whole place. Instead, they were stuck in the middl
e of the restaurant with no way for Amber to see what was coming behind her. She reminded herself it shouldn’t matter. Mar Lar had four other tables in use, scattered about the floor. Amber estimated herself to be the youngest customer by at least twenty years.

  Joan grabbed the menu from Amber, placing it back down on the table.

  “What’s going on with you?”

  “What’s going on with what?”

  “Amber, I’m not a fool. Blind Freddie could see you are in trouble. Blind Freddie but not my daughter evidently.”

  The phone rang from Amber’s pocket. She got it out and looked at the screen. Not a number she knew. Must be a call for the driver.

  “Where did you get that phone?”

  “How do you know it’s not mine?”

  “I would have seen you with it.”

  “It’s a friend’s. I borrowed it.”

  Joan folded her arms across her chest, clearly not about to put up with much more of this. The phone rang again, saving Amber. This time she knew the number. She held up a finger to Joan to indicate she would just be a moment.

  “Speak,” she said into the phone, wandering away from the table.

  Tony’s voice sounded in her ear. “Amber? Please hold for Mother.”

  “You’re wrong,” Mother said, with no preamble.

  “You’ll have to do better than that.”

  “Amber, we know there is nothing we can say right now to convince you, so we are not going to try. But you need to tell us what happened.”

  “Why? You already know. I was followed then attacked.”

  “Why would we follow you, Amber? Think logically.”

  “Your first rule is not to think.”

  “Touché. On the job, yes. It’s not to go about your life like a moron who can’t use their brain.”

  Joan watched from their table.

  “We have no reason to follow you,” Mother went on. “If we wanted to have you eliminated, we would have done so at your charming holiday cabins.”

  That was true. It didn’t make sense to wait until Amber ventured into Port Simmons. Mother would have had her killed at Paradise Cove.

  “Then who is after me?”

  “We can’t answer that, Amber. Only you can.”

  Hanging up, Amber hustled back over to Joan.

  “Order for me. I don’t care what. I’ll be back in a minute.”

  “Amber,” protested the hapless Joan. It didn’t stop her.

  43

  Why had Amber called the police and reported the accident with the SUV? Stupid choice. Maybe there was still time. Holiday town, off-season. Possibly their response time would be slow.

  The laneway wasn’t far from Mar Lar, and Amber covered the distance quickly on foot. No sign of the police yet.

  The driver hadn’t moved, still out cold. Not entirely sure what she was after, Amber searched the vehicle. She found nothing of interest. The driver had his wallet on him. His name was Lev.

  In his breast pocket was a small quantity of white powder in a Ziploc bag. Coke or speed or some other drug. Amber tossed it onto the passenger seat to ensure it was found by the police when they finally arrived.

  She glanced about. Still no police car. In Lev’s front pocket she found something more interesting. A folded-up piece of paper. Unfolding it, she saw a printout of a face. Her face. Why would this guy have a photo of her? How did he get it? Before she could really take in what she was seeing, a voice shattered her peace.

  “Hey. What you think you are doing?”

  Amber looked up. The voice belonged to a man in his seventies. He appeared to be a retiree as opposed to police. He was large and yet his clothes were still baggy. Almost comically oversized, with braces holding up his corduroy trousers.

  “Help me. I think this guy’s been in an accident.”

  “Yep. I would say he’s definitely been an accident. Why are you going through his pockets?”

  “I’m not going through his pockets.”

  “What’s that piece of paper?” the man asked, pointing a cane in Amber’s direction.

  Amber extracted herself from the SUV. Then she had a thought. The driver’s phone could still be useful. She scanned his face once more to unlock it.

  “Is that his phone too?” the nosey man asked.

  “This? No, it’s my phone.”

  “I’m calling the police,” the man said.

  “I already did. They should be here by now. But you want to again, knock yourself out.” She hurried away towards the main road.

  “Where are you going?” the man asked.

  “To see if I can spot the police car. You wait here.”

  As Amber headed back to the restaurant, she reset the phone’s security to recognise her own face instead of Lev’s. Then she unfolded the paper and examined it. The image was a surveillance photo, water dripping off her.

  The sailboat off Hidden Beach.

  She must not have been as careful as she had hoped on board. They must have had cameras. Motion detection devices. The digital equivalent of Amber’s tripwires. She thought back to Vaughan’s warning and his pretending to take her photo. Not simply did Lev have her image, it would appear he had been actively looking for her.

  “Where did you go?” Joan asked.

  “Oh, I just had to see somebody about something.”

  “Somebody about something, hey?”

  The food had arrived. Amber didn’t really want swordfish. She couldn’t complain though, given she had left the choice up to Joan. The fish did look quite tasty with its accompanying fries and salad. She cut off a small bit and let it melt on her tongue.

  “Is that blood on your cheek?”

  “Blood? No, I… I don’t think so.”

  Reaching across the table, Joan wiped her face. “It is blood. It wasn’t there when you left a minute ago.”

  Amber nodded. Lev, the SUV driver’s blood most likely. He had been bleeding a lot.

  Joan placed a hand on her’s. “Amber, no more games. I know you’re in trouble. But it’s okay. You can talk to me.”

  “Why would I be in trouble?”

  “Who was that woman who came to visit you?”

  “My boss, from work.”

  “No, she wasn’t. You called her Mother. That woman is not your Mother.”

  “It’s… a term of affection.”

  “Why did she come all the way out here to see you? That seems excessive for an employee who has quit.”

  “Clearly she values my skills a little more than I realised.”

  “Amber, you can be honest with me. You know that, don’t you?”

  Amber would like nothing more than that. No more games. But really, how honest could she be?

  “Your food will get cold, Joan.”

  “I’m not worried about my food. I’m worried about you. You suddenly show up after ten years, acting oddly. It doesn’t take a genius to see that you are a damaged woman. Then this ‘Mother’ character turns up pretending to be your boss, and you are clearly terrified of her.”

  “She can be a little intimidating.”

  “I want to help you, Amber. So does Megan.”

  “I’m not sure you can.”

  “Amber. Cards on the table time. I know what is going on.”

  Amber’s blood ran cold. How could she know? Had Amber been careless? Let something slip? Had Mother said something?

  How could Amber justify her life to Joan?

  44

  Yes, Joan. It’s true. I kill people. I’m a killer.

  Even in her mind the words didn’t want to come out. Amber had no idea how she’d say them aloud.

  Joan sat up very straight, folding her hands in front of her, ready for the big reveal. She would be a terrible poker player.

  “It’s the father, isn’t it?”

  Amber screwed up her face. Joan had lost her.

  “Father?”

  “I know about your two daughters, Amber. You’re on the run from him, aren’t you?
The father of your two girls. Is he abusive? Is that how you got that scar?”

  She pointed to Amber’s cheek.

  “Is that why you are hiding? And that woman, she is not your boss at all. She’s your mother-in-law. That’s why you call her Mother. She found you. And if she did, your ex can’t be too far behind…”

  Amber wasn’t quite sure what to say. There was no faulting Joan’s inventiveness, even if it did sound like the plot of some midday movie.

  “Oh, Amber. I just want to help.”

  “I’m sure you do. I hate to disappoint you, Joan, but none of that is even remotely close to true. Why do you think I have daughters?”

  Joan blinked, second-guessing herself. “The photo. The two girls on the beach.”

  “Should I ask what you have been doing in my room? Going through my stuff?”

  Joan waved her away. “You’re in trouble. I want to help.”

  “They are not my daughters. It’s just a photo.”

  “Then why do you have it?”

  “I’m not really sure. It reminded me of Megan and I.”

  “Oh, well, okay then. I might be wrong on the details, but I know you are on the run from someone. I can’t help if you won’t open up to me. Why not tell me who you are running from?”

  “Why do you think I’m running from someone?”

  “Because you wouldn’t booby-trap your room otherwise. Or sleep with a gun under your pillow.”

  Amber sighed. “There are things about me, Joan. Things you don’t know.”

  “Tell me then.”

  “I can’t. I…”

  “Amber, I have known you almost all of your life. Since you were a little girl.”

  “That’s the point. You have known me a long time, but you don’t know who I am, not really. You don’t know what I’ve done.”

  Joan gave her head a small shake, loaded with disappointment.

  I am an assassin, Joan. I am an assassin who kills people for money. Mother is my handler. She sets up the jobs, and she assures me we are doing it for the right reasons and working for good people, but I really don’t know any more. I just take her word for it.