Amber Storm (Assassin In Paradise Book 1)

by Jack Stroke

  After a good twenty minutes, Amber spotted a metal rim around the trunk of one of the trees. Was there just this one? Most likely, although she examined the rest of the area for another just in case.

  Moving slowly, she circled the tree. Attached to the metal rim was a motion-triggered video camera pointed at the shed. The camera was tiny, no bigger than a matchbox and not noticeable at all unless you were looking for it. Its positioning was clever too, set back slightly in among the other trees and yet with a clear view of Bert’s shed.

  Despite a primal urge to smash the camera, Amber knew it wasn’t her best play. She didn’t want all of whoever she was facing turning up with guns again, ready for a showdown. She wanted to surprise them, preferably one at a time. She sat down to wait. They would come to her soon enough, and she would have the advantage.

  Time passed slowly, Amber attempting to stay in the zone and tune out the drone of her mind. The endless monologue and thoughts. It was more challenging than usual. Was that because she hadn’t done it for a while? Or because she had let too much of the real world into her life? Allowed herself to become more of a person?

  She picked a random four notes, constructing a melody and singing it to herself, over and over. The tactic was a last resort to quiet the mind and it helped, giving her something to focus on as she stood absolutely still beside the tree with the camera.

  Something was bothering her about all this. Something had burrowed under her skin, crawling about, making her squirm. Something hard to ignore. And yet, ignore it she must. She had a job to do.

  As day turned to night, she readied her night vision scope. Presumably the camera beside her had a similar function.

  Still nothing. The sounds of nature all she could hear.

  The longer Amber waited, the more the voices in her head strived to make themselves known. Mother would have been most unimpressed.

  Amber shifted to singing her tuneless melody out loud rather than just in her head, quietly breathing the notes to beat out her thoughts. One word penetrated her defences. Coincidence. She didn’t believe in coincidences. So what? She did her best to ignore the thought trail where that was leading. ‘They shot at you’, she reminded herself. ‘Tried to kill you.’

  ‘Coincidence’ her mind said again. Amber wiped her brow aggressively with the back of her arm, getting annoyed now. Annoyed with herself. Her thoughts. She hated not having more control over her mind. Control over mind and body was imperative. It made her more determined to win.

  Amber heard them before she saw them. Voices laughing. Was it the same two who shot at her? Possibly. Sig in her right hand, she raised the scope with her left.

  Two people approached the shed, their backs to her. They appeared relaxed, no idea she was there. The plan was simple. Put a bullet in each of them. Once she confirmed it wasn’t Bert or Betty.

  She trained her gun on them. It was a male and female. Both appeared young, about sixty years younger than farmer Bert.

  The male unlocked the padlock and turned slightly as he slid open the door, giving Amber her first proper look at his face.

  Her mind froze, malfunctioning again. She knew that face.

  On some level, even if not thinking it directly, she had been mentally preparing herself for the possibility this could be Vaughan. This young man, local. It fitted with what she knew about him as well - a drifter with more money than he should have. Doing odd jobs for locals. So it came as an awful surprise to recognise the face and see it wasn’t Vaughan.

  But was, in fact, Ben.

  63

  Amber’s mind tore itself in two, galloping in different directions.

  In one ear she could hear Mother’s voice telling her to terminate, with extreme prejudice. She raised the gun, trained on her target. That’s all he was. A target. Nothing more.

  In her other ear a voice screamed at her to stop. This was Ben. Her godson. She couldn’t shoot Ben, no matter what he was involved in.

  The Sig quivered in her hand, paralysed by indecision. She knew she should shoot, absolutely. She also knew she shouldn’t, also absolutely.

  The immediacy of the issue solved itself to some extent as Ben and his companion disappeared into the shed, pulling the door closed behind them. It didn’t help Amber’s mental process though. Ben? How…? She glanced down at the surveillance camera. A red light flickered on top. They had triggered it. If Ben wasn’t involved, the bad people were coming.

  Part of Amber wanted to simply run away. Forget all of this. It was all too complicated. Why couldn’t she just leave?

  Without thinking, Amber put the butt of her gun through the camera, smashing it to pieces. Hurrying to the shed, she hid her gun down the back of her pants. She kept her hand at her back, just in case. Ready to pull the gun at any moment if necessary. Could she shoot Ben if she had to? Even if he came at her first? She had no idea. Guess she would find out.

  Moving without a sound, she gently pushed open the door. Enough for her to squeeze through.

  The shed was too dark to see anything. Her hand grazed her back at the ready. She listened as carefully as she could. She could make out vague movement sounds and little else. Then a giggle. What were they up to?

  Feeling the wall, Amber found a switch. An old fluorescent tube flickered to life, providing a small amount of adequate light.

  The sudden illumination surprised the couple, who were rolling about on the hay in a passionate embrace.

  “What the… Amber?”

  Ben’s eyes went wide. He and his companion desperately shuffled at their clothes, like guilty teens who have just been caught, which essentially is what they were. Amber recognised the girl as the brunette from the night Ben was drunk.

  “Amber? What are you doing?”

  What was she doing? Whatever she had anticipated was going on in the shed, this wasn’t it. She stood speechless, watching the young couple.

  Ben brushed himself down with both hands. The girl had straw in her hair.

  “Who is this? Your Mum?”

  “My godmother.” He turned on Amber. “Are you following me?”

  “What are you doing here, Ben?”

  Ben flashed her an incredulous look. “Isn’t it obvious? You’re not that old, are you? Did Mum put you up to this?”

  Amber addressed the brunette. “Go home.”

  “Excuse me?”

  “Get out now. Go home.”

  “You don’t tell me what to do,” the young woman said.

  Ben took a step forward. Amber didn’t hesitate, grabbing him by the arm and twisting it behind his back. Amber’s speed and agility caught the youngster off guard. Completely incapacitated, Ben gasped in pain.

  Amber held her godson there, eyes on his companion. “If you think I’m going to tell you again, you’re wrong.”

  The brunette took one last look at Ben and Amber and fled from the shed as fast as she could.

  “What the hell are you doing?” Ben yelled. “Let me go.”

  Amber pushed him away, causing Ben to topple forward to the floor.

  “What is wrong with you, you psycho?”

  “What are you doing here, Ben?”

  “I told you…”

  “Why here? Why this shed?”

  “I dunno. We just wanted a bit of privacy…”

  “You live at Paradise by the Bay. Why not one of the cabins there?”

  “Yeah, right. With Mum and Joan there. Like I could get away with that.”

  It had only been a few minutes since Amber had smashed the camera. How much longer did they have? Ben got to his feet and dusted himself off.

  “You’ve got no idea what it’s like around here. People talk. I can’t get away with anything.”

  “Why would Megan care if you have a girlfriend?”

  “She gets funny about things. I mean, even if she didn’t mind, she wouldn’t, like, let me be alone with Ava or anything.”

  Memories of sneaking off with boys in her own teenage years came floodin
g back. Trying to get precious moments alone and not get caught. Frantic fumbling at clothes and body parts in the dark. The memories still strangely potent and yet dulled by time. Amber and Megan loved being alone with boys at that age. Maybe that was the problem. Maybe Megan was all too aware of what boys and girls that age were capable of.

  Amber reassessed the situation quickly. “Ben, we don’t have much time —”

  “Don’t have much time for what?”

  “I just need you to focus and answer my questions. Why do you have the key?”

  “What key?”

  “The key to this shed.”

  “I do jobs for Bert occasionally.”

  “What type of jobs?”

  “Jobs. Whatever he needs.”

  “Who else has a key? Besides you and Bert?”

  “I don’t know. How would I know?”

  Amber stared into her godson’s eyes. He was telling the truth.

  “You have to get out of here. Now.”

  “What?”

  “Bad things are happening around here.”

  “What? In Bert’s shed?” Ben scoffed.

  “Yes. Get out.”

  Ben glared at her. “You’re a nutcase. Thanks for, like, ruining everything. Ava will probably never talk to me again.”

  He dusted himself off again, staring at her with utter hatred.

  “You know, my whole life I used to think you were cool. The mysterious Amber. But you’re just crazy. No wonder Mum doesn’t want you around anymore. Why don’t you just crawl back under whatever rock it is you popped out from and leave us all alone?”

  He stormed out of the barn and into the night.

  64

  Amber needed to move fast. Ten bricks of heroin, even sold at wholesale, would be an enormous chunk of change. The smugglers had arrived quickly this afternoon when Amber set off the camera and no doubt would do so again.

  Crossing to the wall, she ripped the hessian sacks off the pile of bricks and loaded them as best she could onto the quad bike. It was a balancing act, but she managed to get them all on.

  The quad bike was simple to hot wire. She reversed out, aware she had broken her promise to Bert not to steal any of his equipment. Hopefully, it would only be temporary.

  Her mind screamed at her about what had just happened. With Ben. Almost happened. It was like a wound in battle. She had to ignore it for now, but knew sooner or later it would have to be dealt with.

  The night was partly clear, making piloting the quad bike a challenge in the intermittent moonlight. Amber drove it far enough to be out of sight in the trees and then returned to wait near the shed. She didn’t have to wait long. Two men arrived around ten minutes later. With light spilling out of the shed, there was no need for her scope. She recognised Lev, the driver who had pursued her in the SUV in Port Simmons. He was wearing a neck brace and bandage across his nose. His associate was the small man Amber had mistaken for a boy.

  The duo edged into the open shed, Lev with a shotgun, his small companion carrying a handgun. A few seconds later, they came out, yelling and carrying on in an animated fashion, clearly upset the heroin was no longer there. Amber could kill them right there, although it seemed advisable to hold off. After a minute or two of gesturing wildly, the small man came to check on the camera. Amber waited until he was close enough to touch and put a bullet in the back of his head.

  Lev turned, surprised and came running towards them.

  “Vin? Vin!”

  Amber hid in the shadows.

  Lev hurried up, struggling to see in the dark.

  “Hey, Lev,” Amber said, stopping him cold. She put a bullet between his eyes. Here in the trees was a much better place to shoot them, rather than right out in the open in front of Bert’s shed. Less likely anybody would happen across their blood.

  Driving the quad bike to the beach, Amber parked close by the water. One by one she tore open each of the packages, tossing the firmly pressed bricks into the water. The slightly pink powder fizzled slightly as their powdery substance dissolved into nothing, becoming one with the sea. It took a while to rip through nine of the ten bags. She left one, deciding it could be useful. Driving the quad bike back again, Amber returned to Bert’s shed.

  Parking the bike in its original position, she grabbed a shovel. She then made her way to the tree and removed the broken camera and the metal ring attached to its trunk. Dragging the two bodies into the trees, Amber dug a shallow grave. It was tough, physical work, digging the hole, which was just what she needed. A distraction keeping her concerned thoughts at bay. The thoughts would be here soon enough.

  After depositing Lev and his undersized associate in the ground, Amber tossed the last brick and their guns in with them. That would go a long way to helping the police establish a motive for the killings if the bodies were ever discovered. What else would they think except a drug deal gone wrong?

  She then returned the shovel to the shed and locked up, turning off the light.

  Unexpectedly Amber found herself in the owner’s cottage, no idea how she had ended up there, pacing about the kitchen in the dark. She wanted to see Ben. To apologise. To make it better. Except there was no making this better. She had very nearly killed him. If it had been a mistake, that would have been one thing. However, she had seen his face and almost shot him anyway. Much as she wanted to make amends with Ben, part of her didn’t want to see him. And she certainly didn’t wish to see Megan or Joan when she was like this.

  The sun was almost up by the time Amber made it back to cabin six. Exhausted as she was, Amber knew there was no chance of sleep. There was no avoiding her thoughts either. So she simply lay on her bed and let it all wash over her.

  The recriminations continued to come at her, thick and fast. She had almost made a terrible mistake. The worst, most unimaginable mistake ever. She had almost killed Ben. Her own godson.

  “Even when you had seen it was him, you still almost went through with it,” a voice said in her head. “And why? Because that is what you were trying to do. What you had been told to do. You can attempt to deny the truth as much as you want. It’s futile. You are a monster. An unfeeling monster, capable of terrible things.”

  Amber shook her head, trying to get the voice to shut up.

  Was all this a mistake? Was it a test? Had she been set up? Set by an even more demented monster?

  Quickly Amber’s head became a decidedly unpleasant place to be and she was stuck in it, at least for now. Beyond that, there was no staying in Paradise Cove. Not now. Not like this.

  How could she ever look Ben in the eyes again, knowing how close she came to killing him?

  65

  Joan bustled into cabin six in the morning without knocking.

  “Morning, Amber. Lovely day. What is Stavros doing here? I can give you a lift if you need a ride somewhere.”

  She took a look around, noticing how clean and tidy the cabin was. “What are you doing?”

  “Thank you for your hospitality, Joan, but I am going to head off.”

  “But… You can’t.”

  “Trust me, it’s for the best. For all concerned.”

  Amber was painfully aware of her own voice. How stilted it sounded. Robotic.

  “Oh, Amber. You silly girl. I thought we were beyond all of this nonsense.”

  Amber said nothing, reinforcing how serious she was.

  “So that’s just it. You’re going to walk away.”

  “I have to.”

  “You don’t have to, and you know you don’t have to. My goodness, I have misjudged you, haven’t I? You were such a bright, brave young lady. How did you grow up to be such a coward?”

  “You don’t understand. I almost made a terrible, terrible mistake.”

  “Whatever it is, it couldn’t be that bad.”

  “It is. It’s worse, and it proves that I can’t be the person I was then and the person I am now. The two lives just can’t work together.”

  “Oh, what nonsense.”


  “I’m going to end up hurting you. All of you. In ways you can’t imagine. And I don’t want that.”

  “What about what we want?”

  “You wouldn’t want me to stay. Not really. Not if you really knew me.”

  Joan scoffed. “Well, I’ll tell you what I do know, young lady, and that is that running away never solved a damned thing. You run away now you’ll be running away forever, never confronting whatever this is. Never finding peace. You walk out that door, you will never walk back in it again.”

  Amber ignored Joan’s pleading eyes and picked up her bag.

  “How could you do this to Megan? Hasn’t she suffered enough heartbreak?”

  “Megan will be pleased to see the back of me.”

  “Keep telling yourself that. What about Ben?”

  “Say goodbye to them for me. And tell Ben I’m sorry for what happened.”

  “No.”

  Amber stopped and looked at her.

  “If you have a message for my daughter or her son, you can jolly well tell them yourself.”

  Joan bustled out of the room.

  66

  Stavros drove Amber into Port Simmons. Despite the cab driver’s best efforts to strike up a conversation, Amber remained silent. She paid her fare and left with only a curt thank you.

  From Port Simmons, Amber took a bus ride south to Cape Augusta, a two-hour trip. Cape Augusta was considerably larger than Paradise Cove or Port Simmons, with a thriving local population keeping things busy outside of tourist season. Amber stopped at a supermarket to refresh her diminishing supplies and rented a campervan in a park by the beach. The van was no worse than cabin six had been, if slightly smaller. The beach though, lacked any of the beauty of Paradise Cove. Simply sand and water.

  Amber lay on the lumpy mattress in the van. What on earth she should do now? She could easily have come here first, never gone to Paradise Cove. Where would that have led her? If she had never found Megan and Joan and Ben. Surely that would have been better for all concerned. She watched the clock on the van’s wall. It seemed determined not to want to move far or at all. She was tired. Sick of it. Sick of trying to be in control the whole time. Sick of thinking. Sick of not thinking.