by Carys Jones
‘I’m doing well now,’ he lifted an arm across the back of the booth again, across her shoulders. ‘But I didn’t come from money. When this place was still a butcher’s I was a young man making stupid mistakes. One day I pissed off the wrong person, they followed me home one night pulled me into a dark alley and took a rusty blade to my face.’ The confidence seeped out of him. He was no longer a self-made man in a suit, he was a boy still haunted by the ghosts of his past.
‘That sounds awful.’
But not nearly as awful as watching the man you love die in the middle of nowhere.
Amanda forced herself to place a hand on McAllister’s knee. The fabric of his suit was soft to the touch, almost like silk. He looked at her and she heard his breath catch in his throat. A thousand thoughts swarmed in her mind like a hive of angry bees. What was she doing? Had she just made Gregg McAllister think that she wanted to sleep with him? Why had she touched him? Had she taken it too far? How far could she take it? Could she kiss him? Sleep with him?
Amanda withdrew her hand as her body gave her the answer. She felt sick and light-headed, but not in a good way. To kiss Gregg would be a step too far. She could never go to bed with him. Her soul would never recover from such abolishment of all that she stood for.
‘You’re very beautiful.’ Gregg gave the compliment softly, respectfully. ‘Sit with me a while won’t you? I’d love to get to know you better.’
As much as Amanda loathed McAllister she couldn’t deny the magnetism within him, how when he looked at her she felt compelled to gaze into his silver eyes. How when he asked her to stay it felt like a heartfelt request rather than an order.
8
The calendar date turned over as night became early morning. Gregg ordered more drinks, though Amanda stuck to her Diet Coke. All around them people danced, laughed, drank. It was a hedonistic atmosphere that Amanda could feel herself getting swept up in.
Excusing herself from the booth, she had to take a bathroom break. The heavy atmosphere in the booth was choking her. Despite the early hour, the club was still alive with energy. Amanda squeezed her way past drunken revellers and picked her way towards the bathroom.
The theme for the restrooms seemed to be indulgent gothic. There was black and red everywhere, like the whole place had been lifted straight out of Dracula’s castle. Ornate black framed mirrors were hung above deep-set silver sinks. The door to each stall was thick wood, painted black. The walls were a shade of red which was almost dark enough to look like they’d been painted with blood.
Amanda steadied herself against a vacant sink and stared at her reflection. A stranger stared back at her. A stranger with long golden hair, painted lips and eyes framed with thick coats of mascara. The stranger who looked perfectly at home amidst the decadence of the restrooms.
Turning on the cold water, Amanda soaked her hands and then rested them against her neck. It was hot in the club. It felt like beyond the walls there was a fire raging and if she stayed too long at McAllister’s side she’d end up getting burned alive.
‘This club is the best.’ A group of girls stumbled in, their make-up blurred around their eyes, their steps awkward and uncoordinated. They’d been laughing together as they came in. But the sound wasn’t pleasant like the tinkling of silver bells, it was more like the cackle of a trio of witches around a cauldron. And when they saw Amanda they regarded her with dead stares and ceased laughing.
‘Excuse me,’ Amanda slid past them, making for the exit before they could engage her. She felt their eyes stalking her every movement until she’d pushed her way through the heavy black door and was back in the club. The music instantly blasted against her. For a moment she was disorientated. Leaning against a nearby wall, she pressed her chin to her chest, waiting for the moment to pass.
Her Diet Cokes had been just that, hadn’t they? She felt oddly out of sorts. She was too hot and her skin felt too tight against her bones. Was she still drunk off those two tequilas? Or had there been vodka in her soft drinks? Was it an unspoken rule that all the drinks that arrived at McAllister’s table had to be laced with alcohol?
‘Okay, we’re going.’ A strong hand clenched around Amanda’s arm, jerking her upright.
‘Wait, what?’ she instinctively pulled back, withdrawing from the grip.
‘Amanda, it’s almost three a.m. and you’re drunk. We’re done here, we’re heading back.’ Shane’s shirt was crumpled and there were shadows beneath his eyes which dulled the lustre of their natural green.
‘Um, wait.’ Amanda squirmed away from him, angling her body in the direction of McAllister’s booth. She felt like she was chewing on cotton wool. Why was it so hard to talk?
‘Christ, you’re pissed out of your mind.’
‘I’m not,’ she seethed. But there was some truth to Shane’s words. Why else was she struggling to bring any clarity to her thoughts, her actions? ‘I need…’ she pulled in a deep breath of the club’s stale air. ‘I can’t just leave.’ There, things were becoming clearer. ‘It will look weird. I need to at least say goodbye.’
‘Five minutes,’ Shane raged. ‘And then I’m coming over to that damn booth and I’ll drag you out of here if I have to.’ He was so riled up. Amanda backed away from him, wondering how he’d gotten so mad.
‘I was starting to fear you wouldn’t come back,’ Gregg commented as Amanda approached the edge of the booth. Had she imagined it or was there a challenge in his tone? ‘I thought you’d perhaps done a Cinderella on me and dashed out into the night.’
‘No,’ Amanda gave him her sweetest smile. ‘I wouldn’t do that. Although,’ she chewed her lip, looking conflicted, ‘I do have to go. It’s so late and I have work tomorrow. Well, today really.’
Gregg laughed, widening his mouth to reveal a set of perfect white teeth. Unlike Shane who was crinkled and weary, Gregg was still polished, his shirt smooth and crisp against his shirt as if he’d just arrived at the club.
‘Dinner.’ His silver eyes shone against the shadows of the booth.
‘D-Dinner?’ Amanda stumbled over her response, wondering if she’d misheard him.
‘Yes, dinner. Have dinner with me. Tomorrow night. Or,’ he pulled his smile to one side. The expression took decades off him, revealing the cocky boy who resided within the successful man. ‘Technically it’s tonight.’
Dinner. He was asking her out. On a date. The club grew hotter, the air stickier so that it almost became an impenetrable mist that was holding Amanda in place, preventing her escape.
‘Tell me where you’re staying and I’ll pick you up at eight.’
He wanted to know the hotel she was staying at. A giant red flag unfurled itself in Amanda’s mind. She blinked away her drunken haze and wiped the back of her hand across her mouth, stalling for time. Stating the name of her hotel was going too far. She’d already given away too much information about herself as it was.
‘I’ll meet you there,’ she dropped her hand to her waist and adopted what she hoped was a confident, powerful stance. ‘I loathe being chauffeured around. I prefer to make my own way to places.’
‘An independent streak.’ Still smiling, Gregg gave a slow nod of approval. ‘Very well. Marco’s, at half eight. It’s a few streets away from here. I’d give you some more details but something tells me you enjoy figuring stuff out on your own.’
‘Great,’ Amanda replied breathily. She was suddenly eager to leave. She was sure there was something in Gregg’s tone, a taunt. But when she looked into his eyes and saw his smile there was no malice there, just openness and flirtation.
‘I’ll see you later, Miss Preston,’ he raised his glass to her.
Walking away, Amanda didn’t look back. She kept her head high and mainlined for the doors which led out onto the street.
The cold night air met her like a slap in the face. Wrapping her arms around herself, Amanda started hurrying down the street. There were too many shadows, too many back alleys, and she didn’t feel safe.
&nb
sp; ‘Hey, wait up.’
She’d barely reached the sanctuary of the first lamp post when Shane came hurrying after her.
‘So, are we all done with this now?’ He was searching her face for answers.
‘Let’s just get back to the hotel.’ Her teeth were beginning to chatter as the cold seeped into her bones.
‘Amanda,’ Shane eased into her stride and pressed a hand against the small of her back. ‘Are you all right? What happened in there? Did you get what you need?’
‘Dinner.’ Amanda was fishing in her purse for her phone. It was too cold to walk all the way back to the hotel, she needed an Uber.
‘You’re hungry?’ With his hand still held against her, Shane glanced up and down the street. All of the shops around them were closed up for the night, their frontages hidden behind heavy metal shutters.
‘No.’ Her stomach gave a loud grumble. ‘Yes.’
‘Then we’ll find somewhere to go. I think there’s a twenty-four hour McDonald’s close by.’
‘He invited me to dinner. Tonight.’
‘Who did?’ Shane dropped his hand. ‘McAllister?’
‘Uh-huh.’
‘And you said no, right?’
Amanda looked at her feet which throbbed within her new shoes.
‘Tell me you didn’t agree to go to dinner with him,’ Shane’s voice was rising.
‘I need to find where he stores all his files. His information. At the very least I need to clone his phone.’
‘And you didn’t manage to do that tonight despite how cosy you two got?’
‘What? No. There was no sign of it. That better not be jealousy in your voice,’ Amanda stepped back, creating a space between them. ‘Because that man in there helped kill my fucking husband. Don’t think I’ve forgotten that. Yes, he’s charming. Yes, he’s sort of fun to be around. But that doesn’t stop him being an absolute monster, Shane. I’m here to do a job, that’s it. And I expect you to support me.’
‘What the hell do you think I’m doing here?’ Shane snapped back. ‘Do you think it’s fun for me to watch you flirt with that… that prick?’ Pushing his hands through his hair, he paced away from her. ‘I’m here to support you.’ He doubled back and cupped her chin with his hands, raising her face up towards his. ‘I will stay by your side through all of this. I swear.’
‘It’s just dinner.’ Her mascara became clumped with tears.
‘No,’ Shane smiled sadly at her. ‘It’s never just dinner. You know that.’
*
‘I still don’t like it.’
Amanda had slept away most of the day. It had felt good to peel out of her dress and envelop herself in the soft white sheets of her hotel bed. There had been no dreams, no nightmares. Just blissful, rejuvenating darkness.
‘What if he expects something from you?’ Shane continued. He’d just come back from the gym, his hair flat and damp with sweat.
‘Like what?’
‘Don’t pretend to be naïve,’ he said through gritted teeth. Even though he’d spent the better part of two hours down at the gym his whole body was still tight with tension. He sat down on the bed beside Amanda but didn’t look at her.
‘I’m not going to have sex with him if that’s what you’re getting at.’
‘There’s a lot of other ways to be intimate with someone.’
Amanda could feel the waves of heat radiating off Shane’s body. His arms looked sculpted and muscular in the tight fitting T-shirt he wore. He was the first person she’d ever slept with. Together they’d explored every recipe in the sexual cookbook. He had been the subject of all her firsts. And together they fumbled through the basics until they became good at what they were doing. With Will there’d been no dress rehearsal. They just went straight for the main act and then stayed for the encore.
‘I’m not going to do anything other than have dinner with him.’
‘And if he pushes for more?’ Shane titled his head slightly to watch her out of the corner of his eye.
‘You think I can’t handle myself?’ Amanda challenged haughtily.
‘I think you risk being blinded by your goal. You want to get access to his phone. What better way to do that than to separate the man from his trousers?’
‘Shane!’
‘Then what is your plan?’
‘I don’t…’ Amanda picked at the ends of her fingernails. ‘I don’t really know. Yes, I need to clone his phone, but really I need to know where he keeps all his main data.’
‘So you want an invite back to his place?’ Shane stood up and turned around to face her, leaning against the unit which the flat-screen TV was sat upon.
‘I didn’t say that.’
‘You’re going to string him along, bat your eyelashes at him and suggest that you’re as in to him as he is into you. You’ll be a tease until you get taken back to his place. Then what?’
Amanda opened her mouth but Shane ploughed on before she could respond.
‘Then what?’ he repeated. ‘You’ll be at his house, Amanda. Surrounded by all his guards. You think he’ll just let you leave without giving him what he wants?’
‘I’ll sound the alarm.’
‘What?’
‘I can set off his alarm system at just the right time, give me a chance to get away. And Turtle can help.’
‘Christ, you’re serious about this.’
‘Do you have a better idea?’ Amanda stood up and stared at him. They were just inches apart. She could feel the electricity crackling between them. ‘He doesn’t know who I am, so the only hand I have to play is my sexuality. I need to get access to him, Shane. I need him to lower his guard around me.’
‘Letting you be close to him like that, it’s killing me.’
‘Shane—’
‘When you showed up at the station looking for Will I thought,’ he reached forward and took her hand in his, ‘I thought that maybe…’ He gave her hand a squeeze. Amanda felt the pressure through her entire body. Closing her eyes, she tried to imagine a more perfect moment, one where they weren’t in Scotland trying to avenge her dead husband. If only they could go back to simpler times when there was sand beneath their feet and hope in their hearts.
‘Love is being willing to do anything for someone.’ Will had uttered the words to her on a balmy summer evening the year before. They were sat out in their back garden. The scent of fresh paint and wood drifted out from their shiny new home via the French doors which had been thrown open. Will was on his third beer and his eyes had misted. He stared dreamily out at the newly planted grass, at the bare wood of the fence which he still needed to varnish.
‘Would you do anything for me?’ Amanda had flirtatiously traced her fingers up his arm, loving how she saw him tense appreciatively.
‘I’d do anything to keep you safe.’
‘Anything?’ Amanda queried teasingly.
‘Anything,’ Will clarified stoically.
‘Would you wax your chest for me?’
‘I’m not sure how that’s keeping you safe.’
‘Would you watch a musical with me?’
‘Again, what’s that got to do with your safety?’
Amanda slid off her chair and climbed on top of Will, facing him. His hands expertly gripped at her waist as she pressed herself against him.
‘Would you take a bullet for me?’ she wondered as she leaned down to kiss his neck. His grip against her waist tightened and his breathing quickened.
‘Yes,’ he told her as he lifted a hand to the back of her head and pulled her in for a deep, passionate kiss.
Amanda stepped back from Shane now, leaving the tension sparking in the space she’d just vacated.
‘I need to get ready for dinner.’ Her tone was oddly cold, detached.
‘Have I…’ Shane’s hurt was splattered all over his face. ‘Have I done something wrong?’
‘No. God no. You’ve done everything right. It’s just…’ she folded her arms against her chest and sighed. ‘Rig
ht now I need to focus on bringing McAllister down. I don’t have space in my head, or my heart, for anything else.’
‘And once that’s all done and over with?’
‘I think you already know the answer to that one,’ Amanda made her way towards the bathroom.
‘Maybe I need to hear it from you,’ Shane called after her.
‘Maybe you just need to trust how you feel.’
*
Marco’s was a small, independently owned Italian restaurant located about five minutes away from Rumours. It had bright red awning over its front window and all the tables were covered in green gingham tablecloths. There was a real bistro vibe about the place. It was small, intimate. Unassuming.
Amanda had expected a guy like McAllister to take his dates to fancier places, to restaurants which had Michelin stars.
‘Maybe he’s trying to show you his more humble side,’ Shane considered, his tone flat.
‘Maybe.’ Amanda felt more comfortable in her skinny jeans and T-shirt than she had in the cocktail dress. The outfit was more her. And so was the venue. Marco’s looked like a genuinely nice little place to eat.
‘I’ll be at the Starbucks just up the road,’ Shane promised. ‘You need me, you call me, got it?’
‘Got it.’
‘Else I’ll just meet you back at the hotel at eleven thirty. Any later and I’m calling the cops. I swear to God that I’m not messing around here, Amanda.’
‘Eleven thirty, I heard you. I’ve even synchronised my watch and everything.’
‘Don’t make light of this.’
‘I’m not.’ But she couldn’t resist flashing Shane a playful smile.
‘And don’t drink; you’ll need a clear head if you want to make a play for his phone.’
‘Yes, absolutely.’
To clone McAllister’s phone Amanda needed at least five minutes with it. Her own phone was all set up with the technology and ready to go. She just needed to plant it down on top of her target, enter a code and her phone would start wirelessly cloning all of the data within McAllister’s. She’d get access to his contacts, messages, emails. And she prayed that would be enough. She didn’t want to go to McAllister’s mansion, to be truly alone with him. He intrigued her but he also scared her. The charismatic gentleman in the suave suit was just one of the masks he wore. Which one had he had on when he ordered his men to hunt down Will? Amanda hoped she never had to see it.
