by Carys Jones
Amanda closed her laptop and dreamily gazed at her vase full of roses. Their velvety petals had started to droop overnight. She knew through her mother’s experiences that they were as delicate as they were beautiful. Her bouquet would not last very long.
‘And you can bin those bloody flowers.’ Shane burst back out of the bathroom, still draped in just a white towel. He pointed over at the vase, his features contorting with anger. ‘If you want flowers, I’ll buy you flowers.’
‘Shane—’
‘Bin them. I mean it. I don’t want anything of his in here.’
‘Okay, okay, relax.’ Amanda reached for the vase.
‘I can see you slipping under his fucking spell. You’re such a sucker for strong men that seem wounded.’
‘Shane—’
‘Tell me I’m wrong,’ he demanded, his voice like thunder. ‘Tell me that you see who McAllister really is, that you’re not being taken in by his charm.’
‘I see who he really is,’ Amanda calmly assured him. ‘I’m completely on top of this. You don’t have to worry.’
‘Fine.’ Shane stormed back into the bathroom and Amanda released her grip on the vase, leaving the roses be. It seemed pointless to throw away something so beautiful. It was only when she drew away that she noticed that she’d caught her finger on a thorn and had managed to draw blood.
10
The elevator doors eased open in front of her and Amanda paused, unsure if she should get out. McAllister was waiting for her in the bar just metres away. Another date. Another night of playing pretend.
‘Remember why we’re here,’ Shane had stared into her eyes and placed his hands on her shoulders, applying pressure before letting her go and blinking back tears. As Amanda walked away from the hotel she didn’t turn to look at him, couldn’t bear to see the pain etched onto his face. She knew that each time he let her walk away to meet McAllister he wondered if she’d be coming back. If the man would morph into the monster and she’d meet the same fate as Will.
Will.
The scars on her heart had threaded together to spell out his name. What would he say if he could see her now – all dressed up for the man who helped kill him? He’d tell her to run.
‘Just run, Amanda. Get away and don’t stop running.’ Because that’s what he’d done – he’d run away. A decision which had ultimately proved fatal. Will had proved that running wasn’t the answer.
Drawing in a breath and pushing out her chest, Amanda left the elevator. The top floor of the hotel she was in opened out into a luxurious bar which offered stunning views of the city through floor-to-ceiling windows. Amanda strode purposefully towards the slick ebony surface of the large bar and then stopped. Behind the bar stood two servers. Around her were dozens of tables and plush velvet sofas. Amanda turned, taking in every inch of the room. Every table, every sofa, was empty.
It was a trap.
Amanda spied the silhouette standing against the glittering city skyline, peering out on their domain. McAllister was already there, suited up as usual. He’d lured Amanda here, away from prying eyes. Did he know she’d cloned his phone? Did he intend to launch her from one of the vast windows and watch her plummet down into the shadows below?
‘Good evening, Amanda.’
McAllister turned away from the window, sensing her presence. He held a Martini glass in one hand and, standing in the empty bar, he looked like some sort of Bond villain. Amanda began to calculate how quickly she could be back in the elevator, punching on the button to close the doors.
Her mind was too slow, panic making her thoughts foggy. McAllister strode over to her, smiling. His free hand in his trouser pocket.
‘Where…’ Amanda cleared her throat and smoothed her clammy palms against her dress. She wore a bright red bondage number which she felt was far too clingy, but Shane had begrudgingly assured her that such a dress would ensure an invitation to McAllister’s home.
‘You’re going in all dressed up like some fancy present,’ he’d muttered grumpily when Amanda stepped out of the bathroom in the dress, ‘he’ll just want to get you home and unwrap you.’
‘Where is everyone?’ Amanda’s question came out like a whimper.
‘Wow.’ McAllister stopped a few paces short of her and his steely gaze swept over her dress which exposed her long legs and modest curves. ‘You look,’ a blush crept into his cheeks, ‘stunning, Amanda. Truly.’
‘Thanks. The, um…’ she nervously wound her hair around her fingers, ‘why’s the bar so empty?’
She kept her eyes on his pocketed hand, waiting for him to produce a gun, steadily aim it at her and tell her that it was all over, that he was on to her ruse.
‘I might have hired out the whole place,’ he explained with a modest shrug, his hand remaining in his pocket. ‘I admit it was something of an extreme length to go to, but I figured,’ another shrug, ‘it’d be nice to have a bit of privacy.’
He’d hired out the entire bar? Amanda’s eyes widened. She was stunned. No one had ever done anything like that for her before.
‘Come,’ Gregg finally freed his other hand and gestured towards the windows where he’d been standing. ‘We’ve got the best table in the place.’
*
Amanda had never been a connoisseur of wine. She knew three varieties – red, white and rosé. Her date for the evening was much more informed. He ordered them a bottle of something red and rare which he was certain Amanda would love. After the waiter had uncorked the bottle and poured them each a glass, Amanda took a sip and as it slid down her throat it felt like berry-infused silk. It was truly delicious. So delicious that she keenly drank two glasses before realising by her third that she needed to slow down a little.
‘Do you come here a lot?’ Amanda wondered. Gregg was sat across from her, leaning back in a sofa with one elbow resting on the chair’s arm.
‘As much as I can,’ he admitted with the dreamy malaise that always followed several glasses of good wine. He turned his head to look out at the glittering city. ‘There’s something very serene about being up here. It calms me.’
‘Do you need calming?’
‘Sometimes.’ His smile became mischievous. Then it dropped altogether. ‘I mainly come here when I’m trying to outrun my demons.’
‘Do you have many demons?’
‘Too many.’ With a sigh he leaned forward and reached for his glass of wine.
Amanda polished off what remained of the crimson liquid in her glass, savouring the rich taste. She knew she should be needling McAllister for information. But he seemed so vulnerable. Whilst hiring the whole bar made him look like a giant, as he sat in his plush sofa surrounding by empty chairs he looked woefully lost. And small against all the emptiness.
‘Do you have any children?’ She told herself it was an acceptable question to ask, relevant date talk even though Amanda was fully aware of what a loaded question it was. Gregg’s silver eyes turned to stone as he placed down his glass without having drunk from it.
‘I did. Once.’
‘What happened?’
‘I had two beautiful girls. They were everything to me. But there was a fire and,’ he looked down at his hands, ‘they didn’t make it out.’
‘My God, how awful. I’m so sorry. What were their names?’
‘I can’t,’ Gregg shook his head as a single tear danced down his cheek and reached the tip of his scar. ‘I can’t say their names. It’s too painful.’
Amanda joined him on his sofa. She knew she needed to stay close to him but she was also drawn to his pain. Few people had felt loss on such a scale as she had. She silently reached for his hands and held them tightly, pressing her body against his. He smelt like cedar, wine and secrets.
‘I come here to forget,’ he told her tearfully. ‘I come here to try and get some distance from all my nightmares.’ Squeezing her hands back, he turned so that his head was inches from hers. Then he leaned forward, letting their foreheads touch. ‘And I run,’ he whisp
ered.
Arrows of despair pierced Amanda’s heart and she had to fight the urge to flinch. Why was he talking about running? Was he alluding to Will?
‘Every morning at sunrise I go jogging through the woodlands that border my home. I run until my lungs burn and my legs go numb and I find that it helps.’
‘I go jogging too.’ Amanda’s voice was soft and seductive. ‘I run every day if I can.’
‘We have so much in common.’ His gaze lowered to her lips and his breathing became shallow.
Amanda had been intimate with a man enough times to know what was coming next – this was all the prelude to a kiss. Biting her lip, she eased back from him, destroying the moment. This was all still a game and she wasn’t about to show her hand just yet.
‘Tomorrow,’ she kept her hands on his, her voice sweet. ‘Why don’t we go somewhere where we can be truly alone?’ Amanda pointedly glanced back towards the ebony bar and the pair of servers who were busying themselves polishing glasses.
‘It’s like you read my mind.’ Gregg’s voice was firm yet delicate, like the crunch of autumn leaves underfoot. ‘Maybe you’d like to come over to my place?’ he released one of his hands from her grasp and slid it over to her leg, resting it on the exposed skin just beneath her revealing dress’s hemline.
‘That sounds perfect.’ Amanda hoped that her nervous breathing looked more like sensual excitement.
Gregg kept his hand on her leg. ‘I feel like I can truly be myself around you, Amanda.’ He inched his hand a fraction higher, pushing it beneath the red fabric. ‘You don’t play games like most other women do.’
She was too aware of his hand on her leg. His touch was starting to burn, to sear through her skin, corrupting her soul with every second they remained connected. Amanda reached for his face, cupped his cheek and drew his lips towards hers. It was a soft kiss, planted briefly against the corner of his mouth with enough pressure to leave a red mark. A signature.
Amanda stood up before Gregg could seize the opportunity to deepen the passion of the kiss. She smoothed down her dress and put on her most flirtatious smile. ‘Until tomorrow,’ she told him breathlessly. She hoped he’d just let her go, perhaps watch her walk away from his position on the sofa but he followed her like a lost puppy, out towards the elevator.
‘You sure know how to leave a man wanting more,’ his eyes were full of desire but he didn’t touch her. He remained a few inches away, both hands pushed into his pockets.
‘What more could you possibly want?’ Amanda teased as the elevator doors glided open.
‘Everything.’ Gregg looked at her like she was all the wonders of the world rolled into one. ‘With you I want everything.’
He was still staring at her as the elevator doors closed, leaving him alone up in his empty bar.
*
The night carried the scent of a thousand parties. Amanda carefully wandered down the street in her high-heeled shoes and breathed in cigarette smoke infused with wine, beer and vinegar-soaked fish and chips. Couples staggered close by, wrapped tightly together as though they were on a sinking ship. Amanda could see the lights of her hotel in the distance. It was a welcoming sight.
Once she’d drifted through the brightly lit lobby she went up to her room expecting to find Shane. But he wasn’t there. Both the bed and the bathroom were empty. Amanda checked the clock on the bedside table. It was just after eleven. Was he not expecting her back so soon?
Her insides knotted themselves together in panic. She remembered all too well the feeling of waking up one morning and finding that her husband was gone. She looked at the crisp sheets of her hotel bed and bit back tears. Shane would never just up and leave her, would he?
But then she’d never have thought that Will would. Up until the day he’d left he’d been as solid and reliable as her late father had once been. He never missed a date, always came home on time.
Amanda burst out of her hotel room and into the corridor. She couldn’t accept that Shane would just leave. That wasn’t him. And she knew him. He’d been there her whole life, why would he bail now?
Back in the elevator Amanda could barely read the information about what was contained on which floor. She spied the word gym and pressed the relevant button on the keypad and prayed that Shane was there. Because if he wasn’t…
Had McAllister taken him?
Maybe the empty bar had all been a distraction. Whilst Amanda was looking one way, McAllister’s men swooped in and stole Shane away. Was their intention to torture him? To demand he tell them where Ewan was? But Shane was a cop. Surely they wouldn’t risk tangling with him?
The elevator doors opened and Amanda was running down another corridor. She reached the glass-fronted gym and skidded to a halt. Amongst the array of expensive equipment lay Shane. He was on his back on a bench press. The muscles in his upper arm tensed as he raised a large dumbbell above his chest. He sat up when Amanda entered the gym.
‘Hey,’ he grabbed a towel draped over the edge of the bench press and wiped it across his face and the back of his neck. ‘You’re back.’
‘I didn’t know where you were.’ Amanda found the weight of a punchbag behind her and leaned against it so that she wouldn’t crumple into a ball on the floor. The wine in her system was making her emotional. Irrational. ‘I went back to the room and when you weren’t there—’ her knees buckled as she released a ragged sob.
‘Hey,’ Shane scooped her up into his arms, his skin damp with sweat, and pressed her against the punchbag. He carefully stroked her hair out of her eyeline, tucking it behind her ear. ‘I would never leave you.’ The promise was soft against her cheek. ‘I just had to get out of there. Had to work out some of my tension.’
‘He wants me to go to his place. Tomorrow.’
‘Shit, right. Okay.’
‘I can’t sleep with him,’ Amanda trembled fearfully, realising how things might escalate. ‘I can’t go that far, I just—’
‘Shh, you won’t have to. We’ll work something out.’ Shane kissed her temple and raised his hand to caress her cheek with his thumb.
‘Don’t run from me.’ Amanda wasn’t sure if she was talking to Shane or her memories of Will. The wine was blurring all her thoughts together.
‘I’ll never run from you.’
‘But you left me. Before.’
When her relationship with Shane had broken down a knife had wedged itself in Amanda’s side. It was always there and she’d learned to live with the dull ache it provided. But sometimes the knife turned, and when it did she was overwhelmed with fresh pain, relieving the trauma of that goodbye all over again. Shane refused to accept her dalliances within the darknet and his feelings forced him towards the door. Amanda had let him leave but he’d been the one to cross that threshold, to set fire to all that they’d had.
‘I was young and I was a fool,’ Shane’s body was pressed against hers. ‘Tell me you want me and I’ll never leave again. I swear. I’ll be yours forever.’
‘I…’ The air in the gym was too hot and clammy. Amanda wanted to get out, wanted to breathe in fresh air and kick off her shoes and slide out of her red dress. ‘I need you.’
Were want and need different things? Shane’s reaction told her that they were. He dropped his arms, releasing the pressure between them. Amanda staggered forward, away from the punchbag.
‘Let’s get you to bed to sleep off all that wine in your system,’ his shoulders were slumped in defeat.
‘What wine?’
‘Your lips are stained with the stuff. You’ve been drinking red wine. You never could handle it.’
‘I’m fine,’ Amanda insisted with a grandiose air, right before she almost toppled out of her shoes. Suddenly moving in a pair of five-inch heels felt more like walking on stilts.
‘Get those things off.’
Amanda kicked off the shoes with a flourish, giggling, and started for the door. Shane scooped down and grabbed them before following her out of the gym. The carpeted
floor of the hotel’s corridor felt blissfully soft against her bare feet.
‘Come on twinkletoes, bedtime,’ Shane guided her towards the elevator and pressed the button for their floor. Amanda’s mood shifted from playful to sleepy during the ascent and by the time they entered their room her eyelids felt leaden and her body was stiff. Shane had to help her over to the bed, where she collapsed against her pillows, eager to fall asleep.
‘Okay, well, goodnight,’ he pulled the sheets up over her.
Amanda could sense him walking away, retreating from her bedside. ‘I want you,’ she whispered, on the cusp of sleep. ‘I want you so much it scares me.’
11
Gregg McAllister’s main residence wasn’t located in Glasgow. It was closer to Edinburgh, nestled away in the countryside just beyond the city. He had an apartment in Glasgow. But he hadn’t invited Amanda there. She read the email he’d sent her again, sent to a ghost account Amanda had set up for herself. The address already familiar to her thanks to her investigative searches via Google maps.
‘So he’s invited you to his main house?’ Shane had folded himself into the chair beside her. Starbucks was bustling around them so Amanda had to keep her voice low.
‘His main house, yeah.’ She slid her phone across the table, allowing him to read the message Gregg had sent her earlier.
‘This place has got to be, what? An hour away?’
‘More like two,’ Amanda frowned at the map she’d pulled up on her laptop.
‘Two? How are you even supposed to get there?’
‘He’s sending a car for me.’
‘Jesus.’ Shane shook his head. ‘I mean, why couldn’t he just invite you to his apartment here in the city?’
‘I don’t know.’ Amanda guiltily chewed her lip. She felt like she did know. She’d flirted with McAllister and told him that they needed privacy. His mansion would offer them complete solitude. There’d be no city lights, no place for her to run to. And the mainframe. It had to be there. She nervously reached for her cup of coffee and had to force a gulp down her throat which was constricting as her thoughts began to run away from her.
