by Carys Jones
‘You killed Will. You killed my husband.’ Amanda was screaming, using her words like bullets in the hope that one of them would connect with McAllister’s chest and knock him down.
‘I did no such thing.’ He held his hands up defensively, smiling. Mocking her. ‘If Jake Burton got shot up on some hillside then it’s just because his shady past caught up with him. He and that fool friend of his tried to pull a fast one on me. I never give someone a second chance to cross me.’
‘He was a good man.’
Amanda clung to her memories of Will. In the dead of night if a strange sound woke them up he’d be straight out of bed to investigate it, showing no regard for his own well-being. He was brave and kind. Amanda realised she was sobbing. Her shoulders shook with every mournful howl.
‘Jake got what he deserved,’ McAllister seethed. ‘Just as you will. Did you really think you could come into my home and deceive me?’
‘I know it’s not all made up, the data on the file,’ Amanda raged. ‘You trade people like you trade drugs. You’re a fucking animal that needs to be put down.’
McAllister grabbed her neck. He squeezed as his thumb grazed the centre of her throat. ‘There’s still fight in you yet.’ He pressed his body against hers. ‘I like that.’
If Amanda had possession of her hands she’d have punched him right in the face. Instead all she could do was squirm in protest, unable to shake off the guard’s powerful grasp.
‘And yes, the data on the file is all true. I make my money in ways other people might deem distasteful. But it’s my life, my money. My conscience.’
His other hand slipped between Amanda’s thighs and she froze. She felt his fingers creep along her garter. McAllister’s body eased closer into hers and Amanda jerked forward. Their foreheads connected with a dull thud, causing him to stagger back. Her head pounded but she didn’t care. She’d tear the flesh from his bones with her teeth if she had to – anything in order to stay alive.
McAllister cursed as he massaged his temple. ‘Fucking bitch.’ He paced away from her, regaining his composure. ‘Did you think I wanted to have you? Don’t fucking flatter yourself. I’m used to bedding women a lot younger than you. A lot more beautiful. I do not need to resort to raping some desperate slag out on a cliff edge.’ He looked at her and the hate burning behind his eyes mellowed as a satisfied smile pulled on his lips, causing his scar to lift up his cheeks. ‘What I wanted was this.’ He produced the USB stick Amanda had stored away.
She fought against the guard’s grasp, desperate to reclaim the only leverage she had on McAllister.
‘You want this?’ he dangled the slim piece of plastic in front of her like she was a playful puppy. ‘Then go fetch.’ McAllister slung the stick over the side of the cliff. Amanda kept her eyes on it as long as she could, until it was eaten up by the ocean. ‘I hope it was waterproof,’ McAllister remarked as his gathered guards sniggered. ‘Now it’s your turn.’
With a nod from his master the guard pushed Amanda forward so that she was standing directly on the edge of the cliff. As she wavered, trying to stagger back, she sent stones skittering down into the watery depths. She tasted something metallic. It wasn’t blood. It was her own fear. Closing her eyes, she tried to imagine she was somewhere else. Anywhere else.
The last time she’d faced such a drop into angry waves her father had reached down and grabbed her at the last second. Like a real life Superman he’d appeared above her, the sunlight creating a halo around his head. He’d pulled his little daughter back from oblivion.
Amanda continued to fight against the guard, hoping and praying that Shane had somehow miraculously found her and that any moment she’d hear the squeal of his car braking before he ran over, knocked the guard to his feet and grabbed Amanda in the split second before she toppled over the edge.
‘It pains me to do this, Amanda. Truly.’ McAllister was standing close to the edge, shouting to be heard over the hungry roar of the waves.
‘Then don’t!’ Amanda yelled. ‘Be the man I met in the club. Be the man who your daughters would be proud of.’
McAllister thrust his hands deep into his pockets. ‘Do you know that I heard them screaming?’
He wasn’t looking at Amanda, he was looking out to sea.
‘The fire, it moved like it was alive. And it was fast. Too fast. I couldn’t get to them in time. But I got to hear them scream as their bedroom burnt down around them. Have you ever heard someone scream as they’re burned to death?’
‘No.’
‘It’s a sound that sets into your bones like a rot. A sound that haunts you in the dead of night. I’ll never forget having to listen to my daughters die. Going through something like that it changes you, hardens you.’
‘You’re the reason they died.’
‘True.’ McAllister gave a slow nod. ‘I angered a man who I shouldn’t have underestimated. The next day, I went to his home and gutted him, stomach to sternum.’
‘But it didn’t bring your girls back, did it? You don’t have to be a monster.’
‘It was never about bringing them back,’ McAllister chortled. ‘It was about revenge. I mean, isn’t that the reason we’re both stood here? Why I’m currently freezing my bollocks off? Revenge, even more than love, is a potent motivator. We can pretend to be civilised, with all our politics and laws, but ultimately people still want an eye for an eye. And you sought me out as revenge for Jake.’
‘Because you killed him!’
‘No,’ McAllister countered coolly. ‘Because he lied. Because he left. And since he’s dead you can’t take your anger out on him. But me, I’m the perfect target. Or so you thought.’
‘I’m not mad at Will,’ Amanda shrieked her declaration into the wind. ‘He did what he felt he had to do. And I loved him. Despite it all, I loved him until the end.’
‘Well aren’t you a worthy recipient for wife of the year?’ McAllister deadpanned. ‘Hold on to that thought on the way down.’ He nodded at his guard and Amanda screamed. She wasn’t ready. This couldn’t be it. She flailed against the guard behind her, sending more loose rocks down the sheer face of the cliff. Her heart had settled in the pit of her stomach as she teetered on the precipice.
‘Don’t do this.’ She was pleading for her life. She needed to be sick. She needed to scream.
The guard pushed her forward and then snapped her back into place. Amanda lost control of her bladder. She felt warmth pouring down her inner thighs and she started to shake. Was McAllister actually planning on killing her or just toying with her? She couldn’t tell anymore.
‘I hear that from this height, when you land in the water it’s like crashing into cement,’ McAllister bowed his head and looked down. The sheer drop into the waves was just a few inches away from the tips of his polished shoes.
‘My cousin broke his back when he got drunk and jumped off a bridge,’ the guard holding Amanda offered unhelpfully.
‘Was that Andrew?’
‘Aye.’
‘So is he in a wheelchair now?’
‘Aye. But he can still get about well enough. He’s got his own flat and a girlfriend.’
‘Good for him.’
The dark sky was weakening, turning from black to grey. The wind pressed against Amanda and her captors, as if trying to knock her off the edge.
‘Boss, the weather’s really picking up,’ the guard commented.
A light drizzle started to silently fall around them. Amanda turned her head skyward, hoping it would wash away some of her blood and tears.
‘Okay then, let’s wrap this up.’ McAllister gave another curt nod.
The guard pushed Amanda forwards. Her feet left the rocky edge and she was held in mid-air, suspended above the rocks below. She couldn’t scream. She couldn’t even breathe. Her heartbeat pounding in her ears like a war drum. And then she was snatched back, her feet once again grazing the rocky ground. The guard released her and Amanda crumpled like a puppet whose strings had been cut. She
hugged her knees to her chest and sat there, shaking.
‘Ach, come now, Amanda,’ McAllister came and stood before her, stooping down to offer her his hand. Amanda looked up at it through strands of her hair which gathered in her eyes. ‘You didn’t really think I’d let one of my guys throw you over the edge of this here cliff, did you?’
Amanda still couldn’t speak. She remained huddled in a ball like a beaten animal. Was that what this all had been – a mind game? Punishment for daring to try and ensnare McAllister in a digital net? Was he now going to spare her life after toying with it?
‘Don’t be proud now, girl. Let’s have you back on your feet.’
Looking beyond McAllister, Amanda could see his men climbing back into the waiting Phantom. It was actually over.
‘Take my hand and let’s forget about all this, okay?’
His hand was still extended towards her like an olive branch. Reluctantly she took it. Her bloodied wrists burned with fresh pain as he hauled her up onto her feet. Amanda looked down at her legs uncertainly. Only moments ago she’d been held in mid-air. The ground beneath her feet almost didn’t seem real, like it was all still an illusion and Amanda didn’t know what to trust.
‘Don’t look so scared.’
McAllister had returned to being the man in the club. His grey eyes crinkled in the corners as he offered her an apologetic smile. ‘You were the one playing me the whole time. You can’t be all that surprised that we ended up here.’
Amanda tried to pull her hand away from his, to wipe at her eyes, but she couldn’t. He locked his hand around her wounded wrist and then reached for her other arm before her mind could catch up with what he was doing.
‘Like I said,’ his words were soft but his touch was hard. His hands dug into Amanda’s wrists, causing her to yelp. ‘I wasn’t about to let one of my guys throw you off this cliff.’
The roar of the waves grew louder and Amanda realised he was pushing her back towards the edge. She was once again a fly in his web, too weak from shock to fight back.
McAllister smiled wickedly at her. ‘Not when I could have the satisfaction of killing you myself.’
‘No—’ Amanda’s eyes widened as he released her wrists and pressed his palms into her chest. She fell back as the wind tangled itself in her hair. She was still looking at McAllister, at his twisted smile, as she continued to fall. There was nothing behind her. No ground to drop against. And a saviour didn’t come. No hand appeared over the edge to grab her, to haul her back up. Even the wind wasn’t powerful enough to sweep her back to safety. Amanda just kept falling.
16
Amanda flailed in the air, each of her limbs scrambling about, trying to find something to grab onto but finding only emptiness. She felt like she was falling through space and that when she landed she’d be sat amongst the stars.
It took just over two seconds for her body to hit the water. They were the longest seconds of her life. The water had turned to slate during her descent. She smacked against it, the impact jarring every bone in her body. She couldn’t breathe. Her lungs had been flattened by the crash. Amanda sunk down into charcoal waters. Then the needles came. They pricked against every inch of her body, sharp and unrelenting, trying to tear the flesh from the bone. The cold was savage. Amanda was dropping deeper into the darkness. She vaguely recognised the weakening light of the moon hovering above, ripples distorting its face. It looked as though it were in another world.
Something pushed against her right side. It was strong and determined. It tossed her around like flotsam and only released her as she smacked against the rocks of the cliff. Pain shook through her body. Amanda’s hands scratched at the slickened surface of the rock, using limpets to cling onto, to power herself up towards the rippling moon.
The force came again, pressing her more firmly against the rocks. Amanda’s head snapped forward and bounced off the stone. She kept holding on even though a part of her longed to let go, to drift down into the blissful depths of the water. She knew there would be no pain there, just respite.
Amanda broke through the surface of the water, clinging to the rock. Her arms trembled. She sucked in a vital salty breath, as desperate as a newborn baby. Around her the world was shaded with charcoal. A reluctant sun had yet to replace the moon overhead. Amanda looked down at the water around her, the surface briefly glassy, like a doll’s eye before the white crest of a wave broke through it and powered towards her. Amanda curled against the rock for protection. The wave came like a punch. Her arms kept shaking. She didn’t have the strength to hold on for much longer. And the cold – it gnawed on her bones like she was already a carcass. If she stayed on the rock she was going to die. Her thoughts were slipping away, becoming increasingly incoherent.
‘Keep kicking,’ she heard the booming voice of her old swimming instructor, Mrs Maddox. ‘Kick as if your life depended on it.’
Amanda waited for the next wave to recede and then released the rock. She kicked. She kicked with everything she had. Whilst her legs cooperated, her arms were less compliant. They felt stiff, as though they were now made of wood. Amanda thrashed them in the water as she kept kicking, slowly making progress away from the dangerous rocks.
Each time she raised her head enough to take in a breath she inhaled more seawater than air. She choked against it, continually kicking. Where was she even going? She didn’t know this shoreline, there might be miles of cliffs or she could be mere metres away from a shingle beach. Amanda prayed it was the latter. Her mind zoned out as she just kept kicking. Piece by piece her whole body went numb, succumbing to the cold.
Amanda didn’t notice the tide that helped take her ashore. She was single-minded in her determination to just keep kicking. When she eventually reached the shallows she crawled forward, her hands sinking into the wet sand. She hauled her body away from the shoreline, away from the icy waves, and collapsed face down in the shingle.
*
‘So… this?’ Will swept his gaze along the beach.
‘Yes, this,’ Amanda nodded as she squeezed his hand which was firmly interlocked with her own, ‘this is my little slice of heaven.’
‘It’s a beach.’
‘But it’s my beach. This is where I grew up.’
‘It’s certainly… pretty.’
‘Look, here,’ Amanda eagerly pulled him towards a collection of rocks which threaded their way out to sea. ‘This is where I used to go exploring in all the little rock pools. I’d find all sorts in my little net, like crabs and limpets.’
‘It’s nice.’ Will took it all in with his usual stoic demeanour.
‘And here,’ Amanda pulled on his hand, taking him away from the rock pools and further down the beach. ‘This is where my dad and I would race.’ The sand stretched away from them, extending towards holidaymakers who were just dots on the horizon enjoying the sunshine.
‘It really is beautiful, Amanda,’ he released her hand to loop an arm around her shoulders. She instinctively leaned in to him. ‘You’re lucky to have grown up somewhere so idyllic.’
‘So when do I get to see where you grew up?’ she squinted up at him in the sunlight.
‘Oh, no way,’ Will furrowed his thick brow. ‘You showed me your little slice of heaven. I’m not about to repay you by showing you a wedge of hell.’
‘I bet it wasn’t that bad. You’re just being dramatic, trying to maintain your rugged image and mysterious demeanour.’
‘No, it was.’ Will kept looking at the people distantly bouncing around in the waves, their laughter carried over to them on the warm afternoon air. ‘It really was awful, Amanda. It’s a place I’d never wish to take someone like you.’
‘Someone like me?’ Amanda tensed, wondering if he was insinuating something unsavoury about her.
‘Someone unspoiled,’ Will clarified with a light smile. ‘You see the world in such a wonderful way. I’d never want that to change.’
Amanda found herself looking up at the cliffside which loomed up
above them. ‘Bad things are everywhere you know, even in heaven,’ she whispered absently.
‘But when bad things are surrounded by goodness, you can overcome them. When it’s all bad all the time, that’s when it starts to change you, to corrode your soul.’
‘Is your soul corroded?’
‘No, because I got out. Sometimes the past just isn’t worth revisiting,’ he hugged her tight against him, drawing her attention away from the cliff. ‘Trust me, Amanda. My past is just a collection of bad times. We’re better off staying here, in your little slice of heaven.’
*
Amanda’s eyes slowly opened. She saw the world on its side, a sea of stones sweeping away from her beneath a heavy pewter sky. ‘Where?’ She felt the stones around her hands, against her face. With a grunt she tried to stand up. Her body limped back towards the ground. ‘Come… on,’ she urged herself to try again. All of her joints felt like they were bunged up with glue. Amanda groaned and panted and eventually scrambled onto her feet.
She was on a deserted shingle beach. It was a small outcrop bordered on three sides by ominous dark cliffs. The sea roared behind her menacingly, reminding her of its presence. Amanda staggered forward and then dropped to her knees. She coughed and felt the icy ocean water churning around in her lungs. She tried to raise her left hand towards her chest but it remained lifelessly draped against her side. Her right hand was more obedient. Amanda smacked it against her chest. Once. Twice. The third time was the charm. She doubled forward as she retched seawater. Her purge splashed upon the shingle. Amanda slowly straightened. She noticed the red blotches upon her legs that would become bruises, the swelling around her right kneecap. Those were just the injuries she could assess. Everything else would have to wait. She was alive. For now.
Amanda laboured her way up the beach, her movements slow and cumbersome. At the end she found a narrow wooden staircase which led up the cliff, towards civilisation. She wilted against its shanty banister. Her legs felt like two blocks of ice. They were too stiff to make it all the way up the stairs. But what choice did she have?
